#ive played it over and over and it never entirely gets Old

[pinkie-pop]

"Do Paimons Dream of Floating Sheep?"

Mondstadt: Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Based on this

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Paimon! Reader, Yandere Genshin Impact, Aether, Albedo, Eula, Diluc, Kaeya, Lisa, Venti

Word count: 1.7k

Synopsis: Being dragged into the world of your favorite video game is hardly your idea of a relaxing Saturday, and being dragged into the world of your favorite game, taking over the role of mascot even less so. Unfortunately, it seems fate has no interest in what you consider to be a normal day, and it will do anything to replace your idea of normal entirely.

Includes: Blackmail, imprisonment, drugging, injury, kidnapping, nonconsensual kiss, suicide

Note: This is the final installment.

This is only your guess, but it seems the futures that the Archive shows you are only possibilities. It's your own choices that dictate which, if any, become true. In that way, they’re similar to the hangout quests in the original game. Unfortunately, the Archive doesn't tell you what choices you have to make in order to get your desired ending. You flip through more threads of fate. 

•~•~•~•~•~•

“It’s quite simple, [Name]. All you have to do is take my hand, and we can put this whole thing behind us.” You look down at Kaeya’s outstretched hand, a bead of sweat rolling down your back. You thought he was your friend.

That was before he had you jailed for false charges. You gaze up at him in resentment, spitting on the hand he offered you. 

“Now, now,” he says, wiping his hand with a handkerchief. “There’s no need to throw a temper tantrum. I know this situation isn’t ideal, but can you really blame me for getting a bit impatient? You’ve been playing hard to get for so long now I was really starting to get the impression that you weren’t interested.” It’s amazing just how close to the truth he can get while still being delusional. “Think about it,” he says, turning around and leaving you in your cell. Alone, again.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You take an uncomfortable sip of your tea, not missing the careful way that Lisa examines you as you do. She’s been watching you carefully for a while now. Maybe if you were smarter, you would have asked about it.

It’s a little too late for regrets now, though. You can already feel the drug take its effects.

The edges of your vision go fuzzy until Lisa is the only thing in focus. You feel your mind floating away as you fawn over her, with her reciprocating just as much. You give yourself to the feeling, loving how you no longer need to think, how you no longer need to focus on anything that wasn’t her. 

How could you ever have thought of resisting her? Of trying to run away from her and her loving embrace? 

You must have been out of your mind.

•~•~•~•~•~•

The chain clinks rhythmically as Aether tugs you along, his fingers interlaced with yours. Sometimes, you wonder what the point of the bindings are, if he’s just just going to hold your hand anyway, but you dare not voice these thoughts of yours, too afraid of his reaction.

Aether has been…eractic, recently. His mood swings are out of control, and it’s all you can do to avoid setting him off, walking on eggshells like your life depends on it—which it sort of does. He would never hurt you, he says, but the bruises on your arms tell a different story.

He would never hurt you, he says, except for all the times he has.

What a gentleman, right?

•~•~•~•~•~•

Eula doesn’t say anything as she slides a ring onto your finger. An old family heirloom, she had told you earlier. It had just been sitting around, collecting dust, when she found it and thought of you. It didn’t mean anything. It was just a pretty trinket from a friend. That’s all. 

She didn’t tell you that the ring had thorns.

They face backward, making the ring easy to slip on but excruciating to take off. A simple sign of her affection for you. Pretty on the outside but suffocating within. Eula was not nearly as subtle as she liked to think, but even so, you play along. 

She’s easier to deal with when she’s not being honest.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You wake up with a searing headache. You don’t quite know how you got in this situation, all you remember is taking a midnight stroll, feeling something heavy hit your head, and then, nothing. You’re blindfolded, but you can still tell some things from your other senses. Like how you’re currently tied up on a bed.

You think you’ve been kidnapped. But by who? Who would do such a thing, and why to you? You don’t have money to ransom, you’ve got no grudges with anyone, you don’t have anything that a kidnapper would want. The idea that maybe they’re targeting you to get to Aether crosses your mind, but if that were the case, why would they place you on a bed? Why use silk for your bindings instead of harsh ropes or chains?

It doesn’t make sense.

“Ah, you’re awake.” You perk up immediately. You know that voice, it’s Diluc! Is he here to rescue you? But, wait…what was that he said? ‘You’re awake,’ it’s almost like…he already knew about your situation. 

It’s almost like…he was the one who put you in it. But that can’t be right.

Can it?

•~•~•~•~•~•

Your feet ache. A side effect of the surgery, Albedo tells you. You can’t believe him. You said you were leaving to Liyue once, and the next thing you know, he’s put you under anesthesia and severed your Achilles tendons. Maybe you should be more horrified about this, but right now all you can feel is annoyance. Perhaps you’ve already grown used to Albedo and his possessive tendencies.

Perhaps you’re simply banking on your ability to fly. Sure, it’s true that you’ve never flown since that day, but that doesn’t mean you’ve suddenly forgotten how to. It’ll be easy. All you have to do is get over your paralyzing fear of heights, bypass the cabin locks Albedo installed, find an opportunity to get away, survive the sheer cold of Dragonspine, and then you’re home free.

…

Or, maybe you’d be better off adjusting to a life of captivity.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Close your eyes,” Venti says in his usual boyish, cheerful tone. As if the two of you were simply playing. As if he doesn’t have you cornered in an alley, his hands locking yours in place.

You close your eyes. Instantly, you feel his lips on yours, again. His lips move against yours in a careful rhythm, almost like the songs he used to play for you. Peaceful times like that feel so far away. Now, your relationship is coded only in violence, only in him taking, taking what doesn’t belong to him. His grip on your arm tightens as he squeezes, the message clear. You kiss back, disgusted by how easily you give in to his whims. 

It takes all the will and self-restraint you have not to try and push him off—you already know such an attempt would fail, anyway. After all, you’re only human. And a human has no chance of winning a fight against a god.

So much for the city of freedom.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Okay, the idea of being in the world of your favorite video game was fun at first, but this is too much. You can't do this. You need a way out.

But…how do you find an exit when you've never even seen the entrance?

You flip through more pages of the Archive. You scroll through information on weapons, characters, and items. You read about local specialties, character ascension materials, and enemy mobs. None of it helps. You find nothing.

You keep searching. 

You find nothing. 

You look again.

Nothing. Again. Again. Again.

The world seems to fade in and out of existence as you search until it finally melts away completely. Your vision goes fuzzy, with black splotches blocking the light, but only for a moment. When you open your eyes, you realize that you are no longer in the dungeon. You are in an infinite white that stretches out for as far as you can see. The only thing besides you is the Archive.

You look through it for a final time.

You find something. Finally. Finally, you find something. A plain white envelope falls out from between the pages. You aren’t sure how you missed it before.

Carefully, you tear open the envelope with the conveniently provided letter opener and read its contents. You don't like what you find. 

Experiment Number 0000, 

I hope that this letter finds you well, though I know that it will not have. If you were well, you would never have seen this letter in the first place. If you have found this letter, it means that things have already gone sideways or are about to. I am sure you are reading this hoping for answers. To find this letter is to have already doomed yourself. The moment you opened the book and started reading you tore open the fabrics of reality. Timelines are like strings, and your actions have molded them into a mangled knot. I do not quite know how you have found yourself in such a bizarre situation, only that you have.

I suppose I owe you an explanation, don’t I?

This book—the Archive, as you call it—is not a book at all. It is more like a ledger. What you have found, 0000, is not the future but instead a collection of the past. 

This is not your first life. 

My colleagues and I have been experimenting with eternal life and reincarnation. We tested on animals first, but nothing can ever truly replace a real, living human. I tried to stop them, believe me, I did. But I am just as powerless in the situation as you are. I could do nothing to stop their cruelty. The only thing I could do—the only thing I can do, is to write this letter, and to hope that it reaches you. Enclosed is a tool that will aid in your escape.

I am sorry, 0000. This will be your last life.

Sincerely, 

0001.

As you read through the letter, flashes of memories return to you. You remember events that have never happened in this life. You remember dying, living, killing. You remeber being kidnapped, bludgeoned, abused. You remeber being loved, cared for, and killed. You remeber everything. All these lives that you’ve lived…they must all total to well over a hundred years. You’ve had enough. You’ve lived for far too long and seen far too many things. 

You need a way out.

You look down at the letter opener in your hands. No, wait, it’s not a letter opener.

It’s a dagger.

You have no other choice. Anything to escape this hell.

And just like that, you plunge the dagger into your heart.

Taglist: @shadowkitty-me @probablynoposts @kissyhalik @persephone-kore-law @neverending-animelove @crxscnt @teravolting @resident-cryptid @esthelily @shellofthewall @dilucragnidvr @altheq0 @wegottastayfocus @jellothefool @c0l1fl0r @francisnyx @imma-just-chill @fantasyhopperhea @iamapotatoe @utahimechan @undecidingfate @saltystudentdefender @vee-love @ayameei @shadowkitty-me @fantasyhopperhea @c4xcocoa @yarabutterfly @mitsukashi @dreamlessnight @ayameei @yuan1819 @dreamsenternally @sfinksv @nyx-u @swagbucksjester @candycxndy @leshugasworld-blog

#yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #yandere aether #yandere albedo #yandere eula #yandere diluc #yandere kaeya #yandere lisa #yandere venti

[angelkissiies]

brute

abby anderson x reader

cw : hockey!abby , cheerleader!reader , modern!au , m*n , bigotry , usage of slurs ( fag ) , incel , alluded frat tactics ( roof*es ) , violence .

wc : 2.4K

a / n : if you see any grammatical issues , SQUINT , ive never proofread a single thing in my entire life

You shuffled into your seat, letting your bag drop onto the floor next to your feet. It was pretty quiet in the rink, the soft sound of chattering coming from the locker rooms as you settled in– fishing around in your stuff for your laptop. It was a slow day for you, only a couple classes worth of homework to complete, so you’d decided to tag along with Abby to practice for a show while you fought your calculus assignments. Since it was the start of the season, new kids had been brought onto the team which made a ton of sense as a gaggle of 19 year olds raced down the aisles toward the ice– just barely missing your water bottle. “Jeez.” You huffed, pulling your stuff further from the walkway, not willing to risk the ridiculously expensive tumbler Abby had gotten you. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to accompany her, seeing as the rink was like a second home to you, the team not minding for the most part– Abby had joked before that the judgment of a pretty girl whipped them more into shape, their plays being better when you were around compared to when you werent. 

Abby was beyond annoyed already, following behind the newbies with a scowl. This was the worst part of a new season, given that these kids didn’t know the ways of the team, not that she fully blamed them. She just hated the prospect of dealing with multiple egotistical freshmen in such a small place, their voices managing to carry throughout the entire rink. She held her skates close to her side, nudging the rink door open with the tip of her toes, settling onto one of the benches to finish gearing up for practice. Her nerves were already shot, having the captain of the men's team call up to the rink saying that he’d managed to get sick– meaning she’d be taking on both teams for drills. She’d debated calling the whole thing off, not wanting a repeat of the fiasco last year. 

“You gonna make it?” A voice called from behind her, making her crane her neck as she shoved her feet into the skates, the owner of said voice making her roll her eyes. Nora and Mel were walking together just a ways behind her, sliding into the box before the door shut, their helmets and skates hitting the floor as they sat on either side of the girl. “How much do you wanna bet she bites one of their heads off before practice ends?” The two girls had a habit of betting on her downfall and whilst she knew it was all in good fun, seeing as they held some responsibility as co-captains, it still made her heart jump. 

The blonde clicked her tongue against her teeth, shaking her head. “Don’t start this again.”

Mel laughed, glancing down to mess with the strap on her gloves. “I got fifty on it being that guy,” She began, using her head to nod towards a dark haired guy on the ice. He was laughing loud enough to fill the entire rink, the sound piercing her ears as she shook her head slightly. “That might end up being me though, super annoying.” 

Abby chuckled, easing the helmet over her braid, making sure to tuck the end into the back of her jersey. “He is really annoying, I think that’s the same guy that transferred from UW.” She added, “I heard he made a big deal out of practicing co-ed.” She slid her gloves over her chilly fingers, eying the boy for a second before bringing her gaze up to the benches around the rink– like she always did, searching for you. It didn’t take long, seeing as you always sat in the same place, her heart squeezing slightly at the sight. You were cross-legged on the bench, her massive varsity jacket swallowing you whole as you tapped away on your computer– a frown etched into your sweet face. She knew how much you hated math, so it didn’t take her long to figure out what you were doing, a smile tugging at her lips as she tore her eyes from you. 

“Let's hope he behaves, hm?” Nora sighed, pulling open the second door to step out onto the ice– holding it open for the other two. “If not, god, I don’t even wanna know.” 

The girl nodded, standing up as she double checked her mouth guard. It was especially cold, as she made her way onto the ice, a chill biting at her exposed cheeks. Her time away from the sport had reflected on her temperature gauge more than anything, making her shudder slightly. “Is everyone here?” She spoke up, coming to a stop in the middle of the rink, tapping her skate slightly on the ice. It was a habit she’d managed to pick up from you, seeing as you prefaced all of your jumps with the tinestest of taps, she carried it like a piece of you on every rink she played on. 

One of the boys shrugged, looking to the group behind him before nodding out of the rink, trading her attention for another. Their conversations were low and muffled, only a stray chortle echoing as they found a way to quiet down. She was equally grateful and annoyed. 

Abby brushed it off, doing a quick headcount as she tried to figure out how many they’d be down, her patience wearing even thinner as she tried to focus over the bickering from the group in front of her. They had a nasty habit of not coexisting on the best terms, their compliance contractual. She dropped her attention from the teams as she saw Nora waving from the side, her feet propelling her forward to meet the girl in the middle– fingers still toying with the thick mouthguard in her hand. “What’s up?” It was unlike Nora to look so nervous, setting her brow into a downturn as she bent slightly to level with the girl. “Nora, what is it?”

“We might have a problem, I'm not sure, but it definitely sounds like a problem.” 

You groaned as you snapped the computer shut, moving your now free hand to rub your temple, there was nothing less enthusing than math. The worksheets you’d been assigned were incomplete, and you only figured that out once you were pretty much done, so all of your work was for nothing– seeing as when you checked your email an entirely new set had been assigned. It was enough to make you want to drop out, the prospect of doing anymore work sending a pang into your head. You shoved the laptop back into its sleeve before tucking it back into your bag, leaning back to rest against the row of seats just above you. You pulled your wrist up to hover above you, eyes locking onto the time. You made a small noise of confusion, sitting up on your elbows to look into the rink– they all were just standing around, Abby and Nora tucked away near the middle with their backs turned to you. They should’ve already started by now. 

