#i still have no fucking clue how to format a tumblr post

[antifacountryfella]

5/26/22

oh thank christ, i finally got some money today and was able to buy food AND some weed. my guy hooked it up to, i have no idea why i think hes trying to get rid of some less than stellar bud. but like, he also sold me kine bud and just threw some DFM in on the side idk.

i rolled a joint that didnt stay lit, im not sure if its because i rolled it too tight or if its the bud? i think its the former tbh.

then i smoked like three or four bowls (a small personal bowl, but still it was percy) and watched Neon Genesis Evangelion. episode 10, the one everyone remembers as "the weird inflation one" but actually has some pretty sweet moments of bonding between Shinji and Asuka. damn, its so easy to imagine an alternate world where these two sad kids get to be happy together.

i always forget how, during the "Fun Eva" arc of Episodes 8-13 Rei kinda just fades into the background. we see her used once an episode to convince Asuka to do something she doesnt want to, in order to not be shown up by the first children. in fact, thats kinda how i determine when the next arc begins, because episode 14 is pretty heavy on rei just like,, vibing out.

#weed #marijuana #stoner #neon genesis evangelion #evangelion #i still have no fucking clue how to format a tumblr post

[queenimmadolla]

𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ─ 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 '𝟖𝟔

(young parents!eddie munson x reader)

more dad!eddie and pennyverse entries can be found on my masterlist

summary: After taking a pregnancy home test for funsies, you find out that you’re actually pregnant. The scariest part isn’t even the completely unexpected pregnancy, it’s telling Eddie.

warnings: use of an 80s pregnancy test, pregnancy (obvs), mention of periods, not much else.

a/n: based on this request and also based in the pennyverse (see masterlist). i usually always use up my friends’ extra pregnancy tests when they take them, so I’ve developed an irrational fear of this happening to me after writing it out lol. and i still can’t use the keep reading tab bc tumblr eats sections of my fics that i try to use it on so sorry about that and sorry about the formatting, tumblr also refuses to post this if I remove so much as a space. enjoy! let me know what you think (don’t be a dick)! 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You were sat inside of the tub—void of any water—and had been for the past hour and a half. It was anything but comfortable. You weren’t paying attention to the ache in your back though, too focused on the vial you held between you fingers, rolling it between your middle and thumb finger while you were careful to avoid spilling the liquid it contained.

How you hadn’t thrown it out of your bedroom window yet, you had no clue. After all, it did kind of betray you. Nancy had a scare with Jonathan about two days prior and you’d gone with her to the pharmacy to pick up a couple of tests, held her hand as she panicked about how she couldn’t put off school to raise a baby but the liquid in her vial remained clear, and so did the next one she tried. While she’d been significantly relieved at the negative results, she couldn’t risk her mom finding the tests so you’d taken the remainder of them (she’d purchased six in total, talk about overdoing it) with the intentions of throwing them out. Then your stupid curiosity got the best of you. You blamed it on how interesting the actual test looked. While you had hated chemistry class, messing with actual liquids, chemicals, vials, and bunsen burners during the labs had greatly amused you.

The pregnancy test looked much too similar to a couple of those components, so you couldn’t resist. You’d peed in the tray, mixed it in with the clear liquid you’d poured into the provided vial, waited a couple of minutes for everything to combine and settle in there, then you placed a drop of the solution into the mixture. The result was unfortunately instant. You’d been fully expecting the same result as Nancy while you prepared the test but to your complete and utter surprise, the liquid in your vial turned a dark shade of blue. And so did the next one, and the one after that, and the last one. You were glad you’d chosen to do this at your parents’ house, you hadn’t wanted Eddie to get the wrong idea and your parents’ still had a room for you but you were interested in the ensuite bathroom connected to it—or else Eddie would have stumbled upon you passed out in the trailer.

You’d settled into the bathtub when it felt like your legs were going to give in as reality shifted around you. What the FUCK? You hadn’t even missed your periods! Sure, they never really came on time but that was because they’d always been irregular ever since Aunt Flo’s first visit! They’d been pretty light and brief, but that still had to count for something right? You groaned as you sunk further down in the tub, recalling all the times you and Eddie had neglected to use protection. You’d been on the pill since before you two even got together (that’s a different story, though) and sure, he occasionally wore a condom but that accounted for only about 15% of the times you had sex. The rest of the times, you’d simply put your faith in your little blue pill. How ironic was it that your birth control was the same color as the positive pregnancy result? Maybe you could laugh about it in the future, but for now, you were panicking about what to do next. You’d only been out of school for about five months, having graduated alongside the majority of your friends and your now-husband in June, and you hadn’t enrolled in a college because—well, you had no idea what you wanted to study or even if you wanted to study anything, so you’d chosen a job instead, which meant school wouldn’t be a problem for you. But telling your husband would be. You’d gotten married the same night of graduation, moved in (officially) with him and Wayne about a week later and you’d been in the honeymoon phase since. Wayne had started sleeping over a couple of trailer’s down at Maude Maple’s—you couldn’t blame him, Eddie wasn’t exactly quiet when you fucked—she was conveniently all alone after her son went away for college in the early fall and had taken quite the liking to her faithful neighbor who never failed to come to her rescue when some appliance of her’s ‘broke down’, meaning you and Eddie had the whole trailer to yourself the majority of the time. That’s probably how you ended up in this situation.

You’d have to tell Eddie. You shot up in the tub, gripping the side with your freehand as a wave of nausea turned in your stomach and you were pretty sure it didn’t have anything to do with pregnancy symptoms. What would he do? What would he say? Would he leave you? Did he even want a baby right now? Of course not, he had ambitions and a baby would halt those! Yes, you talked about having kids before, but it was always future plans. This was happening right now.  

You stood up, climbing out of the tub before you capped the vial. You hid it in one of the pockets lining your bag before you quickly got rid of the rest of the evidence, flushing other positive tests and loading your purse with all the trash to discard in a bin somewhere far from your parents’ house and the trailer, where no one could tie it back to you. Wait a minute, you thought as you clutched your bag to your chest. Pregnancy tests give false positives all the time! Maybe I just got a bad batch. Yeah, that’s it! I’ll just go to my doctor, and have this all blown over. You hadn’t experienced any symptoms (that couldn’t be blamed on PMS) and you didn’t feel any different, so could you really be pregnant? —

You were pregnant. 

Not only had your doctor confirmed it, but she’d also informed you that you were about 22 weeks along. Even if you had wanted to get an abortion (which you hadn’t really considered seeing as how you had no idea you were pregnant until that morning), you wouldn’t be able to unless you had a serious medical condition. You’d tried to somehow argue your way out of her diagnosis, or whatever it was, by pointing out that your stomach was still normal, no major change to it as in no abnormally protruding baby bump but she’d informed you that your baby was most likely just nestled in there and, while it was rare, sometimes people didn’t show until late in their pregnancy. Then she’d weighed you and you were indeed a couple of pounds over, compared to what you could remember weighing last. And your periods? She chalked that up to hormone changes after she asked if you’d been experiencing any extreme changes in mood and you’d been able to recall the random bouts of frustration, irritation, sudden sadness, and yeah, that made sense. She’d said it’d most likely stop once you started relaxing. 

If that hadn’t been proof enough for you, the figure on your sonogram was, along with the heartbeat you’d heard during the brief ultrasound. That had to have been the scariest part; you’d been expecting to see a tiny little blob—your fetus at an early stage—but your fetus was far enough developed to resemble a freaking baby and you just couldn’t wrap your head around actually being pregnant, a baby was inside of you at that very moment. Thinking about it made your brain produce no thoughts, just white noise. 

You didn’t go home to Eddie that night, choosing to return back to your parents’ where you faked coming down with something and your mother insisted—like you knew she would—that you stay the night. You took dinner in your room, had your mom tell Eddie you weren’t feeling good and were sleeping it off—not a total lie—when he inevitably called. It was pretty shitty of you but you didn’t know what else to do and hiding out at your childhood home was your only way of avoiding your husband.

You hadn’t been able to sleep. Not with what you now knew. Almost hesitantly, you unbuttoned the shirt of your ridiculous, Winnie the Pooh pajamas and rested your palm just below your belly button, trying to feel any movement from the baby growing there.

While you couldn’t feel anything on the outside, your mind wandered to last week, when you’d been laying on your tummy and felt an odd sensation that you attributed to a silent stomach rumble—though it didn’t feel much like your stomach—, your body just letting you know you were hungry. It had happened a couple more times—all of which you’d been stomach down—and now you were sure it had been the baby inside of you, maybe protesting about being squished. You certainly wouldn’t be sleeping on your stomach anymore, now that you were aware of the new resident in your womb.  

It didn’t even surprise you that you were starting to think of ways to go about making sure your baby was okay in there; while you were scared shitless as most unexpected first time moms-to-be are, there was part of you that wanted to know more about that little human growing inside of you. Would they look more like Eddie or more like you? Would they have his pretty, baby cow eyes or would they have yours? And what about the hair, would it be more like yours or more like his messy curls? Then you warmed, because you had a part of him literally inside of you; you were carrying his baby. While the news of your pregnancy had been daunting to say the least, you were finding that you didn’t completely fear the idea of it. No, what you feared was Eddie’s reaction. 

You were thinking of ways you could somehow avoid him, though you knew you wouldn’t be able to for long. You weren’t showing yet but you would be, probably sooner rather than later. If, for some reason, he didn’t notice—someone else would and word would get back to him.

Frustrated with your predicament, you grabbed one of your throw pillows from next to you and held it over your face to muffle your screams. The sound of knuckles rapping against your window interrupted you and you froze, blood running cold. There was only one person it could be, and it was the very person you didn’t want to actively see at the moment. 

You were positive he could see you, though, and you didn’t want him to think you were trying to smother yourself to death so you reluctantly set the pillow back in it’s place at your side and got up to confront your fears, if not for you then for the little one inside you. Eddie was grinning as you approached your window, pulling it open before stepping back so he could climb in. 

“Hey, Thumper,” he greeted as he righted himself, stretching his arms up after he’d kicked off his shoes and shrugged his jacket off. Once he was standing at full height, he leaned back against the window frame, pretty doe eyes taking you in from head to toe, “How you feelin’? You okay, baby?”

“I’m all right, Bambi,” you lied, willing your body to relax. “My head hurts, that’s all.”

Eddie eyed you skeptically before he closed the distance between you two, hands moving up to cradle your face as he leaned in for a kiss. Like butter, you melted; eyes fluttering shut as your body fully relaxed and your mind went all fuzzy. You’d been married for six months now and you were beginning to realize the effect he had on you would never go away. Unless he did. Your anxiety came rushing right back and you pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“What are you doing here?” You rushed to ask, taking note of the concern written on his face as he stared down at you. “I was worrying myself sick about you. I knew you weren’t feeling good, plus I can’t sleep without you, so if the mountain won’t come to Muhammad. . .” 

