#so not only are his physical changes fucked but his emotional maturity is in the shitter

[dullahandyke]

Btw I'm not gonna play com until I meet him bcos it's like 1am but my brain has spun the wheel on kh characters to think about and come up zexion

#FIRST OFF. autism extraordinaire #you see him as a child and hes nonverbal with an autism stare so prominent its considered a trait #and then he grows up and becomes an illusionist. enough said. inherently autistic to be into façades #SECOND OFF. they ripp3d his soul out when he was like 8 years old #and then you see him later and hes like a young man and not A Child #so 2 possibilities #1. he went thru puberty while inhuman (and u cannot convince me that nobodies have normal hormonal systems) #(im shooting him w the intersex beam also) #so not only are his physical changes fucked but his emotional maturity is in the shitter #because he went thru puberty while lacking the ability to feel emotion #(and listen i know nobodies grow the hearts back but that takes time) #(and even if he had the heart back he sure as shit wasnt being raised by the org) #(bad enough being in a cult that forbids having emotions without the caveat of being 11) #so once he becomes a person again he gets hit by a truck called 'OH FUCK I HAVE EMOTIONS THAT INFLUENCE ACTIONS??' #which is a new experience for him and hed for sure be a mess #OR option 2. no puberty in the org. hes an illusionist! #this one has substantial lea-and-isa-shaped holes in it but isnt it fun? #the org member thats changed the most physically since nobodying is the illusionist. 💥💥💥💥 #wait actually idr when canonically lea and isa got nobodied. maybe it happened a while after the science lads got turned? #probabtl not bur a man can dream #anyway envision for me a blend of the two options where like he went thru changes while nobodied #but they wwre like. Wrong. so while hes not a kid hes also got illusion shit going on #jumpcut to radiant garden's only endocrinologist with head in hands after asking him to dispel illusion #anyway those r my thoughtsies they r based on fanon bcos i havent reached him in com yet #and even when i do meet him theyre sure as shit not fonna be talking abt this

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part two)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.5k summary: your night with eddie continues to haunt you. and now you have to work together — what could go wrong?

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: smut with a plot, oral (fem receiving), aftercare, suggestive & mature themes, other mentions of sex (nothing graphic), adult language, use of pet names, mutual pining, emotional hurt / comfort, topics of guilt / regret — if i missed anything, pls let me know!

psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Eddie Munson hurt your feelings.

Granted, you were just as much to blame. Rockstars are always nothing but trouble and you knew that when you jumped into bed with him.

‘Cause why would Eddie Munson be any different from all the other musicians you’d slept with in the past? He gave you no reason to think otherwise. He never promised you anything.

Letting him occupy your heart and mind after only one night together was your own damn fault, though it was easier to blame him. And you could make a list of excuses, reasons as to why you did what you did, but it really came down to one simple thing: Eddie seemed… different. Almost as if he also wanted to continue this past some single fling.

You asked to stay over. He immediately agreed.

Why? If he was only going to say the night meant nothing to him, why did he agree? Why did he pull you under the silk covers and wrap his arm around your bare shoulder, placing a gentle kiss to your crown? Why did he hold your hand close to his heart, allowing you to feel his heartbeat as he opened up about his past? Why did he let you trace your fingers along his scars?

If it was just about having sex with you, why did Eddie act like he cared what you thought of him? He could have kicked you out the second you came down to earth following your orgasm, not kiss you again with a feverness that made you believe he was silently begging for more — which foolishly, you gave him.

Then you didn’t call immediately, like you said you would. Again, only you were to blame here, but in your own defence, you didn’t think he’d act so coldly towards you. It was just one delayed phone call and he knew better than anyone how plans often change when you’re in the limelight.

Proof was in the pudding. Eddie didn’t like you nearly as much as he led you to believe he did — as much as you liked him. 

And it was fucking foolish of you to fall for him the way you did. Holly thought so too. She actually had a lot of opinions after you told her why you bailed on her at the party.

“Boys are all the same,” she stated while applying the finishing touches to your makeup. “They have one thing on their mind and when they get it, no matter how sweet they act towards you, you’re unfortunately disposable.”

“Eddie doesn’t seem like that,” you defended, which only caused Holly to roll her eyes.

“Hate to be the one to break this to you, but Eddie Munson is exactly that type of guy.”

The cherry on top of this godforsaken mess was your Nana who somehow caught wind of your salacious activities with the Corroded Coffin frontman. She confronted you at her charity luncheon of all places and was actually the main reason you had called him with such a delay, meaning she was also partially to blame for how things turned out in the end.