“Weird.” You muttered, to no one but yourself, as you picked yourself up off of the bench. You grabbed your phone from your stuff and tucked it into your oversized pocket, stepping down the rows until you were right in front of the plexi-glass– breath creating a thick haze on the chilled material. You settled into one of the rink-side seats, just simply glazing over the players before your attention was caught by a couple freshmen. They were standing just outside of a group, their conversation too far for you to hear, but their stares were hard to miss. It made your stomach churn, prompting you to sink lower into your seat as you pulled your phone out to distract yourself. You weren’t not used to men staring, it was just something that came with being a girl, though you could seem to shake the feeling of dread that had lit in your stomach as you scrolled mindlessly through your feed.

Abby’s heart was pounding in her chest, mouth set into a harsh line as she followed Nora’s hushed whispers. Internally, there were alot of things she’d considered doing. Externally, she kept her feet steady on the ice. She had to give him a chance, right? There was some underlying theme of second chances at play, there had to be– but from the grim expression on Nora’s face, she doubted it. The blood had begun to rush to her head, a loud beating in her ears pulling her from the conversation at hand, hand coming up to stop the girl in front of her. “Let me handle this–,” She began, being cut off promptly. 

“You can’t hit him, Abby.” The girl sighed, crossing her arms over her stomach as she glanced warily between the boy and Abby. “He’s just a freshman, just go– I dunno, knock him down a peg.” 

She nodded, pulling her helmet off and handing it over to Nora. “I won’t hit him, promise.” She toyed with the straps on her gloves for a moment before, also, pulling them off and tucking them into her now empty helmet. While, yes, she had no real plans to hit him– she wasn’t ruling it out. Her feet dug into the ice, pushing off into his direction, a thousand different approaches coming to mind. She couldn’t deny the anger she felt, some of the comments Nora repeated making her nauseous, though in some fucked way– that’s just the way the wold had come to be. Boys said things about you more often than not, they always had innocent intent though– something these seemed to be lacking in their grotesque banter. Abby wasn’t one to let things like this slide, everyone knew that. 

Everyone but them, as they missed her overwhelming presence behind them– still snickering behind locked arms. “The things I'd do to get her, I mean come on! Look at her.” The blonde spoke, nudging the brunette with his elbow. 

“I know, I know. Imagine finding her at a frat party, I’d like to get her a drink– if you catch my drift.” 

Abby’s jaw tensed, a heavy hand coming to lock onto the boy's shoulder. With ease, she spun him around on his skates, his lanky frame wobbling from the sudden change in motion. “Don’t speak. I don’t care what you’re getting at or what your excuse is. That girl you’re talking about isn’t available, nor would she be interested, not that it seems you’d care. Keep your rapist comments to yourself or find the door.” Her voice was low, fingers now digging into the clothed flesh of his shoulder, face a couple shades paler from the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She wanted to hit him, god so bad, but she resisted– her resolve holding for the moment being. There was nothing she hated more than the audacity of men, her spine straightening as she stood to her full height– peering down at him, hoping that he would catch her drift and fuck off. 

The brunette snorted, shrugging her hold off with a cocky smile, other boy suddenly uninterested in ‘locker room’ talk. He shook his head, throwing up his hands in a mock gesture. “You feminists and calling all men ‘rapists’, you’re the real problem with society.” He jeered, looking around as if someone else would agree with him. “That girl isn’t even your problem, so why do you care?” 

An incredulous smile graced her lips as she let her arms come to rest intertwined against her tense stomach, nodding slowly. “‘That girl’ as you call her, is my business. You see that jacket she’s wearing?” She asked, taking a tiny step forward. “It’s mine. She’s mine.” It was clear, to anyone who had begun to tune into the conversation, that the last piece of self-control she had was breaking. She was pretty good about keeping her cool, usually, seeing as she wasn’t banned from the rink yet– but the look on his face made her rage double, making violence seem like the better option than just letting him go with a warning. 

“Oh, I get it. You’re a fag–,” 

You’d come out of your seat, phone angled towards the rink with the intention to snap a couple of pictures of Abby. It was something you’d taken to doing during games, a folder now dedicated in your phone to the candids. You clicked the button to snap the picture, instead hovering too long and starting up a video, making you groan slightly before peering into the screen for a moment– seeing the moment Abby’s fist collided with the boy's nose, a sickening crack filling the rink. ”Oh my god.” You breathed, glancing around to the observing parties– seeing them do next to nothing to stop the brawl. 

The boy managed to hit her once before becoming subdued by the girl, subdued meaning crumpled onto the ice in the fetal position, his hands now clasping the crooked bone protruding from the flesh. His friends had knelt down around him, hands poking around at his face in attempts to help. “You fucking bitch!” He groaned, blood leaking down his hands and seeping into the fabric of his uniform. 

“Yeah, I’m the bitch.” Abby sneered, tongue gliding over her teeth before she spat a mouth full of blood onto the ice beside him. “You’re off the team. Don’t bother coming back.” She hummed, turning on her heel to glide towards the door closest to her– your petrified face coming into view as she did so. “Practice is canceled. Go home.” She said finally, pulling the door open. 

You stared up at her, mouth opening and closing for a second before you settled on a question. “What happened?” 

The blonde glanced back behind her, the eyes of the team lingering on her, before she dipped down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. The contrast between her bloody lips and the soft cushion of her hand coming to rest on the back of your head was dizzying– but you didn’t complain, the metallic taste seeping into your mouth as you chased her lips. When she finally managed to pull away, there was a smear of blood on the flesh of your bottom lip– making her chuckle.

 “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.” 

#hockey!abby #hockey!au #hockey!abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abbyanderson #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us fanfic #the last of us #tlou hbo #hockey abby my beloved

[gojos-thot-patrol]

🌶️ nsfw HCs for jjk men 🥵 general sexy times~ what are they like in bed?

ooo, IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! TURN IT UPPPPP!!!

Now Presenting...

Starring Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna.

Sugru Geto

Cigarettes and feelings keep me Laughing when everything is all fucked up

C O R R U P T I O N  K I N K  DO YOU HEAR ME?!

He sees himself as dirty and ruined and he needs to see that in you too. 

His loves how you look when you’re choking on his cock

He loves it so much he’s gonna take a picture! He’s big on recording you in your most vulnerable moments

Mirror on the ceiling so you can watch him fuck you stupid

I hope you have a degradation kink cause he's going to call you his stupid fucking whore

But hey! At least you’re his stupid fucking whore!

He needs to push your limits. He needs to see how far you’re willing to go for him, and what you're willing to do to get his praise.

Unlike in your daily life, his praise is rare in the bedroom. That’s what makes it so intoxicating when he finally does give it out. You’re still going to have to work for it though.

CONTROVERSIAL TAKE: he hates to be called daddy. Call him literally anything else, but the moment you say “Daddy” he’s over it

Now Sir on the other hand? Sir will always make him act up, use it strategically, lest you get pounded in a dirty bathroom.

He gives me the vibes of someone that would convince you to drop ex or acid then fuck him for a “religious experience.”

IDK maybe that's just me seeing the cult leader in him.

All of that being said, I also think Suguru has mastered the art of aftercare

During the act he’s a monster, but after? Nothing but praise and love. He’s worshiping your body while cleaning you up, cuddling with you for as long as you’ll let him. 

You need water? He’s getting it. You want a bath? Say no more he’s running it for you.

He never wants you to think he’s just using you for your body.

Even if he is.

Satoru Gojo

Set my alarm, turn on my charm That's because I'm a good old-fashioned loverboy

My most controversial Gojo take is that he’s actually not all that experienced

This man has spent his entire life either as a child or raising a child he didn’t have a lot of time for romance.

Not only that, but having sex with someone is an inherently vulnerable position to put yourself in. Man’s got too many enemies for that.

BUT that does not mean that he isn't willing to learn for you!

Gojo is above all else adaptable, and his main goal in the bedroom is to get you off. He’s willing to do whatever you need. 

Honestly, that’s probably his kink. Overstimulation. He wants to make you feel so good you're delirious, he wants to make you cum so hard you forget anything other than his name. 

He is the king of oral. It’s his favorite thing, eating you out through multiple orgrasam until his face is soaked in you. And he’s good at it too. He knows exactly how to make you  melt under him.

His dick isn’t thick, but it is long, and weirdly pretty for a cock. He also uses a ring light to take dick pics. Tell me he doesn’t, you can’t.

He’s also very vocal. He likes when you're loud, it’s how he knows he’s doing something right. So, he’s pretty vocal as well, wanting to let you know just how amazing you make him feel

when he's not telling you about how good you feel, he's kissing you. He LOVES kissing you, its like a drug to him.

Gojo struggles a lot with the feeling that people don’t really like him, so he has a praise kink. On both the giving AND receiving end

I also feel like he’s really into lingerie, and has no problems dropping a paycheck on a new set for you. 

Definition of “There’s a difference between fucking someone and making love.”

God, I hate that phrase but I'm genuinely not sure how else to get my point across lmao

When ya’ll are just fucking, he tries to play the part of a big tough dom, dirty talk galore, overstimulation to the point of tears, the man is a beast.

But in your quiet moments, when you’re, for lack of a better word, making love, there’s a 63% chance he's going to cry.

He gets overwhelmed by his love for you, and the realization that you love him for him, 6 eyes or not. It gets to him. 

And the best part? He’s not even embarrassed by it, because you don’t shame him for it. He’s truly safe with you

Kento Nanami

Hey pretty baby can you feel that heat? You got me twitchin to the edge of my seat

Dare I say daddy kink?

I do, I do dare. Nanami knows the type of person he attracts (riddled with daddy issues) and has decided to play into it. 

I feel like Nanami never loses his composure, even in the bedroom. He could be giving you the ride of your LIFE while calmly explaining the stock market to you. It’s part of why teacher Nanami is so appealing to me I’M SORRY-

“Are you paying attention? This is going to be on the test.”

He says as he's skullfucking you into oblivion 

Despite his calm composure, he's big on dirty talk…mostly as a way to ask for consent and gauge how you’re doing at the moment. He’s still Nanami

“You like that Princess?” “Beg for me.” “Tell me what you want,” All phrases that pop up commonly in your bedroom

He’s a panty snatcher, there I said it. He’s taking your panties with him when he leaves your place. You can get them back the next time you two get together. 

He is prone to taking out his frustration on you in the bedroom when he’s had a bad day.

Not that you're complaining, nothing like his thick cock splitting you open after a rough day, amiright?

Public sex. Nanami loves covertly fucking you, in various ways, and watching you try to keep your composure. Be it him finger fucking you under the table, or reminding you that you have guests downstairs while he rails you in your bedroom, he likes to test your volume control.

In a similar vein, phone sex! He’s away on “Business” a lot, so late nights on the phone with you are basically a necessity for him. 

M A R K I N G. You think it’s  childish? He doesn’t fucking care he needs EVERYON to know you’re together

Hickies everywhere, dark ones that don’t budge for days, even weeks

Brat tamer. No, I won't explain, look at him. 

He’s probably the best dom, even if he is a softer dom. He's going to discuss your hard and soft limits, safe word, and discuss the red yellow green system. Your comfort and safety is his number one priority. 

Going hand in hand with that, Nanami has mastered the art of aftercare. Anything you need, he’s got, anything you need him to do, he’s doing. He’s showering you in words of affirmation while trying to rehydrate you.

Also He’s cuddly. He wants you to fall asleep resting on his chest while he traces lazy patterns in your back. It’s his ideal way to go to sleep.

Ryomen Sukuna

My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to God

BESTIE idk how many different ways I can tell you not to go near this man, but let's find out

For one, he’s incredibly selfish, prioritizing his pleasure over yours every time. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t at least try to get you off though. Nay nay, getting you off is a part of his pleasure. Because it strokes his ego. 

Daycraphillia. Be it from pleasure or pain, he loves to see your tear soaked face.

This man is PACKING btw. It hurts at first everytime no matter how ready you are for him. The king of curses has the dick to back up all the shit he talks, you can’t convince me otherwise

He’s got four hands and he’s gonna use them all. Fingers in your pussy, on your tits, in your mouth, in on your ass. You're going to feel like you’re drowning in him.

Degradation. You're a filthy little whore, the only thing you’re good for is being a hole for him to fuck.

Does he actually mean this? I mean…shit, maybe! Depends on where you’re at in the relationship honestly. 

He will summon mouths in random places when fucking you. On his palms, above his cock, anywhere. Be prepared to feel a random tongue in random places.

…..breeding kink.

Honestly, I don’t think he’s proud of it. But something in him wants to fuck an heir into more than he wants to breath.

Also, blood and marking kink. These go hand in hand as far as he’s concerned. He will bite you until you bleed with no issue. 

He may not truly love you yet but the moment he stuck his dick in you, you became his. Which means no other man can touch you. Hence why he clearly marks you as his.

Aftercare who? He doesn’t know her, you’re lucky if he doesn’t immediately kick you out of the bed when he’s done. 

The exception being if you somehow managed to rope him into a “real” relationship. I still don’t think he’d be an aftercare king or anything, but he would at least cuddle with you until you passed out. 

Sukuna likes to find your limits, and then push you past them. He needs to see how far you’re willing to go for him, even if that breaks you.

God, this mf is so toxic. Why do I love him?

#tw: toxic behavior #tw: toxic relationships #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #suguru geto #suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #nanami kento #nanami smut #nanami x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader

[bookshelf-dust]

really know him

part i part ii part iii part iv

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3,987

warnings: swearing, slight sexual innuendos, mentions of past trauma, reader has tough relationship with parents, fluff (let me know if i missed anything)

a/n: hi!! yeah, yeah, it’s been an entire month since you got the first part of this and i’m sorry, i swear!! but school has been kicking the shit out of me. anyways, i’m happy with this, and i think it’s given this story a good sort of push in the right direction. there is one line that is hopper’s dialogue that you might catch. i hope you like it!!! love you and happy reading <333

“You see things, and you understand. You’re a wallflower.”

————

Eddie’s mouth is full when Wayne speaks. The food hasn’t even cooled off enough for anyone normal to eat it, but Eddie doesn’t care. He’s so fucking hungry. He swears he feels like this—like he’s never eaten before—at least once a day. 

“How long you and Y/N been seein’ each other?” Wayne’s got his arms crossed on the tabletop, letting his dinner cool some while his nephew allows noodles and cheese to burn the shit out of the roof of his mouth. 

Eddie knows it’s just Hamburger Helper but it’s so fucking good. He swallows, and takes a sip of his drink before he responds. 