“I’m pregnant,” you blurted out, posture stiff and awkward as you stared back up at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t meant to say it, it kind of just came out on its own but now that it was out there, there was no taking it back.

You studied his face, your heartbeat pounding against your chest with the suspense as you watched his eyebrow quirk up, his pink lips parting slightly in surprise.

Eddie swallowed hard once, mouth continuing to open and close like he was a fish instead of a human, “I’m sorry—what?”

He opened the flood gates again, you couldn’t contain the word vomit, you just kept talking, “I’m pregnant. Like, I am really pregnant, man. I only literally just found out and I was thinking maybe the home tests were bad—all four of them—but they were not because I went to the doctor since I couldn’t believe it ‘cause I didn’t know I was pregnant but she said I was and then I saw it for myself and now I am actively aware of the baby inside me like some sort of chest hugger—except it’s in my womb and I’m gonna have to give birth and I am really freaking the fuck out because I don’t know what we’re gonna do since we didn’t exactly talk about having a baby right away and I know you had plans and this is kind of getting in the way of them and that’s what I didn’t want because I want you to do everything you love and I wanna be by your side while you do it and I’m not gonna lie, I actually wouldn’t mind having this baby since it’s me and you but I don’t want you to leave me over this—“ 

You were silenced when Eddie gently placed his palm over your mouth, effectively stopping your verbal onslaught and keeping you from working yourself into a panic attack. 

“Hey, hey—hey, you gotta calm down, honey. You’re upsetting yourself,” his hand slid from over your mouth to the back of your neck, rubbing at the tense muscles there. “Breathe for me, baby.”

You knew he was right, you were practically shaking in your fuzzy socks. You took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm your breathing while Eddie mumbled encouraging words, pressing kisses to your forehead until you’d managed to get somewhat of a hold on yourself. Eddie would hold the rest of you together, like he always did. You wrapped your arms around his middle, snuggling into his chest.

Eddie indulged you, soothing you with cuddles before he pulled back just enough to look at you, while he had managed to calm you down, you could still see the surprise in his dark gaze as he whispered, “You-You’re pregnant?” 

You feared your mouth would run free again, so you remained silent, nodding a couple of times as you nibbled on your lower lip, waiting for Eddie to lose it, to blow a gasket. Seeing you this upset pained Eddie. He could see the fear in your glossy eyes, the quiver in your plump lower lip as you stared up at him, waiting for his response. He tried not to take it personal, knew where your insecurities lied and how much you valued him over yourself. If there was one thing Eddie wished he could change, it’d be the way you saw yourself. He wished you could see yourself through his eyes; you were absolutely perfect to and for him. He couldn’t imagine life without you and he didn’t ever want to, so the notion that he would even consider leaving you was blasphemy. He wouldn’t have done it if you weren’t pregnant. Had this happened in high school or something, he might have freaked out a little but he still wouldn’t have ever considered leaving you. 

Now, it just seemed like the opportune time for this exact scenario. You were already married, so people couldn’t say Baby Munson was a bastard and kids came next after marriage, right? It didn’t matter when you two had them—to him, at least. He knew he’d be a good dad, he wouldn’t be anything like his. Not the bad parts of him. And Eddie knew you’d be an amazing mother, had seen you handle the kid part of your friend group plenty of times.

When he said your name, so tenderly, it made you want to cry, and a tear did slip down your cheek but Eddie was quick to halt it, wiping it away with his thumb, “Listen to me, ‘kay? I’m uh—I’m definitely a little shocked, but there isn’t even a small percentage of me that doesn’t want to have a mini you running around. And my plans? Baby, you are my plans. From the moment I hung out with you in the back of my van at that shitty party, I knew I needed you in my life. Now, you are my life. The only plans I have, are to live happily ever after—and all that gooey, sappy shit I’ll never publicly admit to loving—with you. Everything else that happens is filler stuff, okay? You—and you,” he reached a hand down to rest again the skin of your stomach, rings cool against your flesh, still exposed as your shirt had remained unbuttoned, “—are the only things that matter to me. I love you, and every extension of you—of us.”

You sniffled, nodding your head a couple of times again before he leant down and you met him halfway, lips pressing together in a messy kiss, wet with your tears and Eddie’s. You pulled away once you realized he was crying, too, but he rushed to wipe his tears away, bashful. “Shut up, I have the right to be a little emotional, okay? It’s just been confirmed to me that I’m gonna be a dad, that’s some pretty big, fucking good news.”

You leaned in to kiss a stray tear off his cheek, licking it off your lips as you peered up at him in curiosity, “Confirmed?”

Eddie laughed as you squinted up at him, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “You nearly bit Argyle’s head off when he brought that pizza to movie night last month, baby.” “He forgot the bell peppers after I called him multiple times to remind him!” “And when you were helping Will out with his art project, you kept crying because it made you emotional,” he added, recalling the way you were silently crying as you painted the area of the canvas Will had asked you to touch up. “It was a very moving scene he depicted!” “Not to mention how many times I’ve cum in you. Honestly, the only reason I’m surprised is because I kind of expected this to happen sooner.” 

You winced as his brazen words, normally they got the waterpark down there flowing but you could tell he was trying to get a reaction out of you, “Jesus, Eddie. Your breeding kink is showing.”

He winked, walking you backwards towards the bed, though it didn’t seem like his intentions were sexual, or at least not as sexual as he usually was when he fully intended on ravaging you. Once you fell back onto it, he clambered over you, hands moving either side of your night shirt away. He pressed a kiss to both of your breasts, mumbling a quick ‘my girls!’ before he focused his attention on the lower part of your stomach, suddenly fascinated at the sight of it. 

“So, there’s a baby in there?” He asked, index finger trailing circles over your soft skin, just above your pelvis and the hem of your pajama pants.

“Mhm,” you hummed, then you remembered the sonogram and threw him off of you to run to your purse. Eddie watched you in amusement, lounging on his side, as you dug around in it. Once you’d found both the vial and the sonogram, you returned to the bed, crawling next to him as you handed him both. “What’s this?” He asked, admiring the blue liquid in the sealed vial.

“Chemicals and stuff, I’m pretty sure, and my pee.” He didn’t miss a beat, “That’s really hot.”

“Shut up, it’s my pregnancy test,” suddenly, Eddie was cradling it in his palm like it was the most precious thing in the world, “and this is your kid.” 

You held the sonogram up and Eddie stared at it with wonderment, carefully setting the vial down on your old nightstand before he reached for the sonogram. You let him pluck it from your grasp, watching him in slight awe yourself, as he stared hard at it, easily able to make out the baby’s shape despite the lack of decent lighting. He trailed a finger over it gently, as if he was actually stroking his baby instead of outlining his baby’s form in the sonogram picture. When he looked back at you, his eyes were shining with the promise of more tears as he whispered, “This is our baby?” You nodded as your own eyes began to gloss over, choked up at how much Eddie seemed to love the little one growing inside of you already, “That’s our baby.”

“Holy shit,” He mumbled, gaze focused on the sonogram again before he seemed to come to some sort of realization and his head snapped back to you. “H-How far along are you?”

You pinched your bottom lip between your fingers, nervously as you answered, “Uhm, she said I’m about 22 weeks along now.”

You really loved Eddie’s eyes, so big, brown and pretty, but as big as they were, they could definitely get bigger. Like they were right then as he silently mouthed the latter half of your sentence before he found his voice again, “22 weeks? That’s—That’s five months!” You nodded in agreement, watching as he went through the same sort of emotions you had when the doctor had told you. “That only gives us like what—four months to prepare? Fuck, I have to baby proof so many things, and I have to build a crib, we’ve got to get carseats, what else do we need to raise a baby?”

“We can figure it out in the morning, I am ready to collapse,” you laughed as you took the sonogram from his hand and placed it on the nightstand near your pregnancy test before you pushed him back into the pillows, and unbuttoned his jeans. Eddie lifted his hips to allow you to tug them off and discard them at the end if your bed, then you curled into your place at his side, face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you inhaled his scent; woodsy (curtesy of the cheap cologne he used), with the slight scent of marijuana but you were even more pleased when you didn’t smell any traces of cigarettes, he’d given them up two months ago. You cuddled for a few minutes, but the exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to you. Eddie’s hand stroked over your back, lulling you further to sleep. Before you could fully slip under though, he asked, “Did you happen to find out the sex?” “Mhm,” You mumbled, sleepily as you pressed a lazy kiss to his collar bone.

“You gonna share with the class?” You could hear the amusement in his voice and you smiled against his skin at the mere thought of the pretty grin he no doubt had on his face. Eddie loved to talk to you when you were on the cusps of sleep for some reason. Thought it was endearing. “‘M not in school,” you slurred, eyes fluttering shut completely. “How are you such a smartass even when you’re half asleep?” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You chuckled along with him, snuggling further into him. He thought you’d finally fallen asleep after you didn’t answer him, but he was rewarded five minutes later when you mumbled out, “’S a girl.”

A girl. He was gonna be a dad to a little girl. Eddie closed his eyes and he could practically envision her, a little miniature version of you; with your cute nose and your pretty features. Would she have your eyes or his? Would her hair be as unruly as his or more like yours? Maybe if he put a headset over your tummy and played some cool tunes, she’d come out with an appreciation for Metallica. He’d thought four months was pretty soon, earlier, but now it seemed like a century away, he was already eager to meet her. Soon, he mused, a hand moving to rest over your stomach.

Soon.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #dilf!eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #stranger things volume 1 #stranger things volume 2 #stranger things vol 2 #stranger things vol 1 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #Joe quinn x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #girl dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson #pennyverse #mom!reader

[homestuckreplay]

Do you remember when tumblr was overrun by kids in grey body paint and horns speculating over how their story would end, when browser extensions would ping almost every day alerting people to a webcomic update, when the anticipation of the next plot twist had people inventing chaotic AUs and sometimes other, completely fake webcomics?

Do you want to do it again?

On April 13, 2024, I will turn on New Reader Mode in the Unofficial Homestuck Collection, and I will not turn it off again until April 13, 2031. Every day, I will post to this blog which pages were originally posted on the corresponding day 15 years ago, and read those associated pages - and if anyone else wants to experience or re-experience Homestuck in real time, I invite you to read along.

A few months back I had the idea of 'what if Dracula Daily but for Homestuck' and I considered how to make Homestuck work in email format - I think it's possible, but would be a lot of work and still wouldn't be as good a reading experience as the Unofficial Collection. So I modified the idea and just made a big spreadsheet of which dates every Homestuck page was posted on, and I'll be scheduling the page ranges to post day by day for myself and anyone else to follow along with in the app.

