#pls let these characters have the emotional support they need

[ellcrys]

honestly at this point i feel like i don’t even care if anden/lott becomes endgame in the sequel we’re never going to get i just want my boys to be comfortable with each other. i want them to talk. i want them to have just one candid conversation about what happened in the past, what’s happening in the present, and how they want to proceed in the future. whether that’s becoming friends, staying polite acquaintances, or maybe becoming something more. but they need to talk. anden mentions in one chapter that he’s not quite sure if they’re friends. and sometimes that’s ok! sometimes it’s ok not to define things. but when you’re two of the pillar’s closest advisors and are frequently in the same room together, that type of ambiguity is unsustainable. you need to draw boundaries. you need to know who you are to this other person and who that other person is to you.

clearly they’re drawn to each other. anden thinks about lott in like 75% of his pov chapters. we never really get a lott chapter so who knows what’s going on in his mind, but he keeps asking anden whether or not he regrets his choices. clearly anden occupies at least some brain space in lott’s mind. and they don’t know what to do about this. i’m not sure if they ever even acknowledge that they think about the other.

lott clearly holds himself at a distance, and anden’s too embarrassed to bring up their awkward teenage years, and so they’ve never had a conversation that’s run more than surface deep. they don’t know what they are, and so they’re always left wondering, not knowing how they should be acting around each other, or how to proceed into the future. but it’s so clear that they think about each other and i want them to acknowledge that. and i want them to be comfortable with each other, so that they can move on and be free of these burdens and questions. and they can’t be comfortable around each other until they talk about their relationship.

honestly, i want them to be friends.

but if not friends, then i want them to at least acknowledge that something between them existed -- that spark of interest in each other, even if it won’t continue in the future.

they are both such lonely people and i just want them to know that at some point the other thought of them, that someone out there thinks of them and cares about them.

#it's so strange with anden bc like #canonically he has his family behind him #but somehow he still feels like such a lonely character #with lott it's like #does he even have any friends oh my god #pls let these characters have the emotional support they need #emery anden #lott jin #green bone saga #jade legacy spoilers #just in case #gbs blogging #i have so many fucking feelings #gbs

[welovelouisandbucky]

My two favorite Slytherin boys headcanons bc why not?

T/w: few swear words, my writing, and some out of character stuff because im delusional, little suggestive if you can call it that, and yes aside from that if you find any pls let me know:) also my writing

A/n: hi y'all, I just want to say pls be kind as this is my first time writing for these characters so if there's any mistakes pls overlook them thank you! Also I tried my best to keep this GN so everyone can read and enjoy this and yeah that's it, have great day!!!

S/n: requests are open so feel free to send in ideas, I'll love to write what you guys suggest. Also feel free to ask for more Slytherin or any Harry Potter characters you want headcanons/blurbs about, I'll love to write and add more🤗

Masterlist

Mattheo Riddle

(gifs credits to the rightful owner)

Also this one's long as you can see I got carried away😁

Mattheo who always looks forward to see your face after the end of the day

Mattheo who will fight any one who looks at you funny or talks shits about you

Mattheo who glares at every single person but the seconds he spots you his eyes softens up in millisecond in adoration

Mattheo who holds your books or bag everywhere you guys go, because God forbid if his princess/prince ever has to worry about those things when he's there to do them for you

Mattheo who waits after you when the class is over so he can walk you to other class while he pulls you as closer to him as possible

Mattheo who searches for you before every Quidditch game so he can have his good luck charm kiss from you

Mattheo who pretends to hate and act tough when you baby him while secretly melting into a puddle inside every time you call him sweet names. ( He absolutely loses his shit when you call him baby but shush it's a secret 😌)

Mattheo who has probably drawn you only few hundreds of times in his super, super duper, very classified sketchbook that no one knows of.

Mattheo who always encourages you to do things you want to do but are too scared to actually do it.

Mattheo who always supports your decisions, even if they are stupid

Mattheo who appropriates your little hobbies and interests even if they are weird, he just wants to you to feel safe and heard around him

Mattheo who's always there for you whenever you need him, always there to hold you close on bad days because he knows how it feels when you are at your worst and there's no one to comfort you (thankfully he doesn't have to worry about being alone now that you are here as well as his friends)

Mattheo who struggles with expressing his emotions and feelings but still tries his hardest to show them to you because he wants you to know how much you mean to him.

Mattheo who's not that good at comforting but still pulls you to him because he can't stand seeing you cry and not do anything about it.

Mattheo who willingly listens to you rant about everything and anything because he loves hearing your voice (even if half of the things you said are going above his head but hey at least he's trying! ☺️)

Mattheo who hates not knowing what's happening around him because it makes him feel helpless and he hates feeling weak. That's why he always, and I mean always knows what's going on everywhere

Mattheo who's touch starved (bc yk all that being dark Lord's son and growing up with death eaters and all) and craves your touch. He's always in any way touching you, whether holding hands, or a hand on your thigh or waist just any kind of physical touch because he wants to be as close to you as possible.

Mattheo who loves loves cuddles, doesn't matter who's spooning who as long as you guys are in each other's arms.

Mattheo who loves you so much that it physically hurts him, and there's nothing he wouldn't do you

Mattheo who will always protect you no matter what

~~~

Theodore Nott

Theo who loves to tease you throughout the whole day just so he can see you all worked up for him

Theo who looks forward to your quick comebacks every time he comments on something he knows he will get reaction out of you and absolutely loses his shit when you roast the shit out of him for it

Theo who calls you sweet endearments in Italian because he loves to see your confused smile, contemplating whether he roasted you or called you something sweet in foreign language

Theo who keeps you company while you finish your homework in library

Theo who loves spending time with you on Astronomy tower (he just in general loves spending time with you but astronomy tower is more special to him) while you are snuggled up against his side as you guys look at stars.

Theo who will read with you, doesn't matter what kind of books you guys are reading as long as both of you are together.

Theo who prefers reading classic novels but will happily read cheesy rom-com books with you because you said so (secretly he enjoys them too but hush🙈)

Theo who actually enjoys reading poetry, and sometimes when you guys are alone he'll read few to you

Theo who's always there to comfort you whenever you have problems with your family because he knows how it feels.

Theo who's always there to stand up for you in any situation

Theo who starts to smoke less around you if it bothers you, but if you smoke too then both of you guys will smoke together at the Astronomy tower

Theo who loves silence and doesn't enjoy talking much but is always ready to listen to you talk for hours, you are the only person he can talk and listen to for eternity without ever getting sick of it.

Theo who loves when you wear his clothes

Theo who said I love you first time when he saw you curse someone out because they said some shit about him, he doesn't really care whatever shit they were saying but seeing you stand up for him made him feel emotions he never felt before.

Theo who just absolutely loves you and wants to spend entirety of his life with you

Thank you so much for reading, likes and comments are very much appreciated. As well as positive criticism, pls don't hate this is a safe place for everyone!! Bye bye have great day!!!

~~~~

Enzo's headcanon!

#hufflepuff x slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin x hufflepuff #slytherin #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #gryffindor #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #x reader #x you #slytherin boys x reader #fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter headcanon #headcanon #slytherin boys headcanons #gender neutral reader #slytherin boys x gn!reader #draco malfoy x reader #blaise zabini #draco malfoy #incorrect hp quotes #hp x reader #hp headcanon

[moriahwritez]

Mizu saves you

(Mizu x Fem Reader)

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Summary: Your a princess that were chased by men from your home town. As you were seeking for help, a samurai twice as tall as you came to the rescue. 🤭💕

Warning: (Bit dark content)

How’s everyone day doing? I’m sure it’s doing well💜Tonight I will like to give out another story to read through and enjoy. Pls let me know for Mizu or upcoming characters which are my crushes such as Abby, Kuvira, Revy or so and so fanfics. I have to figure out a story for Abby still, but since I got requests from others, I’ll try to get those started without waiting too long . Besides that, please support my stories. Tysm☺️

A samurai stayed in a brothel at the city for quite some time. But this time it was for the night. She didn't want anyone to come towards as she was in her own time thinking. She never let anyone allowed no company to start causing a problem. Whatever she was doing, you were off to leave her alone til she was done. In the meantime she heard footsteps along the way, trying to ignore. "I said no company please," she says sternly. There was a princess from the main town that have been in some sort of trouble. After all it was you who was in a dangerous situation. "Please sir…” You stutter at your words. Then start freaking out immediately. “I really need your help!" You grab them by the arm. At first you thought it was a man because how well they dressed in a masculine-samurai way, but from the voice, it was sure a woman. “I've been chased by several of men. Please if you can help me before they take me away!" You cried out, tugging piece of cloth that was from the samurai's outfit.

The samurai, known as Mizu, her tone soften quickly when she heard it was a cry for help and that it was literally serious. She turn to face you below, adjusting her glasses. "Stay calm dear. Who's after you actually?" She tried her best to calm you down, but the look on your face tells her that this wasn't the right time to start explaining literally everything and get right to the point. "Look, I'm not sure about their names. They just started attacking few of my bodyguards while I was in my room. I'm a princess coming from this town. And I need someone's help!" You start tearing up, releasing emotions out of your body. Mizu takes note that something was up and that she was willing to gain trust in you.

"Alright. You stay behind me from now on." She says like this type of behavior wasn’t so serious XD. She brings your wrist, turning you around to get behind her back as Mizu takes out her sword slowly, ready to take off. She lead you out of the brothel, walking down to a staircase from outside, seeing if the men were ever gonna approach. You hold onto the back of her arm as you slowly followed her without making a sound. Once you two look around the city in night, few shadows comes from a block away. "There! Right there!" You yell pointing at them. In a quick swift, Mizu drag you to a nearby wall bit far from the men, as she covers your mouth, leaning closer to your height. She didn't want you to make such noise to ruin the time where you two can easily get killed by several of men in groups. From the way Mizu shuts you down, she was literally pinning you to the wall by grabbing your wrist up on the wall with one of her hand as the other on your mouth, keeping you still and steady as possible. She slowly peak out to see if they were coming at her. Few of the guys notice, not realizing it was you two at first, til they start walking by.

You mumble, freaking out when you heard further footsteps. "Stay here. Remain quiet." Mizu says, drawing her sword steadly as few of the guys saw her. She was not having you take your life away from the night. So thankfully, she was that person, the only samurai to save you. (Give you at least another life). The fighting begun when the first men comes running at Mizu with his dagger. She didn't hesitate but to duck under him and slash him from behind. He fall on the ground, done. You didn't notice another guy came as bunch of them runs towards Mizu. She did whatever she can to attack each of them. And one of the men went towards you, trying to kill you. You did your best to throw rocks at him, a way to protect yourself. The guy had his dagger ready to jab in you as he slash you. Your arm was blocked from the dagger and felt the pain of the blood spilling bit. You scream in horror. Right away, Mizu strike the men through the heart, letting him fall on the ground as she bend down to take your hand.

Your face turn pale as you saw all the blood everywhere from every men Mizu attacked. You was so focus on that more than what Mizu was trying to say. A bit blur on your mind, you tried hard not to faint. "Are you hurt, dear?" Mizu asks, still trying to held up her hand at you. You were so speechless, you couldn't think what else to say. "Um..." reaches slowly at her arm. Mizu pulled you up holding you still. Your knees were buckled, as you slowly fainted to the ground. But Mizu catches you before you ever landed straight down.

Few hours later, back in the brothel, you were slightly awake, laying down on a purple mat. Looking around, you can see Mizu carefully pulling up her sleeves to see your wound from the arm. She slowly takes your own sleeve away from this deep scar. Felt like your arm was close to get slice up. Before Mizu was able to open the med kit, she sees your eyes watching her. "...you again..." you said quietly.

You've been unconscious for a little while now since the crazy incident happened earlier. Luckily, Mizu kept calming you down, looking at you; with nothing but a soft expression. "I'll take care of your arm. Must stay still and rest. I got you covered." She says, gently taking her time to stitch your arm, which you wince from the pain. You were able to see her for a quite a few seconds before falling back to a deep sleep.

You thought to yourself: (Who was this…this samurai that…saved my life?)

*Aaaha so glad I figure what to write for tonight :D I was so lazy not writing more stories as I'm suppose to. Been having a passion on writing stories for idk how long. So, enjoy this welcoming fanfic of my beloved, Mizu)

Please reblog would be appreciated!

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #fanfic #men dni #mizu x y/n #bes mizu #mizu fanfic #blue eye samurai fanfic #lesbian

[feyascorner]

NO BECAUSE I NEED TO TALK ABOUT ASCENDED ASTARION FOR A SECOND

I feel a lot of people think he just lost his soul when he went through with the ascension (myself included) but replaying for the third time (this time w/o rushing lol), it’s more obvious that he’s still him.

Of course, there’s a very obvious difference between spawn astarion and ascendant astarion in his dialogue, especially if you romance him. Ascendant astarion, in the state that he is immediately after ascension, is absolutely not a healthy representation of what a relationship should look like and should not be desired. Obviously some people think he’s hot but for the sake of the argument just go along w me here.

Regardless I don’t think the ascension changed him THAT much as a person. In fact I’d argue that NOT ascending changes him more (for the better). Ascending just made parts of him (the less forgiving traits) that much more prominent.

Looking back on Act 1 during the tiefling celebration (assuming you don’t side w the goblins), he clearly says he doesn’t revel in being a hero. And throughout the game he makes it very clear he’s willing to be selfish because he hasn’t been allowed to be selfish for the past 200 years.

And this selfishness manifests into him wanting power so he won’t face the same environment again. He’s always wanted power, and if he chooses not to ascend, he’s letting go of that part of himself. Not only does he go against what he’s believed for most of his life as a spawn, but accepts that being a spawn is okay with him. If he chooses to ascend, he’s amplifying that power hungry aspect of himself, putting act1/2 astarion’s personality in the basement, but he’s still there.

This applies to how possessive he is of Tav after the ascension too. He’s always been possessive, even if he doesn’t make it alarmingly obvious. Though rather than possessive I’d describe it more as a fear of being abandoned in act 1/2.