Eddie’s leg starts to bounce and Wayne gently kicks his calf to get him to quit and take a breather. It works, like it always does. 

“How do you know her name? And we aren’t seeing each other. We’re friends.” He shoves more noodles in his mouth and chews for a minute while he thinks. Wayne just watches him, the beginnings of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

“Well, acquaintances, I guess.”

Wayne snorts. “I don’t think you have acquaintances at twenty, Ed.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and stabs his fork into the center of his bowl. He wipes his hands and moves his hair from where it’s slipped over his shoulders. 

His hair is wet. 

Ever since Eddie was a kid, a little while after Wayne got him, he’s tried to take his shower while Wayne fixes dinner with the goal of being finished by the time the food is on the table. He did that very same thing today. 

He does it even when they get takeout and tries to shower in the time Wayne is gone. He does it in the time it takes his frozen pizza to cook when he has to eat alone because Hellfire runs past the time Wayne leaves for work. 

Selfishly, Wayne hopes Eddie keeps this up. It makes him happy to see that childlike attitude run rampant. 

“I know her name because she’s lived here since her parents had her. I know everybody in this godforsaken park.”

Eddie takes a sip of his Dr. Pepper, slurping it obnoxiously. “Pulling the old and wise thing, huh?”

Wayne reaches the slim distance across the tiny table and wacks Eddie on the head, though it’s absolutely void of malice. “Ow!” Eddie exclaims as if he’s been brutally beaten. 

“And we aren’t seeing each other. I haven’t talked to her since before she graduated, actually. I just saw her the other night and we’ve just been…” Eddie gestures with his hands, flailing for a word or anything to describe what’s happening between you and him. 

You’re not friends. Right? 

And you’re definitely not anything more, but it’s not like Eddie would mind that. Being more. He’s sort of always had a thing for you. He’s never told anyone that. 

Maybe it had been a little subdued, but seeing you the other night had it rushing back, a wave crashing over and toppling him. 

Eddie’s been kind of worried about you since, actually. You didn’t want to talk about why you were upset, and he respected that, but he still wanted to know. He really didn’t like seeing you that way, and he wants to fix it, but he can’t if you don’t let him in. 

“Hanging out,” Eddie finally finishes, dropping his hands. 

Wayne takes the last few bites of his dinner and looks at his nephew. It’s not hard for Wayne to see that his boy feels something for you. Not with the blush spreading across Eddie’s cheeks. 

It’s like when Eddie was young and he’d ride his bike through the trailer park, or to a friend's house and he’d come back flushed. He looks out of breath. But he’s feeling this way because of you. 

Wayne thinks that’s pretty damn special. He thinks there’s something in you that’s opening up a part of Eddie he’s never seen before. Like you’re cracking open his boyish soul.

“Hanging out?”

Eddie chugs the rest of his Dr. Pepper, pretending like he’s not being interrogated. He gets up and pulls another from the fridge, setting the other by the sink where he can rinse it out later. 

He spoons more food into his bowl. They’re definitely not going to have leftovers.

“Yes, Wayne.”

“Does it still count as hanging out if you haven’t even gone out?” 

“Jesus H. Christ, we’re friends okay?”

Wayne laughs. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite sounds in the world, but he’s never told his uncle that. 

Wayne stands, taking his dishes to the sink to wash. He rinses out Eddie’s can and tosses it in the recycling bin.

“Hey, I was gonna do that!” Eddie whines.

“No you weren’t, Ed. But anyways, your friend can come over anytime she likes.”

Eddie drops his forehead against the countertop, face burning. He’s supposed to be too old for this shit.

————

Your parents aren’t home. In fact, they’re gone for the weekend, which means you’re alone. It means that the trailer is quiet and you don’t have to lock yourself in your bedroom or storm outside and cry on a rickety picnic table. 

You’re taking advantage of the free couch when you hear the mailman outside. You hop up, knowing that if you don’t collect all of the mail you’ll hear about it. But this also gives you your chance to be nosy and see what kinds of things your parents are being sent. 

You hop down the steps, wishing you’d put on a jacket because it’s a lot chillier than you’d expected. You meander down the road a little ways to the row of mailboxes containing yours. 

You’re nose deep, retrieving the newspaper and a small stack of what you’re sure is mostly junk, when a car door slams and makes you jump. 

You use your elbow to close the mailbox door, and when you spin around you’re met with a cheesy grin and a mess of curls belonging to one Eddie Munson. 

“Jesus Christ,” you smile, “Hi, Eddie.”

He grins, spinning his key ring around his index finger. “Hey. How are we this afternoon, m’lady?”

“Okay. Just get done with school, buddy?”

“Oh fuck you,” Eddie laughs. It makes you grin and Eddie thinks he’s swooning. Like, big time. 

Your eyes crinkle and these sweet lines form around your mouth. You’re so pretty. So pretty, he thinks. 

“But yeah.” Eddie scratches his nose like he wants to say more but he needs a second before he goes for it. “Passed a quiz today and everything,” he finishes. 

He doesn’t usually talk about his academic-related endeavors with anyone, but he’s got this feeling that you’ll be supportive. You’ve never once looked at him like he was stupid, or didn’t deserve your time. 

One day towards the end of your first and only senior year, the both of you sat in the back of the class, your nose buried in a book, and Eddie had placed a finger against the page to get your attention. He’d said he wasn’t graduating, and you didn’t judge him. Maybe that’s why he’s always had this thing for you. Because you don’t think he’s this piece of shit freak.

Your grin gets bigger. It’s so much better than the sad way you looked at him the other night.

“Oh yeah? That’s so good! I’m proud of you, Eddie.”

Eddie blushes. You see it. He feels it. There’s no going around this and suddenly he’s afraid you’ll point it out. 

You don’t. You just tuck that little bit of information—that Eddie seems fond of praise—away for another time. 

A letter slips from your hand but Eddie is quick to catch it, before it even hits the ground. 

“Sorry,” you say.

“It’s okay.” He slides it in between two other pieces of mail from the stack tucked in the crook of your arm. 

The both of you stand there awkwardly then, you not knowing what to do next, Eddie realizing he didn’t really have a plan for what he was going to say when he came over here. 

You turn a little, like you’re going to walk back towards your home, and Eddie freaks out inside. He doesn’t want you to go. Again. Dammit. He’s totally done for. And even Wayne had seen it, hadn’t he? Fuck. 

You decide to go for it. “Do you wanna come inside for a while? I mean, of course you don’t have to, at all, but you know, if you wanted to…shit, I don’t know,” you falter. “I guess I just thought, since you’re here—”

“Sure. I mean, as long as you’re sure, but yeah,” he drags a hand over his face, lashes leaving shadows on the skin under his eyes, to hide the fact that he’s gone shy at your offer. “Yeah, I want to.”

The words hanging out flash through his mind and Eddie has the sudden urge to bang his head against a wall. 

You take that as your queue, walking towards and then up your porch steps. “I’m assuming you’re following me,” you say, pulling the screen door open. 

Eddie was not, in fact, following you, too off in his own world. He clambers up behind you, holding the door open above your head while you push your way inside. He pulls it shut after he steps up, watching you toss the mail on the counter and move around your home. 

There’s something interesting to him about watching you like this. Where you look calm. 

You flop down on the couch, patting the cushion beside you. Eddie follows your flop with an even more aggressive one, leather and chain making quite the noise as his weight settles into the sofa. 

Eddie notices how quiet it is, and he can’t stand that. His brain doesn’t allow quiet. 

“Your parents at work or something?” He inquires. 

You move so that your back is to the arm of the couch and you’re now facing the boy you’ve just let in, pulling your legs up underneath you. 

“They’re out for the weekend. Visiting in laws or something like that. I said I had too much homework to do so I could get out of it, which is true, I do have homework, I just didn’t want to go.”

Eddie shifts to mirror your position, lanky limbs splaying out a little less gracefully. He’s smiling at you again. It starts small, a slow grin spreading across his face. 

“What are you smiling for, dumbass?”

He tosses his head back and your gaze falls to his neck for just a second. Though a second long enough for you to think about what it would feel like against your fingers—

He looks back at you. “Didn’t you just say you were proud of me for making an academic achievement?”

“I did. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t still a dumbass.”

Eddie snorts. “Well, at least it’s not ‘freak.’”

You cross your arms, feeling a little angry about how people have treated him in the past. “You’re not a freak.”

He scratches at his chin and you notice it looks like he might not have shaved in a few days. “Maybe in some ways I am.” 

You run both hands over your face, trying to suppress the burning deep in your belly. “I bet so,” you mumble. You lower your hands just enough to look over them and Eddie quirks a brow at you. 

You start to laugh behind your fingers and it makes him do the same until you’re both sitting there giggling like children over an immature joke. 

“So you’re gonna be alone all weekend?” Eddie manages to ask through a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s not the first time, Munson.”

Eddie is home alone all the time, but for some reason he doesn’t like the idea of you being alone like that. He wants you safe. Comfortable.

The words are tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. “Why don’t you spend the night with me?”

“Huh?”

“You know, so you don’t have to be alone and whatnot.” He gestures with his hands. He’s scrambling for even a fraction of proper brain function at this point. It’s evading him. 

“Eddie.”

“Come on. You literally have to walk across the road.”

You stare at him and he stares right back. Eddie studies the lines of your face, the color of your eyes, the way you’ve got a crease between your brows because of how hard you’re thinking this over. It looks like you’re contemplating a life or death situation. That situation is Eddie. Spending the night with Eddie Munson. 

“Are you sure about this? You literally watched me sob a few days ago and now you want me to just hang out in your house? I could be a murderer.”

Eddie spins the ring on his marriage finger around and around. “Are you? A murderer?” “Not last time I checked.” He laughs. “Then I don’t see the problem here.” “We barely know each other.” “How are we supposed to get to know each other if we don’t hang out? Isn’t that what sleepovers are for anyways?”

“That makes it sound like you’ve never had a sleepover before.” Eddie pulls his knee up and rests his chin on top of it, pale skin peeking out from the tears in his jeans. “Does being too stoned to drive home and passing out on your friends couch count? Or on his bedroom floor?”

That makes you laugh and the sight of your smile makes Eddie feel exponentially better. He’s starting to think it could heal any ailment. “There she is,” he says, swatting your calf with the back of his hand. It makes you burn and you think about when you actually held his hand. You want to do it again. 

You look around your living room, trying to avoid the big brown eyes you can feel boring into you. One look and you’ll give in–you just know it. 

“Okay. I’ll spend the night with you.”

“Ha! I knew you’d say that.” Eddie jumps up, clearly excited. He juts out a hand in your direction and you just look at it. “Come on,” he says, tilting his head to the side. 

You slip your hand into his and let him pull you up. “No more m’lady’s?” you ask. 

Eddie grins brilliantly. He looks boyish, like he’s just found some new bug he needs to show you. “I’ll give you as many m’lady’s as you want. Now come on and pack your shit. We’ve got bonding to do.”

————

“Is this really necessary?”

“Lift that corner, yeah! See? You got it.” Eddie watches you step around the mess that is his bedroom floor and help him heave his mattress up off the box spring. Once you’ve got it up, he starts to walk backwards and guide the both of you—sort of blindly—down the hall. “And yes, this is completely necessary.”

“If you say so,” you grunt, almost knocking a picture frame off the wall. 

“Let me live for fucks sake,” Eddie says. He’d already moved the coffee table out of the way, so you’re able to just drop the mattress on the floor in front of the couch. 

Eddie stands across from you, slightly out of breath which you find a little funny. “You can go put your pajamas on if you want,” he tells you. 

You grin. “Oh, can I?” 

The both of you had already eaten, Eddie having ordered a pizza because there was legitimately nothing to eat anywhere. His sleepover planning was admittedly very poor. But yeah, he wanted you to go put your pjs on so he could actually do something he’d come up with. 

“Yes. You can. Hurry it up m’lady, we have shit to watch.”

You give him a two finger salute. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Eddie waits for you to make it to his room and shut the door behind you before he gets to work. He changes the bottom sheet–the only sheet he uses because he finds top sheets obnoxious–on his mattress and shoves it in the washing machine to take care of later. He’ll probably forget and Wayne will berate him, but it’ll have been worth it. 

He opens the linen closet and pulls out a new sheet and some of the others that are in there. He pulls out the best blanket for you too, the really thick one that they don’t use all that often. Eddie looks at it for just a second before tossing it on the couch, remembering the day he came to Wayne’s. The day that this became his home too. Wayne had done something similar to this, actually. He’d let Eddie sleep with him. That night had been so hard and Eddie was just a kid.

Finally he gets back to work, sheet having been changed, dining chairs moved to either side of the mattress closest to the couch. 

Eddie puts one end of the sheet he’s using on the back of the sofa, stacking his D&D handbooks on top of it in hopes that it will hold. He steps back tentatively, hands up like he’s surrendering. “Stay,” he mutters, eyeing the books. 

He stretches the sides of the sheet over the backs of the chairs, using chip bag clips to keep it in place. The end result is a sort of canopy over his mattress. Eddie thinks it’s one hell of a fort, actually. He’s sat on the edge, looking through a stack of VHS tapes when you come out. 

Eddie looks up at you, doe eyes on full display. He looks so pretty, and even prettier when you realize what he’s made. You bring a hand up to your mouth, automatically sticking your nail just in between your lips to hide your growing smile. 

Eddie thinks you look gorgeous like this: pajamas too big for you, socked feet shuffling across the floor. You look comfortable. 

“Eddie.”

He stands. “You like it? I mean, it’s definitely unstable and we’re gonna have to be careful, but I think it’s kinda nice. I gotta get pillows, though.”

“I do like it,” you say, moving your hand from your face. You’re trying not to be nervous around him when he’s being so kind to you. So welcoming. “You didn’t have to do all of this just for me.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “You think I did this for you? I hate to break it to you, but I do this sort of thing all the time.” You giggle at him, seeing right through his antics. He likes that—that you don’t seem scared of him. That you don’t look at him like he’s mean. 

He grabs for your sleeve where you’re tugging at a loose thread on it, trying to get you to quit from fidgeting. He knows what that feels like. But he wants you to know that it’s just him. It’s just Eddie, and you’re more than safe with Eddie, contrary to what the rest of Hawkins might think. 

“I’m just kidding,” he tells you, eyes boring into yours. “I wanted to.”

You fight to keep eye contact with him. He really shouldn’t hold this kind of power, but he does.

“Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine, m’lady.” He bows, and you swat at his shoulder. He’s still snickering when he disappears into his room to change. 

————

You hadn’t meant to match pajama bottoms, but when Eddie had seen yours, he knew he should put his similar ones on. 