I came to Homestuck towards the end of its original run, so I've never had to wait for updates on the main comic - which I've heard is a very different reading experience to getting a few pages a day and having to endure long pauses in the last few thousand pages. I can't turn back time and start reading in 2009, so this is the next best way to get the real time reading experience. I am really interested to see if this will change my opinion on any aspects of the comic, as I like a lot of the things I know other fans hate, and I am extremely committed to seeing this through, even when it means not looking at some incredible moments for many years.

Will this be a good way to experience Homestuck? Will anyone else think this is a cool idea? I have no fucking clue, but ai'm excited to see how it works out. If other people are interested, I have other ideas including a Discord server in the style of r/stuck10yearsbehind, otherwise, I'll brave the solo journey.

Happy Cascade Day, Homestucks grab your strife specibi, go forth and be cringe 😎

#homestuck #homestuck replay #413 #1025 #cascade

[pberrry]

drunk! rick sanchez x (afab) saed! reader

TW: SA

basis of the fic is reader was saed as a child, significantly affecting reader’s ability to have an intimate relationship with anyone

sorry if this is formatted weird i have no idea how to post on tumblr

disclaimer this is in no way meant to romanticize sa! all i hope to do is bring comfort to those who have been victim to it. my condolences to anyone who is unfortunate enough to have experienced this, and please don’t hesitate to reach out to someone if you are currently suffering from abuse!

“Y-blueeergh—Y/n!” Rick spouted, droplets of an alcohol and spit mixture escaping from his mouth.

“What, Rick?” you hesitantly looked over at the drunk Rick.

“I’m- I’m so fffucking drunk right now, Y/n. I- I might shit my pants, I might do it” He belched.

“That’s- that’s interesting, Rick. Thank you for that information,”

“Y-yyea, Y/n,”

Silence spread throughout the room, though the intoxicating smell of alcohol remained.

“What- whatchya’ working on, Y/n?” Rick questioned as he stumbled his way to your desk.

“Just, uh, nothing. Nothing that’d you be interested in, I guess,” you responded.

“Are- are you fffucking kidding me? Let me s-see,”

You shuffled out of the way, giving Rick a clear view of your desktop screen. He gave a slow nod of approval, though he could barely register the words on the headache-inducing screen.

“Y/n. Say- say something funny. You’re funny, Y/n. Haaahahh,” he drunkenly rambled.

“Rick, I think- I think it’s time for you to go to bed,”

You began to push Rick out the door, using the sheer force of your weight to guide Rick’s drunken body.

“What the- what the fuck are you d-OOuhing?”

Instead of responding to his question, you carefully placed his arms around your neck. His place on the ground, balanced, now became completely dependent on you. Slowly, you began to walk towards his bed. His head lay atop yours. You tipped him over, allowing him to fall onto the bed.

“C-come on, Y/n. Lay- buUUrrrrgh- lay with me,” Rick requested.

“What?” you questioned, dumbfounded by Rick’s new, undiscovered affection.

“It- it’s alright, baby,”

The pet name was completely unfamiliar to you, and it send uncomfortable shivers down your spine.

“Rick, you’re drunk,”

“YeAAh, I fffucking know,” he replied hastily.

He grabbed hold of your wrist, sending your body into a state of shock and repressed memories. You feebly attempted to pull your hand back.

“G-God, Y/n, why so- blueergh- tense?”

Though he was ludicrously drunk, his sense of empathy was still intact.

“What’s- what’s wrong, what’s up with you?” He inquired.

“Nothing? What’s- what’s up with you?” You stammered nervously.

“No, no- something’s definitely- blueergh- up with you right now,” he insisted.

You uncomfortably avoided his gaze.

“Y/n, s-sweetie, what’s the problem?”

He propped himself up using your shoulder. He towered over you.

“Rick, seriously just- just go to bed,” you prompted.

“But- Euuurrhhhg- but- Y/n, I want you first,”

You stayed silent for a second, unknowing of how to respond to his rather seductive-sounding statement.

“Huh? What do you mean?” you said as you stepped backwards hesitantly.

“I- I mean I want you, Y/n. I want- I want you, you- blueerrgh- you fucking dumbass, Y/n,”

“Rick, you’re drunk. Just lay down, I’ll get you a cup of water or something,” you insisted, still strategically avoiding his gaze.

He groaned in response.

“You- you can never catch a fucking hint, Y/n. God,” he complained.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” you replied.

“I’ve done- blueerrgh- everything, Y/n. I’ve hit on you so many t-times you- you fucking moron. I even told you directly,” he said.

“Rick, I- I don’t know if I can,”

“Why- why the fuck not?”

“I don’t know,” you explained, half-assedly.

“What the- blueeegrh- fuck type of explanation is that?”

“Fuck, Rick, use your context clues or something,” you sighed, having already given up on having a sensible conversation.

“Alright, Y/n, we- we can do this later. Just- just lay with me, we don’t have to- bleeurgh- do anything,” Rick requested in a soft tone.

“Okay, okay,” you hesitantly accepted.

You climbed into the bed, feeling Rick’s tall presence beside you. He carefully slid his arms by your side, pulling you closer. Your tired body quickly became known to you again.

“God-bueeerrghhahh-damn angel cakes, you smell like fucking heaaaven,” Rick whispered, almost to himself.

You gave a tired giggle before instantaneously finding sleep in the tempting comfortability of Rick’s mattress.

timeskip the next morning

The faint sound of rustling beside you disturbed your peace of mind, allowing reality to seep into your head. You rubbed your fatigued eyes, slowly opening them. Rick stood there, staring strangely at you. It was more a look of agitation than curiosity.

“Mind telling me why the fuck you’re in my bed?”

“Wh- what? I don’t know,” you replied groggily.

Your memories came flooding back to you. The memory of Rick admitting he wanted you was one of the first memories to find it’s way back.

“Eurrgh- I remember now,” you said.

“What? Remember what?” Rick interrogated.

“God, nothing. Don’t worry about it,” you said, your morning fatigue still affecting your mood.

You had to admit, it was a bit strange to be around Rick after that. It also gave you a strangely familiar feeling of uneasiness. You hopped out of the bed, starting out of the bedroom. You abruptly stopped and turned to face Rick.

“Rick, do you remember last night? At all?”

“No. Fuck, have I ever remembered a blackout, Y/n?” He retorted with an agitated tone.

“That’s good,” you said in reply.

“…What? What the- blueerrgh- fuck do you mean ‘that’s good’?” Rick questioned.

You shrugged and continued on your way out the door.

another timeskip yea

Rick hastily made his way to the couch, where you lay napping. He transmitted himself into your brain, where he could view all your past memories. He started, of course, with the previous night. He found himself cringing at his own half-assed ‘confession’. Succumbing to his curiosity, he found himself going deeper into your memories. He had unknowingly found the “repressed memories” section of your brain.

Rick left your brain in dismay. A sudden understanding washed over him, and a feeling of guilt with it. He shook you awake gently.

“H- blueeerrgh- hey Y/n, I was about to get some ice cream from the Gloppydrop System, you- you should come with. If you want, I- I don’t care,” he said, grabbing his portal gun nonchalantly.

“Yea, I guess I’ll tag along… if you want,” you agreed, rubbing your eyes.

“O- eurrrrgh- okay. Hurry your ass up,”

PART TWO! https://www.tumblr.com/pberrry/738532284773384192/part-2

feel free to send fanfic ideas

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #x reader #fanfic #kind of angsty #light angst #sweet #rick prime #morty smith

[ceyarma]

AI: The Somnium Files - Nirvana Initiative

Another ramble post! Since Twitter fucked up I've decided to make at least one long post about something I adore here on Tumblr everyday, last time it was Danganronpa and my playthrough of Rain Code, this time I wanna talk about a Kotaro Uchikoshi game! This post is spoiler-free for both Somnium Files 1 and Nirvana Initiative, so feel free to read!

AI: The Somnium Files - Nirvana Initiative (June 2022) is the sequel to AI: The Somnium Files (September 2019), and is a story about two detective agents investigating a single murder at different points in time. The murder victim was cut into two halves, the first half being found by Ryuki and the other half being by the second protagonist Mizuki. The kicker? Both halves of the body were found exactly six years apart with no signs of decomposition. The body mysteriously appeared in both instances and everything is freaky as hell.

The game has a great cast of fun characters and nice humor, and the twists are genuinely great, the format of these games is to piece together a full story by completing endings specific to each of the main characters through keeping track of everything by a flowchart that fills up as you progress through the game and its endings, it works incredibly here and is subverted in a way I really liked by the end.

The soundtrack of this game is one of my favorite things about it, some of the iconic tracks from the last one remain intact but a lot of the new additions such as "Snowy Nonlogical", "Insane President" and "Nefarious Institute" stood out to me during gameplay and I went back to hear them, the main track of the game "Nirvana Initiative" does play outside of the title in one of the game's biggest most mind blowing moments.

The story was completely unironically my favorite one in a videogame in 2022, I was so blown away by it that I continue to praise it offhandedly in comparison to some of the other "weeb games" I like. The humor hits for me, the gameplay I've always vibed with but I do understand not everyone likes visual novel experiences, the Somniums (surreal gameplay sections where you conduct an investigation within a suspect's mind) are way more fun than the last one, I'll give them credit here.

It is of course not without its flaws, Nirvana Initiative is a much, much more grander story with a bit more ambition going into its twist rather than the simplicity and sincerity of its predecessor which I've seen people criticise a bunch, which is fair, it loses a bit of the personal touch like the last one had with its protagonist, however I didn't mind it because I was a huge fan of what it was going for so I was willing to overlook it.

The effort they put into so many aspects of this game still blows me away, the game itself is kino as fuck, the localisation is kino as fuck, the consistency with the soundtrack names having the intials "NI" like how the first game's had "AI" is kino as fuck, the fact that you can play it completely without having a clue about the first game's story because they made sure it was playable like that is kino as fuck. This game is kino as fuck. Highly recommend, a genuine 9/10 from me. (I DO RECOMMEND PLAYING THE FIRST ONE BEFOREHAND)

#AITSF #nirvana initiative #ai the somniun files nirvana initiative #somnium files #aitsf #aitsf nirvana initiative #aini #ai nirvana initiative #kotaro uchikoshi #visual novels #Youtube

[dimepdf]

new to tumblr and wanna start posting stories. i have no fucking clue what im doing or how this works. how did you get the fonts you use for your posts? any tips for beginners and posting stories and all that stuff? im confused AHHHHH.