For example, when you drop the Githyanki Crèche on him he gets genuinely annoyed for a few seconds and then he thanks you for apologizing in a much softer tone, like he’s trying to repair any damage he might’ve done by getting mad at you. At the time, he still thinks of himself as weak, and therefore cannot bring himself to be possessive since he has no power to back it up. Instead, he manifests these feelings by doing everything in his power to please you even if it goes against his emotions. And while he doesn’t particularly love Tav going off with other people (as seen with the dialogue after you sleep with Mizora), he pretends that he’s okay with it just to keep you by his side. This tendency to please Tav in hopes they’ll stay is also seen in how he asks for your permission before he kills the Gur at the hag’s house.

Now, once he does ascend, he realizes he has the power to support all these darker emotions he feels. It turns twisted as a result, bringing us to the ascendant astarion we have today.

Spawn astarion, however, lets go of these emotions in a way, or displays them in a more healthy manner. It’s why his arc feels much more satisfying this way because ascendant astarion isn’t really changing, just adjusting. Spawn astarion goes through more raw character development which is also why I cannot bring myself to ascend him even in my evil durge play through!!

anyway yeah I made this account to do stuff like this hope you enjoyed my little rant🫶 this is just my personal opinion obviously but pls lmk if anyone thinks differently bg3 lore is so interesting

#bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate spoilers

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire//older!biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!Reader//90's au//Part 7

⚠️Cautions: 18+Only pls, MDNI, eventual smut, mention of smut, mention of erection, flirting, crushing on each other, reader gets fired, alcohol consumption, jealous!Eddie, biker!Eddie, boxer!Eddie, biker!Steve, relationship drama, threats against loved ones, hints at a violent past, vindictive exes, aggression (not at reader), mention of handgun, angst, mutual pining, slow burn. Word count: 7.6k

Series Masterlist

Suddenly unemployed and in the wind, you wander into the bar where biker!Steve Harrington works the door, and new opportunities arise. Just as you and Eddie are navigating getting closer, someone from Eddie's past drops a bomb on him that he can't ignore, and he does his best to protect you from the backlash. Dirty deeds get done not so dirt cheap. I'm on Fire 90's playlist here

A/N: Nothing really, just wanted to tell those of you who have been supporting and encouraging this story how much you all mean to me, and how much I love hearing from you. Big love to my bestie for helping me put together the playlist for this series, it's all I've been listening to lately. Oh ALSO, I'm working on a smutty oneshot in honor of biker!Steve's character in this story, a little companion piece, *cumming* soon 🫦 biker!Steve oneshot here

———-

I'm on Fire Part 7: The Velvet Hammer

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

Your eyes flew open early on Monday morning as dawn was barely breaking, to find that the emotions of sadness and fear were gone for the moment: they had been replaced by a white-hot anger that burned in your chest.

In a burst, you cursed, threw your covers off, and had an imaginary conversation with your ex-boss Judith, complete with shaking your fist in the air, eyebrows jutting together. She couldn’t just let you go and replace you without any warning---the whole thing was absurd. You made your coffee and went back to your room so that you could avoid Katie as she got ready for work. You weren’t mad at her; you just didn’t want to have to answer any questions or mull it over. In the state you were in, you were worried that you might snap at her for no reason.

A tiny part of you still hoped (prayed) that it was all a misunderstanding, and maybe you had some vacation days coming that you had simply slipped your mind. That small glimmer of possibility was immediately stamped out with a waffle-sole, steel toe boot when you found your other assistant Holly already behind the front desk when she hadn’t originally been scheduled to be there until noon. Her presence alone was not the final straw---it was the look on her face. The second she saw you, she blushed and got flustered, pretending to organize papers, trying overly hard to appear nonchalant.

You were hoping for Judith, that was the bitch you wanted to see, but Holly informed you with quivering hands that she had just left a half hour ago to catch a flight to Cozumel for a “rejuvenation retreat”. You could tell that being involved in any type of conflict, even passively, was making Holly’s anxiety spike.

“She told me to give you this,” Holly said, reluctantly sliding an envelope across the desk, and then in a whisper, she added, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to be the one to--”

You did your best to shake your head and smile and told her it wasn’t her fault. You walked to the other side of the gallery to check the envelope. It was your final paycheck, along with a typed note that basically said, “Thank you for the work you’ve done, but I’ve decided to hire another manager that is a better fit for the gallery. I am longer in need of your services. Best of luck in your future endeavors. Namaste, Judith.”

It was that Namaste that had you breathing out your nose like a dragon, crumpling the note up in a tight ball, nostrils flaring. The letter wasn’t even signed; Judith probably made Holly type it.

You went to get your things out of the cubby in the back room, and while you were there, you tried Judith’s house phone just in case, but there was no answer. That cunt really had the nerve to fire you out of the blue after working there almost a year, and didn’t even have the tits to say it to your face, forcing shy little Holly take the brunt of it. You were on the verge of going full Coffin King MC on her ass.

When you came out with your wire basket full of things, you apologized to Holly for putting her in the middle of this, as you reached around to take the mason jars full of colored markers, highlighters, and pencils that were on the desk dear the typewriter. “These are mine, I bought these. Tell Judith if she has a problem, she can come find me.”

You took one last look around the gallery that you genuinely loved, asked Holly to stay in touch, and had to swallow a lump in your throat as you crossed the street to your car.

-----------

Eddie worked a long day at the garage, running tows, fielding resumes for part-time office help, and thinking about you. There was a disturbance in the force, as they say, and he hoped to get a call from you later so that he would know that you were okay.

Instead, at around 8:30pm, he got a call from Steve. Eddie could tell by the music that he was at the Velvet Hammer, which was a well-known cocktail lounge, frequented by bankers and bikers alike, where Steve worked as a bouncer from time to time. The waitresses all wore skimpy, edgy outfits, and there was professional pole dancing and strippers offering lap dances on the weekends.

“Dude,” Steve said once Eddie picked up. “Your girl is here, just thought you’d want to know.”

Eddie had been digging around for a lighter in the drawer of his nightstand, in nothing but a pair of boxers, but at that, he froze and straightened up, his brow clenched. “What do you mean she’s there? Where? At the Velvet Hammer?” It wasn’t only the location that took him by surprise, but the fact that it was a Monday, and you weren’t one to bar hop in the middle of the week.

Steve lowered the phone while he shouted to someone, the song Low by Cracker blasting loud in the background. “Yeah, man. She was here when I came in, I don’t know, it seems like she’s having a bad day,” Steve tucked the phone into his shoulder so that he could ask someone for their ID. “There was some dude bothering her earlier, but I took care of it. I can’t watch her every second though---” Eddie cut him off, clenching the phone so tight, the knuckle of his hand went white. “Who was bothering her?”

Steve rested the phone with the long, spiral cord on his chest to talk to someone else for a second, but when he got back on the line, Eddie had hung up.

-----------

After you walked out of the gallery for the last time, you deposited your check, and as frugal as you normally were, you took a bit of cash out to treat yourself after getting canned in such a depressing way. You hung out at a B. Dalton’s for an hour and bought a book, and then you tried on some clothes at one of your favorite shops, but nothing fit right; you felt like you were crawling out of your skin. You went home and had lunch, took care of Charlie, did some laundry while watching daytime soap operas, started feeling worse about yourself, and then decided to go down and get a paper at the coffee shop to start hunting for a new job. You didn’t want to be home when Katie got back from work; you still weren’t ready to talk about it.

Coffee and a browse through the dismal job market turned into a walk around the park, and then you just kept going for 5 or 6 blocks until you realized you were standing on the corner across from a bar called the Velvet Hammer. Wasn’t that where Steve said he worked the door every so often? The exterior was black with dark red trim, and you thought maybe you’d been there for a drink once when you first moved to town, but you couldn’t remember. The sandwich board on the sidewalk out front said “Happy Hour menu Half off appetizers 3:30-6:30” and you decided to have a bite before you made the trek back to your car.

Steve was not there when you first arrived, and you were close to missing the happy hour cut off, so you ordered some food right away, and a cocktail to wash it down. The inside was also black and red, with a big chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a long mirror behind the bar, and an old fashioned jukebox lit up in a red and blue arch in the corner. There were two empty stages at the far back, with shiny poles down the middle, and a pretty, tattooed girl in a red leather romper waited on the scattering of customers that were there.

Whereas most bars played sports on TV, the Velvet Hammer played old black and white b-horror movies, and you were absorbed in a scene from Plan 9 From Outer Space when the bartender with the shaved head and double nose piercing asked with a dimpled smile if you wanted another drink.

Candy by Iggy Pop and Kate Pierson was playing, and it had you in a mood, so you nodded to say yes, please---I would love another.

A half hour later, you said yes to another refill and ate a few pretzels, looking around to see that the bar was filling up. There were two more cocktail waitresses there and each wore less clothes than the first. The movie on the TV now was The Creeping Terror from 1964, and just as one of the actresses turned to the camera and put her hands to her head for a silent, blood-curdling scream, someone tapped your shoulder and hissed, “BOO!”, right in your ear.

You whipped around on your bar stool, relieved to find out that the marauder was Steve Harrington.

He had his Coffin King’s MC biker cut on over a white t-shirt, exposing his heavily tattooed arms and hands, dark wash Levi’s, and he had his sunglasses on even though it felt like nighttime inside the bar.

He leaned over to hook his elbow on the bar, pushing his sunglasses into his thick head of hair to address you. “What’s up, lady friend? Who are you here with?” He looked around as he asked it, as if he automatically assumed you were with Katie or Eddie, and not just drinking alone at a bar on a Monday night.

You tugged at your ear self-consciously and palmed the new drink in front of you. “Just me, I’m afraid,” you took a sip, moving the red stir straws out of the way with your nose. “I’m about to light up that jukebox, you have any requests?”

Steve slapped the bar enthusiastically. “Hell yeah, I do, hold on,” he waved the bartender down and asked them to hand him some quarters. Apparently there was a stash of coins near the cash register there to keep the music going.

He clapped 10 or 12 quarters on the table in front of you. “Maybe some STP, anything Ozzy,” he continued, giving his requests. “I’m a sucker for that Alanis Morisette chick, too, but don’t tell Eddie,” he said with a wink.

“Anything you want, really,” he kept talking as he backed up, heading to his bouncer stool at the front door. “As long as it’s not fucking lame,” and then he smiled and flipped his sunglasses back down over his eyes.

A bit later, as you made your way back from the jukebox, some guy stepped into your path, immediately invading your bubble.

“Hey, beautiful, can I buy you a drink?” He asked, and his presence took you a bit off guard because you were so deeply concentrating on the song list you just put together, your head was in another world. The guy had slicked back, inky black hair, a teardrop tattoo under his eye, and incisors that looked like fangs.

“That’s okay, thank you,” you mumbled with a half smile as you went to walk around him.

But, he slid to the side, blocking your way again. “Just one drink? I hate to see a beautiful woman drinking alone.”

From across the room, Steve shouted at the guy with the fangs—apparently he knew his name---and when the guy snapped a look in his direction, Steve sliced his hand across his throat and shook his head, warning him to back off. Without a fuss, the fang guy ducked back into the shadows, hands in his pockets, sulking to find his table without so much as another glance in your direction.

Steve could see this shit coming a mile away; you were getting relaxed, and you were alone, and that level of vulnerability never failed to bring a bad element out of the woodwork. He didn’t mind keeping an eye on you, but it was getting busy for a Monday night because of the free darts and pool, and that was when he decided to call Eddie.

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

Steve was smoking a cigarette when he waved Eddie in without a word, the two exchanging a quick hand grab in passing. Eddie’s gaze landed on you immediately; sitting at the bar, face tilted up to watch the TV, and that familiar thrill of being near you again stirred in him.

“Is this seat taken?” He was already straddling the padded stool as he said it, brushing up against your body as he did so.

You could feel someone approaching in your peripheral vision, and you were bracing yourself for another unwanted advance. But, then you smelled him; that unmistakable woodsy spice with bar soap and leather undertones. You felt his presence; big and sturdy and warm. There he was, right out of a dream, in his Coffin Kings leather, just like Steve’s, but with a long sleeve black shirt pushed up to the elbows, hair back in a knot so that it wouldn’t drive him crazy on the ride over, forearms and fingers patched in tattoos. He wasn’t wearing his chunky rings, and it made you wonder if he had been in a rush to leave his place. His knuckles were crisscrossed in raised white scars, as well as one particularly angry one that went all the way down his middle finger and back of his hand.

You made sure it was him first, and then you couldn’t wait to be in his arms. He turned in his seat to face you so that your hips fit in between his wide knees, and you fell against him, rested your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes for a second, soaking in the secure feeling of his arms locking around you.

He squeezed you so tight, something in your back popped, and then he loosened his grip, unsure of his own strength sometimes. “You okay?” He asked, his head turning so that his lips were pressed against the back of your head.

You had both of your arms against your chest so that your hands were balled up into tiny fists in between your two bodies. “I’ve been better,” you told him, shoulders hunched.

Some of your hair caught on the stubble of his jaw as you pulled back to find his lips with yours. You exchanged a few sweet kisses, foreheads locking together as you fingered the single earring dangling from his lobe, before stepping up onto your seat again. Facing one another, you each had a forearm resting on the bar, and Eddie cupped his hand over yours, protectively.

God, he was crazy about you, Eddie thought.

He could tell that you weren’t yourself. His eyes shifted around the room, jaw muscles flexing. “Did someone in here fuck with you?”

“No, no, it wasn’t that,” you avoided his eyes and looked at his hand that was on top of yours. “I got fired today,” you said as a reflexive, helpless smile flashed across your mouth.

Eddie set his head back an inch, lips parted, searching your face. “You’re joking?”

“Nope,” you offered a little snort. “Not this time, I’m afraid.” And then you gave him the Cliff Notes version of everything that had gone one from when Jeff came over the night before till now.

Eddie rubbed his thumb across your hand as you talked. He didn’t want to smother you, but if he wasn’t touching you, he thought maybe you’d just slip away. Was he touching you too much, or not enough? Healthy forms of attachment and displays of affection were not taught to him as a child; but he was an observant fuck, and a fast learner. The vulnerable side of him was the side that always got him hurt, heart trampled on, and so every time that natural urge showed itself, he would do his best to reel it back. There was something about you, though, that made him feel comfortable enough to show his affection in a way his heart ached to do.