So now, here you sit, in your designated fort, and wearing matching plaid pants. Eddie has his arm around your shoulder, and you’ve tucked yourself into his side. Your hand keeps creeping along his stomach, and Eddie knows you're working up the courage to wrap your arm fully around his waist. 

When you’d felt the weight of him settle over your shoulders, your breath had hitched, but Eddie took it in stride. “It’s just me,” he’d said. And that had seemed to calm you down. 

Eddie had let you pick the movie, and you’d chosen Gremlins, which he was more than happy to watch with you. He thought watching something the both of you had already seen would not only ease some tension, but make it so that you could talk during the film if you wanted. 

On the screen, Gizmo propels himself upward on a snow shovel, and you giggle at his screams as he flies through the air. 

“Sorry,” you say to Eddie, chest shaking with laughter. He snorts at your hysterics. 

After you’ve finally hooked your arm around him fully, and the movie is coming to an end, Eddie decides to breach the topic that’s been bugging him since that night. 

“Any chance you might wanna talk about why you were so upset the other night?” He hopes he hasn’t overstepped, that he hasn’t pushed too far too quickly. 

You move your hand and he worries you’ll retract it completely, but you just sit up, still pressed next to him, just no longer clinging to him. You tuck your fingers under his knee where his leg is stretched out beside you. He welcomes the gesture. 

“I just had an argument with my parents, is all. Got upset, but you saw that.”

He turns to look at you, and you look back for a second before continuing to watch the movie. “Was it bad?”

“Just loads of yelling, on their part. They’re very good at hurting my feelings.” 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, and he means it. You look at him then, and you smile. It’s soft, but it tells him all he needs to know. You’re hurting, but you’re used to it. He hates that he understands. 

“It’s okay. It’s just that college is hard, and then I come home and I’m tired, and then they want to fuss at me for everything and nothing. Sometimes I feel like I’m some kind of black hole or something.”

Your fingers squeeze Eddie’s knee a little. He pulls your hand from his leg and intertwines your fingers with his. There’s a little part of you that warms, that screams, hand holding, hand holding! You’re glad he’s holding your hand. 

“They fucking suck for making you feel that way, you know.” That makes you grin, so Eddie keeps going. “You don’t deserve to feel that way. Not even a little bit. The entire time I’ve known you, even if we haven’t been more than acquaintances, you’ve been a sweetheart. You’ve been kind, and understanding.”

Your eyes water but you refuse to cry in front of him a second time. He’s just being so nice. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” You drop your forehead against his shoulder, and he kisses your hairline. You burn at the feeling of his lips, full and warm, against your skin. 

“You’re safe with me, you know. You can come over wherever you want. And we can watch Gremlins,” he finishes with a breathy laugh. 

“I really appreciate that.”

Eddie looks into your eyes. There’s something sweet behind them. He nods. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re done with school anyhow?” he asks, realizing a little too late that you’ve probably been asked that a hundred times, but how else is he supposed to figure out the answer. 

“I’d like to write,” you tell him.

“Like, books and shit?” He’s not teasing. He’s really asking. 

“That’d be nice, yeah.” It really would. The big unattainable dream.

“That’s very metal of you. Maybe I’ll get you to help me plot a campaign sometime. The stories can get a little tricky in this fucked up brain of mine,” Eddie says. 

“Really?” You look excited at the idea.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” The smile on his face is brilliant. 

“Maybe I’ll even teach you how to play. If you want.”

“That’d be nice too, Eddie.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @ajkamins @golddustwitches @copycatkillerfics @prestinalove @zaypay @clovermunson

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fluff #wayne munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #savannah’s fics

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Eddie's Kissing Lesson #3: It's way more than kissing now

(Lesson 1 | Lesson 2 | AO3)

A few years ago, Eddie made a habit of driving to Indianapolis. Inevitably, he ended the trips at a club or a bar. The visits were usually solo affairs, though not always; sometimes Donnie or Zac (the only ones in Hellfire who looked old enough to get past the bouncers) or Callie (who didn't look old enough, but who could charm her way in), would tag along. If they did, they'd go to a straight club. If he was by himself, he'd roll a die between a straight or a gay one. No matter the kind, he'd be approached at least twice every night. Beautiful strangers with appreciative eyes, a drink in hand and a line ready on their lips.

Eddie would accept the drink, flirt for a second, then tell them he 'wasn't interested, but thanks anyway'.

It was half true – he was interested (fuck, was he interested), but also… not. He'd never say it out loud, but even at his horniest there was something in his way. A roadblock. Because the thing was, intimacy required, as one might suspect, intimacy. Although, one night stands walked hand in hand with alluring anonymity. Like being watched without risking being seen.

Eddie liked that, most of the time. Liked shrouding himself in a mystery. But when it came to sex, he wasn't so certain. Something instinctual told him it wouldn't be truly good unless it was real. For it to be real, walls would have to come down. Leave an unobstructed field of view for wide-open eyes. Terrifying and exhilarating; he wanted it so bad, but he couldn't (wouldn't) have it with just anyone.

It had to be special.

So, he accepted the drinks, flirted for a second, and sent the beautiful strangers on their way.

Steve writes with a rhythm. It goes tap-tap-tap-tap with the pencil on the pad while he thinks, followed by scritching, before he pauses to tap-tap-tap some more.

It's strangely endearing, not to mention relaxing. You'd expect a guy like him to be rough, leave imprints on the papers underneath and constantly break the point, but no. His large hand is soft as it writes. Eddie could fall asleep to it. A shame they're too busy to sleep.

Star Trek IV came out a week ago and the kids, Dustin especially, have been obsessed ever since. The moment they stepped out of the theater, the little twerp turned to Eddie and begged for a science fiction-themed campaign. And because he's a chump who can't say no to the kids nowadays, Eddie agreed – to a one-shot, not an entire campaign.

(Also, he's already been crafting a solar system for a potential space exploration-campaign on the down low. Why not finish and use it?)

And because Eddie Munson doesn't do half-measures in these circumstances, he spent the next week worldbuilding and polishing his new universe. At one point, as he put the finishing touches on the water planet's cuisine, Steve peeked over his shoulder and asked about sports. Eyebrow raised, Eddie said 'what about sports'. And that's when Steve snottily pointed out that Eddie had developed everything about these space cultures except for the sports, which didn't make any sense – sports was a huge part of every culture, whether Eddie liked it or not.

So! Because Eddie Munson does not do half-measures… he's currently creating extraterrestrial sports games in Steve's kitchen. Although, right now Steve's doing most of the work. After Eddie came up with the base concepts, Steve stepped in to use earth sports as inspiration for the technical aspects: rules, scoring, player positions, player numbers, playing fields, seasons (which ties in with the climate of each planet), and so on.

If he's being honest, he'll never use most of this. God knows the kids (except maybe Lucas, but he wouldn't bring it up) wouldn't notice or care about the absence of sports. But. Turn down an opportunity to hang out with Steve? Never. Also, deciding how much of real baseball should inspire their thinly veiled version of space baseball (spaceball) is kind of fun? What's a penalty and what isn't is just exciting when you throw anti-gravity into the mix.

Most importantly, it's nice seeing Steve be in his element. Dude is so fucking knowledgeable about this. Hearing him say that this will score x points because of that reason, confidence dripping from every syllable, has Eddie's tailbone tingling.

Would it be rude to swipe their notes off the island and jump onto it, offering himself like a buffet?

He knows he's allowed. Or, he knows that Steve wouldn't mind if he asked for a break, even if it was to make out. They've made a habit of sucking face when it's just them and there's nothing else to do (or when there are things to do, but they're easily ignored). Question is if he truly wants to interrupt those soothing pencil scritches and put an end to Steve's surprisingly sexy thinking face. He's got a little furrow between his eyebrows while chewing on his bottom lip, and every so often he'll mutter hoarsely under his breath. The fact that he's being so serious about doing this for the campaign, for the kids, for Eddie, is…

'Unreal' is what Eddie would've said nine months ago. Now he knows it's entirely in character. It's still noteworthy enough for him to memorize every detail of this moment. The King creating nerdy sports with the Freak is a picture that must be immortalized.

He doesn't realize how hard he's been staring until Steve looks up from their work, raising his brows in a silent 'what is it?'

Eddie shakes his head, warmth creeping over his cheeks. He pushes off the kitchen island and turns away to hide it. The sink is conveniently right there, so he grabs a glass out of the cupboard and fills it as excuse.

Behind him, the pencil hits the pad, rolling across the paper. Steve's footsteps are deliberately loud, telegraphing his advance over the surge of running water. Eddie fills the glass, drinks it in one gulp, and puts it on the counter. When he turns, heart thudding, Steve is standing inches in front of him. Steve leans forward, bracing his hands against the counter on either side of Eddie's waist. Boxing him in, but not trapping him.

"Did you want something?" Steve asks.

Eddie crosses his arms casually and shrugs. "Not really."

"Huh. It seemed like you wanted something."

"I was admiring your dedication to the campaign. It warms even this barren heart that you'll partake in nerdestry for the sake of the children."

"Oh, okay," Steve says and doesn't move; his hands remain on the counter and his face stays inches away. His eyes shine like suns, hot and intense. Eddie meets his gaze, face schooled into something calm. At least, he hopes – years of DMing have taught him how to regulate his expressions, but there's a big difference between DnD and this.

"Did you want something?" he asks to fill the silence and – yes! – his voice didn't tremble.

Steve grins. "Now that you say it, I did."

And with that, Steve kisses him.

The initial second, Eddie's brain shuts off, as it always does. It's simply too much too fast and all he can register is Steve Steve Steve. His taste, his scent, his firmness as he presses against Eddie and backs him into the kitchen cupboards.

But only the initial second. After that, he's back on, and that means he's on. Loping his arms around Steve's neck, Eddie tilts his head at the perfect angle until their mouths fit together just so and licks the inside of Steve's mouth. His hands delve into product-stiff locks and tug the way Steve likes it. Steve moans, slumping against Eddie. Eddie giggles into the kiss. He fucking loves knowing Steve better than his own back pocket, loves coaxing these reactions out of him, loves when he melts and leans his weight on Eddie.

It could be better only if they were horizontal and on a bed, or couch, or the fucking floor, and he'd get to feel the hair on Steve's chest and legs, the jut of his hipbone, and his evenly distributed weight. He so badly wants to know how heavy Steve is. He wants to be fucking crushed underneath him.

Maybe he could if he asked. Or maybe that'd be too much. The only time they've gone past second base is during the spontaneous blowjob he still can't fathom happened. Since then, their hands and mouths have stayed strictly above the waist. Eddie, though he's dying to blow Steve, is not going to complain or rush. Steve's the teacher here; he decides the curriculum.

All Eddie can do is show off the results of his rigorous practice. Today, it's by slotting their faces together like a pro and perfectly executing that tongue-sucking move Steve seems to love having done to him as much as he loves doing it to others. It brings a guttural noise out of Steve; he grabs Eddie's ass with both hands and yanks him closer. Eddie nearly loses his balance and must cling to Steve's neck to stay upright. Laughter rumbles within Steve's chest as he steadies him and rolls their hips together. The neck of his shirt bunches in Eddie's vice-like grip. They're as close as during that first kiss, no room for Jesus' finest hair between them. Eddie feels Steve's heartbeat, which means Steve can feel his, and the combined thud-thud-thuddings have his knees shaking.

Steve's hands round Eddie's hips and tug at his belt buckle. Eddie jerks back, breaking the kiss; a string of saliva still connects their mouths. Steve's eyes are enormous, more black than hazel. There's a question in them, a plea for permission.

Eddie nods and doesn't look as Steve opens Eddie's jeans and pushes them down his thighs. His face is on fucking fire. You could fry eggs on his cheeks. Which is a little debilitating. This is never how it goes in his fantasies – he's a lot suaver in those. Quicker on the ball, so to speak. On top of things, one could even say. But not here. Because here's an unfortunate fact about sex:

It's embarrassing.

Exciting and sexy and fun, obviously. But also embarrassing. It was the same during the blowie. The moment his pants were coming off and his dick popped out, Eddie was more inclined to run away than anything else. Hopefully, the feeling will fade as he gets used to it. These hopes are supported by how at ease Steve is, going from de-pantsing Eddie to unbuttoning his own jeans like it's nothing, second nature.

Eddie couldn't look away from that if he wanted to. Why would he want to? Steve's dick is a sight to behold. It's the eighth wonder of the world. Worthy of worship, of a dozen temples and daily sacrifices. It's long and thick, smooth and symmetrical, flushed at the tip and with a bead of precome already pooling in the slit.

It's pretty. And it's hard. It's hard for Eddie.

"Hey." Steve cups Eddie's face, tilting his head up (as well as bringing to his attention that his mouth's been hanging open like a fool; Eddie's teeth clack when he shuts it). "Is this okay?"

Eddie nods, breathing harshly through his nose. "Okay. So okay."

Steve smiles like Eddie just did him a favor. Eddie could – would – analyze that a little closer, except Steve lines up their cocks so that they rest against the broad expanse of his palm, rest against each other, and-

That's another guy's hand on Eddie's dick. It's another guy's dick on his dick. Steve's. Steve Harrington's dick. Next to Eddie’s.

Hoooooooooly shit.

It's happening right in front of him, and he's still having a hard time believing it. But it's real; it has to be real. Imaginarily gifted as he might be, not even he could daydream this into existence. Like, the way Steve's fingers curve around their cocks as he squeezes and strokes? The scratchy calluses on his fingertips? The ever-present chill of the Harrington mansion? How Eddie's testes keep catching on Steve's shaft, rising and rubbing against the dry skin? Steve's softly labored breaths? The edge of the fucking countertop digging into Eddie's lower back?

That's real. Uncomfortably and amazingly real.

Steve pauses to spit in his palm; Eddie whimpers out loud. When Steve resumes stroking it's just amazing, the glide so much easier now. It lets him go faster, put his hips into it and grind their pelvises together. Eddie keeps whimpering, these shamefully squeaky little ah-ah-ahs that he tries to swallow until Steve moans, hotly against the shell of his ear, that he sounds so pretty and sexy and "fuuuuuck, Eddie, wanna hear you like this every day."

He stops holding back then. Gets even louder when Steve noses along his jaw and sucks what'll surely become a mark at the underside of it.

The saliva has rubbed off but the glide is only improving, thanks to the precome dripping everywhere. Both are leaking, but Eddie especially – he's so fucking close. He tries to say it, but his skull is full of cotton and he can't form the words.