I'm still a VERY new writer on here as well lmao, but here's some stuff that I wish I knew beforehand :

it really just comes up to what aesthetic you want, knowing what style you like will help with formatting your posts, whether you like the banner look or just text format its really just up to preferences . for me I really like the kpop writer side of Tumblr so that's where my style really comes from. so not copying but taking inspo from your favorite writers will always help lean you in the right aesthetic direction .

if you're talking about how I title my fics I literally just use any font keyboard app that gives you a scroll full of options to choose from or just use some random copy and paste font website like lingo jam or something .

always check to see if your fics are posted in tags, always . sometimes it takes a reupload or two for your posts to show up in the tags, remember there's no shame in reposting if you're not getting any reach .

changing your theme a thousand times is so normal! I've probably changed mine like eight times since I first started my account, I know some moots do some cute seasonal ones which are pretty cunt and I feel like helps followers pick you from the crowd .

get that masterslist in early, whether its a cute pinned welcome post navigating to all your writing or a bio link . I promise you readers love when writing is easily accessible, I also personally hate scrolling through posts just to find someones navigation .

make mutiple blogs if you want to separate posts! right now I have a sims, kpop, fanfic rec, and this blog just to keep things separate and less messy looking .

you don't have to post or write every damn day, burn out is a thing that happens to everyone some more faster than others its fine to just take a damn break whether for a day or a damn month . give your brain a break!

its okay to say no . I've rejected so many fucking fic requests that were either crossing a boundary, for a character I didn't like, or even just because I didn't like the scenario they offered . and that's fine, you're not a robot write what you fucking want .

beta read your work . reading sucks when its you're own writing I get it, but don't let those typo's beat your ass fren .

#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — asks&answers. ]

[vampxrebarbie]

an entire fucking thesis could be written on the evolution of vernacular and linguistics in online social culture among the 'online generation(s)'

like. text is flat, which is why punctuation is ungodly important in written fiction. use it right and the audience will read it with the right mental inflection.

that's why tone reading falls flat as soon as you hit online social spaces--we arent narrating in places like tumblr or twitter, we're TALKING. sure we've got exclamation points and question marks and periods and all, but there isnt anywhere near enough punctuation marks in existence to properly convey every little nuance present in speech. in text you have no vocal intonation, no nonverbal communication (expressions, gestures, tics) to further clarify what's being said behind what's being actually said.

so those of us present in online social circles invented our own social intonation to help each other communicate as many of the little nuances not present in text as possible.

like, i'm putting a flat period here at the end of a sentence.

just one.

to most of us who've been communicating online for years, that 'flat' period reads as incredibly harsh and borderline hostile depending on context, so a lot of us tend to omit it entirely in casual dialogue.

the more punctuation marks you use at once, the stronger the 'tone' it conveys. for example:

this topic is so exciting??? i love it so much???

doesnt so much read as a question as the mark implies. willing to bet most people in online social circles will 'hear' disbelief, shock, or excitement from an overabundance of question marks.

overabundance of exclamation points? you are feeling A WHOLE LOT and just NEED TO GET IT OUT!!!!!! doesnt matter what it is you're feeling but you SURE ARE FEELING IT!!

periods? well they sure do draw things out...........and depending on context can function either like a comedic twist on the traditional use of ellipses or a purposeful extension of spoken Dramatic Pauses those traditional dot-dot-dots just don't properly convey.

then there are the little oddball vernacular rules such as:

using a question mark at the end of what would otherwise be a flat statement because, somehow, our brains translate that to a verbal uptick in tone, basically the text format of a shrug, and if someone asks what for all you can do is say "idk it just feels right?"

keysmashes. we all know. we just do.

you're in the middle of typing something and decide you Need To Capitilize These Specific Words. why?

and jumping off of that:

MEMES oh my god. memes. m e m e s. let's talk about memes. i love memes as a method of communication i love them so much. why?

because i can post this

and theres a good chance a majority of you who've been around online social spaces (specifically tumblr) for long enough will know exactly what This Specific Meme is saying without needing a caption or context to infer it.

you just know.

you know the origin of it, you know how it was first used or have seen it used the way it's been traditionally used before, and because of that you can pretty much context clue your way into understanding what it's conveying when used at any other time provided it's being used in a similar way.

and that brand of communication can stack!

take any meme that began with a subtitle/caption that's been in circulation long enough for your brain auto-translate it on sight, have someone else add another caption-less meme in response, and anyone who knows the vernacular of online social spaces will know exactly what the two of you are communicating without a single word being typed/spoken.

we've reinvented fucking hieroglyphics, people!!!

all because us humans are so gosh-darned SOCIAL as a species that we're willing to rearrange our own learned grammar structures and methods of speech for the express purpose of communicating as clearly as possible in a medium that wasnt originally and to an extent still isnt meant to be used for casual dialogue and interaction with complete strangers.

this is why there's such a hard disconnect in online communication between anyone who spent most of their life offline versus those of us--primarily millenials and Gen Z--who grew up online.

we are literally speaking a completely different language from older generations.

#and this isnt even getting INTO the topic of how pieces of media can influence someone's personal spoken/written vernacular #there's a reason people who've been Online long enough can pick out the people who identified A Little Too Strongly with dave strider #i fucking lOVE LINGUISTICS #language tag #ishusteedus

[biscuityskies]

I think it did strike me at this very moment (1:47am, 11 January 2023) just how unhinged tumblr is to me, specifically. And blogs, in general. Allow me to explain.

I come from a somewhat long and arguably very not rich history on Twitter. Multi-faceted, perhaps, but honestly really just a whole bunch of people following me for reasons that I really could not say. Having joined Twitter at a time when I was still figuring out who I was (see also: high school) and then gaining a sudden influx of followers due to reasons I believe were fandom related, those numbers went directly to my head, and I of course began to base my self worth off of them. Is this a good thing? Absolutely not! Have I done the same thing with my AO3 account? For frickin sure! And yet, Twitter is simply me yelling into the utter void, and the void doing jack shit about it.

I made a blog on tumblr at the encouragement of my sister several years ago, because it was where she spent most of her time, and she has a specific tag for me, and I thought it was HILARIOUS that that was something that one could just… do, tag their sibling in posts for said sibling to then peruse later. So, of course I made a blog.

I then ghosted this bitch. It took the near-death experience of Twitter to bring me back to tumblr, where I promptly rediscovered my love for Star Wars, and made a post about it. A POST THAT IS STILL GETTING NOTES. It has over 100 at this point, and it’s SUCH a change of pace, because while on Twitter everything is fast-paced and nothing I say usually gets anything more than two likes, I make one post about this ship I suddenly discovered that I ran headlong into and it’s still getting notes I think well over a month after I made it.

Now, that brings me to my usage of “unhinged”. Literally, “off one’s hinges”. My hinges had been defined to me for the past five years as screaming soundlessly into the void of space and not expecting a reply. I scream about Codywan on Twitter and nothing happens, literally so many tweets go by without a single like (yet now I know exactly how many people see it and don’t interact, have i ever mentioned how fucking stupid an update—). I say one thing about Codywan on tumblr, and it’s still getting notes. And as long as there are Codywan shippers, likely will CONTINUE to get notes, which is also kinda wacky.

Idk. At least here I can yell into the void at 2am and if the void doesn’t answer back I don’t feel bad because I genuinely have no clue how many followers I have, how does this site even work pls I’m still new here

(Also it’s very nice being able to ramble in one post in well over 240 characters. And also formatting?????? What a gift)

#dani ramblings #my stuff #codywan #star wars #adjacent #literally why does Twitter suck so much in comparison

[marvellousstawler]

I don't even know if I like visual novels...

The only reason I'm not writing this in a notebook is because I want to draw later and I don't want to hold a pen any longer than I need to. And the only reason I'm writing this at all is because it's my fourth day working from home and my boss hasn't given me any instructions. So, as Bjork's guttural utterances crawl through my tinny work-laptop speaker, let's put my idea where no one will see it; on my tumblr.

Followers of my private notebooks (of which there are exactly one and a half since my best friend hears all the synopses) will be familiar with a trio of OCs currently known as the Orchid Sisters. Coming up is my ten year anniversary of not knowing what to do with them. They, and I, are beginning to get restless. There have been too many disastrous attempts, within several formats.

My best friend, who I won't name since she's online and doesn't need her reputation soiled with my bullshit posts (let's call her Sammy), suggested that I choose a new medium (since I've tried and failed a few of them for this trio) which properly facilitates the tone and setting, and that I go back to the inspirations for this 'series.' I've just deleted a detailed synopsis of the myriad of inspirations which have mutated the non-existent story of these three characters, including "Twilight Eclipse, but just the soundtrack."

Let me jump to the idea because I'm getting bored of writing the history of my own ideas for literally zero audience. Actually, fuck it. It's easier if I just draft it. Enough throat clearing, here goes nothing. Cringe is dead.

Initializing... Authenticating... Greetings, Administrator. You have likely discovered this software installed on your machine with no memory of how it got there or what it is for, considering that this is your first time using it. You also likely put aside your knowledge of cyber safety and clicked on it because you saw a sticky note on your desktop with an arrow pointing toward the application shortcut, reading "Boot up if amnesia strikes -- Z." Since you know very well who Z is and you trust that she's quite well-versed with computers, you followed her advice. MAIN MENU [Help Menu] [Select User] [Settings] [Archive] [Quit] HELP MENU [Introduction] [What is this software?] [Who are you?] [How do I change the user's settings?] [Where are the files located?] WHAT IS THIS SOFTWARE? This is an application designed by Zelda M Green to manage her own amnesia and social anxiety. You are 84% likely to be Zelda Green, and you of course know if you are her, but I am accounting for the fact that the other two users can (but usually will not) access this help menu. Detailed descriptions of Zelda's reasoning behind creating this software can be found in [Archive]->[Development Log]. This application executes simulations of your social interactions from the recent past, and is updated automatically upon cybernetic upload conducted by my robotic avatar during your hours of sleep. As such, it allows you to extract your own memories and observe simulations of them in order to optimize future social interactions. Seeing as how the cybernetic upload feature is still under development, some user-submitted context clues and social responses will require your input during the social simulations. Completed simulations are available for re-viewing in [Archive]->[Memory List]. For Silence: Zaza-nee made a sim where she can see her memories of convos because sometimes she forgets or gets blushy about it. And you and Tata can use it too!

And so on.

#journal #writing idea #visual novel #vn #social simulation #maybe I'll actually make this a game maybe I won't #this idea will probably die just like all the others #orchid sisters #creative writing #marvomakesathing #marvo makes a thing #we have no friends

[somelamefandomreference]

look y’all I suck at social media. I don’t understand it. I might be able to write a post approximating the language/grammar (or lack thereof)/general format of whatever a typical post is on that site, but it usually reads like some kind of Russian bot or a cry for help. I have recently discovered that there might be a reason for this (according to several of my irl-friends I reek of undiagnosed neurodivergence but I can’t afford to get evaluated so I guess I’ll just be stuck wondering), but you know what? Reason or no reason, I’ve decided “fuck it”. I am giving myself permission to be weird, embarrassing, dumb, uncool, stupid, chaotic, straight-up unhinged, whatetver the fuck I want on one fucking website which is fairly anonymous and half-abandoned anyway. I’ve had some version of a tumblr account since 2013 (age 14), and yet I still don’t understand most of its features or norms for interaction (it took me a good three years to figure out what the fuck a mutual was, if that gives you any clue). But who the fuck cares?! It’s not that serious. I’m done being mean to myself (when, mind you, no one else on this website ever was) over the fact that I had clearly failed in my approximation of how normal people use tumblr/twitter/instagram/whatever. This is my corner of the internet, I do this for me. So buckle up for whatever comes next, me embracing my weirdness, niche interests and general internet shenanigans 

#personal stuff #back on my 2013 tumblr trash bullshit #i don't know how tags work lol #somelamefandomreference.txt

[thewertsearch]

Asks compilation: 09/05

God ok that actually sounds like it would work really well. John would be a huge McElroy fan, wouldn’t he?