The bartender brought Eddie a beer and set it on a napkin. He released your hand only to take a sip of it, thinking about what you’d just shared with him, and then his hand found yours again, giving it a reassuring pulse.

“By the looks of it, I’m not even sure she’ll even give me a good reference,” For all Judith’s faults, Moon River was one of the best, though, and you had dreamed about working there ever since you read an article about in Art World magazine.

“You should’ve called me,” Eddie put his other hand on your knee. “I would’ve come and picked you and---”

“Rescued me?” You gave him a shy look. “I know you would’ve. But you were working, and I’ve been trying not to make it a reality by talking about it. I haven’t even talked to Katie today.”

Much like Eddie, you weren’t used to reaching out to people when times got tough; your default was usually to hide and/or run as far away as possible. Even though you hadn’t done anything wrong that would warrant being fired in such a hasty manner, it still made you feel embarrassed, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to peel back all of those deeper layers with him in this early stage of dating.

There was a lull in the conversation as Creep by Stone Temple Pilots played in the background, and a bad feeling planted seeds in Eddie’s gut that had him wondering if maybe he had something to do with this. Was this Charlene’s doing? She had the reach, that was for sure, but to what end? She surely didn’t think that somehow hurting you would get him back in her bed. The math was not mathing, not by Eddie’s way of thinking, anyway.

He ducked his head to try and meet your lowered gaze, his fingers intertwining with yours on the bar. “Can I take you home after this?”

You took a deep breath and finished your drink in one final gulp, the melting ice crashing against your lips. You chewed a few bits as you answered him, “that’s probably a good idea. But I can call Katie, you don’t have to---”

“I’m taking you home.” His eyes were soft, but his tone let you know that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

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

Katie came out onto the porch in a bathrobe like the concerned mother you never had as Eddie pulled the bike to the curb to let you off; you kissed him on the cheek as you dismounted. She worried that you’d been in a car accident or something by how late he was bringing you back. You had left her a note on the kitchen counter, but it said you’d only be gone an hour or two, not seven.

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

The only thoughts in Eddie’s head as he made his way back to the garage were wondering how he could help make things better for you. He couldn’t muscle someone into getting your job back, but there were plenty of people who would hire you at various places if he told them to. Then there was that office assistant he needed, but he wouldn’t be able to even pay you half what the gallery did---you’d be better off getting unemployment.

The bad feeling that all of this had been because of him blossomed into a full blown knee to the stomach when he saw the unmistakable polished, cherry red of Charlene’s Porsche parked directly across from the entrance to his apartment. She was leaning against the back, elbows on the trunk, feet crossed at the ankles, grinning like Satan’s spawn as she watched him pull in.

He took a minute to calm himself down as he parked the bike, slowly dismounting, keeping his back to her as he took off his helmet. God, he did not want to deal with this shit right now. He would never physically hurt her, and she knew that, and it felt like she was really shoving that fact in his face.

Every muscle in his body was tense as he headed in her direction across the mostly empty, dark parking lot, especially those in his face and hands.

“Trouble in paradise?” She quipped, looking down at her nails, fanning them out like claws. She was in a tight, leopard print pencil skirt halter dress, and a cropped, bolero style fur coat.

First, he wanted to make sure they were both on the same page. “Are you the reason she got fired?”

Charlene crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. “I might have convinced a handful of people to ignore Judith and never spend money in her gallery ever again unless she let that girl go, so, sure, I guess maybe I did have something to do with it.”

“You’re disgusting,” Eddie said it on a strained breath, a painful look on his face, bile rising in his throat. It was almost hard for him to look at her in that moment, he hated her so much.

“And you’re a fucking liar,” Charlene spat, jutting her chin out a few times, stabbing her finger in the air at him. “You told me you cared about me.”

Eddie had so many residual regrets for the things his dick made him do sometimes, it wasn’t even funny.

He cocked one knee out to the side. “So, you thought that by hurting her, I’d somehow get back in your bed? You’re out of your fucking mind, Charlene.”

“Baby, don’t you remember how we used to---” she pushed off the car and dove to grab his arm, but he stepped back, out of her reach.

“Don’t call me that,” he warned, cringing.

“Fine!” Judith barked showing the palms of her hands in mocking surrender. “But I miss it, I miss us. I know you do too.”

Without hesitation, Eddie shook his head, his voice a deep murmur. “I don’t miss it at all. I don’t miss us, because there never was an us.”

“You don’t mean that,” she bit, pouting, trying hard to pull a few crocodile tears to the surface of her icy hazel eyes.

“Listen,” Eddie paused to chew his top lip. He didn’t want to knowingly break anyone's heart, not even Charlene's. At one point in their fling, he could tell that her feelings for him were way more intense than his were for her, and he should’ve called it off then, but the money made him greedy and careless. “I’m sorry you got hurt in all this, okay, we had some fun while it lasted. But you have to fucking fix this, Charlene, I’m serious.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fix what? It’s done,” she scoffed. “She’ll have to get a new job, big deal. It’s not the end of the world.”

“You’ve never had to work a day in your life. You wouldn’t last a week in her shoes.”

“I’d trade lives with her in a second,” she blurted. “If it meant you’d look at me the same way you look at her.”

He puffed out a long held, heavy breath. “It’s been fun catching up. I’m going inside. You know the way out.”

If he knew that any number of words—besides lying and saying he loved her---would get you your job back, or turn back the hands of time, Eddie would’ve stood there and negotiated all night, but he knew his efforts were futile.

He was a couple steps away when she called out to him again, and this time; her tone was frigid, void of any emotion.

“You should know it’s only going to get worse for her,” she promised. Eddie stopped in his tracks, flexing his hands, but didn’t turn around, and so she continued. “I’ll make sure she’s rejected by every gallery for a hundred mile radius, and then she’ll have no choice but to move away, or stay here with you and watch her dreams die.”

One of his hands clenched into a fist, knowing that it wasn’t a bluff, trying so hard to push down the violence he felt rising in him.

“And her friend, Kathrine Clayton,” Charlene continued, letting him know the creepy detail that she had somehow ascertained your roommates full name. “I wonder how the parents in town would feel about overhearing horrible rumors involving the woman teaching their kids.”

At that Eddie turned around slow, eyes narrowing, voice booming. “What do want, Charlene? You want us to go back to fucking again, is that what it will take?” He didn’t want to touch Charlene, let alone put his cock inside of her, but he’d do it one more time if it meant she’d leave you and Katie alone. Take one for the team, as they say.

“No, not really,” She shrugged, a bored expression on her face. “I’m fucking someone new now. He’s younger than you, and he can’t get enough of me. It took me a while to find a bent cock as big as yours, but I knew I would eventually.”

This bitch is fucking crazy, Eddie swallowed, full of shame for ever getting involved with her in the first place. “What did you do, put an ad in the paper?”

“I’ll tell you what I want,” Charlene continued, ignoring his second question. “It’s very simple. I don’t want you to see her anymore, I want you to end it. I hate knowing the two of you are...falling for each other, it makes me sick. Especially when I think it could have been us.”

Eddie’s temper flared, he slammed his fist into the palm of his hand and closed in on her in two big strides, forcing her back up against the bumper. “Why can’t you get it through your fucking head that you were nothing but a warm mouth to me? I care more about her after only a few weeks than I ever did about you.”

Seemingly unaffected by those words, Charlene sighed and dropped her arms to her sides. “Well, if you care about her as much as you say you do, I encourage you to think about what I just said,” she shimmied in her high heels over the driver’s side of her Porsche, opening the door. “If you continue to see her, I’m going to ruin her life and run her out of town, and it will be all your fault, big boy.”

She waved her fingers out the window as she zoomed away from the complex. Eddie stood in the shadows and watched her go, his eyes going black, considering what she said, and realizing what he had to do as a vast and familiar emptiness grew in his chest.

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

The next day, you were playing with the zipper of your hoodie, sitting at the window alcove in the kitchen, holding a pillow at your stomach, thinking about the phone call you just got from Steve.

You didn’t tell Steve you’d lost your job, but word travels fast in these friend circles. Katie must’ve told Robin, and Robin mentioned to Steve that she could get you a job at the hotel, but Steve had a better idea.

They were hiring servers at the Velvet Hammer, and apparently the bartender with the shaved head who met you the night before was also the manager, and she thought you were cute and funny and you already had an “in”. At first, you were ready to politely decline his suggestion to bring a resume by, being that you had only worked a waitress job once right out of high school, but you weren’t sure you qualified as a Velvet Hammer Girl—you didn’t even own a spiked collar.

But then he told you what the girls there made as far as income, and it gave you pause.

“The base is minimum wage,” Steve said. “But they make crazy tips, especially Thursday through Sunday. You could pocket a couple hundred bills in a night, easy.”

Sure, you’d be applying to other galleries, but that process took time. First of all, there weren’t any in the area looking for managers at the moment, but even to get your foot in the door as a receptionist would take a while. It took damn near a month and three different interviews before you got on at Moon River.

You also considered that perhaps this was a sign that the gallery world was no longer for you. Maybe it was time to get a side hustle just to pay bills, and then you could start painting again and get your portfolio up to snuff.

You told Steve how grateful you were for giving you the heads up, and he let you know the best times to bring a resume by. He also told you that the resume was basically just a formality because he had already vouched for you, but a necessity, nonetheless.

With all the drama, you almost forgot that it was Tuesday, and little cartoon hearts swam around your head when you remembered your date night with Eddie. You didn’t know where he was taking you, but he’d mentioned over the phone a few days ago that the place was new and supposedly hip. He told you to dress warm, and he’d pick you up in his Chevelle so you wouldn’t have to worry about clinging to the back of the bike in your dinner attire.

That afternoon, you were sifting through your closet for possible outfits, while simultaneously making a pile to donate to Goodwill, when the phone rang: it was Eddie.

Right away, you could tell that his tone was different; his words came out forced, like you were the last person he wanted to be talking to. You shook it off as him being distracted at work, because you could hear the other mechanics shouting in the background around the noise of electric drills and loud music.

Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut at the sound of your voice: the purpose for this phone call went against every fiber of his being. He’d been trying to convince himself that you weren’t special to him all day, but so far, it wasn’t working.

“Hey,” he stiffened, trying not to melt into a stupid grin at the way you said his name. “Something came up, and I have to cancel our thing tonight. Sorry.”

He wasn’t ready to let you go altogether, which was selfish, but he’d take it one day at a time until he could figure out a way to keep you. He had no way of knowing how much Charlene knew. He wouldn’t put it passed her to have a private investigator watching his ass 24/7. Even worse, she could’ve hired someone to watch you, and that kept him up at night.

Your heart sank, but you also understood how busy and complex his life was. “Oh, sure, Batman rides again, I get it,” you gave a little laugh, hoping to relieve any worries he had about having to cancel. You knew him well enough to know that he was a man of his word, and bailing on the date was probably the last thing he wanted to do. If only you knew the half of his anguish.

Eddie offered no retort, there was none of the flirtatious banter the two of you usually shared so effortlessly. He just cleared his throat, “anyway, that’s why I called. I have to run, talk to you later.”

You were just in the middle of saying something back when the line went to dial tone; your mouth hung open as you pulled the receiver away from your face to look at it, stunned. You blinked, turning to your cat Charlie who was stretched out on top of a pile of clean shirts on your bed. “Did he just hang up on us?” But Charlie only yawned in response.

Eddie did not, in fact, have anywhere to run to. He clicked the phone down and put his face in his dirty hands at the desk, hating himself.

-----------

Since your date got canceled, for whatever nefarious or benign reason, you decided to hike your resume over to the Velvet Hammer and introduce yourself properly to Shana, the manager with the shaved head and the fierce green eyes. She had clusters of black stars tattooed at her temples, and an anatomical heart tattoo on her bicep, right at her sleeve.

She basically hired you on the spot, but said they needed to give you a trial run for a night to shadow one of the girls to see if you could keep up the pace. She asked you to come in early for training on Thursday, and then you could start that same night if you were available. Paychecks came out every two weeks, but you’d be able to take home all of your cash tips immediately.

So, you had a job. A temporary one, to be sure, but still deeply appreciated, all the same. As much as it took a weight off of your shoulders, it also felt incredibly surreal. Also, you couldn’t help but wonder what Eddie would think.

-----------

“Steve did what?” Eddie barked at Robin who was standing in the doorway to the office, dropping off Oliver for an hour on Wednesday. He hadn’t meant for his tone to be so gruff.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “She needed a job while she applied at other galleries, and he got her one. I thought you’d be grateful.”

He would be grateful, maybe later, when he was done seeing red with jealousy over all of the guys, he knew who would be hitting on you at that place. What if they tried to touch you? He couldn’t even think about it, he was about to pick the desk up and throw it across the room.

Robin snorted a laugh, watching him get so flustered, he dropped the same pen three times. “Dang, you really have it bad for this one, don’t you bubba?”

It occurred to him that he should talk to Robin about what was going on, about Charlene and the threats. She had always been a solid friend who afforded him years of good advice, but there was a part of him that didn’t want to get anyone else involved. It was his mess, and he needed to clean it up, if he even could.

That night, he sat in the chair by the window in his apartment with the TV on but the volume off, listening to I Stay Away by Alice in Chains, watching the phone as it rang, forcing himself not to pick it up. It was day 2 of trying to avoid you and pull away, and he was failing miserably at being cool about it. He had to say something to you, he couldn’t just make you suffer and not know what the fuck was going on in his head; that wasn’t fair to you. But then again, none of this was. It was official, he had inadvertently dragged you down into his filth.

He turned Charlene’s words over in his head, recalling the sincerity in her face as she said them, wondering how far she would take this. He’d seen her dirty deeds in action, he knew she was formidable.

The black phone under the singular light from the lamp on his nightstand started ringing again, but it cut off halfway through, as if the person calling had changed their minds or given up. As he sat there, he remembered how you rode his thigh the other night, the whimpers coming out of your mouth, and he had to palm his growing cock over his boxers. It was disturbing how bad he wanted you.