Steve must have some sixth orgasm sense, though, because he presses his lips to the scar on Eddie's cheek and mumbles, "So good, baby, you're doing so good, so perfect, wanna hear you come, wanna see your face, looked so pretty last time, almost made me cream my pants-"

Eddie screams. Head tossing back, lungs bursting, as he slouches against the counter. Most of all he'd like to sag to the floor and nap for an hour, he's that spent. But he can't – Steve hasn't come yet, and there's no way he'll go without again.

"Steve," he says. "Whaddya wan' m' to… C'n I…?"

The syllables slur together; he takes Steve's dick in his hand while licking his lips, hoping the point comes across. He just wants to make him come. 'How' doesn’t matter, as long as he's the one doing it.

Steve, thankfully understanding, puts Eddie's other hand on his cock, molding them tightly around the shaft, and rocks back and forth. Eddie almost whines a little since… well, he honestly has never before been so keen on having a cock in his mouth. Like, Steve towering over him, holding his head in place while fucking his throat? Yes and please, Jesus Christ, amen!

But this image is also pretty good: Steve's face inches away, pink with exertion and arousal, fringe plastered to his forehead, mouth kissed raw, and him thrusting wildly into Eddie's closed fists. Eddie's gaze darts between it and the throbbing cock in his hands. It's the second he's ever touched, after his own. It's a bit like jerking himself off, except a million times better, despite the kinda awkward angle.

Steve makes a noise, reedy and desperate. Eddie's eyes snap up just in time to see the climax wash over him, his mouth dropping into a perfect 'o' and his half-closed eyelids fluttering in pleasure. Ridiculous, beautiful, intoxicating; Eddie could become addicted to it.

Sighing, Steve lumbers forward to flop his head into the crook of Eddie's neck. Eddie drapes his arms over Steve's shoulders, probably smearing body fluids on his shirt. Neither says anything – they simply hold each other and breathe.

It's been a while since Eddie last was in Indianapolis. Been even longer since he visited a club. After some time, rejecting willing strangers and going home with bluer and bluer balls, no one to blame but his own fucking hangups, got old. Why waste the gas when he could just as well be getting no dates and not laid in Hawkins instead?

Except here he is, sweat sticking his shirt to his skin, hair frizzing around his ears, come drying under his nails. Standing with his dick hanging out in Steve Harrington's kitchen, with Steve Harrington in his arms.

He's sure he could've gotten this exact experience in a gay club bathroom years ago.

"Rather unhygienic doing this in the kitchen, hmm?" Eddie says.

Steve grunts, grossed out, but shrugs a shoulder. "I'll disinfect it."

Eddie giggles, and so does Steve, rubbing circles over the scar tissue on Eddie's hips. Burrows farther into Eddie's neck and makes no indication he'll move anytime soon.

Yeah, Eddie could've had this in a club. But he couldn't have had it with Steve in a club. Couldn't have felt this swoop in his stomach, like he's at the top of a roller-coaster, anywhere but here. Couldn't have felt this special.

You're ruining me, he thinks as he pets Steve's head.

Do you know that? he wonders when Steve ducks away, griping about what a pain it is to get semen out of hair. Squinting, Eddie asks how he figures. Steve blushes and laughs and doesn't reply, eyes glittering.

Can you see it?

------------------------------

Not tagging anyone except @piratefishmama because she's the reason this exists in the first place. Also, I'm pretty sure she's even more excited about this than I am, so. Here you go, girl. I hope you enjoy this very late continuation.

#remember when I said this part would be shorter than the second? it's seven words longer #I'll just never say anything ever again if it's ok with you #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic: lesson/plan #my writing

[cyberkitty1]

E!42 miles x thick/chubby black reader Part 2

Part 1

warnings: lowercase intended, mean family members

she walkes up eyeing miles like he was a prey and she was hunting him down, not before looking st you with utter disgust. “ not sure how ou could pull someone like this” she days looking at miles smiling “ and eho are you?” she says sweetly, way to sweetly.

“ miles” he says plainly “ no need to be salty! you can come with me so your not as sad, how bout it?” something inside you snapped, why was she always picking on you? its not like she looked any better, she looked like wendy williams post rehab.

“ no he wouldn’t sorry” she looks over at you “ i dont think i was talking to you?” “yea just like he dosent want to talk to you, if you dont mind, or even if you do could you leave?” she scoffs “ and who do you think your talking to miss piggy? why dont YOU leave? i thought you’d be gone by now!” she laughs as if you havnt heard it before.

“ oh you want me to leave? sure ill leave just like your 4 baby daddies that dont even pay child support might i add” the whole party was looking at you guys now, music turned down

“ you know its crazy how ive sat here all these years getting bullied by you but atleast i can keep a man! girl you get pregnant every year! arnt you on baby number 6? that baby bump is more visible than that volcano on your face” miles looked at you in utter shock “ how old are you again? 25?! have you ever heard of condoms or birth control?” at this rate she might as well left because everyone was snikering and laughing “ and dont even get me started on your lifted lace and chunky make up, i may not be skinny but atleast i know my shade, you walk in here lookin like that one james charles meme DONT play with me today”

everyone goes silent she just looks at you dumbfounded “if you have anything else to say, say it now or forever hold your peace” you say one last time before she scoffs rolls her eyes and walks off.

everyone kind of goes back to normal and miles just looks at you “ ive never seen you like this before” he says looking you in your eyes “ yea, sorry i just got fed up-“ “ hey you don’t have to apologize it was actually kinda hot” you laugh a little “ thank you miles” before you can bask in the radiant feeling your aunt, your cousins mom walks up to you

“ now who do you think you are talking to my baby like that?” you look at her dumb founded “ are you kidding me? you guys only talk down on me and now you have the utter audacity to walk up to me and ask why i’m treating your daughter how her and you have been treating me for YEARS?” you pause

“ you know there is absolutely nothing stopping me form dragging you too, you’re built like your constantly taking a big breath, you got the worst camel toes i have ever seen in my ENTIRE life and now i know where your daughter gets the “have a ton of baby daddies to the point where you dont know who the father is “attitude. that reminds me arnt you pregnant with your 10th child? and your 9th baby daddy? thats a world record somehow. you should call Nick Canon up here, y’all would make great friends.”

“ don’t ever talk down on me again or there will be consequences” you say finally before grabbing miles hand and leaving the party. miles stands next to his car looking at you absolutely dumbfounded “ what?” you ask confused “ you just dragged yo auntie in front of everyone! what do you mean what? ive never seen you stand up for yourself like this i’m proud of you” he says giving you a kiss on the cheek.

i just imagine you doing that like ugly giggle he loves lmao

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🏷️ @soseoulol @shoyofroyoyoyo @pandoragalora @miles-42-morales @heavisdelulu @lilcassipuff @levanneisdumb @thebaddest @sussybaka10 @itsznanabanana @malllywally @missyysyx @c4nth3lp1t @sgmianne @miles4hour @ulovejayy @onginlove @buckleyverse @lexixiii @swaqlover @yoursidehismain @florencepughswife030196 @lethycia @edgyficuselastica @druiggf @onsimpshii @lovely-horror-show @vivsamortentia @leighs-gallery @remuslupinsno1slut @steve-harringtons-bitch @shurisbbymama @bunnybabylovesstuff @karmascute @c4rine @janaeby @mookiebutt @paraccosm @zkristuz @reflectionsinrealtime @mindymeeksrules @nagi3seastorm @popeheywardssecretgf @be3_Fl0w3er @piopio @hoodypunpurri @hiyoo-o @enchanting-violet @inluvwithneteyam

if y’all think this is cringe lmk so i can remake it lmao

#miles morales #atsv x reader #earth 42 miles #miles morales x reader #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #fluff #across the spiderverse #cyberkitty1 #bad bitty #thick reader #chubby reader #black reader #memes lmao #dragged #lifted lace #miles g morales

[blood-orange-juice]

ok so ive never properly played genshin and don’t plan to but i know a bit about it’s lore and characters and i think it’s really neat. however i have thousands of hours on ffxiv. on that note please explain why graha and childe are similar. i only have very basic knowledge on childe and i gotta know

Fellow ffxiv enjoyer. <3

(anyone asking me about G'raha has a 100% chance of getting a wall of text and I'm not apologising for that. enjoy your wall of text)

I'm not entirely sure I'm not a case of a person with a hammer to whom everything resembles a nail, but I do think they are the same archetype.

Sweet characters who could have been perfect sidekicks (who still are perfect sidekicks) but listened to too many epic tales as kids and found themselves in a wrong place at a wrong time and now have to play a key role in some universe-changing story.

Both are defined mostly by their stubborness, they are not very suitable for the roles they've chosen and fail over and over again until they do it somewhat right (barely).

No matter how badass they look, their power is not their own, G'raha is a glorified technician of someone else's miracle and little else than a living key, Childe wields an art of old Khaenri'ah without fully understanding it. It's all borrowed from someone else who needed them to achieve a goal.

They do look badass, but mostly because they larp. I'm honestly not sure which one enjoys theatrics more.

Civilisations that created the magic they use specialised in perversion of the natural order of things. They try to use it in relatively noble ways and mostly hurt themselves but the flavour is there.

Both are unbelievably tragic and both somehow make their stories seem almost lighthearted. Complete absense of self-pity. I think that's what makes them both so charming, it's a rare trait.

Both have an incredible capacity for loyalty and love and an incredibly twisted view of what relationships look like. "I'll cross time and space for you, I'll die for you, I'll build a city for you, I'll live for you but please don't ask me to share my plans." "I'll sacrfice my own health and respect of my subordinates to keep my brother's happyness, probably my humanity too, but don't expect me to actually interact with him."

Both have something that looks like self-sacrificial tendencies bordering on suicidality while being, if we are honest, a self-serving trait (partially born out of low self-esteem but still self-serving). They want to live in an old myth and sacrificing oneself is a perfectly reasonable price for that.

Huge egos. And I mean Huge Egos. It's a bit less obvious in Graha's case but I know the type, you see guys like that in PhD programs a lot.

Huge dorks. Both of them.

Both are stuck somewhere between human and non-human and, hmm... their ability to remain human is the most astonishing quality of both. By all accounts, neither should have. They somehow did.

Both are incapable of lying to the point where a third of each fandom headcanons them as autistic. Both are somewhat all right with tricking people without technically lying (although Childe had more practice).

Both are secretive because no one would understand anyway.

FF XIV is a kinder story, so it's easy to overlook, but technically G'raha is a case of body horror, accepts the role of a villain for a while and hides from the player way too much. Hmmm... Where else have I seen it. Hmm. Oh right. That ginger guy from Genshin.

Minor things:

Both are little shits and enjoy annoying the hell out of people they dislike.

Abysmally bad fashion sense. There should be a name for this particular type and level of bad. I don't think I've seen this anywhere else.

And then there's the colour scheme. Red+black+white+blue and red+black+light grey+blue (it's an "anime magician" color profile, I think. black-red-white as alchemy colours + blue as pure magic/something elemental). Childe doesn't quite fit but still the combination is rare.

They way they talk. Dear gods. Who the hell talks like that.

Here's where the similarities end.

One is morally grey but ultimately a good guy (technically. I think the point of ShB was that Emet and G'raha are almost the same), another is a morally grey but still (kind of) a bad buy.

At every step of his story Graha is surrounded by people who love or at least appreciate him, Childe is pretty much on his own and surrounded by people who are either shitty or clueless.

G'raha is kind. Truly and astonishingly kind, in a doomed world he chooses to love everything he touches. Silly little priest of hope. Of all the things he has done this is the most wondrous, I think. Not the time travel, not the city he founded, just being able to remain kind after everything that happened to him.

Childe is... well, Childe. I think he is a deeply decent person (to the point of having a visceral distaste for any kind of unfairness) and he's idealistic but he's indifferent more than he is kind. Empathy usually develops only when someone has shown the person empathy first and, as far as we know, he didn't have much of that in his life.

Also G'raha builds things. Childe breaks things. Childe breaks pretty much everything he touches.

One is an archeologist and a mage and another is a warrior.

I think these differences are caused mostly by the settings they were put into. Childe raised in Sharlayan would have been a very different person. G'raha trained by a voidsent and shipped off to Garlean military would look very much like Childe.

G'raha also has a beautiful character development arc. I love his ShB role. He has this huge ego in the raids and is insufferable and then we see an older and wiser him with a bunch of actual achievements and a bad case of impostor syndrome (trying to do anything real always humbles a person, we all know that real world is held together by sticks and scotch tape. honestly, this change alone is beautiful). And he gets to be an actual hero when he abandons all hope to be Important and resigns to die as a nameless villain if it saves everyone and spares his loved ones from heartbreak.

Childe's character development is yet to happen and I'm not hoping for much but we'll see.

The only difference that definitely isn't created by setting is that G'raha is naturally manipulative. In a kind-hearted way and mostly for the sake of better larp but he isn't that straightforward. Childe is spectacularly blunt for all his mysteriousness.

As a bonus, they both compare main characters to stars, but in completely different ways.

"No doubt your heroism will be the star by which I chart my course," says G'raha to the WoL.

Childe mentions the morning star, which is, of course, pretty and a good companion to a lonely traveler, but also it's not a celestial body you can chart your course by.

It's a guy whose signature weapon is called "Polar Star" and his first artifact set was full of nautical themes, so I think he fully understands what he's saying. "You are my friend but I won't change anything in my life for you."

So I don't think his story will be anything like G'raha's, his life took a different turn very long ago. I do think they used to be similar as kids, bookish boys who dreamed of adventure and being special. So it's fun to compare.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. <3

#honestly I think it's mostly involvement in deep lore and the lack of self-pity #everything else just snowballs from it #I refuse to be contained #the world must know everything about g'raha #he's the only character who has a personal tag in my old livejournal blog #even childe doesn't #even dragon age morrigan #g'raha tia #eternal wind #ff xiv #childe #tartaglia #rinn talks to people #one would think that the closest ffxiv parallel to childe would be zenos #another blood knight #and in a sense he is #but also not really #zenos raised in sharlayan would still be zenos #but also maybe I'm overthinking and reading into childe's character too much #I hope not #I want a good story for him

[pumpkinrootbeer]

Not enough Avatar fans recognize how good of a bender Bolin is bcuz he's mostly busy being played as comic relief. But even just at the end of TLOK he's praised by his personal hero Toph Beifong and is one of 3 known lavabenders, has gone toe to toe and bended alongside Toph's talented daughters and displays similar feats.

And he's shown to practice bending seriously and improve between time jump, b/c have you noticed that he observed and mastered the Red Lotus lavabender's lava glaive trick and uses it to cut through platinum in Book 4? That and Toph said that she'd be willing to teach Bolin metalbending b/c she brags about being able to teach anyone metalbending (Toph's metalbending school comics reference yay) & in the TLOK comics Toph is shown to go out of her way to leave the swamp & head to Rep. City to hang out with her granddaughter and her future grandson-in-law, so I'm betting Bolin's been getting some tutoring in and officially become one of Toph's students.