I just looked up the Washington accent to compare it to Griffin’s, and wow, my mental voice for John is completely different. I probably have all the wrong accents for these characters in my head, since I don’t have a clue which accent maps to which state. 

At least we’re all in the same boat about not knowing Jade’s accent - unless we learn where Grandpa grew up later on, since she’d probably have picked up his.

Brilliant! Yeah, no, I’ve been trying to nail down that font for ages.

Dammit, I just realized I could have inspected homestuck.com’s source >:(

It narrowly edges out Gen 4, for me. D/P/Pt were great, but Black and White were the games which really perfected the formula. I honestly don’t think they should have gone 3D, but whatcha gonna do?

Oh my god, of course there are. I’m going to rewatch that show some day and lose my mind, aren’t I?

Hey, thanks for the ask! 

I thought about this back when I was first starting the blog. I dunno, though. You’re really not missing much - my live reactions aren’t nearly as coherent as the writeups - mostly just a lot of ‘oh my god, what?’ moments. I write more articulately than I speak. Trust me on this. 

I’m honestly impressed you came up with something more headache inducing than the bogo algorithm, which for the uninitiated literally means ‘randomly shuffle a list until it’s sorted’. 

aw fuck we’re getting a bogo modus aren’t we

I like Bogleech’s writing, especially his creature design reviews, but I could never get more than a handful of pages into Awful Hospital. I respect his commitment to the stereotypically ‘gross’ organic aesthetic, but it kind of just squicks me out. Plus, I dunno. The premise is really dark, but the comic seems to be a full-on comedy. The dissonance just doesn’t really work for me. 

Still, though. Pokéween is some of my favorite writing on the web. Check out his stuff. 

I’ve never been super into horror. Mind you, I like having something to listen to when I’m out on a walk, and I’ve heard good things about the Magnus Archives, so maybe this is my opportunity to give it another chance?

No, yeah, we have a winner. Step aside, Broderick.

I have come to accept that Hussie is just really prone to making unintentional references. When Dave Strider is one of your primary characters, you probably can’t avoid constantly referencing pop culture - even, it seems, accidentality!

The Queen is dead! everything has gone to shit! Long live Jack the Ascended!  

Haha, I never considered that tumblr’s format does kind of resemble John and CG’s inverted conversations, in a way. When you reblog a connected pair of joke posts, you even have to make sure to reblog them backwards, or you’ll invert them! 

Ah, indie devs. Heads, they’re legends, tails, they’re assholes. 

I’ve never played it, but it’s been sitting in my steam library for months! If it’s anything like Celeste, I should have started playing it yesterday. Lore is pretty much the only thing Celeste is missing - not that it needs it. 

Those giant Underlings are nothing compared to what you see in Pipecorp. This is just another day in the office for Harold P. Egbert. 

Awesome! Yeah, I already see why the comic’s music is so popular. And considering we’ve got Toby ‘Leitmotifs’ Fox on the music team, these are all sure to return. 

So what, it’s like, Act 6: Act 1? We’re going to start recursing?

Don’t lie to me, guys. This comic is a fractal, isn’t it? It goes on forever, the sub-acts shrinking into the infinitesimal. 

I know not what awaits me. 

Six, right? Based on the above ask, there can’t be room for any more, unless they shrink dramatically after Act 6. 

I have no idea how many sub-acts there could be, though. Once you pop open that can of worms, you can’t easily close it. 

Done! From now on, all theoryposts will be tagged #theories!

Yeah, noted! I didn’t expect Homestuck to require the equivalent of waiting for the post-credits scene, but here we are?

In what sense? The Trollslum showed up pretty soon after Jade’s intro, and CG chimed in up not long after. The sense I always got was that Hussie improvised a lot of the comic, but maybe the trolls were a particularly spontaneous addition?

Liveblogging a liveblog! I can get behind that. Yeah, like I’ve alluded to before, I’d be having a very different experience with this comic if I wasn’t reading it in bite-sized chunks. 

Thank you!! I’m really trying to convey the same feelings that I’m getting while I’m reading this comic. I’m glad it’s working!

Honestly, my guessing technique is essentially just throwing theories at the wall to see what sticks. 

I usually have like, two or three explanations for a a given event in the comic, which means I can be eerily correct and ironically wrong about the same thing -  or ironically wrong twice over, as is probably more likely.

#asks #act 4 #full liveblog

[daisies-and-buttercups]

“Love and War / Chapter II″ - Luca Changretta x reader

Summary: Waking up to an empty bed and the words that Luca left for you, you soon realise that everything is going to go down today, and you’ll soon have to pick a side. 

A/N: I swear that this post took me at least three tries, tumblr kept deleting and/or messing up the formatting so I’m really hoping that this is worth it lol 💕

Words: 2.7k

Chapter I Chapter III

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The next morning you shifted in bed, stretching your arms in search of your lover’s body, but all you felt was the crumpling sheets, still warm from where his body was not too long ago. You groaned, sitting up and scanning the room, eyebrows scrunched into a tired look. If you had to guess what had happened the night before just by looking at your room you wouldn’t have had any clues. Your clothes were neatly folded by the chair and there was no other evidence that anything had indeed happened. No clothes abandoned on the floor, no man lying next to you. 

You walked down the stairs almost second guessing yourself, thinking over the night's events while you prepared a cup of coffee that you so desperately craved. Taking a big sip your eyes landed on the small table by the door, only usually adorned by a small plate for your keys and some letters that you hadn’t gotten around to opening yet, now decorated by a beautiful bouquet. You never had flowers around, the item useless and expensive, not something that you could afford with your paycheque, but just with their presence they lit the room up, their delicate perfume filling your lungs. You smiled and walked up to them, lifting the small card up to read it. A simple phrase full of adoration and love, with a few words in Italian, made you blush at the love you felt, but the final sentence made your heart drop. 

If today is kind with my soul, I shall meet you in your dreams tonight, mio amore.

His handwriting was smooth and elegant with each word, but the last sentence was slightly messy, revealing his feelings maybe more than he was used to. His fear. He didn’t think he’d make it back.

So today was the day. 

You scurried over to the phone, picking it up and calling the Shelbys, hoping that someone, anyone, would answer, but no one did. There was no point in leaving the house, you wouldn’t know where to find them and you had no way of knowing where Luca was either. There were many places where this showdown could happen, and even if you found it, what were you going to do? You couldn’t just waltz in hoping not to get shot. Still, the mix of emotions in your chest made you dizzy. Why didn’t he say anything? You dreaded the images that flashed before your eyes, first that of Tommy’s lifeless body, still clutching his gun, then that of Luca, tumbling as a bullet hit him square in the chest.  Tears fell as you pictured those scenarios, but knew that that was all they were. They weren’t real. But even knowing that, you couldn’t stop pacing around the room, counting the minutes and going over the events of the past few weeks.  You didn’t know how to feel about this whole ordeal. You never forgot how Tommy and his family welcomed you when you had been left with nothing, giving you a job, food, inviting you over for drinks and celebrations, but as much as you dreamed of it, you’d never be part of them. You fit in, but not fully. You weren’t part of their circle, but you were part of their “clean” life. Tommy made sure to to leave you out of the dirty deeds, even if you gathered what happened behind closed doors, and by doing so he shut you out of the only part of their life that would make you fully fit in with them. Then Luca arrived, and the calls, on the phone that Thomas brought just for you, since you couldn’t afford one in any other way, started becoming less frequent, with less news. No more talking about the business, no more working by their side, no more gossiping with Ada or Polly on Saturday evenings. You still got your salary, somehow left by your door with nothing else attached to it, not even a note, but that didn’t change the stark difference in your routine. You barely felt like family, or whatever you had ended up being, anymore. You felt even more left out now. So when Luca came around and actually listened to you, and talked to you, and shared his interests while asking about yours, you felt appreciated, loved. You had found somewhere where you fitted.  And now here you stood, weary of whose death you’d have to cry at the end of the day.

It took hours for the phone to ring with news, which made you jump into alertness, rushing over to answer. “Where is he?” You stayed quiet for a moment, fully expecting to hear Polly’s or Ada’s voice, not Tommy’s. He was alive, and clearly Polly had told him about your meeting with the Italian. “Where is-” “Where is he?” he raised his voice in unison to the loud sound you heard not far from him, probably his fist banging against the table.  So they still were both alive. You let a breath out that you were unaware you had been holding, gripping your clothes tightly, adrenaline running in your veins from the news.  He didn’t usually raise his voice, so his anger was evident, yet you weren’t sure if it was directed at you or at Luca. He clearly had gotten away, and the thought of that was enough to lift that weight off your chest. “I don’t know, Thomas.”  “You knew last night, though, didn’t you? When he was in your bed? Bet it felt good, eh, fucking the enemy?” You didn’t answer, your face blushing in shame and anger. He had no right to spy into your personal life. You knew that in his books you were on the wrong side of the war they were fighting, but his words were harsh, cutting through you without any of the warmth they once held. “Don’t defend a fucking wop. Tell me.” “I don’t know where he is. But this has to end, Thomas, this war you’re-” “Why don’t you tell that to your friend?” He pronounced the last word with sarcasm and hatred, but what hurt him was the betrayal he felt when you made it clear that you cared about him.  “I already did. I told him I support neither of your ways. Just stop, someone’s gonna get hurt.“ “And it would be a shame if you got caught in the crossfire.” he spat out, the silence ringing in your ears as if his threat were a slap. “Goodnight, Thomas.” You replied, slamming the phone down, not even sure if he was still there to hear you but not willing to argue anymore. You didn’t stop walking around the halls, hoping that someone else would tell you more about what actually went down, still in the dark, but no one did. 