“Fuck it,” Eddie cursed, getting to his feet so that he could go over to the phone and call you.

But, just as he picked it up to dial, it was just about to ring, and there was someone on the other line.

“Eddie? Lover?” It was Erika. “You interested in a quickie to help you sleep? I drove by and saw your light on.”

-----------

After trying to call Eddie for the third—and decidedly final—time that night, you went out and flopped on the opposite end of the couch from Katie who was watching an episode of the show 3rd Rock from the Sun with a green beauty mask on her face.

“Still nothing?” She asked, peeling back a piece of string cheese. She knew you’d tried a couple times that night to get a hold of Eddie, and that he had canceled mysteriously on your date the night before.

“I know he’s got a lot on his plate,” you got comfortable, snuggling into the corner, ready to defend him even to yourself. “I just wish there was a way for him to let me know he’s okay. Send me an email or something. A few words, that’s all I ask.”

Your gut was telling you that something was definitely wrong, but, to be fair, you’d had your heart dragged through the mud before, and you worried that your gut was not a reliable source. You weren’t upset about the date being canceled, you didn’t even need to see him—even though that would be great----good communication was really all you asked for or needed. Your brain kept going back to the way he had been with you on Monday versus how he was with you on the phone yesterday; the two experiences were night and day. Had something happened between the time he dropped you off and the next afternoon? You checked with Robin, and you knew that Wayne was back on his feet. Maybe there had been some sticky Coffin King business that Eddie wasn’t at liberty to speak about.

You also tried to keep in mind that this whole little romance was as new as a spring daffodil, and even though you’d had a crush on him for over a month, you hadn’t progressed beyond kissing and heavy petting. Was there a chance you were reading the signals all wrong and he wasn’t as interesting in you as you thought?

Katie seemed to subliminally hear that question and answered you. “I wouldn’t worry about it, babes, the guy is nuts about you,” she turned to you and ate the rest of her cheese while there was a commercial on. “Robin said she hasn’t seen him this interested in a woman in years, and she’s known him since high school.”

“What else did Robin say?” This was helping you; this is what you needed. Why hadn’t she offered this information earlier?

She put two fingers to her mask to tap a few times, checking how tacky it felt, to know if she should wash it off yet or not. “She said that he got pretty jealous when she mentioned that you got the job at Velvet Hammer, and normally he doesn’t care what other women he’s dating do when they’re not with him.”

The silly truth was that, if Eddie told you he didn’t feel comfortable with you working there, you would’ve probably looked for something else. But, deciding to say nothing and be a ghost in the wind was not the right play to get what he wanted.

“I’m sure he’s just busy,” you announced, nodding to accentuate your point. “I’ll wait a day or two before I start freaking out.”

Katie gave you a thumbs up.

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

Eddie told Erika not to call him again and practically hung up on her. It had been a while since they’d last hooked up, and if not for the incident with you at Fight Night, he would’ve all but forgotten about her.

Not twenty minutes later, shirtless in his boxers, he heard footsteps padding up the stairs to the floor of his apartment. This was particularly disturbing because it was late, and he wasn’t expecting anyone. He pulled his handgun out of its holster on the dresser and waited with it held low, standing just behind the door as the footsteps got closer.

“Who is it?” Eddie barked.

After a second of pregnant silence came the meek, “hi, it’s me. Erika.”

“Fuck my life,” Eddie hissed under his breath, holding the gun back and putting the safety on as he reached over to unlock the door and yank it open.

“I thought I just told you not to call or come over,” Eddie said, addressing her with raised eyebrows, just as he realized too late that he should’ve put a shirt on.

Erika was in a silver crop top and a pair of low-rise jeans, a pink heart dangling from her exposed belly button piercing. She was making a face and prancing back and forth a bit on each foot. “Can I please use your bathroom?”

Eddie blinked a few times, and then he scowled. “You came all the way over here in the middle of the night to use my bathroom?”

“No silly,” she giggled. “I came to see you. And to see if I left a pair of my earrings here the last time I came over.”

Eddie shook his head, slipping the gun back into its holster on his dresser with a sigh, and then shutting it in the top drawer. “I don’t have your earrings but go ahead. You know where it is.” What was he supposed to do? Make her pee out in the hallway?

He waited by the front door, standing holding it open, until he heard a flush, and then her high heels came clip-clopping back down the hall.

He pushed the door open further, holding his arm up high like an arch, making space so she could walk through. “Have a good night,” he said without meeting her eyes.

But she latched onto his chest, throwing herself against him, her lips grazing his neck, tongue lapping up to lick his earlobe. Eddie pushed her of reflexively but caught her so that she didn’t trip and fall, and now they were out in the main hallway that led to the stairs.

In perfect view of a large, street-facing window.

She was pouting, but he had her by both arms now, and he shook her a little, just enough to get her attention. “I don’t want this anymore,” his eyes were wide, searching hers. “Nod if you understand.”

But then she jutted her head forward, her lips making contact with his, her tongue flicking out dramatically.

“Fuck, STOP!” He growled pushing her away enough so that he could wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

“But,” she gave him a coy look, adjusting her shirt. “I was thinking just one last time?”

She stole a quick side glance out the big window, but he didn’t catch it.

He composed himself, trying to imagine if he had a sister, how he’d want them to be treated in this moment, no matter how demented they were.

He took her hand in one of his and covered it with the other. “You’re a sweet girl, Erika. Go find a loyal, normal guy to care about you the way you deserve, okay? I’m not the one.”

He noticed a shift in her then, a sadness passed over her eyes; regret, maybe? Whatever it was, her appetite for him ceased and she seemed to curl into an invisible shell, shoulders sagging. She tugged her hand from his and tucked her chin, stepped forward only to hug his shoulder briefly as she went by.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” she said softly, pulling back to give him one last tortured look over her shoulder before she continued toward the stairs. “Please forgive me.”

Eddie stood there like a statue, hair hanging down his shoulders, hands paused in the air, wondering why the hell that had been so weird. Sure, Erika was a wild card, but showing up to use the bathroom, and then awkwardly trying to feel him up in the hallway, only to look like she was about to cry? It didn’t make any sense.

He followed a way behind her, and then made sure to put the bolt on the main door in the garage so that he wouldn’t have any more uninvited creeping visitors.

-----------

In the building across the street from Munson’s Garage, with a perfect view of the hallway outside of Eddie’s apartment, a man with a telephoto lens was taking pictures. Snapping what sounded like a billion at a time in the darkness of the abandoned warehouse. Click click click click click.

He was finishing up, packing his camera into its case, when Erika appeared reluctantly at the top of the stairs, her expression sullen.

“Here you go, dollface,” the much older, potbellied man said to her, pinching a wad of cash between his middle and index fingers and extending it to her. “You did real good.”

Erika swallowed as she took the money, her hands cold and shaking. Sure, she was upset that Eddie didn’t like her as much as she liked him, and she hated that new girl he was talking to, but she didn’t want to see anything bad happen to him.

“I don’t like this,” she told the photographer. “I wish I’d never agreed to do it.”

“Well,” the guy said, adjusting his fedora on his head as he put the strap of his bag over his shoulder, already out of breath from the mild exertion. “Sorry to be the one to tell you this, sweetheart, but no one gives a shit.”

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Part 8

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Taglist xoxox @sidthedollface2 @leilalaufeyson02 @lilpotatobean2 @ireidsmut @kelsiegrin @nope-thanks @stylesxmunson @lofaewrites @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffinsmut @whatwedontdointheshadows @kurdtbean @falling-solar-system @emxcast @bexreadstoomuch @ms1oftheboys @hellv1ra @dream-a-little-nightmare @etherealglimmer @manicmagicmayhem @micheledawn1975@aysheashea @unfocused81 @truffleshuffle12 @notsobubblybaby

P.S. for some reason, half of these aren't tagging the people they are meant for, so I'm sorry if you find this and it seems like I didn't tag you 💗 I'm grateful for each of you.

#older!eddie #older eddie munson #bikereddiemunson #boxereddiemunson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson series #eddie munson fics #stranger things fic #the 90s #90s au #fem reader #eddie munson x fem reader #I'm on fire #eat the rich

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Reasons Why Your Characters Don't Feel Real

Even if you love your characters, they might not seem like real people when you’re writing them. When you can’t pinpoint the problem, consider these potential factors hold your characters back from their full potential.

1. They Don’t Have Goals

Imagine yourself on vacation. You don’t have any plans or expectations other than to relax. If you stayed like that for too long, you’d eventually feel bored. Your mind would wander.

Characters can have the same problem when they don’t have at least one goal.

Typically, the goal gets established at the beginning of a story. Especially in the first chapter if you’re writing a book. The goal could be a quest or a question. It also doesn’t have to be the primary plot driver for your entire story. It just has to get your character started.

Their goal could be to solve a mystery, make a new friend, protect someone they love, or make a specific change in their world. 

Need more inspiration? This blog post has over 100 potential goals to jumpstart your creativity.

2. They Don’t Have Any Specific Motivation

Let’s say you have a real life goal: you’re going to buy your first car.

That’s great, but what’s your motivation? What made you set that goal?

You might consciously want to have a car so you can join a travel sports team or get your own place. The subconscious motivator would be a desire for change or freedom.

Once you know your character’s primary or initial goal, figure out what their motivation is. They should have some inner drive to achieve that goal even when things get hard. 

Motivations also add emotional depth to flat characters, which might be why your protagonist or supporting characters feel not as well-rounded as you’d like. As you’re developing your characters or writing your story, keep their motivation central to the decisions they make to achieve their goal. (Or not—it depends on your planned arc for their growth.)

3. Their Dialogue Doesn’t Feel Right

We’ve all read bad dialogue and we’ve all written it. Conversations might feel too tight or robotic. How do you fix it?

First, I highly recommend reading it out loud. Act the lines out by yourself. You’ll notice the emotional weight and might write body language more accurately. You’ll also hear the unnatural phrasing or whatever’s specifically the problem, making it much easier to edit.

It’s also possible that your dialogue contains too many long sentences. It might feel natural to write them that way, but people don’t always speak at length. Sometimes sentences are short. Or incomplete. People hesitate on words, catch their breath, rush through thoughts.

You can also check out the great tips over here for more dialogue-specific work.

Remember, how people speak shows what they mean as much as your dialogue tags or body language descriptors. Give your dialogue room to be more human and your characters will be too.

4. They Don’t Have Flaws

You probably wouldn’t be friends with someone who was perfect. I definitely wouldn’t be. People who are perfect (or pretend to be) are irritating. They can also leave us feeling depressed or held at arm’s length.

Characters can create the same problems for readers when they don’t have flaws. Create those incredible characters you adore so much—then make them realistic.

Make people who have different morals than you. People who push themselves to be smart to ignore their emotions. People who love so immensely that it’s their fatal flaw.

Flaws can be physical, but they should also be internal. This site is a great resource if you want a list of flaws for inspiration. 

5. They Aren’t Growing

All great characters start their story with a worldview, a perspective, or a personality that hooks readers. By the end of the story, one or more of those things change.

Stories are about learning. Characters and readers learn things or experience things together. Characters are much less interesting if the plot doesn’t affect them in some way.

Double-check your plot outline or ideas to make sure they create a character arc. Flat characters can be useful, but they shouldn’t be your protagonist. This could be the reason why your characters don’t feel real. Make sure something challenges them so they feel like a real human growing through ups and downs.

Make Your Characters More Realistic

We’ve all found ourselves bored with our own characters. That doesn’t mean you’re a bad writer—it means you have room to work on your character development skills. Use these tips to get started and you’ll feel more confident about your story in no time.

#character development #character growth #creating characters #writeblr #writing tips #writing advice

[pamgkrthwrites]

Hi, I’m the anon that requested Redson x arranged marrige Pepa Madrigal reader.

May I pls request a fic where it’s readers and Redsons wedding ceremony, and reader gets warned by her brother that it’s gonna rain? Reader has an internal breakdown when she’s told that, it doesnt come out untill the wedding and Redson & Reader then wed in the middle of a heavy storm, while Redson is trying to calm reader down.

Support Me Here |-----| Prevouse Ask

I don't think I did this one very well :/ I haven't experienced a mental breakdown, only seen one. I have experienced a panic attack though so that's what I based it off of.

Warning, the following content has disturbing/triggering themes such as; Arranged marriage, Abusive Parents, Bodily Harm, Slapping, Sucidal Thoughts, and others. I do not support or encourage these themes or actions, they are merely written fictional events for entertainment. The character(s) depicted within this post are over the age of 20.

"What?!" You exclaimed, panic rushing through your system.

Your oldest brother sighed. "I said that it's looking like it's going to rain."

You stood up, the maids who were doing your makeup moving out of the way and maids who were still adding more golden accents to your red Qun Kwa followed you.

"No, no no no! That can't happen!" You exclaimed, your hands starting to shake.

"Ma'am, please calm down." One of the maids said to you. "We are almost done."

You leaned onto the tabel as your breathing stated to quicken and your head felt dizzy. This had to be a perfect day and you were fucking it up. You felt your mind become dizzy and your vision start to become blurry.

Calm down, Y/N. Your fine, this day will be perfect, there will be no rain.

BANG.

You couldn't help but let out a scream. You looked at where the sound came from, seeing a tree branch bash against the window.

Your brother rushed to the window and looked outside. His sharpened breath told you enough.

You sat back down as you started to fan your face.

You were too in your own head worrying that you didn't notice how long you were sitting there or that your mother came in. You were only brought back to reality with a hard stingy slap to the face.

"There, now she's back with us." You were your mother's voice.

Everyone else in the room was silent, none of the maids were moving either. You brought your hand to your cheek, feeling how warm it was from the slap.

"Stop being an emotional mess. It's your wedding day." Your mother said coldly. "Now get up. You can have your emotional meltdown after everything is done. Don't be such an embarrassment."

Your mother left the room.

You took in a deep breath as your tried to calm yourself down before getting up and following after her.

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

You stood in beside Red Son, the wind getting stronger and the brain becoming loud as your pushed your nails into the palm of your hands.

You needed to calm down.