TLDR I hope Bolin shows up in the new Avatar series and shows up how strong he is at old age, b/c half his canon appearances so far are him at 16 and he's underratedly really good.

no because Bolin is genuinely an unparalleled bender. he has sheer power on the level of avatars, see how catches an entire building dropped on a room full of earth benders before anyone else and then was the only one holding it up despite TOPH BEING IN THE ROOM? for one.

he also has the drive to be good at his bending that we don't really see with mako or even really korra in the show. sure, we see korra learn air bending but then she's just frustrated it's not coming naturally. with Bolin we see him struggle with his bending and still become the best. see how quickly he mastered an element with No One to teach him or him throwing himself at metal bending over and over. Which I'm honestly torn if I want him to learn it? On one hand, literally op earthbender which is amazing yes please. On the other, I kinda like that metal bending, something that is traditional earthbending techniques taken to the extreme, is what Bolin struggles with.

It's pretty heavily implied Bolin and Mako had no formal bending teacher and are completely self taught. In fact, the times we see Bolin do the most traditional earthbending moves are in season 4, which takes place after the 3 year jump. This is also when he's working for Kuvira and is probably the only time he did get formal training in earthbending, so it would make sense he would incorporate that more.

and ive talked about this before but, Bolin is the quickest earthbender in the entire show. he is incredibly talented in his craft and no one else in the entire show bends like he does. like, okay. This?

that move? that spin kick he's doing? That's a fire bending move.

he's doing a fire bending move with earth. kinda like iroh's move for redirecting lighting, bolin's entire bending style is this quote "when you take (wisdom) from only one place it becomes rigid and stale. understanding others, other nations, will help you become whole" Bolin is an earth bender who grew up learning to bend by watching fire bending. and that is a huge part of why Bolin is such a unique and talented fighter.

tbh I hope he never learns metal bending because the contrast between him and toph is nice. Toph is someone who excels at traditional earthbending, to the point of inventing a new type of sub-bending. whereas Bolin is so skilled at adapting and integrating different bending styles that he's able to master a volatile element that is eath that behaves like water with properties of fire at 17 with no teacher.

so yeah I agree 100% I would fucking love to see Bolin older because he would be a fucking powerhouse.

#:v #Bolin #lol

[druidshollow]

I love dune but dune manipulating fire by making him villainize descent makes me so sad.. my girl descent is trying her best, she never did anything wrong in her life ever actually

its really fucking sad man. the odds are so entirely stacked against her, she had to be careful what she said and did because flowers' position meant he could just take entire control of the kids situation whenever he wanted. she wanted to protect fire and rivers so badly, but if she fought flowers she could lose her access to them and then theyd be alone with him

this was a much larger problem after they split up and fire was gone. she wanted to protect rivers from flowers, who was repeatedly expressing reluctance to go with him, but she was afraid of flowers retorting by demanding full custody. i think ive said this before but i dont think flowers even particularly wanted rivers around. it was more something he could hold over her head, something he knew she felt threatened by and couldnt do anything about. i cant help but wonder if he gained some satisfaction in knowing that descent could tell rivers was being abused but couldnt safely stop it. see this is what i meant earlier when i was saying that he gets worse every time i write for him its so grRRRRRRRR

anyways FIRE. fire. yeah i think fire expressed missing his mom pretty often when he first got to the divide. dune felt threatened by this and wanted to assure that fire wouldnt go back to his family. how else to achieve this but to alienate fire from his family? on a surface level her logic is almost understandable; if your mother was concerned with the abuse in her home why did she never take you guys away? kids arent stupid but they are very impressionable. i dont think at the equivalent age of an 11 year old (fucking Yikes btw) that fire would have fully understood the power dynamics at play in his family. dune knew flowers was high council. she knew, at least to some extent, that the situation would have been very difficult for descent to navigate, but it suited her narrative better if she left those nuances out and instead made fire's mother out to be uncaring and inactive

i think dune did a lot of listening to fire at first, rather than guiding things. she wanted to understand the dynamics at play here before she began twisting the narrative, and she also wanted to give fire the impression that she was somebody safe to come to with his problems and feelings. the more she learned, the safer she felt twisting things

have this doodle of descent and rivers i coughed up tonight. saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad guys. the flowers effect

#druid babbles #oc posting #species swap au #abuse mention #ss rivers #ss descent

[takecareluv]

Hiiii I don’t think Ive ever requested something b4 so idk if I’m doing this right but, Y/n has a son from a previous relationship and he’s a really clingy mamas boy and he literally hates Vinnie and tries to break him and y/n up.

a.n. yes, you did it right! i’m so sorry this took so long. i hope you like it <3 this made me feel so soft 🥺

my mommy || vinnie hacker x reader

you had a son when you were only eighteen years old.

your friends and family were super supportive throughout the entire pregnancy, but unfortunately your boyfriend at the time didn’t feel the same way. he told you he wasn’t ready to be dad and left you and your unborn child.

from the time of your baby boy’s birth, it was just you and him. so when you starting dating vinnie and bringing him around more, your precious boy was none too thrilled.

anytime he would notice you getting ready to go out and his babysitter coming over, he would throw a complete tantrum.

one time he even pretended to not feel good just so you would cancel your date and stay home with him.

other times you would change your plans around and just have the date at home so you could spend time with both of your boys.

vinnie was always so sweet with your son. you could tell he was trying his hardest to get the young boy to like him, but it just wasn’t working.

tonight in particular, you were making your way back to the couch with a bowl of popcorn in your hand. you sat down, cuddling close to vinnie as he wrapped his arm around you.

your son clocked this and was quick to run over to you, trying to squeeze his way between you and vinnie.

“no touch mommy. i cuddle her,” he exclaimed, giving vinnie a sour look you didn’t even know he was capable of making.

when he successfully made his way onto the couch, he settled himself on to your lap, resting his head upon your chest. he stayed like that for the rest of the movie, making sure vinnie made no moves.

although, he eventually got bored and climbed off your lap to continue playing with his toys. he was having fun until he heard the sound of a kiss.

he looked over at you to see vinnie pressing a kiss to your cheek. “no, no! you no kiss momma. only i kiss momma’s cheek.” he ran over, hitting vinnie’s arm so he would stop.

“hey! bub we use nice hands. you don’t hit people, remember? even when we’re upset.”

you startled him at your sharp voice. you didn’t typically raise your voice at him, he was always so good so this was new territory for the both of you.

he looked down as the tears started forming in his eyes.

“oh no baby, i’m not mad at you. you’re okay. i just want you to be nice to vinnie, mkay? we’re not mean people, right?” you softly explained to him, pulling back onto your lap.

he only nodded, using his little chubby hands to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“what do you say to vinnie?”

“i sorry binnie for hitting you. i use nice hands now, promise.”

“it’s okay, little man. i know you are very protective of your mommy, and i understand. you know how you love mommy so so much?” he waited for your boy to nod in response. “well i love her too. i would never hurt your mommy. i want to protect her just like you do.”

“you love mommy too?”

“yes, i love your mommy so much. but that doesn’t mean i want to take her away from you.”

it was like it finally clicked in your baby’s head. “fwiends?” he smiled.

“yeah, buddy. friends.”

you were grinning from ear to ear. your two favorite boys were finally getting along.

#vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x you #vinnie hacker x y/n #vinnie hacker blurb #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker imagine

[softcells]

Look. Just admit you're anti kink and fucking go. That's all your argument is. You're just pulling the "Oh think of the children" like conservatives do but using progressive language to hide it. You know damn well you don't actually care; you've just found an easy way to hide you being anti kink by coating it in feminist, progressive language

I helped run a monthly public kink demonstration with open play at a local bar for half a year. I am a regular member of an invite only pop up play dungeon, regularly attend the public dungeons, and have been invited into the private homes and parties of dommes who appear on the covers of magazines. I am in talks with the leader of the pop up group about using my perspective to teach classes about consent and acutally, edgeplay, the by in large topic of my post. I am not anti kink. I have a permanent mark on my ass from heavy impact play, and have been suspended. We own a strip of leather with a channel full of bird shot and Ive been wrapped by acrylic cans. I have discussed at length on this blog cnc and other forms of edgeplay and my understanding of safe kink in the past.

I was also groomed when I was 16 by adults who exploited my young interest in sadomasochism to get pictures of my pussy. Instead of excluding me from adult spaces, they encouraged me to identify with age play and pet play and use my naievitity to make a victim of me. When I was 18, I by my own will at the time considering kink to be a huge part of who I was, went to a munch. A 30 year old man propositioned me for play and sex even after I said "it's a school night". I did not realize that night why I deleted my Fetlife and felt so wrong, but it continued to haunt me for months later that Id felt so uncomfortable and the fact I was in highschool didnt perturb him. I am so greatful for my younger self, because I realized over the next few months that I couldnt jack off without tying myself off and Id never even had my first kiss. I did not return to kink for 3 years.

In that time I did exactly what I said in my post. I had shitty hook up sex with girls out of my league, gave bad blow jobs, went on cheesy dates at parks in midnight, showed off my dagger to a punk masc in the trunk of my moms tahoe 50 miles from home and went home at 7am. I had my first kiss, I realized I wanted flowers not just subjugation, and I realized when girls told me they wanted to date me for the first time ever- people loved me. I didnt jack off with rope for years. Until I was sure that I actually liked it, not just my groomers.

I realized I hate age play, its unsafe and gross. Its often used for exactly that, to groom young women, like I was. I cant get my pictures of my pussy back. I realized I love gay leather and it makes me feel masc in a way not a lot of things do. I found at the end of it all, restraint still turned me on, but this time I was gonna be safe. The first time I went back to the dungeon in 3 years was to a rope class. I wanted to learn shibari so I wouldn't hurt myself.

I dont always advertise all this, but I also have no shame admitting it, because I was the person I was referring too. I didn't take it too far, and allow my entire sexual life to be dominated by racism, rape culture, and pedophilia. I actually realized all the ways I had had my sexual freedom ripped from me. Kink is actually a massive part of my life, and I will always advocate for safe, healthy, responsible, and ethical kink. I will not be called a puritan or a reactionary for protecting what I love from a complete disregard for everything moral, and I will never EVER stop advocating for young people to come into their own not with the expectation that to be attractive is to take or to be taken from, but to give and receive equally, which youll find good kink is just this. Its not having a public ask blog at 19 asking strangers to send you death threats. Thats not kink its self harm.

[nanomooselet]

Little but Fierce IV

Of course, you can't talk about Meryl without talking about Roberto. He's only there because of her. He's easy to dismiss - oh, drunk old dude who condescends to his female protégé - but he shouldn't be, no more than than Meryl herself should be dismissed.

Roberto is a teacher. He's there to impart lessons. He's also a journalist, so he's there to tell stories. Put them together, and you have the local critical thinker, as well as a good excuse for Meryl to back out if she decides it's too dangerous. He exists to give her choices and to shield her from the consequences of her mistakes, until she's firm enough on her feet to have learned.

And boy howdy, does she need to learn. Meryl got a lot of raw confidence, but it's punctured when she encounters situations she doesn't know how to navigate, mostly the trappings of adulthood - planning ahead, economic hardship, encounters with the law. But also partnership and teamwork.

I pointed it out before but Meryl doesn't have a poker face. Everything she feels or thinks tends to show clear as day. Roberto's more controlled - especially considering he doesn't like or trust the MPs. He uses the slight authority he has to get some information out of these guys, and then Meryl misdirects them. Without ever really discussing it, they form a partnership to protect Vash, and they had to do it together. Roberto wanted to leave him tied up, Meryl was too startled over his identity to talk. And Vash is happy to see it! It's stuff like this that he loves most about humans. (Though he's also playing up the gosh-I'm-just-a-silly-little-guy bit.)

Also, consider the other definition of adult you might know. Check this out.

Meryl goes from marching in like the sheriff to peeking over the edge of the counter like a kitten. Why? Well, apart from the place falling silent and someone yelling that this isn't a place for kids, what did she see?

Sex work probably hasn't played a big part in her life so far. Every character up until these two has worn quite modest clothes, and look at the way these women look back at Meryl. They're not ashamed, they're almost... endeared. They think she's sweet. Girl's just a wee bit intimidated. And Rosa's disinterested hostility probably isn't making it easier.

Meryl's prone to raising her voice and going on lectures, but Rosa tells her to speak up, and that's when Vash and Roberto find her. Specifically, Vash suspected she'd head to the diner and guided Roberto to it, and Roberto sighs that Meryl's a lot of trouble/needs a shorter leash - they formed a partnership to protect Meryl.

(I wonder if these ladies will appear again.)

Roberto's purpose is threefold. 1) Protect Meryl 2) help her achieve what she wants 3) teach by information and by example. He almost never acts outside of those parameters.

I could probably write a whole other series of meta posts about the English dub (and don't think I'm not tempted, but also trapped in meta factory somebody help) but for now, here's one of my favourite exchanges in the first episode. Never mind the exposition.

Meryl: Any day now I'll get my big scoop! Roberto: Any minute now, I'm sure. Meryl: I'll be running the entire bureau before you know it! Roberto: Then could you give me a raise, boss? Meryl: I'm being serious! Roberto: So am I.

What's he being serious about? Money? Nope. (Or only a little.)

He agrees. Meryl's the boss.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

Part VIII

Part IX

#trigun stampede #tristampparty #trigun meta #meta: little but fierce #meryl stryfe #roberto de niro #he's also got some of the funniest lines in the dub #hundreds spoons #magnificent

[ninadove]

Miraculous Masterpost

Because I did not expect to write about this series as much as I did, so now my Random Ramblings Masterpost looks like a never-ending shopping list, and we can’t have that.