That night you laid in bed, thinking over everything that had happened, or at least what you knew. The fairytale routine you had fallen in with Luca, the fancy restaurants, chivalrous words and tender kisses were taken away from you so soon after they started, leaving you desperate for what you had started growing so used to. Had it not been for the vendetta, he’d probably be here next to you right now, drawing circles on your shoulders with his fingertips, kissing you softly. But he wasn’t here, and all you knew was that he must’ve been alive somehow, since Tommy had no idea as to where he could’ve been.  Standing up you took a few steps towards the small balcony, desperate for some fresh air. There was barely enough space to stand on it so you leaned on the window frame, spotting someone moving away just as you glanced down towards the back street. Had you been in a less emotional state you’d have never chased after them, but right now all you wanted were answers.  You turned the corner, losing your balance as you slammed into someone, but their hands held you up, pulling you against them.  “You shouldn’t have come out here, principessa. You never know who might linger in the dark.” With your mouth agape you stood still for a moment, realising who was standing in front of you and finally wrapping your arms around him, colliding with his chest once more. He let out a low chuckle, melting into your embrace and holding you, feeling your heartbeat calm him down, a natural remedy that only you could provide. Your tears fell freely, wetting his coat while you shivered against him. “Well, lucky me then.” you joked, breathing in his scent, the notes of sandalwood surrounding you. “What happened?”  “Nothing. The police got in the way.” he shrugged lightly, his hands still around your waist, pulling you against him. “Thomas was looking for you. He called me.” he nodded, looking around the street for any signs of someone spying on them, but no one was around at this time, but he didn’t care either way. “I’m leaving for Camden Town. I won’t be back for a few days, so you won’t see me for a bit.” “And what are you going to do in Camden Town?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. He wouldn’t stop, and there was only one man in London that had a strong connection to Tommy, and not always a good one. You had never met Alfie Solomons, but you knew enough about him to know where this was going. “Not important. I came to get a goodbye kiss.” his eyes crinkled as he smiled, lifting your chin with his fingers and finding his mouth, kissing you with an initial softness, growing into a hunger that he couldn’t afford right now. He groaned, breaking the kiss, resting his forehead to yours. “What are you planning, Luca?”  “Goodnight, dear.”  “It’s not gonna end well.” “Goodnight, dear.” He repeated, kissing your forehead and lingering for a moment more, before urging you to walk back home, waiting until you were out of sight to slip away, walking towards the car that would take him to London. 

You spent days waiting for something, but there was nothing. No calls, no letters, no news.  You picked a few books off your bookshelf, books you had never had the time to read, and scanned the pages, not managing to focus on more than a few pages. It was that dark feeling in your chest that you couldn’t ignore, and the lack of news only made it worse, feeding your mind with the most horrible scenarios.  It felt like a blessing, if only for a short moment, when a call arrived shortly after dinner. You were resting your head on the sofa, singing along to some old songs while you stared at your hands, the concept of time slowly slipping away, when you received the news, making you sit up in disbelief. Polly had been brief, delivering the news and nothing more, leaving you clutching your telephone and staring into thin air for what felt like hours. She hadn’t said anything more, leaving you with the feelings that surrounded you. Sadness, rage, hopelessness… everything was bubbling in your chest, a feeling of guilt coating everything, making you feel like you were somehow at fault here, like you hadn’t prevented this.  You paced around for most of the night, only pausing your wondering when the realisation hit you again, big tears slipping past your eyes as you recalled the memories of the times shared, stopping your incessant actions at the faint knock at the door early in the morning. “I saw your light on.” he looked behind you, his lips twitching up for a short moment, only to fall back into a stoic look when he met your gaze, clearly seeing the tears that you tried to wipe away before opening the door, your eyes red with sadness and rage. “Tell me you didn’t.”  It was a whisper, one that made his heart break. It wasn’t just your expression, nor the redness under your eyes, but your moving away from the door, as if you feared him.  “Alfie Solomons-” he started, willing to offer an explanation for his deeds. “I don’t care about Alfie! I asked you to stop this after the vendetta happened!” you shouted, getting closer just to throw punches at his chest, yet no matter your anger you were nothing but gentle, barely making him flinch.  “He didn’t stop either.”  “Because he’s stubborn. He’s-” “I am too. He killed my men. Just ‘cause you were closer to Arthur doesn’t mean that the death of my men means nothing.” “I don’t want to be part of this anymore.” you announced, slipping from his grasp and moving away, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could. “You never were a part of this.”  “Maybe not, but with how things are going I’m going to end up as collateral damage.” “You know I’d never let anything happen to you. Even if you stood by him, I wouldn’t-” You turned and walked up the stairs, ignoring his words and grabbing your traveling bag from the wardrobe as he made his way up, scoffing but following you into the bedroom nonetherless.  You picked your clothes and folded them quickly, placing them in the bag and throwing a couple other belongings in.  “What are you doing?” He asked, sitting on your bed and stopping your movements by holding your hips, his touch delicate, in harsh contrast with his look. He always felt so… different around you. Delicate, careful, loving. Little things, like the way he remembered what wine you liked, or some of your little quirks, or the softness of his touches when he was near you. After the night where you both fell into your bed, he’d become more open with showing his affection, but before that he never really shied away from it either. His hand gently cradling the small of your back when guiding you into a restaurant, or the brush of his fingers against your cheek when a stray hair got away from behind your ear. “I’m ending it tomorrow.” He announced, avoiding your gaze. “What?” You turned to face him, not fully understanding his plan of attack. “I called a meeting with Thomas.”  “To apologise?” “To make a deal.” He corrected you. “But it might not work. So…” He took one of his rings off, holding your hand and placing it in your palm, closing it around it. “To remember me by. Or not. Maybe it’s better to forget me, after all.” He brought your hand to your lips, as if to seal a deal, smiling. “I won’t have to remember you. You’re not going.” Your hand on his arm was supposed to stop him, or slow him down at least, but he just smiled at you as you would with a child that doesn’t fully understand the state the world is in.  “I have to finish what I started.” “Luca, don’t.” you tried to give it back, but he shook his head, moving away from you and down the stairs. “Arthur didn’t deserve it.”  “He’s the one that pulled the trigger.”  You didn’t speak, not knowing what to add. You knew he was referring to the death of his father, but what Arthur had done was almost out of mercy. Tommy wouldn’t have stopped, so he intervened. There were many mistakes he had made in his life, but dying because of an act of mercy wasn’t what he deserved.  “Ti amo, bedda mia.” And with a final look he left, not waiting for an answer, exhaling when the door closed behind him. He saw the way you looked at him, the tears that escaped your eyes, feeling betrayed by his actions, but he did what he had to do.  “Luca, we’re not finished talking.” Your words had no effect on the man, just like you knew they wouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking them. It wasn’t only grief that was holding you back now, but fear. For a moment you saw the man just as he had been painted since the beginning: a gangster, a killer, nothing more but a heartless man. You fell back against the wall, clinging on to the ring he had gifted you, the only thing that felt certain right now. You watched as he stepped out, closing the door behind him ever so gently, to avoid making noise, and wondered what hid behind those eyes. How much could you risk for him?

He could feel you looking at him as he made his way out, knowing just how disappointed you were, but he wouldn’t back down. He knew what was going to go down tomorrow, what he’d say, how he'd move, and he’d do anything to have you by his side. 

After all, all is fair in love and war. 

#luca changretta x reader #luca changretta x you #luca changretta #luca changretta imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #love and war fic #Liza's attempts at writing

[scuddle-bubble101]

Oh no, no no listen mun mun, I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you cry or sad. But it really isn't a big deal, I know how tumblr can get so I didn't mean to offend you. I know you don't ignore your fans, that's why I still like each and every one of you're post, it gives me so much joy when I see them on my dashboard. You even deleted it...damn I sure fucked that one up...I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, please cheer up mun. I feel...like such a bad person right now, so please forgive me..

-Anon Mo.

Whether you meant to or not. Assuming is never the right way to deal with this, if you truly have an issue or something you want to tell us. By all means, Dm us; We really do not mind! but sitting here and putting the words as you did in the format you did was not only disrespectful but hurtful to me. I have no clue who you are when your on anon or your asks don't show up, I can only go with what I have in my inbox. If I DON'T get to your ask, keep in mind I might be busy or I don't have it. Its not hard to think this after a bit and if it really is then again, say something PRIVATELY. I try to keep mine and my alters blog clean and somewhat respectful, aside from the occasionally joking and goofy bits, but its mostly in lighthearted fun.

I'm not mad though, I don't think its right to be mad over this but I am greatly disappointed in the way you handled things. I'm not going to bash you either, I just want this to be taken as the lesson it has become for you and you to listen and not DO this to anyone else EVER, ok?

#serif talks #again- I'm not mad really just wishing you had thought before you spoke

[supersoftly]

"Why are people joining" I'd like to point to how literally every social media site is worse. To quote one post: Tumblr is the one place where I can be a clown and make shit fucking takes and have it not have a likely hood of effecting future job prospects. Also it's a better place for art, I've no clue why twitter of all places became the place to post art. It's like the worst site for it.

Hey fair enough, I've been here for as long as I have for those very reasons.

However I'm actually pretty mixed on it for art, as in, the algorithm (or rather, whatever is keeping the decrepit gears turning here) seems to promote the most random of posts, including dead blogs, and tagging is still considered some sort of mystical wizardry. I super duper like the basically free-for-all multi-media format tumblr offers, good way to customize your organization and see all your stuff in one place. It's the only reason why its preferable posting my art here over other sites (and avoiding ez nft harvesting), but coming to tumblr late in 2022 for art promotion I would not recommend ^^; I think a lot of people stick to twitter because it's where you would likely get the most interaction as long as you get in on a hype train early on despite the lack of resources for artists -_-;

[willowcrowned]

Fic Writer Interview

I was tagged by @tessiete

Tagging: @mandaloriandy @outpastthemoat @phoenixyfriend

Remember to make a new post!

How many works do you have on AO3?

48, thirteen of which have been made anonymous.

What's your total AO3 word count?

260,698

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On Ao3? 12, including Star Wars (obvs), FMAB, Twilight, The Silmarillion, LOTR, Much Ado About Nothing, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Narnia, The Arcana, VLD (yes, I know), Buzzfeed Unsolved.

In my drafts folder? WAY more. (one day I'll finish you post-OoT Link character study... one day..)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Paternal Relations, Leap of Faith, (Arguable) Flirting, To Catch a Serial Killer, and Being an Investigation of Sorts into the Supernatural and the Supernaturally Stupid

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! Not all of them, because that's something I don't have the energy for. (Fic writers who do respond to all comments—I have the greatest admiration for you, and also how the hell do you do it.) I always respond if it's particularly thoughtful or insightful, and I'll usually respond if it's a joke. I don't bother for an emoji or an 'I liked it.'

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Ehm... I don't really do angst. I do have something in my WIP folder that'll end pretty angstily if I ever get around to it. I think my anonymous Narnia or VLD fics? Maybe the anonymous Silmarillion one?