This needed to go well.

You were embarrassing and ruining everything.

You didn't want to get married, you were too young.

You just wanted a normal life.

You should just die-

A hand wrapped around yours, making you open your eyes and look at Red Son.

He had a very hard-to-read face, but his icy blue eyes were calming. You felt as if you could read his eyes and what he was wanting to say.

"I'm here, everything is okay."

You gulped, nodding your head slightly.

The winds started to weaken and the rain suddenly stopped having a tantrum.

You were fine.

You had Red Son.

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #onkie kid #monkie kid x reader #lmk #lmk x reader #red son #lmk red son #red son x reader #lmk red son x reader #x reader #tw arranged marriage #tw abuse #tw sucidal ideation

[escapingrealityforamoment]

can you pls write jonah hauer king getting jealous of the chemistry between his girlfriend and her co-star?

Absolutely!! Thank you so much for your request! I really hope you enjoy reading this 💖

Jonah Hauer-King stood off to the side of the film set, his eyes fixed on his girlfriend (Y/N) who was engaged in a scene with her charismatic co-star, Alex. They had been cast as on-screen lovers, and their chemistry was undeniable. As he watched them interact, a twinge of jealousy began to stir within Jonah.

He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the emotions that threatened to consume him. Deep down, he knew that acting required the actors to create convincing connections, but seeing (Y/N) share intimate moments with someone else stirred a mix of insecurity and possessiveness within him.

With each take, their on-screen romance grew more convincing, and Jonah found himself growing more restless. The director praised their chemistry, unaware of the turmoil brewing within Jonah's heart. He felt a pang of guilt for doubting (Y/N)'s loyalty, but the green-eyed monster had a way of clouding his judgment.

Unable to contain his emotions any longer, Jonah discreetly made his way towards the set during a break. He found (Y/N) sitting alone, flipping through the pages of the script. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he approached her, his voice tinged with a hint of unease.

"(Y/N), can we talk for a moment?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and vulnerability.

(Y/N) looked up, sensing the tension in his voice. "Of course, Jonah. What's on your mind?"

He took a seat beside her, his gaze fixed on the floor for a moment before meeting her eyes. "I... I couldn't help but notice the chemistry between you and Alex," he admitted, his voice filled with a touch of insecurity.

A flicker of surprise crossed (Y/N)'s face, quickly followed by understanding. She reached out, gently placing her hand on Jonah's, offering reassurance. "Jonah, it's just acting. Our connection on-screen is a result of the characters we're portraying, nothing more," she explained, her voice soft and comforting.

Jonah nodded, but the unease still lingered. "I know, but... seeing you with him, even if it's just pretend, it makes me feel... I don't know, jealous," he confessed, his vulnerability laid bare.

(Y/N) leaned in closer, her eyes filled with understanding. "I understand why you might feel that way, Jonah, but please believe me when I say that you're the one who holds my heart. Our love extends beyond any role or performance. I chose you, and I will always choose you."

Her words resonated deep within Jonah, easing the knot of jealousy in his chest. He met her gaze, finding solace in the sincerity reflected in her eyes. In that moment, he knew he had let his insecurities get the best of him.

"I'm sorry for doubting us," Jonah whispered, his voice laced with regret. "You're right, our love is real, and I trust in what we have."

(Y/N) smiled, her hand gently squeezing his. "No need to apologize, Jonah. We all have moments of insecurity. What matters is that we communicate and reaffirm our love for each other."

As they embraced, the weight of Jonah's jealousy lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of trust and commitment. He realized that their love was stronger than any on-screen chemistry, and that together, they could navigate the challenges that came with their chosen professions.

From that moment on, Jonah made a conscious effort to support (Y/N) in her work, knowing that their love would always be the anchor that kept them grounded. They learned to separate fiction from reality, cherishing the genuine connection they shared, both on and off

#jonah hauer king #jonah hauer king imagine #prince eric #prince eric imagine #the little mermaid #jonah hauer king x reader #prince eric live action #the little mermaid live action

[peachiseas]

okay i am very new here, so i need a through introduction to your mcs! like eve for example, pls post his whole biography o(╥﹏╥)o

fr tho, tell me anything and everything :D

TOOK SO DAMN LONG SINCE I WANTED TO DRAW A STEP ONE REF OF EVE BUT ITS GONNA TAKE A MINUTE so here are the sketches,,, Anyways- gonna introduce the main two mcs/ocs you'll see here: Eve Cortez Williams and Aaliyah Dubious

(dont mind my ipad scribbles on the screenshot iofqiowogi) Lemme put this under a readmore actually so yall dont get slammed with a long ass post:

Starting with Eve:

He's my Tamarack MC, but I figured since uh. all my art that was a given

He has a strained relationship with Qiu in step 1 but they become besties by step 2 and by step 3, they are like family to each other. If no one got Eve, Eve knows Qiu got them, amen 🙏

He comes out as transmasc by step 2, and by step 3 he gets top surgery and starts taking testosterone and firmly identifies as a butch lesbian

He's from the southern part of Miami, Florida. He's Golden Grove's residential florida man

He practices martial arts religiously, he's a big fan of Goku and Dragonball in general so he wants to be like his idol

His story deviates a bit from the OL2 generic mc story, he did have a dad! Opal and his dad wanted a kid but they both didn't want to get married and since the two of them were best friends, they decided to have a kid together (or well two but we'll talk about that later)

What's important to note from above is that his dad isn't around anymore because his father passed away a few months ago due to a car accident and Eve was hospitalized as a result

So by the time he's at Golden Grove, he's in anger stages of his grief and he doesn't want to be bothered. Which sucks cause hes neighbors with the two loudest kids on the block

Doesn't help he's a ESL speaker (English as a Second Language) and Golden Grove's population is majorly white so he has even harder of a time adjusting to it

He gets into fights in step 1... a Lot. Someone will look at him funny and they'll get punched in the face

He does adjust but he still doesn't like Golden Grove by step 3 but funnily enough, he moves away at the end of step 3 for treatment but moves back in step 4, crazy how that shit works huh

He has two emotional support bunnies; Bulma and Chi-Chi! He gets them in step 2, Qiu and Eve bond over them LMFAO

As for Aaliyah:

She's my Qiu MC, to the shocker of no one. Tamarack is also her best friend <3

Aaliyah is from New Orleans, Louisiana! She's full blooded Haitian and she has family in Haiti

She's also transfem! She passes for cis in step 1 thanks to hormone blockers and some makeup and then starts taking estrogen in step 2 and onwards

Her being black and transfemme is integral to her character and how she navigates around Golden Grove, she doesn't tell anyone she's trans until near the end of step 1. By step 3, the girl gang and Qiu knows shes trans

^^ That's because she had a very negative experience coming out to her community who previously loved her but flipped on her just as fast

So moving to Golden Grove was supposed to be a fresh start for her as herself but by that point she feels like she has to keep up her "cis-sona" lest she gets bullied again

She still gets bullied for other reasons in step 2 though (being a pretty black girl and the one person who has a crush on her is the most popular kid in school... its rough! 😭)

By step 4 though she is proud to call herself trans and will let people know!

She lovessss animals! And the animals love her back! She feeds them all the time and keeps animal food on her for that purpose when she goes to the park to read by herself, she got a flock of crows and stray cats that like to follow her

She has a cat named Kiki!!! Kiki loves everyone except Qiu though, Aaliyah doesnt know that though-

I hope that was enough of a info-dump! If anyone has anymore questions please ask i have so much lore please-

#candy girl answers #our life 2 #our life: now and forever #our life mc #aaliyah dubois #eve cortez williams

[jujujun-s]

i just can't get over how s6 made no sense like im so mad

starting w/ nyxly bc wth??? kara is such an empathic person, she has a huge heart but in the end they just sent her back to the phantom zone w/ lex???? i mean,, nyxly definitely was a good person, she was just so hurt and she deserved a second chance,,, kara and nyxly feeling the other emotions definitely hinted that yeah redemption arc but no they just threw it all away

and don't even get me started on lena. yk i started watching this show bc i love Katie Mcgrath, and one thing about her is that she really understand her characters and in an interview she said smth like: not everyone is a superhero and that's where lena stands, doing what she thinks is right being surrounded by superheros,,, w/ wtv knowledge she has she's just doing the best she can. and w/ s6 being about ppl empowering themselves bc they don't need superheros to protect them,, the character that illustrated this the best was just given powers (⁠눈⁠‸⁠눈⁠) like be so fr pls she didn't need that,, and ik someone said that its to give lena a queer narrative and give supercorp queer subtext but it still doesn't make any sense for her character????

yk what let's talk about supercorp while we're at it. kara and lena did not spend 3 seasons devouring each other w/ their eyes and then break up arc (s5) for wtv is happening on s6. i am genuinely mad over this bc s5 gave us perfect context for a romance,, like kara spent 3y lying to her best friend and then they have this huge fight abt it and right when they make up kara ends up alone in a terrifying place. it's so freaking easy for romance to bloom here ????? like i honestly think that supercorp should've been the core of s6 bc even as friends kara and lena are each other's most important person and they both went through pretty traumatic events and i think they should've been supporting each other on a much deeper level idk im just so mad

#lena luthor #supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #kara x lena #nyxly #supergirl cw #katie mcgrath #melissa benoist #s6 sucks #make it make sense #we deserve better #at least they were pretty asf #i loved brainy tho #anyway #thanks for coming to my ted talk #see ya

[lesbianshadowheart]

I would truly, truly love to hear your takes on the bg3 relationship quadrant network analysis you have done pls

OKAY so. idk if you'd seen it but this is what i made like a couple weeks into the game

and i STAND BY IT!! although one caveat is that this is an early-game state as for instance Shadowheart's and Lae'zel's relationship gets more complex and mutually appreciative later on. But let's go thru this one by one

so the initial relationship between SH and LZ is a PRIME example of kismesitude. their hate and attraction is almost fateful in nature, considering their narrative opposition and hidden layers of similarity. It even comes to a tipping point and they try to kill each other and the player has to come in and auspistice. I do see the potential for <3/<3< vacillation later on or even either a stable <3 or <3< relationship as they settle their differences

Lae'zel is also in a dire need of a moirail and of course the player can fill that role but just among these characters? It would have to be someone she respects enough and who is willing to curb her aggression. Shadowheart would be the best candidate but they want to fuck each other too much for it to work. Karlach would work BUT K also needs a moirail to cool her down sometimes and Lae'zel simply is not that!! I've had several comments saying it should be Gale but I honestly don't know if she respects him enough. sorry. maybe there is pale beauty there im not seeing feel free to prove me wrong

SH<3Karlach is clear and self-explanatory they would simply be in a passionate, healthy relationship. Karlach's moirallegiance with Wyll could also potentially veer into <3 territory but I honestly see them as BESTIESSSS the most, hey're like, queerplatonic to me. they respect and appreciate each other, neither of them really needs the 'stop murdering people' aspect of moirallegiance but Wyll can cool Karlach down if she gets too emotional and I think Karlach could teach Wyll to love himself. Millions of brave Wyllach warriors out there saying it better I'm sure.

Astarion<3/<3< Wyll is literally just what that post said. They have a poetic, almost fairytale-like quality to the duality that comes from how each of them relates to their identity as a 'monster'. The'd be at odds morally of course, but could fix each other eventually, and of course they would be attracted to each other but I think Wyll would think he SHOULDN'T be into an immoral vampire, and Astarion would be like I don't ACTUALLY like him im just like...objectifying him (not true), contributing to the pitched aspect of their relationship

And Shadowheart <> Astarion is just so close to my heart. They are a set of airpods to me. SH has both a capacity of meanness and manipulation that Astarion can appreciate and the boundless compassion that he needs. they are siblings, they alre mlm/wlw solidarity. They would support each other fully without any judgement on what the other has done and also be such cunts to each other. They are mean to people together. argue with the wall honestly

And Gale is making soup<3

#Gah....you got me monologuing!!!! #now this is just my take of course. just my shipping wall #almost any combination of these characters can be virtually anything bc theyre all so mental #stormfet #thank you molly for letting me do this kjhdfjsk #ask #bg3 #the relationship that i think transcends quadrants the most is shadowzel of course. but they are arguably the main characters of this game #so it makes sense #also feel free to ask followup questions everyone #i am willing to explain homestuck quadrants and details of bg3 lore both 🫡

[sixhours]

Chapter 5 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know &lt;3

~*~

Joel is waiting on your porch holding a large toolbox when you jog up at ten past the hour.

“Sorry, I’m late, got held up.”

He glowers, rumbling in his deep Texas drawl. “I said five.”

“And I said I got held up,” you reply easily, bypassing him to unlock your front door. “The kitchen’s through here.”

He follows with an exaggerated hmph and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“There,” you say, pointing up at the kitchen ceiling, a spot just above the cabinets, running down the back wall. “I think there was a leak at some point. Pipes froze, maybe.”

He walks slowly up to the wall and splays a hand against the drywall, testing its solidity. “Bathroom’s upstairs?”

“Uh-huh. Right above this.”

“Sounds like you already know what the problem is,” he says over his shoulder. “Whaddya need me for?”

“I need to make sure the floor in the bathroom is sound. And…I was hoping you could help tear out the old insulation and re-insulate so the pipes don’t freeze again.”

He shakes his head. “I told you–”

“I know, the committee, but I’m sure I can get the insulation for trade, and if you have a few free hours–”

“I don’t.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, hard.

God, he will not make this easy.

“Okay. Fine. But can you at least look at the floor?”

He sighs, “Alright. Lead the way.” 

You show him up the narrow staircase and into your bathroom. At the far end, a clawfoot tub and shower take up most of one wall. There’s barely enough room for both of you, so you let him go first. Yellowed stains creep up the floral wallpaper behind the tub, rippling across the floor underneath.

“If you step right here, you’ll see what I mean,” you squeeze tentatively past Joel in the tight space, using your foot to push down on the painted hardwood between the tub and the toilet.

You reach out to pull him toward you by the arm, but he jerks away as if burned by your touch.

“I can get it. Get outta there.”

You slide back out, hands up in mock defense, letting him take your place. He frowns at the dip in the wood when his boot puts weight on it, then stands up, hands on his hips, staring at the ceiling.