Generic 🦋

Miraculous’ philosophy of consent: all’s fair in love and plot [S5 E19]

A word on show-don’t-tell (Get it? A word? On show-don’t-tell? I’ll see myself out —) [S5 E18]

London Callin’ (Maybe) (We’re not sure) [S5 E24]

The Shadow Weaver-ification of Gabriel Agreste — Part 1 [S5 E26]

The Shadow Weaver-ification of Gabriel Agreste — Part 2 [S5 E26]

The Shadow Weaver-ification of Gabriel Agreste — Part 3 [S5 E26]

I love the Sentimonster Theory Canon and you can pry out of my cold, dead hands [S5 E26]

Felix Graham de Vanily / Argos 🦚

"Duusu, spread my feathers!" — A queer reading of the Sentimonster theory [S4 E26]

Felix is a little b*tch (affectionate) [S4 E26]

Taking risks in Strikeback (Get it? Risk? Strikeback?) [S4 E26]

On the beef between Felix and Chloé [S5 E18]

Felix’s masterplan was brilliant, actually [S5 E18]

Leave my fucking child alone — Part I: "There’s only one thing worse than Gabriel —" [S5 E18]

Leave my fucking child alone — Part II: A very chill rant about Adrien’s amok [S5 E18]

Reminder that yes, Colt SUCKS, but he’s not the only one [S5 E24]

On cracked rings and broken chains [S5 E24]

Surviving child abuse through humour [S5 E24]

Badass in the arena [S5 E24]

TRANSMASC. FELIX. PROPAGANDA. [S5 E24]

On Felix’s wish [S5 E26]

Kagami Tsurugi / Ryuko 🐉

To wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve [S5 E18]

Thinking about Kagami Tsurugi ❤️ [S5 E24]

On Kagami and the cousins’ silly antics [S5 E26]

Feligami 🦚🐉

On Feligami and the (absence of) masks [S5 E18]

Beware of first impressions [S5 E18]

Transmasc Felix Propaganda [S5 E18]

Feligami Fastburn my beloved [S5 E19]

Feligami Flexes [S5 E19]

It’s the way they hold hands, your honour [S5 E19]

Some Ship Bingo Ramblings [S5 E19]

Incoherent screaming over Kagami’s amok [S5 E19]

The quickest prison break ever [S5 E24]

You come to MY post, you disrespect MY blorbos — [S5 E24]

A word on jealousy [S5 E24]

Finding beauty in the monstruous [S5 E24]

Feligami’s couple cosplays [S5 E24]

A word on monsters [S5 E24]

Feligami Writing Guide [S5 E24]

From queer neurodivergent child abuse survivors to lovers [S5 E24]

Draw me like one of your British boys [S5 E26]

Felix doesn’t get the monopoly of the heart eyes [S5 E26]

On defying the narrative [S5 E24]

*Fireflies from Owl City starts playing* [S5 E26]

Beauty and the Beast AU

Felix’s fanfictions

Adrien Agreste / Chat Noir 🐈‍⬛

Remember kids: necromancy bad — [S5 E26]

On the S6 Redesigns Dread™ [S5 E26]

Graham de Family 💍

Flairmidable’s formidable costume [S4 E26]

The Senticousins Agenda — Part I: NEWSFLASH, ASSHOLES!!!!! Felix has cared about Adrien the entire goddamn time [S5 E24]

The Senticousins Agenda — Part II: The Path to Isolation [S5 E24]

The Senticousins Agenda — Part III: L’Enfer est pavé de bonnes intentions [S5 E24]

The Senticousins Agenda — Part IV: Sun and rain [S5 E24]

The Senticousins Agenda — Part V: Sun and moon [S5 E24]

The Senticousins Agenda — Part VI: Mirror, mirror [S5 E24]

The Senticousins Agenda — Part V: First draft [S5 E24]

#LetAmelieStabABitch2023 [S5 E24]

On Felix, Emilie and Solitude [S5 E24]

On Felix, Emilie and loneliness [S5 E24]

All I’m saying is, Emilie should have been a lesbian [S5 E24]

Some thoughts on Sentisouls [S5 E24]

Adrien is a disappointment to his entire lineage (and we love him for it) [S5 E24]

Let’s play Animal Crossing: Happy Home Paradise! [S5 E26]

A word on accents and guillotines (with a title like that how can you NOT want to click)

Marinette Dupain Cheng / Ladybug 🐞

Do NOT talk shit about Marinette [S5 E26]

In defense of Ladybug’s suit [Miraculous World: Tales of Shadybug and Claw Noir]

Chloé Bourgeois / Queen Bee 🐝

Can a bee change her stripes? [S5 E18]

That one time I accidentally made myself a Chlolila shipper [S5 E22]

Master Fu 🗝️

Ah yes, the good old cycle of abuse and neglect

Lukadrien 🐈‍⬛🐍

A word on… Swear words

#miraculous ladybug #felix graham de vanily #argos #kagami tsurugi #feligami #adrien agreste #senticousins #amelie graham de vanily #emilie agreste #graham de family #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #love square #luka couffaine #lukadrien #chloé bourgeois #chloe bourgeois #gabriel agreste #hawkmoth #monarch #mlb spoilers #mlb strikeback #mlb emotion #mlb pretention #mlb revolution #mlb representation #mlb recreation #ml recreation #recreation spoilers #random ramblings

[halfway-happyyy]

into gold IV {rooster bradshaw}

synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.

characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)

or- the one where they break each other's hearts.

word count- 3200+

part one

part two

part three

Scout spends the better part of her Saturday evening declining drinks from what she can only assume are some of San Diego’s finest gentlemen. So, she is surprised to find that come one o’clock in the morning, her entire world is spinning on its axis with no intention of letting up anytime soon. She reckons it might have been the three tequila shots taken at her grade partner (and dear friend) Lou’s behest. It could also have had something to do with the whiskey flight she consumed that Lou had ordered but never actually touched. Whatever it was, has led her out into the balmy evening air, with her finger poised precariously above Rooster’s phone number.

All the text messages he’d sent since the last time they shared dinner, had gone woefully unanswered. Scout could easily pin the blame on ‘end of the year chaos’ but something told her he’d see right through it. Someone bumps into her from behind just then, causing her finger to graze the number and with a sudden gasp, she hits decline. For a moment she thinks she’s successful; the moment passes, and her phone begins to vibrate with Rooster’s incoming call.

“Hello?” She hiccups.

“Scout, are you alright?” He immediately sounds concerned.

Fighting the bile rising in her throat, she takes a breath of fresh air, but all she gets is a lungful of acrid cigarette smoke- compliments of the young woman standing a little too close to her.

“Hey, I know this is a long shot because we haven’t spoken in a while and it’s totally okay if you can’t because of Frankie, but I was wondering if you would be able to pick me up?”

If she were any less inebriated, she might have heard his feet hitting the hardwood floor beneath his bed. She might have heard him bounding down the staircase, or the jangle of his car keys as he fished them out of the ceramic bowl in the front hallway.

“Frankie’s with Mav and Penny tonight. Where exactly are you?”

Scout turns to the person beside her and asks where they are. “I think it’s called the Whiskey House?”

She hears the Bronco roar to life in the background. “Alright, hang tight Scout. I’ll be there in about thirteen minutes, give or take.”

A sudden rush of loud music emanates from the open door as Lou stumbles out next to her. She wraps her arms around her frame and kisses her cheek, and Scout’s grateful for the cuddle as it helps to ward off the evening chill.

“How are ya, kiddo?” Lou asks.

A violent shiver wracks her before she hiccups and says, “I’ve been better. Who knew tequila and whiskey weren’t friends?”

Lou laughs. “We’ve always known that haven’t we? But rules go out the window when we play.” Reaching into her clutch, she retrieves a cigarette, positions it between her perfectly stained lips and lights it. “How will you get home?”

Scout’s bashful gaze travels to the ground and Lou laughs, breathlessly.

“You absolute minx. You called him, didn’t you?”

Scout’s cheeks burn and she nods. “Yeah. I did.”

“Good for you,” Lou takes a drag off her smoke and nods her head in approval. “He’s a good egg, Scout.”

Scout swallows. “How can you tell?”

Lou’s gaze drifts to her; there is something unreadable in those beautiful orbs of hers. “Well, for as long as I’ve known you, you’ve built up walls around your heart. And for good reason, I suppose.” She takes another drag and rests her head against the black brick of the building. “I can only imagine what losing a husband does to someone. But for as much as you want to resist it, you have let him, and Frankie dismantle some of those walls.”

Scout wants to say something else, but a wave of vertigo washes over her and she must lean against the wall to keep from losing her balance. The Bronco rolls to a stop in front of the bar. Rooster cuts the engine and joins Lou and Scout outside the entrance. And- goddamn, the man is a sight for sore eyes.

“Fun night?” He simpers and leans in to give Lou a quick hug. “Happy birthday, Miss Rutherford. Do you have a ride home?”

Lou ashes out the rest of her cigarette beneath the heel of her worn cowboy boot. “Sure do, thanks Rooster.”

“Of course.” His gaze travels to Scout’s, assessing her level of inebriation. “Let’s get you home, hmm?”

Lou presses another kiss to Scout’s cheek. “See you on Monday, sweet Scout. I do love you.”

Scout grins drunkenly at her friend. “I hope that you had the best birthday, Loumeister.”

Rooster helps her into the passenger seat, gently buckles her in and then settles in beside her. She mumbles her address to him, and then they’re off. Halfway through the ride, she asks if she can have the window down, knowing that the cool evening air will do wonders for the waves of nausea roiling in her belly. Rooster does as he’s asked and then says, “Scout if you think you’re going to be sick, you need to let me know, alright? Because I can pull over, I just need to know.”

She shakes her head, already feeling much better with the brisk saltwater breeze in her face.

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t be sick.” She murmurs, sleepily.

The term of endearment had been an accidental slip, but if she had been any less inebriated, she would have seen the smile that nearly split Rooster’s face in half.

When he gently shakes her awake fifteen minutes later, she is disoriented. He helps her from the car and holding her by the hand, leads her up the stone path to the front door of her duplex. When she drops the keys twice trying to fit them into the lock, he picks them up, unlocks the door, and follows her into the front foyer. Shrugging the jean jacket from her shoulders, he hangs it up in the front hall closet and follows her down the darkened hallway to her bedroom.

“I should go.” He murmurs.

And that’s the last thing that she wants, so she tries her luck a final time. “Please don’t.”

Regarding her in the low morning light, he finally relents. “Okay, Scout. I won’t.”

She tells him to come in after sixty seconds have passed. Shutting the door behind her, she frantically kicks stray pieces of clothing under her bed. Changing into a pair of pajama pants and a worn tank top, Rooster enters her room just after she’s thrown the last sock into the wicker hamper by her bed. She taps the space of made-up sheets next to her. “Let’s talk.” She yawns.

Rooster hesitates but does as he’s told and settles down next to her. “I’m not sure how much talking we’re about to do.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so silent lately.” Scout whispers.

Rooster shakes his head. “No apologies.”

She gazes at him, and though her thoughts are the farthest they’ve been from sharp in a long time, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone more clearly.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to stare?” He whispers, his honeyed voice is thick with the weight of looming sleep.

Scout smiles. “You have the most beautiful eyes, has anyone ever told you that?”

The smile fades from Rooster’s face, and the razor-thin scars on his cheeks stand out amongst the blush that floods them.

“Thank you for picking me up tonight.”

Rooster nods against the pillow. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Oh, poppycock.” Scout yawns.

“Poppycock? What are you, eighty?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“You look amazing for eighty.”

She attempts a wink. “My plastic surgeon is a wizard.”

It’s silent for a little while before Rooster clears his throat. “That’s what we are though, Scout. We’re friends. And there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for a friend.”

And in her alcohol-induced drowsiness, Scout doesn’t realize she’s mumbled, “But I’ve always wanted more than that with you, Rooster,” out loud.

She wakes up the next morning to a dull throbbing behind her eyes- nothing a strong cup of coffee can’t remedy. The expanse of the bed next to her is empty, and she wonders if she dreamt Rooster had been there with her at all. It had seemed so real at the moment; the heady warmth of his hand in hers, the subtle dip in the mattress from his weight as he laid down beside her. She wonders then, with a fleeting feeling of shame, if she had said something to him in the clutches of whiskey that made him leave. With a sigh, she gets out of bed in search of coffee. To her amazement, Rooster is seated at the kitchen island, and when he sees her, he sets his phone down and offers her a slow smile.

“I was beginning to wonder when you might surface.”

She stands on tiptoes to retrieve two mugs from the cupboard beside the fridge.

“I thought I’d dreamt you.”

He clears his throat. “You didn’t. But if you require further confirmation, I could pinch you.”

She laughs. “No need. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black, please.”

It’s silent in the kitchen while she focuses most of her energy on making their drinks. There are a million things she could say, but none of them feel quite right so she settles for, “I’m sorry for last night.”

Rooster waves it off. “It’s not a problem, Scout. I was happy that you got a hold of me- happy to know that I was able to take you to a safe place.”

When she turns to view him in the growing morning light, she wonders for the first time, what it would have been like to meet him at the right time. She does her best then, to ignore the voice in her head that says, but now is the right time, Scout.

“Can I be honest with you about something, Scout?” Rooster asks.

She tries to fend off the sudden feeling of unease as she pours cream into her coffee. Joining him at the island, she slides his mug over and nods her head.

He purses his lips as if trying to figure out the best way to go about it all. “I don’t think that I can be just friends with you.”

Scout knows then that this is it; knows that if she can’t decide one way or the other, she will likely lose him and Frankie forever.

Rooster clears his throat. “And friends would be one thing- but Scout, I can’t even get you to respond to my messages.” Guilt manifests as a hard lump in the hollow of her throat. “I’m laying this all out on the line for you because I’ve had my fair share of loss and it’s made me hyper-aware of what I want for my life, and what I don’t want.”

She’s on the precipice of throwing it all in for him; she was there last night. But something is holding her back. Perhaps it’s the idea of finally having everything she’s ever dreamed of, and then having it all ripped away in the blink of an eye again that scares her so much.

“I was pregnant,” Scout says, softly. And she isn’t doing this for sympathy; she’s doing it because if she doesn’t get it off her chest, it may just crush her one day.

Rooster blanches and the color drains from his face.

She continues, knowing that if she stops, she may never start again. “I found out two weeks before Beau passed. I had meant to tell him, but then the mission happened, and I figured it would have been a pretty good welcome home surprise.” Scout swallows. “But then he died, and every fibre of my being wanted to die too. But I had the baby to think of. Even though it was only ever just going to be the two of us, I knew we’d be alright.” She clears the emotion building in her throat. “But when I went in for my next scan, they failed to find a heartbeat. And when I left the clinic that afternoon, it was just me again.”

Sorrow washes from Rooster in palpable waves.

“So, I know a thing or two about loss as well, Rooster. I know what it can rob a person of.”

Time, love, life.

“I am so sorry, Scout.”

She shakes her head. “That’s life Rooster. It’s no one’s fault. But I’m not there yet; I don’t think I’m capable of giving you and Frankie the kind of love you deserve.”