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

Not as real fic. As not!fics on tumblr? Absolutely. I'm going to go with the fmab/TPM crossover, because that's the silliest one that comes to mind immediately.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I've only ever received "hate" once, and it was the funniest comment I've ever read (not intentionally, unfortunately for them), so I have it screenshotted for when I need a good laugh.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes, primarily pwp. I think that emotionally-driven smut that functions as a device for a character study is some of the best, most compelling smut out there. Unfortunately, my smut writing interests lie in a different direction—a hornier one.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, but now I feel like I should go check.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Smoking_breath did a russian translation of Paternal Relations!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. I'm a bit of a control freak, and very particular about style to boot, so there's really only ben one time I've considered it and it was with someone who I was sharing a braincell with.

What's your all time favorite ship?

Oof. I don't really do OTPs, so I don't have an answer for this.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I hesitate to say never, because there's always a chance I'll come back to it, but I have a Princess Bride AU in my WIPs folder that's nearly done that I probably won't touch. (It needs major rewrites, but I do like the premise, which is that Buttercup decides to vent all her grief via grabbing a sword and whacking at things, so who knows.)

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and humor! I think I've got a really good hold on how to pace writing so that jokes land really well, and I think I'm also pretty good at figuring out where to put dialogue tags and such so a conversation proceeds with the pauses where I want them.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I really struggle with anything character driven. (For context, the last character-driven thing I tried stopped at 20k, but that 20k took me several hundred hours of writing time.) I don't know why that is, but I do know that writing something character-driven is like wrestling with a sugar-crazed five year old covered in oil, and whatever comes out inevitably needs major rewrites. I get a little better every time I try, though! Maybe in thirty years I'll actually be able to do it without giving myself a headache every time I open the doc.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Unless I know the language, I won't do it, and even then I think it can be really dicey. A lot of the time, a foreign language will take me out of the reading experience—not just because it can be hard to understand, but because the author has no idea how people actually use a second language. A really good example of that (and the one I see the most) is pet names.

Unless it makes sense within the context of the characters (e.x. two characters that share a heritage using a pet name from that heritage's language as a means of connecting to each other), I find pet names really take me out of it. I have never in my life been speaking English with someone and then called them a pet name in Hebrew (which, even though I'm not fluent, is the language that I've been called pet names in by my family and is the language I'd use for a pet name). When someone switches languages mid-sentence just to call someone a pet name in a language they don't know, it can read as a little... odd.

Foreign language use gets even dicier when I do speak the language and I can tell that the author doesn't. I've put down fics because they had no clue what they were doing with the Hebrew or the French. If your character is supposed to be fluent and they're making mistakes with gender, then I'm not going to be able to pay attention to the actual story and will instead be trying to format a comment in my head to tell you in the nicest way possible that your grammar is wrong.

So: I don't use it in my fics. I think it can be used to great effect when done right (see: insight into a character's relationship with their past, heritage, etc. (also for comedy, because there's nothing quite like "can you hand me the—the—fuck. The סוכר?" "the sugar?" "oh my god it's the same fucking word in english.")), but on the whole, I'm iffy about it.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Technically Avalon: Web of Magic, which I did in fourth grade with a friend. We didn't know what fanfiction was though, so I'm not sure if it counts.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

I'm quite fond of Smoke Raised with the Fume of Sighs right now, but more as something I'm enjoying writing than something I'd like reading. It's my first real foray into posting as I go, and it's the first time I've done chapetered fic in a while. It's also great fun, character-wise.

Other than that, I still very much enjoy Paternal Relations. It's got some fun lines.

#it is so weird to be tagged by a fic writer I've never talked to #good weird! good weird! #but I am continuously shocked that I'm not tossing my writing out into the void #what do you MEAN people read my writing now #what do you MEAN my little corner isn't as isolated as it used to be #anyways thanks for the tag #tag games

[kindahoping4forever]

I’d Rather Be In Love // An Ashton Irwin 5 + 1 Fic

I had been feeling a bit off creatively so while I was on my Tumblr break, I started playing around with the 5 +1 fic format, mainly as a writing exercise; coming up with the overall “theme” and then thinking of the vignettes that would fit in with it is actually a pretty cool brainstorming activity. I don’t know what it was about this particular idea I had but once this popped into my head, I couldn’t stop writing and finished it in about a day. It’s a bit of a departure stylistically (and tonally?) for me so I was wayyyy needy and insecure about it so thank you (as always) to @cal-puddies​ for encouraging me and to @ashtonangst​ for hyping me up when I needed it.

Description: Five first times and one last time with Ashton

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash (I mean), implied smut (it’s only implied, I know, I’m shocked too), mild angst, a lot of fluff (I know, I’m shocked too)

Word Count: 3,707

Masterlist // Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

————-

The First Meet

“I’d get comfortable if I were you, I’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes and haven’t seen a bartender yet.”

You’re not usually the type to talk to strangers in bars and you’re especially not the one to break the ice but there was something about this man that had you feeling bold. You’d been sitting at the back bar, people watching, waiting for your friends to arrive and he caught your attention as soon as he walked in. Hair slicked, perfectly styled save for one stray curl dangling in front of his eyes, crisp leather jacket and black jeans matched with a pressed button down shirt, impractically left unbuttoned enough to reveal a variety of necklaces and an alluring amount of chest hair. You never realized you found chest hair attractive until now. Huh.

He fixes his eyes on you and any nerves you were feeling are immediately drowned in a sparkling sea of hazel coloring and amused curiosity. “Is that so?” He replies in a voice tinged with an accent you can’t quite place. “This kind of thing happen here a lot?”

You grin, impressed by his smooth way of asking “do you come here often?” without actually saying the unoriginal phrase. “I’m a regular, can’t say that I’ve seen it before,” you eagerly take the bait. “The guy served me and a few others, dipped and hasn’t been back. The big crowd is always at the main bar at the front of the house, which is why I like to sit back here at this one.”

“I came back here for the same reason,” he smiles, sitting on the stool next to you, listening intently to your story.

“Smart man,” you flirt, trying not to think about how he’s now close enough you can smell his cologne.

You’re not sure how long you sit and talk with him - it feels like both a fleeting moment and a lengthy dream. You learn his name is Ashton, he’s a musician and like you, he was here to meet friends who ended up cancelling at the last minute. He asks you about your evening, your job, your life; you’re surprised at how easy it is to talk to him and how actually interested he seems in your answers.

After a while, Ashton looks around the bar and with still no barkeep in sight, he turns to you with a mischievous gleam in his eye and advises, “Keep a lookout?”

You watch enchanted as he confidently strides behind the bar and makes himself a drink. You raise an eyebrow at him and he holds a finger up, telling you to hold on; he reaches into his jacket and pulls out some cash that he leaves under a glass next to the cash register. “I’m thirsty, not a thief,” he explains as if this sequence of events were a totally normal thing to watch happen.

He sits his glass on the bar in front of where he was sitting and then stops to evaluate you for a moment; you feel yourself blush under his gaze. “Whiskey girl,” he declares, letting out a surprisingly adorable giggle when your shocked expression tells him he’s guessed correctly.

He serves your drink and casually comes around back to his seat, no one any the wiser. “Impressive,” you compliment, raising your glass to his. “Bartending skills aren’t too bad either.”

Ashton chuckles and you think to yourself you can’t imagine ever tiring of the sound. “To our friends and their flaky ways," he toasts. You clink glasses and his eyes never leave yours as you take your sips. He leans in and his hand grazes your arm; the feeling is so electric you nearly jump. "Glad they didn't show up, I think I'd rather spend my time with you."

————-

The First Time

"Should we take this to the bedroom?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

You snort at his cliched response and then gasp as he stands up from the couch, lifting you off his lap and locking your legs around his waist in one swift motion.

You were quite proud of yourself for not going home with Ashton that first night, even after talking at the bar until closing. You’d met him for drinks a couple more times that week and tonight when he asked you if you wanted to split some food at the bar, you figured that was dinner adjacent enough that this was essentially a date and you could reasonably justify inviting him back to yours.

You resume kissing as he starts down the hallway, accidentally bumping your back into the wall more than once. He briefly pulls away from your lips, muttering against them, "I have no fucking clue where your bedroom is located."

You affectionately snicker into his neck while pointing him in the right direction; your laughter sets him off and by the time he reaches your room, you're both giggling wildly. He drops you down onto the bed and you start wrestling with each other’s clothes. You immediately reach for his belt buckle but he grabs your hand and sternly warns, "The giggle train stops here, sweetheart, once the clothes come off, it's serious business."

This, of course, only makes you laugh more until you feel his lips on your neck and suddenly things feel a lot less hilarious.

Your hands and mouths eagerly get well acquainted with each other; you feel like you might burst into flames if things don’t progress sometime soon but you also feel like you could live off his exploratory kisses and surprised gasps if you had to.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling as he raises himself up from between your legs, hair goofily out of place thanks to the way you were tugging at it. Despite your best efforts to hide your amusement, he notices and playfully bites at your neck in protest.

“What did I say about your attitude, missy?” Ash taunts, smiling against your skin. “I’m putting in some of my best work here, you’re gonna give me a complex.”

You pull his face towards yours, kissing him deeply and hungrily. “Guess maybe you should try harder,” you tease, putting the emphasis on the word harder, reaching down to palm him.

He groans into your mouth and ruts into your hand. After a few more minutes of teasing, you pull away and direct him to the condoms you keep in your bedside table. You both get yourselves situated and when he finally enters you, you say a silent prayer of thanks to your friends for ditching you that first night.

He’s as attentive and communicative in bed as he is in conversation and your chemistry easily translates into one of the best first encounters you’ve had with someone. In the afterglow, you and Ashton lay there, catching your breath, joking and talking as if you’ve been lovers for years. You’re taken aback by the familiarity and fondness you feel but it doesn’t make you as nervous as you thought it might.

You excuse yourself to the bathroom and when you return, Ash is looking around the room, collecting his clothes that were strewn about.

Without thinking, you blurt out, “You’re welcome to stay the night.” Not wanting to be That Girl, you quickly try to save it. “It’s pretty late, I’m sure you’re tired, probably just want to crash… so… it’s cool if you’d like to do that here. Or, you know. You can go home. That’s cool too.”

He smirks at your obvious panic, walks over and kisses you. “I’d rather stay.”

————-

The First Doubt

“Is it weird I haven’t met your friends yet?”

Ashton’s quiet and it takes you a few seconds to scrounge up the courage to turn and face him; the question had been on your mind but you didn’t mean to let it out on a post-dinner car ride like this. It just happened.

"I don't know… is it?" He glances over at you before turning back to the road. "I'm not being an ass, that's a serious question. Is it? I just hadn't thought about it."

“You’ve met my friends?” You weakly offer, losing your nerve to have the conversation.

He makes a face. “I mean, just a couple of them,” he counters. “And that wasn’t even on purpose, that was just me not leaving your place in time before the brunch brigade showed up.”

You chew your lip, trying to think of how to word your concerns. “It’s just… we’ve been seeing each other for a minute and I think it’s going well -”

“It is,” he interjects, reaching over to grasp your knee reassuringly.