“Is there an attic in this place? Should check–”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’ve been up there. Just a bunch of junk. No water damage.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re sure? ‘Cause if there’s rain gettin’ in, there’s no point in fixin’ the floor until the roof is sealed up.”

“I’m sure. So...you think it’s safe, or…?”

“Only one way to find out,” he says, reaching for the toolbox and retrieving a hammer. He drives the claw into the wood and meets little resistance, pulling up on the first board, which bends too readily, like a twig. You wince as he goes back for more, ripping out three, four, five of the narrow oak planks like they were nothing. The subfloor underneath gives way just as easily. 

“Yeah, that’s all rot,” he says, digging into the hole he’s made, shining a flashlight into the gap between the floor and the kitchen ceiling. “You’ve got a joist here to support the tub…but it’s half gone.

“You’ll have to take out the wall on this side,” he stands up with a muffled grunt, the sound of a man with sore knees. “Plumbing’s on this wall, prob’ly leaked down from here.”

“Well…shit. I hoped it wasn’t that bad,” you lie.

“Look, if it were me, I’d ask to be reassigned,” Joel says, tucking the hammer back in the toolbox. “No shortage of houses around here.”

“I know. I’ve just…I’ve grown attached to this place,” you say, letting your voice waver. Even better if he thinks you’re crying. “It’s the first time I’ve had a…a real home in a long time, y’know? ”

You expect him to roll his eyes at this overplayed sentimentality, but he doesn’t, just considers you with that unreadable expression. You drive the point home with a shaky, hiccupy little breath.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I can do the work. It’s not gonna be pretty, drywall don’t hold up and we don’t have much. I need time to get the supplies, but–”

“Thank you!” you burst in before he can finish. “I mean, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.” You squeeze his arm, and this time he doesn’t pull away, only flinches.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go usin’ that bath,” he nods toward the tub. “And I wouldn’t use the kitchen until we get the joist replaced.”

“It’s fine. I can shower at the clinic, and I’m no cook.” He scowls as though you’ve given too much information, but you press on. “How can I repay you? Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t drink,” he says. He’s already picked up the toolbox and is headed for the stairs.

“Well…think about it,” you tell him. “I owe you one.”

“Right.”

~*~

You thought cornering Joel into helping with your house would give you time to work your way into his good graces, but he doesn’t make it easy. When he’s not on patrol, he’s working on community projects, leaving only a handful of free evenings to focus on your house. You always seem to be working at the clinic during those times, and part of you wonders if that’s his intent.

In the meantime, you try to get information about Ellie through subtle questions of the community. You learn her schedule, and you know who she hangs out with, and where she volunteers, but no one seems to know anything about her past.

Over the next few weeks, you come home to find your kitchen walls stripped to the studs, a steel support post holding up the clean half of the rotted floor joist. The bathroom closed off with a tarp, a note stuck to the blue vinyl.

Mold. Stay out.

He’s left an old plastic joint compound bucket on the floor, the implication clear.

What a gentleman.

He always sweeps up, wipes down the dust, and stacks his salvaged supplies and tools out of the way before he leaves. He takes out the rotted innards of your bathroom in fat black contractor bags.

You occasionally cross paths with him as he’s packing up to go, and each time you try to engage him in conversation, he answers in monosyllabic grunts and makes a wide arc around you to get to the door. Too many evenings like this and you realize you need to step it up, or the project will be finished before you’ve had a chance to learn his middle name. So on a particularly slow night, you feign a headache and leave the clinic in Shiela’s capable hands.

The whine of a saw echoes down the hall as you close your front door. You hear Joel’s low voice talking from the kitchen and you move toward the sound, keeping your steps quiet, feeling like an intruder in your own house. Through the doorway, you’re surprised to see Ellie at his side, both of them crouched over something behind the kitchen island.

“You keep your fingers clear, hand on the grip; no, not like that. It’s not a pistol. Here,” he reaches over and adjusts her grip on the drill. “This is forward. This is reverse.”

“Righty tighty, lefty loosey,” Ellie says. “I got it, I got it.”

Joel grunts. “You want a ninety-degree angle or the screw’ll get stripped. Put some muscle into it–”

There’s a mechanical whirr as the drill springs to life, the grinding of metal on metal. Then from Ellie, “Ah, shit.”

“It happens, try again,” Joel says. His voice is soft, and patient, lacking his usual gruffness.

“Hey–”

The pair startles, standing and wheeling around. You recognize the soft snick of a switchblade opening at Ellie’s side.

“Whoa, sorry,” you say. “It’s just me, I got the night off, I thought maybe you could use a hand–”

“We’re good,” Joel snaps.

“Yeah, I see you’ve got it covered,” you say, turning to the girl. “Hey, Ellie. How’s it going?”

“It’s fine,” Ellie says, shrugs. “I read those comics. They were pretty good. Maybe not as good as Savage Starlight , but still…pretty good, yeah.”

She’s wearing a purple t-shirt and her sweatshirt is piled with Joel’s jacket on the kitchen island. You step forward into the room, eyeing her exposed, scarred arm.

“So…what’s the damage?” you ask, turning to Joel.

He runs a hand through his messy hair, looking up to the ceiling, where the drywall has been torn out to expose the underside of the bathroom subfloor.

“There was mold in the bathroom drywall and the floor’s rotted out about five feet from the wall. The joist’s gonna need to be replaced, but that’s a two-man job. I might be able to talk Tommy into helpin’, but he’s got a new kid so...” He trails off as if he’s offered too much personal information, wiping his hands on a rag before tucking it into the pocket of his jeans.

“This should hold her ‘til we can get a crew in here to replace the joist. But no baths, I don’t trust this thing with that kinda weight,” he says, gesturing to the temporary support.

“You calling me fat?”

“What?” For a moment Joel looks panicked, then he rolls his eyes. “I mean a tub that size weighs a shit-ton and you fill it with fifty gallons of water, you got yourself a problem. It’s a miracle the damned thing hasn’t already fallen through.”

He continues to detail the project status, but your attention drifts back to Ellie, who’s playing with the cordless drill, holding it out in front of her like a gun. This puts her arm on full display, and now you’re close enough to see the snaking, vining cordyceps blisters under the skin, the imprint of someone’s dental work in the flesh.

“I won’t have the insulation ‘til next week, Tommy says there’s some extra up in the rec center but god knows what condition it's in. Salvage runs don’t usually turn up anything worth a shit…”

There’s no mistaking it; that’s an infected bite…

No wonder FEDRA wants this kid , you think, a cold seed of certainty planting itself in your stomach.

Suddenly Joel is in your face, stepping between you, pushing you back. “Ellie, go home.”

“But–”

“ I said go home .”

“Fucking hell, man,” Ellie huffs, snatching her sweatshirt off the counter and stalking out of the room.

He waits until you hear the front door slam before he speaks, slowly and deliberately cutting his words. “I know what you’re doing,” he growls, still standing too close; you can feel an angry heat coming off his body, the faintest kiss of his breath on your face, and your back is inches from the wall.

You hate to admit it, but you’re almost turned on.

“And what is that, exactly?” you counter. “Treating your kid? Trying to get to know my neighbors? What exactly am I doing that’s so fucking objectionable, Miller?”

He seems taken aback at your sudden venom, the use of his name. There’s a glimmer of sorrow in his eyes, but it quickly turns dark. “She’s not your friend. We don’t need no friends,” he hisses, the Texan drawl thick with agitation. “Just…back off.”

You gape at him, barking a laugh. “Wow. You’re a piece of work, you know that? Does this moody, macho-bad-boy thing go for everyone? Or am I just that fucking special?”

“I’m…” he starts, swallowing hard. You wait for the rest, but it doesn’t come. He scowls, and you feel him edge back. The rush of cool air between your bodies should be a relief.

He doesn’t clean up, doesn’t grab his tools, just shoulders his way around you and out the door.

You seethe, barely containing a sudden urge to break your fist on the wall while pretending it’s Joel’s stupid face. You settle for a few deep breaths, unsure if you’re truly irritated with him, or with yourself for letting the arrogant asshole get under your skin.

The headache you were supposedly faking has manifested behind your eyes, and you don’t fall asleep for a long time.

~*~

He’s standing on your front porch in the morning, blocking the doorway as you’re leaving for the clinic. He jumps, caught off guard when you open the door and find him there, looking lost.

“What–”

“What are you–”

You speak at the same time, cutting each other off.

“I live here,” you say, feeling a fresh prickle of ire reseat itself in the pit of your stomach. “What’s your excuse?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I…yeah.” Joel rubs at the back of his neck, visibly agitated. There’s a long silence before he finally mutters, “I wanted to apologize.”

Another long pause.

“By all means, go ahead,” you prompt.

His eyes narrow. “...what?”

“You said you wanted to apologize, but I didn’t hear an apology,” you smirk, knowing you’re being pedantic, but it feels too good to watch him squirm.

He gapes, mouth opening and closing for a few delicious seconds before he huffs. “Whatever. Need my stuff.”

He invites himself in, barreling past you and straight toward the kitchen. You follow on his heels. You don’t know you’re going to ask the question until it’s out of your mouth.

“Christ, Miller, why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He’s kneeling, shoving tools and supplies into the toolbox with force, but his head snaps up at your words.

“Shut your damn mouth,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

But you can’t stop yourself. You’ve spent the night tossing and turning, angry at yourself for how much you’ve let this stupid man get to you, and now you have him cornered.

“You get off on being a dick? Is that it?”

He’s suddenly on his feet, crossing the distance between you in two long strides. He’s so fucking close you can feel his body practically vibrating with rage. His eyes bore into yours, lit by an angry flame.

You sneer. “You wanna hit me, big man? Go right the fuck ah–”

His mouth descends on yours before you can comprehend it: The press of lips, the hard clack of his teeth, the scrape of stubble against your chin. Rough and hungry, almost needy, the kiss shocks you into a numb silence.

Your hands come up to his chest, pushing him away, too stunned to speak. You’re both breathing hard. He licks his lips, watching you, something unknowable flicking across his face before he turns, grabs his toolbox, and walks out.

What…the fuck.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, to make sense of this strange and abrupt shift, when you hear his boots thudding on the hardwood floor. He re-enters the kitchen and looks at you, flushed and contrite.

“I shouldn’t’ve done that,” he says roughly. “That’s not–”

You don’t let him finish. You turn and grab him by the collar of his flannel, throwing yourself against him, meeting his ferocity with your own. You kiss him with tongue and teeth and bite, pleased when he doesn’t pull away when his hands find your hips and dig into the soft flesh.

That’s more like it.

You tug at his belt buckle with skilled fingers and have it off before he knows what’s happening. He moans into your mouth when you bite his lower lip. You soothe the nip with your tongue, diving in, tasting him.

“Fuuuuck,” he hisses, hands fumbling at the waist of your scrubs. You help, undoing the front tie, letting the soft fabric slip down your legs. You anchor your arms around his neck and he takes the hint, pulling you up so you can wrap your legs around him. He turns you both around, slamming your back against the wall hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

More fumbling as he works his jeans down his hips–a challenge with you hanging off him, but somehow you manage. His breath is on your neck, the painful nip of his teeth at the hollow where your jaw meets your ear. Your panties are roughly pushed aside and he’s inside you, thick and hot, too full, too fast. You bite your lip to avoid crying out.

Braced against the wall, he thrusts into you, your head hitting the wall with each thrust. His brow furrows, head down in concentration, and you run your hands down his back, muttering encouragement. 

“Yeah, that’s right baby, fuck me,” you hiss, and his hand grips your jaw, covering your mouth, his eyes meeting yours in a silent warning as he punctuates his intent with a hard thrust.

Not a talker, should have known, you think, letting your teeth graze his palm, tasting salt.

You breathe, trying to stay open, to let him use you. A pleasant burn settles low in your abdomen as you get used to his invasion, but you’re barely there, just a vessel for him to fill.

His pace speeds up and you feel the telltale tensing in his back, his neck. Suddenly you’re unmoored, almost dropped, sliding down the wall. He turns away with a grunt, finishing in his hand. The emptiness between your legs throbs, half pain, half unsated desire.

There’s a long silence as the proverbial dust settles in around you. You feel a happy surge of triumph. After days of trying to breach his stony exterior, he’s finally in your territory.

“Miller–”

“I’m clean,” he says, moving to the sink, turning on the tap. His face is flushed, whether from embarrassment or arousal, you’re not sure, but his eyes are soft.

“Good. So am I,” you say brusquely, plucking your scrubs from the floor, pulling them up, and cinching them at your waist. “So this doesn’t need to be a one-time thing.”

He shakes his head, not meeting your gaze. “I’m not lookin’ for anything.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as if this encounter was the start of a romance, a prelude to anything but more fucking.

Barely passable fucking, at that.

“Neither am I,” you say. “But I have some experience with…relieving tension.”

This is as close as you’ll come to revealing your hand, letting your real-life identity bleed into this one. Not something you do as a general rule, but under the circumstances, you’ll take the risk.

He arches an eyebrow, and the expression is such a drastic difference from his stony glare that you allow yourself to admit that he’s incredibly attractive. He’s muscled from years of hard labor, hair just on the edge of salt and pepper, and when he’s not scowling, his eyes have a dark, seductive, come-fuck-me look that makes your stomach do pleasant somersaults.

“It’s a trade economy, right?” you continue, moving around him to wash your hands, smoothing loose strands of hair behind your ears. “Consider it a trade for work on the house. Payment for services rendered.”

He doesn’t respond, looks so confused that you have to bite back a smile, but you know he’ll take the bait. The desperation in his eyes, the frantic way he’d pushed inside you–this is a man who hasn’t had a physical connection in months, maybe years.

“Think about it,” you say flatly. “I’m late for work.”

You leave him standing in your kitchen, his belt buckle still undone.

~*~

He has you again two days later. You return from the clinic to find him in the bathroom on his back, wedged between the toilet and the tub. He grunts in acknowledgment when he hears you come in but doesn’t look at you, intent on his work. 

“You’re missing a shutoff valve for the shower. I’m not a plumber,” he says gruffly. “But I can do the work if we find the right fitting.”