Words are meaningless after that; the shattered look in Rooster’s eyes says everything he can’t. He parts only after he's pressed a last, lingering kiss on her cheek. Scout feels the sharp knife of his absence immediately; where sunshine followed in his wake, a shadow now looms over her. She retreats to the darkened stillness of her room, crawling back under the weighted protection of her covers. After a while, her eyelids grow heavy and she gives in to the alluring siren song of sleep.

When she stirs awake hours later, her room is still bathed in the same indigo hue from the morning. She reaches over to the space of bed beside her, where Rooster’s body had been hours earlier and the ache to have him back in her orbit again is almost overwhelming. Something flips inside of her; and before she can talk herself out of it, she’s en route to Rooster’s house. She’s had the entire ride there to formulate what she would say to him when she saw him again, but the minute he opens the door to her, any semblance of an explanation evaporates into thin air. She almost expects him to be angry with her, but he’s anything but.

“I’d be out of my mind to let the two of you go, Rooster.”

This is me, laying everything out on the line for you.

In one swift motion, he has her pinned against the wall of the front hallway. His warm, slightly calloused hands (a product of working on planes in his spare time) caress her face as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His lips hover mere inches away from her own, and she shivers in anticipation as his breath washes over her in warm waves. He searches her gaze for anything in her eyes that might tell him to stop, and when he doesn’t find it, he gets closer to her still.

A small, wet cough sounds in the distance behind them, and Rooster pulls away from her as if he’s touched fire.

“Papa, I threw up.”

Frankie’s raw, fragile voice shatters the tension as if it were glass. Her Moana nightgown is covered in pink vomit, almost as if someone had thrown a full bottle of pepto bismol at her.

Rooster's transition into dad mode is seamless as he bends down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Oh, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

His sympathetic gaze travels to Scout’s. “Do you mind getting her into the tub while I change her bed?”

Scout shakes her head. “Not at all,” She walks over to where Frankie stands and takes hold of her small, clammy hand. “Come on, Frankie. I know just what to do to help you feel better.”

Once in the bathroom, Scout helps Frankie rid herself of her soiled nightgown and gets her into the warm, bubble-filled bath. She watches the little girl carefully, searching for any sign that she may be sick again. “How’s your tummy doing, Frank?” She asks.

Frankie settles back into the lavender suds and sighs. “It’s much better now, Scout. I think I ate too much bubblegum ice cream before bed.”

Scout lets out a small, relieved laugh. “I’d say so.”

They’re quiet a moment before Frankie asks why Scout’s at their house so late.

Scout shrugs. “I missed you guys.” And it’s god’s honest truth.

This answer seems to satiate her because all she says in response is, “We missed you too, Scout.”

By the time she’s finished getting her cleaned up, Frankie’s eyes have started closing on their own volition. Scout manages to get her out of the tub, dried off and into fresh pajamas before she’s comatose. Rooster tucks his girl in, and they’re about to leave before Frankie’s tiny, mouse-like voice rings out into the humid air before them. “Please stay, Scout.”

“Of course I will, Frankie.” She squeezes Rooster’s hand, knowing that as soon as the little girl is asleep, she’ll find her way to his room.

“Goodnight, Papa.”

Rooster smiles. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Alright, scooch over kid,” Scout whispers, climbing into bed next to her. Frankie’s head fits perfectly into the rounded nook of her shoulder blade, and the notion of it causes a happy tear to gather in the corner of her eye.

“Will you tell me a story Scout?”

She realizes now that the chances of ever denying Frankie of anything are entirely non-existent. “Anything you want, Frank.”

A persistent banging on the front door downstairs jolts Scout from a surprisingly sound sleep. She waits to see if the noise has roused Rooster yet, and when it doesn't, she peels herself from under Frankie’s impossibly warm body to investigate. Tiptoeing down the stairs, the banging grows ever louder. “I’m coming!” She calls out, somewhat irritated. It can’t be any later than seven o’clock in the morning. With a sigh, she swings open the door to reveal a beautiful, waifish blonde woman on the front porch. They stare at each other expectantly, and the longer Scout looks, the more she realizes how much Frankie resembles this woman.

“Can I help you?” Scout asks.

The woman scoffs. She’s about to answer when Frankie’s girlish squeal reveals her identity.

“Mommy!”

Scout doesn’t have time to register this information before the woman pushes past her to gather Frankie into her tan arms. She peppers the little girl with kisses and then turns to Scout, her expression disgusted.

“I’m Frankie’s mother. I’m taking care of her until Bradley returns from some sort of work thing.”

A mission.

An invisible trapdoor opens beneath Scout and she’s powerless to do anything but tumble right down through it.

Rooster appears from out of nowhere then, his beautiful brown eyes wide with shock and anger. “Sara, we’ve been over this before; you cannot just show up here like this,” His helpless gaze travels to Scout’s. “Scout, I can explain, just please don’t leave.” He pleads.

Scout’s mouth is void of any moisture; she couldn’t bring herself to say much even if she wanted to. She grabs the car keys next to Rooster’s and turns to Frankie, and all she can manage is, “You feel better today, Frank?”

The little girl nods her head, with tears swimming in her eyes.

Scout swallows back her own tears. “That’s good. Remember to tell Papa to keep on top of your medicine if your tummy starts hurting again, okay?”

Frankie nods and reaches both arms out for Scout to take her. Scout shakes her head, clears her throat and kisses her goodbye.

She doesn’t allow her tears to fall the way they need to until she’s put as much distance between herself and Rooster Bradshaw as possible.

#oh rooster #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #tgm #rooster bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw fluff #into gold #writing #miles teller #tw: vomit

[animalinvestigator]

hey! i havent had tumblr for a while but ive been thinking about cathys eldest sister who wants to run away when she turns 18. is she equipped at all to deal with the outside world? all of the kids seem pretty isolated. ty!

hello anonymous -- first of all let me just say, i am really touched that you remembered my story, and even a pretty minor character in it, and remained so interested that you sent this ask even after being away. really it means a lot more to me than i could ever articulate, i was so stunned and happy that you would. i appreciate it a lot. i really hope someday i can make the story real so that you'll be able to have all these answers without tumblr asks, LOL.

which made me think about -- how mysterious do i want to be to make sure everything still stays fresh if i ever do write it , lol. i thought for a bit about this, and i think i can still say plenty of things without giving away any plot beats or information i havent already shared. espescially about the character youre inquiring on ! so: about bridget.

even though bridget is a side character whose arc plays out largely incidentally in the background of the story, she's definitely the supporting cast member i've thought about most, because she shares a lot in common with catherine, but her motivation to escape is from a completely different perspective, and her approach is entirely different as well because of that.... i'm not sure how much i've talked about catherine's family's history, but they haven't always lived where they live, and they haven't always been as isolated as they are ; bridget is one of the few kids in the family who is old enough to remember a time when she was marginally less secluded from the world, where she was permitted to have relationships among a slightly broader community, instead of having no one and nothing outside of the nuclear family. this, combined with the amount of time she's spent living the way that she does, and the increased responsibility /mistreatment she incurred by being born first, leads her to a feeling that is shared between only her and cathy among her siblings, that something is deeply, implacably wrong with the only world she's ever known, and an abstract need to "run away" as a result.

UNLIKE cathy, bridget has the perspective to know that there does exist a world outside(though she's never been part of it) that she can run away to. because of this, and due to the repertoire she has built up over the years by adequately obeying her parents and avoiding their scrutiny, and her general grew-up-too-fast big sister maturity, she has the increased freedom and general skills she needs to actually enact an escape plan . to get to the meat of your question, though, that definitely does not translate exactly to being able to survive well and easily when she leaves. basically the only thing bridget has ever been is a homemaker, essentially; her days are commanded by the needs of her siblings and the demands of her parents, and there's little room for developing any sense of agency outside of her role as fill-in mother to the younger children in the family. i can't imagine there's anything she even wants to do when she gets out -- she wouldn't have any idea how to want things in the first place -- she has been actively discouraged from learning administrative adult tasks even as mundane as shopping for herself or driving a car out of a desire to keep her subserviant, and she has no safe grown-ups in her life to teach her these skills. she has no education outside of her family's """"homeschooling"""", and when she leaves, she will have no access to her legal paperwork, and no funds or resources whatsoever. which is all to say: bridget knows how to take care of herself and take care of her siblings and take care of her household, but she doesn't know how to be a human being, and she has none of the prerequesites that society would expect from her. even as the /least/ isolated member of the household, she's been completely cut off from any ability to develop as a person, form external relationships, and live without relying on her parents, because that's how catherine's parents maintain their sense of control.

so, the long and short of it is this: the reason that catherine's family is the way it is (and ESPESCIALLY in the case of bridget, whose obedience they rely upon to keep the household running smoothly) is that catherine's parents want to raise adult children, who are simultaneously competent enough to personally benefit the parents in keeping up appearances and in putting in less work themselves, and also so completley reliant on them ideologically, financially, and emotionally that they have no hope of surviving in the outside world. thta's the situation bridget is in when she decides to escape.

that being said, i think she's alright... much like cathy, i try to keep my own ideas for "what happens to this character" private, because i would really like to leave it at "there's no right answer". the main emotion i'm writing this story from is a feeling of lack of closure -- a story where nothing good happens, everyone is worse off at the end, and the main character is left all alone with her memories, wondering for the rest of her life if any of it even happened, not knowing if anything turned out okay, and having to carve out a place to live in that painful ambiguity... that being said, my hope for my own characters is that they'll have a happy ending in the audience's head.. and i feel like i can strongly picture bridget living in a big city somewhere very far away long after catherine's story ends, coming home after work to a tiny , mostly empty apartment, her own space, and thinking for the first time that she can finally breathe.

thank you so much again for your inquiry <3

#ocs #<33 :3 #hope its not too wordy

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 1/2/2024

it’s quite satisfying how the year started on a monday

listening

first song of the year: how could it be anything other than Sabata. this is the theme from the titular Sabata, i meant to pick the theme from Return of Sabata but im not mad about it.

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reading

i read Tim Marchman’s Popping Tins newsletter (a newsletter about fish and seafood) less bc i enjoy locking Mack in the bathroom every time i want a tuna melt and more for the droll authorial voice. i have bought a tin of mackerel after reading some entries, and it was very good but much much richer than tuna.

What should I do with this can of krill meat?

after consulting the importer’s website:

This is accompanied by a photograph of the can featuring easily-discerned black eyes, which are nothing to be concerned about, according to the company that produces this can. The first question on its FAQ page is “What are the little black speckles in my can?” “No need to be concerned here!” the answer reads. “Your meat is not dirty, and you did not get a defected can. Our Antarctic Krill meat contains the most nutritious parts of the krill, which happen to include their eyes.

…

The risks here are clear: I could vomit when I open the can and see the nutritious black eyes staring at me; I could destroy the peace in my home by making it smell like sautéed and simmered krill; and/or I could ruin a perfectly delicious lunch by introducing nutritious eyes and hard bits of chitin.

i have no memory of how i found this newsletter.

i keep forgetting i have ten hoopla credits a month through my old library and i want to read more comics this year bc reading comics is fun. in the past in practice this means ive binged all ten credits over a weekend. this weekend i had time for exactly one.

The Riddler: Year One is an extremely direct tie-in to the movie and i think it’s neat they let the riddler’s actor paul dano go wild with his backstory and then turn it into a comic. it’s fun when actors get to do weird tie-in shit.

(non-sequential pages)

watching this forensic accountant’s brain crack and scramble like an egg as he struggles to really grasp the enormity of gotham corruption and why the city is such a dogshit miserable place to live in made me go “oh huh that was a pretty good writing decision in the movie”. not that the riddler was terribly stable to begin with but the despair and the unraveling were very effectively conveyed. this comic has a lot of fun with funky layouts (left) and an entire issue (right) is conspiracy board shit on top of accounting forms which is a neat artistic choice.

deeply depressing but an interesting new little window into the rpatz batman (god i hope we get more rpatz batman films) and fun to look at.

how i found this: trawling the popular comics page on hoopla

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watching

this is the seventh year of starting a new-to-me classic black and white movie around 1030/11 PM New Year’s Eve and i am annoyed i didn’t like the movie that started this year but, according to the data, it’s been fifty-fifty so far.

previous years have featured: sunset boulevard, yojimbo, the thin man, it happened one night, bringing up baby, the big sleep, and now roman holiday (1953, dir. Wyler).

this is the platonic ideal of a classic movie. it’s not sterile but it’s so… unobjectionable. wholesome (derogatory) even. not particularly what i was looking for in a movie but, much like the gelato and champagne that pop up, it was kind of a sweet nothing. i don’t think anyone eats any real food this whole movie?

this is never a movie that feels rushed. it is two hours of watching beautiful people traipse around a beautiful city in beautiful edith head costumes. i would not say there is a lot of tension for the first hour and a half. however, imo, it does land its ending and for that i can forgive it a great deal. this is another beautiful movie that is simply not for me.

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playing

have you ever wanted an open world rpg where you play as a shark? congrats, this was apparently free on epic a while back

Maneater has a tremendously fun prologue where you play as the soon-to-be-dead mother shark who is absolutely going to town on a crowded beach and destroying multiple spear-gun-wielding divers and multiple boats full of citizens exercising their second amendment rights. this prologue is an excellent choice by the game bc it locks the fun part (eating people) behind several hours of really grindy shit. i am not entertained by the grind of eating progressively larger muskellunge, avoiding alligators, and collecting license plates. the grind is EXCEPTIONALLY grindy, i put about three hours into it and have only gotten to level 5 (teen) and have only two mutations i can sink loot into (four types of loot gained from eating other fish. this is too many types imo). i am not anywhere near a recommended level to start fucking humans up. im also not super impressed with the open world aspects of it— there are not a lot of things to do, discover, or interact with in the first two areas.

this seems like a really fun game that clotheslined itself with a cripplingly slow upgrade cycle. im sure the mid and late game are hysterically fun, especially on stream. however i am not willing to put in the hours to get to the fun part when i could immediately be having fun in some other game.

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making

a lot of profoundly uninteresting cleaning. after not being able to figure out why my office (where Phil [no longer in heat. for now] lives) still reeks of piss even after stealing a blacklight from a friend and cleaning with a blacklight, it is of course bc she has been pissing in secret places i didn’t think she could get to. upside down smile emoji. both the girls got their monthly flea goop yesterday and were deeply unhappy about it.

most of my plants died in the move and i am finally tackling the survivors. fan favorite giant snake plant (not pictured, tidied up and inside) did make it and pull through but is not happy about it. now that i have baby basil and baby dill sprouting in the kitchen i do need to do something with the balcony so they have somewhere to grow up study and strong.

also slammed that silly little blondeyes NFT thing up on the archive

#i do not know how to tag that fic snippet but eh #tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #Youtube