You lace your fingers in his, holding them in your lap. “I guess I was just thinking about it because of the other night when you made plans with me but forgot you had plans with them and I know they didn’t mind postponing but I wouldn’t have minded if they had just hung out with us,” you shrug.

“That option didn’t even cross my mind,” he admits quietly, eyes focused ahead.

“That’s kind of what bothers me,” you say, forcing a laugh so you don’t sound quite as pathetic as you feel. “Do you not think we’ll get along? Are you afraid they’ll embarrass you in front of me? I can’t think of anything I’d do that might embarrass you, but…”

“Baby, no,” he insists, giving your hand a strong squeeze. You smile to yourself - it happened so naturally, he might not realize it, but it’s the first time he’s called you “baby” outside of bed. The car pulls up to a stoplight and he turns to look at you. “You’re not even a little bit embarrassing, they’re definitely going to embarrass me but there’s nothing I can do about that and I do actually think you’d all get along.”

The light turns green and satisfied with his comfort, you’re prepared to drop the topic; it’s quiet for a couple minutes and then Ash is talking again. “If you want me to set something up, I can do that,” he thinks out loud. “I honestly just haven’t thought about it because when I think about wanting to spend time with you, I want to spend time with you… don’t tell anyone, but I like you a lot better than them.”

You grin and lean across the car to kiss his cheek, giving his hair a good tousle. “This is actually probably something that would qualify as embarrassing, huh?” You giggle, trying to finger brush his hair back into place. “Probably shouldn't do that around the boys.”

He flashes you a beaming smile and a light-hearted shrug. “I mean… I’d rather you didn’t.”

————-

The First I Love You

“Oh good, you're here! Can you reach that container on the top shelf with the blue lid? I don't know where the step stool went."

"Happy to see you too," he jokes. "I knew you were only dating me for my height."

"Please, you're not even that tall," you jab, pecking his lips lightly as he hands you the item you requested.

Ash looks around your kitchen, overwhelmed at the mess; he's glad he arrived early so he can help you get things in order. It was his turn this week to host game night for his (and now your) friend group and you offered to hold it at your place; when you insisted on also providing the food, he never imagined you'd go all out like this.

He lightly smacks your ass before peeling off his jacket and walking over to the sink, to turn on the tap and start washing your collection of dirty dishes.

"You should really let me buy you that dishwasher like we talked about," he declares. "Save you so much time and energy, babe."

You press a kiss to his neck tattoo and then hoist yourself to sit on the counter to continue your conversation. "And like I told you, I wouldn't use it enough to justify it," you insist. "My lease will be up next year and I really only need it when I have people over, which is never."

"Well with the way everyone's feasting tonight, I'd say that's definitely going to change," he chuckles, handing you a bowl to dry. "What's on the menu tonight?"

You happily rattle off the list of food you'd spent the day preparing: homemade pizzas for dinner, dips and salsas for snacks, various cookies and mini cakes for dessert. For most dishes, you'd provided both vegan and non-vegan options and had placed them in specifically colored containers to keep track.

Ashton stops the sink and comes to stand between your legs; you look at him curiously as he takes the plate you're drying out of your hands and sits it aside.

"It's really sweet that you went to so much trouble," he says thoughtfully, playing with the hem of your lounge shorts. "You know you didn't have to."

"I know… But I wanted to," you pause a second, evaluating the large stack of containers on the counter opposite you. Your eyes widen and you start rambling, "Oh god, I'm trying way too hard, aren't I? I didn't even think about it, I just went for it, how embarrassing, they already like me, why did I do this? We can stash this stuff and just order something, like normal people would, Jesus Christ, who makes pizza from scratch for game night, I cannot believe ---"

Your rant is cut off by your boyfriend's lips quieting yours. It's a sweet kiss; passion-filled but soft and ultimately reassuring. He laughs softly against your lips, "I love you."

You pull away to study his face, you're not sure why your first instinct is to ask if he's joking but judging from the fondness in his eyes, you know he's not.

He senses your uncertainty and doubles down on his statement. "I love you and I love that you care enough about something as stupid as game night to do all this." He kisses your forehead. "And everyone else is gonna love it too."

You pull his chin towards you and kiss him slowly, deliberately, joyfully. When you're done, you pull him close to you, wrapping your arms around his broad build, burying your face in his neck. "I love you too, by the way," you share.

“Glad to hear it,” he responds. You can hear the smile in his voice. Suddenly, he’s hooking your legs around his waist and lifting you off the counter, carrying you out of the kitchen towards your bedroom.

You giggle, “Ash, what are you doing? Everyone’s gonna be here in less than an hour, we’ve got to set up!”

He shakes his head. “They can wait, I'd rather show you how much I love you.”

————-

The First Fight

“I honestly didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“It’s just wild that you thought this would be uninteresting to me."

You take a deep breath. “I never said I didn’t think you’d be interested, I said I didn’t see why you were so upset, seeing as it wasn’t going to affect you at all,” you state as calmly as you can.

“My girlfriend moving across the country sure as fuck sounds like something that would affect me,” Ashton snipes.

“For a few months, during most of which you’ll be on tour,” you emphasize, patience beginning to wear. “Also love how you only ever call me your girlfriend when you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, I’m disappointed.”

“There’s no way you actually just used that phrase right now, you’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

He huffs and begins pacing around the room while you sit on the couch, shaking your head. He borrowed your computer while you got ready for your date - which would have been fine except you’d left your email logged in, making him the inadvertent audience to new messages in a thread titled “NYC housing options.”

“You don’t even like your job,” he says incredulously.

“No, you don’t like my job,” you clarify.

“I don’t like how stressed and upset it makes you and I don’t understand why you’d want to devote months of extra hard work and more training for something that doesn’t even fulfill you,” he says matter of factly.

“The doors this could open for me have the potential to make my job more fulfilling - ” you start to explain.

He cuts you off, “Why don’t you just do something fulfilling in the first place?”

You purse your lips, getting angry. “Well, we can’t all be pure intentioned virtuoso artists like you, Ash.”

“Don’t be mean, I’m just trying to understand what’s happening,” he says, exasperated and scowling.

He sits on the opposite end of the couch, running a hand through his hair. You can tell he’s not just mad, he’s hurt. You’ve had fights before but they were trivial and easily resolved; this was something else entirely.

You inch closer to him. “I promise I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you,” you say carefully. “I legitimately thought since it wasn’t a done deal that it didn’t matter. I’m just being considered for the program.”

Ashton toys with the rings on his fingers, avoiding your eyes. “But why wouldn’t you have told me it was even a possibility, why wouldn’t you have wanted to celebrate that your boss thought of you for this? If it’s something that exciting and important enough to you that you’re considering upending your life for it, why wouldn’t you want to share that with me?”

“I don’t know,” you confess. “...I guess I just didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It’s serious enough that you’re already looking at apartments,” he notes, jaw clenching.

You’re silent; he has a point.

You exhale slowly. “I think part of me was maybe afraid that something like this might happen,” you share quietly.

“So then you did keep it from me,” he accuses.

“No, I think I was just… procrastinating?” You lamely defend.

Ash is cool and eerily reserved as he responds, “Just to be clear: I’m not upset about your offer, I’m upset that you clearly don’t care enough to include me in the important parts of your life. I share everything with you.”

You blink in disbelief. “That’s not fair, you’re not listening to me at all.”

He shrugs, disinterested. “Tell me where I’m wrong.”

“Tell me you’re not just mad that I’ll be too busy to follow you around on tour like some starry-eyed groupie,” you toss out, irritated.

He scoffs, “At least the groupies are honest about what they want from me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your hot, angry tears from falling; you refuse to let him see you cry. “You should leave,” you announce flatly.

“Gladly,” he agrees darkly, standing up. “I'd rather be anywhere else.”

————-

The Last Night

“Thank you for being here for this... you didn’t have to be."

“Of course I did, don’t be ridiculous,” Ashton says. “I want to help plus it'd be kind of shitty for me to let you do all this on your own.”

You shake your head appreciatively. “Yeah but going from literally stepping off of a tour bus to loading all my stuff into a moving van is a lot.”

“Well I didn’t literally do that, I drove my own car here,” he jokes.

“You’re the absolute worst,” you deadpan.

“I’ve heard that before,” he grins.

You stick your tongue out at him and then yelp as he grabs you by the waist, wrapping you in his arms, pressing an absurd amount of kisses to your face.

Giggling, you escape from his embrace and go back to stacking the boxes left in the room, making sure everything is correctly labeled and sealed with tape.

"What room do you want this sorted into?" Ash asks, holding up a bag filled with various tubes of lotion.

You squint, trying to see which products are inside. "Uh… that can be bathroom," you direct, pointing to a box to his left.

He holds up a stack of plastic novelty cups. "Kitchen?"

You shake your head. "I actually use those on my desk - that box is over here." He passes them to you and you blow a kiss in response.

You both quietly continue organizing but you keep feeling Ash's eyes on you, studying your demeanor. Finally, he asks, "So… last night in your very own LA apartment… how are you feeling?"

You honestly hadn't stopped to ask yourself that question yet so you use this moment to take a break and ponder your feelings. You flop yourself onto the bare mattress that’s been left in the middle of the room for you to sleep on and stare at the ceiling.

"...Fine? I mean, it's weird," you share, sorting through your thoughts. "Obviously I've lived other places but this… y'know… this move feels different."

He smiles softly at you and sits on the edge of the mattress. "That's because it is," he states. "Bigger milestone, bigger plans…" He mindlessly digs through a box by the bed, you reach out and lightly rub his back.

"Definitely bigger as far as how much I'm moving - how do I have so much stuff?" You joke, gesturing around the room.

He snorts. "I was thinking the same thing," he teases. "See, I should've asked you to move in with me as soon as you got back from New York last year. You could've made do with just what you had in that small ass apartment, problem solved."

You laugh heartily, your exhaustion and excitement making his joke a lot funnier than it actually is. You check your phone for the time and sigh. "Think we should call it, babe. We can finish up in the morning."

He sets aside the box he was looking through. "Well we already packed up your TV and stereo, what do you want to do for the rest of the night? It's still kind of early," he shrugs.

“What’s the opposite of christening a place?” You coyly ask, striking a pose. “Because I vote we do that.”

Ashton smirks, moving to lay beside you on the bed. “Nothing I’d rather do.”

————-

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#5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fic #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin fic #ashton fluff #ashton irwin 5 + 1 fic #5 + 1 fic #kindahoping4forever #kh4f fic #for real i don't know where this came from #i hope you like it #like i said this was a writing exercise that basically went too far but i am glad i stuck with it tbh #i'll be back to my disgustingly filthy ways when i get around to posting gardener!ash don't worry lmao #in the meantime enjoy (hopefully) the softer side of Crystal #Feedback is appreciated #thank you all for sticking with me while I was away ily all