“Oh?” you feign interest, seeing an opportunity, stripping off your scrub top and tossing it in the hamper.

“You’ve got three different kinds of pipe in here and they’re held together with fuckin’ bubblegum and spit,” he grumbles, as though the shoddy craftsmanship is somehow your fault. “No point in insulating until I clean this up and get the valve in, it’ll just leak again and you’ll be shit outta–”

When he finally sits up and looks at you, you’re standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a bra and panties. The nice ones.

“...luck,” he finishes, lips parting, eyes dark with desire, a catch in his breath. You bite back a smirk.

Men are so fucking easy.

“Wash up,” you say. “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

There’s the brief sound of running water as you wait for him on the bed, then his footsteps over the threshold. He looks nervous, unsure, as though he hadn’t just taken you up against the wall two days ago.

You crawl to the edge of the bed, reaching out to undo his belt, and his jeans, sliding them down over narrow, muscled hips and thighs. He’s already half hard, not bad for a guy pushing sixty. You take him in your hand, watching his lids grow wanton, heavy with lust. You move to take him in your mouth, but he grunts and pushes you back on the bed, gripping your thighs to pull your hips flush with his. He’s inside you before you’re fully ready, and the sensation is more pain than pleasure.

Your hands come up under his shirt, running your fingers over the warm brown skin, the softness of his abdomen in sharp contrast to the hardness between your legs. You feel the edges of a scar.

A bite?

He’s lost in you so deeply, thrusting and churning, hips snapping against yours. He doesn’t notice you pulling the shirt up at first, doesn’t see you run your fingers around the outline of the bright pink, welted crescent.

“Fuck, so fuckin’…tight…”

Not a bite , you think, no teeth marks . Your doctor’s mind is already calculating the possibilities. Stab wound, maybe. Not a blade, too jagged.

He stills as he realizes what you’re doing, eyes meeting yours in furious betrayal before slapping your hands away. He pulls out of you with a low, angry growl, and strong arms flip you onto your stomach, gripping your hips where he’d bruised you yesterday. He re-enters you hard enough to take the breath from your lungs. His sharp, angry thrusts elicit a harsh cry from your throat, and this only serves to make him move faster.

“Fuckin’ whore,” he snarls. “Showin’ off your tits. Think you’re…so…fuckin’...smart…”

“You kiss your kid with that mouth, Miller?”

“Don’t,” he growls, a guttural warning, and you fight the urge to laugh as an almost vicious thrust pitches you forward, your hands splaying in the sheets to keep yourself upright. His fingers thread their way through your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your throat. His hand on your scalp is almost intimate, the way it kneads the tender skin, and you find yourself moaning with pleasure.

Before you can truly enjoy it, he pulls out and finishes with a groan on your back, warm liquid seeping down the crack of your ass. 

“So I take it that’s a yes?” you half laugh, half pant over your shoulder.

“What?” He’s pulling up his pants, fumbling with the belt buckle.

“Payment for services rendered.”

He glares at you and huffs an angry breath, but his final word is a whisper.

“Yes.”

~*~

There is a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. You learn more about Joel during these brief encounters than you have the rest of the months you’ve lived in Jackson.

He likes you up against the wall, or on your hands and knees, fast and rough. He never completely removes his clothes, just enough to get the job done, his flannel shirts like armor guarding his heart.

He never undresses you, either, never does so much as pull down your panties, preferring to push them aside.

He likes you to be silent, but he has a dirty mouth. He smells like wood smoke and sweat and gunpowder.

He hasn’t kissed you since that first time. When you try, he pushes you away, turns you around, and takes you from behind. He won’t let you go down on him. Maybe he’s not into that, you know some guys aren’t, but you suspect it’s too personal, too intimate. Too vulnerable.

He never, ever comes inside you.

Somehow you think this isn’t what your superiors had in mind when they told you to find out who this guy’s daughter is, but it’s progress.

“Y’know, you don’t have to pull out,” you say, wiping ejaculate off your stomach with a tissue. You’re tired of washing his come out of your nice underwear, your bedclothes, your hair.

He’s sitting on the edge of your bed, pulling on his boots. You feel him pulling away, as always, and it’s a desperate move to try to keep him just a little longer, to edge your way into the cracks in his stony facade.

He scoffs at this, shaking his head, pulling the laces tight with a snap .

“I know condoms are hard to come by,” you continue evenly, the crisp voice of a practiced physician reciting rote facts, “but there’s no risk of pregnancy.”

He stiffens but doesn’t turn to look at you. “And I’m s’posed to believe that?”

You bristle, surprised to find this lack of trust stings…a little.

“What, you think I want a kid with you? You think I want a kid in…in this ?” you scoff, gesturing outside. “Don’t flatter yourself, Miller. I just hate doing laundry.”

“Accidents happen,” he grumbles, and you get the sense he speaks from experience.

“Was she an accident?” you ask, trying to imagine a younger Joel’s strong, calloused hands cradling the tender skull of a newborn Ellie, but you can’t picture it.

“Ellie? She ain’t mine.”

Oh.

You’ve touched on something, you’re so close you can taste it. What’s more, he doesn't leave immediately. He seems to be lost in thought, defenses down. He’s rubbing absently at his arm, his shoulder, kneading the muscle where his neck meets his collarbone.

“Well,” you say, clipped and final, “I haven’t had a period since I was 25. There are no accidents here.”

He looks at you with an unreadable expression; is that sadness…or pity? You don’t like the feeling it stirs in you, the twist in your gut. You suddenly wish you hadn’t started this conversation, hadn’t bared this much of yourself. It’s sloppy.

He opens his mouth as if to reply, but you’re unable to meet his eyes. You climb off the bed and head for the bathroom. Cold water on your face brings you back to yourself as you wipe off with a rough washcloth, then pull on your jeans and a soft, worn t-shirt.

Fuck. Too close.

By the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s standing in the hall. He looks like he wants to tell you something, and you meet his eyes, silently pleading.

Don’t.

Seconds pass, and you can almost see the moment his expression shutters, closes up, and suddenly he’s Joel Miller again, the neighborhood asshole. He scowls and makes for the stairs.

“You wouldn’t know it,” you say, in a desperate move to regain the upper hand, to find your footing on the roiling ground beneath you.

He stops on the first step but doesn’t turn around. “Wouldn’t know what?”

“That she’s not yours.”

~*~

When he’s gone, you walk up to the attic to check for new transmissions on the recorder.

You follow a straightforward procedure: Play back the tape, log the messages on a notepad, then wipe the tape for next time. You stash the logs at the bottom of one of the boxes of junk in the back of the attic. If someone did find the radio up here, you could get away with telling them it’s a hobby.

She ain’t mine.

His words ring in your ears.

Was the girl kidnapped? She doesn’t act like a victim, but maybe she was taken before she was old enough to understand what was happening. Maybe she has only ever known Joel as a father, and the mother is out there trying to find her. Were you chasing after some petty custody battle?

You brush the idea aside. You can’t imagine why FEDRA would care, and it doesn’t explain the scars on her arm.

You finish your notes and store them for the night, left with more questions than answers.

#the last of us hbo #the last of us #fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel and ellie

[mrhowells]

Smallville 4x16

*this episode put me through it, also the character building for Lois is perfection (also, if you see any typos just close your eyes, it was late and I was emotional)*

Clark looks so suspicious😭😭 Jonathan too, the way he's eyeing that food lmaooooo

Please😭

"I'm willing to sleep in the barn." "No that's okay, Lois can sleep in the barn." LOL Clark

sass levels through the roof today for him

Look at how proud Lois is listing all of Lucy's achievements😭 She's the best wtf I love her

"Wow, that's impressive. What happened to Lois?"

He has the time of his life dragging her PLS

"You're gonna find that Clark's charm is an acquired taste, much like his sense of fashion." he had that coming

Lois said TRY ME BISH

pls even Lucy is noticing the tension😭

she wasn't playing with that shoulder punch💀

Yeah, Jason is not letting those stones go💀

I really feel for Lana, I feel like she just lives in constant fear bc there's always some weird shit happening around her

Lucy flirting with Clark, just pls no💀

"Lois I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but ever since Lucy came to town you've been grumpier than normal."

I love this whole conversation between them🥹

Also Clark making it so obvious he's an only child from a loving family, bless him

"You might be a little rough around the edges but as far as sisters go, Lucy could do a lot worse." EXACTLY

anyone who has Lois in their life won the lottery, not even an exaggeration she's the absolute best🤷🏻‍♀️

"I guess there was just a part of me that was always jealous she got out and I didn't."

LOIS BBY LET ME HUG YOU LET ME LOVE YOU

the way she's like 'oh fuck I was vulnerable, gotta blast🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️', same Lois, same

Clark looks so worried too😭

this is so wholesome🥹

I think those electric shocks left him with some permanent damage because Jason seems obsessed now👀

Okay let me rephrase, he doesn't just seem obsessed, he's completely unhinged. They fried his brain🤡

Clark is in disappointed dad mode again, he's so natural at it too😭

"You're not mom alright, so stop trying to be." That hurt me personally, goddamn

LMAOOOOO

also, is this the first episode where we see Lex and Lois in the same frame?👀

Lucy you snake

LOIS DON'T YOU EVER SAY OR THINK THAT

To everyone who contributed to her feeling this way, I just want to have a talk

This is breaking my heart, the world doesn't deserve her😭😭

Their dad really failed at parenting HARD

no because this hurts fr, I want to hug her so bad

she deserves to know that she's wanted and loved, SOMEBODY TELL HER

I can't get over the fact that she thinks that her life is less important than that of her sister

Clark defending Lois is something that can be so personal😭 (She deserves a good support system and friends who have her back idc)

I'm getting very emotional about this excuse me

You know I love a character when I need everyone else to love them too. Like I need every other character on this show to appreciate how amazing Lois is.

"I'm a product of my father's breeding. He needed an heir. But your parents chose you out of love."

No because that's so important and I think it explains why both Lex and Lois are so (for the lack of a better word) fascinated with the Kents.

(ok I paused the episode and wrote like 4 paragraphs of character analysis prompted by that quote but idk what to do with them and if they make any sense, maybe I'll make a separate post🤡)

I need you guys to understand how much it means to me that he really cares about Lois😭

Not even in any sort of romantic context, just that someone genuinely cares if she's okay or not because she's obviously never really had someone take care of her😭😭😭

I mean listen, good for Lionel that he's not an absolute monster anymore but he really needs to stay out of Lex's business💀💀

WAIT A MINUTE HOLD ON.

HOLD ONNNNNN

Did Lana vandalize her own apartment? Or did she just hide the stone and whoever searched for it didn't find it? In any case she's learning how to play the game, good for her😌😌

Okay, first of all: More reasons to love Lois, she's self-aware and she can admit when she's wrong about something. Seriously I love her.

Second: Again, they way she's ready to be kicked out of the farm for something that wasn't even her fault??? MR. SAM LANE, SAMMY, GENERAL LANE, I'D LIKE TO HAVE SOME WORDS WITH YOU. Seriously though, this speaks volumes about how she grew up and it breaks my heart.

Third: The way she tries to be so casual and 'Lois' when she says it, I have very similar defense mechanisms and again, it hurts my heart.

"Yeah... actually I came here to tell you we have food in the oven if you're hungry."

Lois learning what unconditional love looks like through the Kent family is the only thing that matters to me, actually

"You know, all these years I thought I had my sister pegged but... in reality? She's a complete stranger to me." "Even if that were true, I think that if she called you tomorrow you'd be there in a second to help her."

I CAN'T DO THIS RIGHT NOW, HE DOES KNOW HER😭

SHE KNOWS HIM TOO😭😭

"I guess that explains why we're friends." "Oh, we're friends now?" "Well, I mean, I won't tell anyone if you don't."

Yes you are and I'm so glad bc you're the most amazing people to ever exist😭

Clark deserves someone like Lois in his life and Lois deserves someone like Clark in her life, yes I'm on the verge of tears AND WHAT ABOUT IT

CHEMISTRYYYYY

shoulder punch my beloved🥹

CHEMISTRYYYYYY

do you think these people knew they just created perfection?😭

🎶now it all begins🎶

written in the stars and all that, I love my OTP

More importantly though, I love Lois Lane she's everything and she deserves all the love in the world.

#ellie's smallville thoughts #smallville #4x16 #lois lane #clark kent #clois #lex luthor #lana lang #lucy lane

[imagionationstation]

Your posts of Donnie12 are my LIFE SAVOR!

Donnie is probs the hardest brother out of the bunch I can get a character grasp outside of smart, sarcastic brother that’s a bit of a simp. I didn’t wanna do him injustice in the fic I’m writing so if it’s no trouble, can you make a list of your head cannons of him pls?

No trouble?! No trouble?!

Excuse you! I love any excuse to spread my love of the purple genius and educate people on why he is a lovable green bean! In reality, I should be thank you for this ask! Thank you!!!

*ahem* *looks through millions of notes*

Hmmm… This sounds like a character development type question? Let’s check out my headcanons for those…

Mhmm, mhmm, mmmmm, ah!

HERE WE GO

DONNIE AND HIS BROS: 

Mikey and Donnie have bonded over being the youngest brothers the same way that Leo and Raph bonded over being the eldest. Donnie appreciates Mikey because he’s the one person that he doesn’t feel like he has to prove himself too. Mikey treats him as an equal and he’s the only brother who (somewhat) supports his hopes of winning over April. He gets annoyed with his little brother’s antics like all older siblings do, but that stems from the fact Mikey does many things that trigger his OCD. He forgives him easily. Just like Donnie understands Mikey’s hyperactivity; Mikey understands his brother’s compulsive nature. 

Donnie and Raph are brain and brawn, and when they compare one another in that way, they always hit walls in terms of their relationship. Raph will always have a strength that that Donnie can’t tap, which will make him insecure. Donnie has brains that Raph can’t tap, so that makes him insecure. When they can look past this, there’s a lot they have in common. Passionate, strong-willed, and determined to protect their family no matter how it effects their well-being. They’re the middle children, so they know how it feels to have less attention then the heir and baby brother, and when to be there for each other when it counts. 

Donnie and Leo are the most mature of the group. While Raph only jokes about it, Donnie truly sees Leo as- in a sense- perfect. He’s a confident older brother who lives up to expectations, never fails when they need him most and never stops trying no matter how difficult things get, carries his families burdens without faltering, acts only in their best interests, can face death without blinking, and can even flirt with the girl that he likes and get a positive reaction in return. 

Leo is everything that Donnie aspires to be, but fears that he never can. He’ll do just about anything to earn his approval, and feels like a failure when his inventions or experiments can’t reach his expectations. Donnie’s willingness to complete tasks does lead Leo to push to hard. The team genius does have his limits, and will snap when the pressure gets to much. That’s usually where their arguments stem from. He desires to prove himself, and gets frustrated when anything gets in the way of that. 

FLASHBACK TO MIKEY EXPLANATION: 

I mentioned that Donnie has OCD. THIS IS CANON. And lemme tell you it explains SO MUCH. What IS headcanon is my theories about what OCD does. So here we go: 

-Donnie can’t tolerate people messing with his stuff. Everything has a place and they are set there for good reason. When his brothers come in and touch his things, it risks ruining the order he has for his lab. (It may look messy at times, but he put those things there, so that’s deemed their place, at least for the moment). 

-OCD comes with emotional irregulation, which is why Donnie tends to go from calm to high-strung at a moment’s notice. Even though it drives them nuts at times, his brothers understand that him letting it out as an unnecessary shrill rant is healthier than him locking up the stress and fear that could be dangerous to his mental health. They’ll tease him for it, but have never actually pushed him to stop. 

-His OCD also gives him a constant anxiety, which he usually chooses to handle by working or studying in order to make the nerves go away. He does his best to keep it under control in battle by focusing on the mission, even if his brother’s constant pushing to “go faster” makes it all the more difficult. 

-Because of the intrusive thoughts that come with OCD, Donnie sometimes sees himself the way that humans do; as a monster and a freak. One of the reasons that he got so obsessed with April (after the original crush wears off) was because she was a human who accepted him as he was, and he wanted to prove his fears wrong by winning her over. His compulsive tendencies lead him to do things like stalk her and build questionable gifts. His brothers understand this, even if they don’t approve. 

THERE ARE OTHERS BUT I’M MOVING ON NOW-

Donnie can’t handle being sick. He’s no germaphobe and he won’t hesitate to care for an ill family member (if they’ll let him. Raph can be stubborn). It’s being sick itself that he can’t handle. He’s investigated every sickness known to man, and it always ends up being his undoing. He’s terrified that whatever he has is so much worse than the simple fever that his brothers keep telling him it is, and is convinced he’s on his death bed. The only way to keep him calm is company and contact. He’ll continue to irrationally fear for his life, but he takes comfort in knowing that he’ll die surrounded by those he loves. 

Donnie has been shocked and electrocuted so many times that his body has actually developed a tolerance to it. He theorizes it has to do with the mutant cells adapting to the abuse. It comes in handy when he’s strapped down during Fourfold Trap.

Donnie would do a lot for Leo. Space Heroes is where he draws the line. He doesn’t understand his fascination with it and can’t go a minute without pointing out an inconsistency in the plot or questioning Captain Ryan’s morals. After a few months, Leo had to start waiting until he knew Donnie wasn’t around to turn it on. 

Better safe than sorry. 

Out of all his brothers, Donnie is the last one to learn how to talk. Not because he couldn’t or struggled, simply because he chose not to. He read and he could interact with his brothers and father with chirps and churrs. The day that he did choose to talk, he shocked Splinter out of his fur when he calmly used full sentences. 

Donnie built Metalhead to assist the team and never stopped trying to make him worthy of Leo’s approval. At some point along the way, he subconsciously started looking at Metalhead like his own kid: Someone to be taught and taken care of. After losing him, Donnie just couldn’t bring himself to make another, because he knew his lil’ buddy was one of a kind. 

Everyone thinks that Donnie hates Leo’s wars with the toaster, but in reality, he doesn’t mind. The repairs are never difficult and his older brother always feels guilty for putting something else on his list, so he hangs out with Donnie as he fixes it. Donnie enjoys the excuse for bonding outside of training or missions. Leo even helps Donnie around the lab sometimes, as it’s mention in an episode when someone knocks against the ShellRaiser that Leo “just waxed her!” 

Leo’s the only one who knows about Donnie’s nightmares about Slash. Not only is the memory of being sought out and forcefully separated terrifying, but Donnie knows Raph still cares about ‘Spike’ and doesn’t want to hurt him by reminding him of what Slash did. He’s relieved when Slash goes to the good side, but being around the large snapping turtle still makes him nervous.

If I keep going, I will headcanon myself into oblivion- THAT’S ALL, FOLKS

Maybe. Possibly. For now :)

Thanks again for the ask!!

#See what I see TMNT #donnie #tmnt donnie 2012 #donnie tmnt #tmnt donnie #2012 donnie #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #tmnt donatello #tmnt fandom #2012 tmnt #donatello #donatello hamato #donnie hamato #tmnt headcanons #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles donnie

[oh-puffle-cakes19]

Hi! I love the stuff you write and I have an idea that I hope you like. Tom and the reader play lovers in the MCU. When they're filming the scene of Peter and herself dusting away, the reader gets emotional (her character does anyway but she goes slightly over the top) and Tom comforts her after filming saying that he's always gonna be there for her. RDJ is with them as well.

Hope you like it!

Dust to comfort

Pairing - Tom Holland x Reader (Actor)

Summary - You and Tom are lovers on and off screen, playing Tony Stark’s daughter! One particular scene makes you overwhelmed, Tom and Robert JR is there to comfort you.

Warnings - Sadness

A/N - Thank you for requesting, I’m glad that you like my writing and I hope you enjoy! I Appreciate all the love and support towards my content! 🥰

Your finally filming the scene in the marvel movie, infinity War where C/N and Peter dust away from Tony Stark. It is the last scene of the day, your really excited about recording it.

You stand leaning on Tom, who plays Peter Parker, yourself playing Tony Stark’s daughter and Peter’s girlfriend before getting position to start the scene.

“TAKE 2, S/N, ACTION!” The Director said as someone uses the clapper-board to start the scene.

“Mr.Stark,” Tom says in his American accent, turning around nervously holding his breath to seem breathless, “I don’t feel so good,” He stumbles, just before he saw you, “Y/C/N,” he trembles as he sees you.

You was running In between the other superhero’s and creatures, trying to find your dad and Peter, your boyfriend.

“Peter,” You gasped, running towards him, “I found you,” you seemed to got lost between all the mayhem that was happening between Thanos, “I don’t know what’s happening!” Peter rapidly, threw himself into your arms.

Tony just standing there watching, he couldn’t do anything as Peter and his daughter cry’s for each other, it’s quite painful seeing his family being split.

“Dad! What is he on about?” You performed tears into your eyes to see your boyfriend lying limp into arms as you hold him tighter, Tony didn’t have time to answer as Peter trembled out words with tears in his eyes.

“I don’t want to go, I don’t want, want to go, I love you Y/C/N!” You burst out crying, “No, no Peter pls don’t go! I love you too,” Before he dusked away, By this point you are crying on the ground, “What happened!” You shouted at Tony, your dad.

“Sweetheart, I’m glad I found you again,” Tony hugged you, “Dad, it hurts,” You breathed heavily, “It hurts, what is happening?” You feel yourself drifting away into small little pieces, tears in your eyes as you say your finally words, “I love you dad,” Tony hugged you tighter, “Love you too, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,”

Just like that Tony had nothing left, no Peter, No daughter.. barely any family left.

“AND CUT,” The director shouts, “That was good guys, don’t think we need another scene!”

You nodded, getting off set to see Tom standing behind the curtain, talking with Robert Downey Jr, “Hey, Darling, Are you ok?” Tom questions concerned as you still had tears in your eyes, “Yh, I’m.. I’m good,” You sniffled.

“Well, your clearly not kid,” Robert spoke up, “But hope you feel better, Holland you better cheer her up,” He pretends to be in overprotective dad mode, “Yh, thanks Robert,” You give him a weak smile as he walks off, “Will do,” Tom smiles.

“Come here, Sweetheart,” Tom hugs you tightly, “Do you want to go back to my trailer? We can get comfy,” Tom suggests, you nod as he takes your hand leading to a more cozy room.

“What’s wrong, love?” Tom questions as he shuts his trailer door, you lay down into his bed under the covers with Tom following you, “The scene just made me emotional, it hit hard,” You whisper, letting tears fall down your face.

“Oh, love, it’s ok! I’m here, no one is going to leave you,” Tom reassures wiping your tears and stroking your head as you snuggle into his chest, “I’m always going to be here for you, Darling,” he kisses your forehead.

“I know,” You smile, relaxing to Tom’s touch, “See, there’s that beautiful smile,” Tom smiles wider, you peck his lips, giggling.

Tom flickers his eyes from your eyes to your lips, leaning into to see kiss you passionately. “I know you was upset, we all do! It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he speaks sense to you, always.

“Thanks Tom, for always making me smile!” You kiss his cheek, “You make me smile more,” He winks, playfully, kissing your cheek.

“Your warm!” You sigh, lying back down on his chest, “Aren’t I always?” Tom says confused, “Yep,” you laugh.

“You know, it’s quite fun playing lovers on screen and then actually being lovers in real life!” You giggle, “It’s like our own movie,” Tom gives you a look, “I hope not, movies have endings!” Acting devastated, “You what I mean!” You pout.

Tom laughs, “Of course, love,” kisses your forehead again, “I like that,” You hum, “What? Me kissing your forehead,” He questions, smiling.

You nod as you look at him, your hands fall to his soft, brown locks. “I’ll it again, shall I?” Tom smirks, kissing your forehead again, “That’s nice,” You softly trace your fingers over his hands, “I like your hands too,”

“How come?”

“They are soft and bigger than mine,” You giggle, “See,” Matching your hand to his.

“Lovely, Darling,” Tom pulls you closer into his embrace, “You always find weird, things to talk about!”

“Says you,” You tease, “Mr. Holland!”

“I can say because I’ve got..” You cut Tom off from being a smart ass by kissing him.

Tom kisses you deeper, taking your jaw into his hands as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

“You are beautifully, breath taking, Sweetheart,” Tom breathes out, kissing your temple.

“And you are handsome,” You smirk, tracing your finger over his jaw line, “have I said I Love you so much today?” Tom asks, Smiling.

“Don’t believe, you have Mr.Holland,”

“Well, I love you so much, Darling,” Tom presses his lips to yours, “Mm, Love you so much too, Tommy,” you smile into the kiss.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fandom #tomhollandfan #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff

[fatmaclover]

12,19 or 23 for mac :-3?

12: What's a headcanon you have for this character?

unibrow mac my beloved <33 if we're talking something more serious though i think itd be that hes got. COMICALLY gay music taste. fag club music is definitely his jam but hes got to get into gaga n shit for my own mental health. this is supported by the fact that in its a very sunny christmas (sorry to bring this ep up again) he literally has TWO rainbow jimi hendrix stickers on his closet door 😭 bud.... howd it take you this long youre literally making your own allegories 😭. sorry im gonna take this one to also say i think he should be More tatted up. rob you can rid yourself of your tats all you want but i know mac gets a tattoo for every boyfriend hes able to keep for longer than a week in my heart. their name right on his skin. this is Always what makes them break up with him.

19: A relationship they have in canon that you don't like?

i feel like "like" is a pretty broad thing for me. i can fucking despise something but it can still be interesting and i still like it. UNFORTUNATELY this is the case about mac and his parents. dear God actually a wretched family dynamic that attacks literally all of my insecurities with some of my own family. something about always making noise, always making a show but never being seen or heard really gets to me. the way even now mac makes it blatantly obvious what hes needing/wanting for emotional fulfillment, but his friends treat him just like his parents did because thats easier than sitting down and dealing with his issues. hes always been ignored so whats a little more?

theres a lot i could go into with this one. how being ronnie the rat was the only time mac would get seen, so of course he was incentivized to keep being a total snitch. how it seems that even joyce ended up adopting those methods against mac, being plenty apathetic towards things that were important to him (not even saying that her blowing him off is undeserved. its very much deserved even if its still a total dick move and heartbreaking that joyce would actively see the environment mac grew up in, and then decide to keep that cycle going for him). the way macs immediate family has interacted with him has affected. so much of his life that its insane. sorry that i wrote a lot about this one its just been on the mind.

oh i suppose i could also say him and carmen. i love you carmen i wish mac was normal you two would be unstoppable as a tgirl and her pet doberman fag duo. im glad youre happy just raising a kid with ur husband tho pls never come back and enjoy your life away from these freaks

23: Favorite picture of this character?

here are the jokey contenders oh my fucking god im sorry. theyre the like basic bitch mac images but theyre so fucking funny to me i think about them 24/7. literally whenever i bring up if im soying over something i want you to picture the second image thats what im doing

for a more serious answer, genuinely i adore nearly every scene fat mac is in. though i suppose the penultimate image of fat mac WOULD be the how mac got fat one

sorry hes like an angel to me here. in the grimy fuckin confessional n all.

i think this one is like. very easily first more than that other one but my shame makes it tied for first instead

sorry. ill stop. dont give me power by letting me post mac images i will empty my whole camera roll going "and isnt he so cute here? and here? and look at his smile here. and look how cute he and joyce are here" until literally every frame of fat mac or mac and joyce in frame together is posted.

fav img of mac and joyce together is them writing in mac and charlie write a movie. purely because i associate it with you and rambling about joyce and joymac for hours. without that association is the fucking cowboy photoshoot from mac and charlie die. sorry. basic answer there too

#sorry that pool table photo. #i know its supposed to be funny because ouufgugfh hes posing all sexy like a girl because hes fat and ugly isnt it so funny #but im sorry hes just so much hotter while fat than any other body type 😭 #sorry. thats my public fat mac thirsting limit reached for the next 30 days #ty for letting me ramble so much <33 ly katie #iasip spoilies #keys dont look #iasip