“You’re not to go anywhere near that boy again,” it almost sounded like a threat. “He’s no good for you or your image. Can you imagine the news? America’s sweetheart canoodling with a devil worshipper. You would be ruined.”

“He’s not a devil worshipper—”

“I don’t want to hear you defending him,” your Nana interjected and looked around, probably to make sure no one was listening in on the conversation. “Honey, I’m just trying to protect you. You’re still a little young to understand just how long our mistakes can follow us around for.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “But I guess you have experience in this area.” And with that you walked away. She didn’t follow.

A few days later, after your brief conversation with Eddie, you showed up at her apartment with tears in your eyes, repeating how she was right — not necessarily the devil worship stuff, just the “not being good for you” piece.

Mid-September 1992, Eddie was supposed to be in New York with his band to perform on Saturday Night Live. He told you that in between trailing kisses down your jawline: “Just in case it’s hard for us to find time to see together,” where his exact words, “This one is a guarantee.”.

You half-debated going to the after party. It wouldn’t be hard to get your name on the guest list, just one simple call from your management team. You even knew what you could wear. Chanel had sent you this gorgeous little black blazer-dress from their Fall 1991 collection, gold buttons at the front creating a v-neck that perfectly accentuated your chest. It was tame enough to keep in style with your image, but bold enough to hail the attention of the Corroded Coffin frontman.

As you stared at the dress however, you knew going would be a mistake. He’d likely view it as an act of despair and the last thing you wanted to do is give him any more power in this situation. So you opted to watch the show from the comfort of your own sofa. Your younger sister Valentine, named after the most romantic day of the year (according to your parents), Val for short, came over to watch with you.

Turns out Val is a big Corroded Coffin fan. Luckily, she remains blissfully unaware of what had gone down between you and the lead singer of her favourite band.

Val ended up being the person who pushed you to do the feature on Corroded Coffin’s upcoming single. She is the person who actually got you to listen to the demo in the first place.

The opportunity first presented itself around January of 1993. After weeks of trying to forget about Eddie Munson, and the way his touch made you feel, your team flushed all that hard work down the toilet in one short meeting. They presented an idea you really wanted no part of — a quick feature that was gonna cost nothing, but make you (and them) five times as much, if not more.

Your initial reaction was a plain and simple no. You had brushed it off as their music not being within your wheelhouse and for a second, they agreed. Only Val had come to the meeting with you. She was only supposed to be a silent observer and take notes for her Business Management module. Of course, she didn’t listen.

“Oh my god! Your voice blended with Eddie Munson’s would make for an automatic hit,” she exclaimed and you swore then you were going to kill her. 

“Their sound is just not my thing,” you explained calmly.

“At least listen to the demo before you make any final decisions,” Val reasoned, earning herself nods and yeses from your management team.

Losing the battle, you made your way to the nearest empty recording room with the CD in hand. Knowing this was already hard enough, you asked to go alone. Val was the only one to put up any sort of fight, but older sister rules and she quickly changed her tune.

When the first few notes began to play through the speakers, you felt gratified because the song was totally opposite of what your fanbase enjoyed — just like you rationalised. However, then the melody slowed down. The heavy guitar from the intro was instead replaced by a more acoustic sound, and the loud drums, reduced to a simple beat. They were a mere decoration to the main event. Eddie and his hypnotic vocals.

“Honestly, you got me fallin’ to my knees It’s like ecstasy, this feelin’ inside of me Let’s call it honesty

You’re a devil in disguise No, that’s what I want you to be ‘Cause in reality, hon’, you’re a hypnotic dream An angel for sure To a non-believer like me Oh honesty, what have you done to me, honestly”

You’re not sure at which point of listening to the demo you started to cry, but you did. The tears are slow, trailing down your cheeks as you clutch the empty CD case tight to your chest.

Was it egotistical to think he’d written this song about you? Most definitely. Yet the sheer emotion in Eddie’s voice, not to even mention the lyrics themselves, made it quite hard to say otherwise.

“Why do they want me?” You asked once you had returned to the room, after listening to the demo three times in a row and taking an additional ten minutes to compose yourself. “They can have any female singer on this, why me?”

“The request came from someone above the band.”

It wasn’t the answer you had secretly hoped for, but you agreed to do the feature nonetheless. There was no denying, the track had huge hit potential, especially as a duet. And Val was right, your vocals mixed with Eddie’s were going to make history. Your reasons for saying yes, however, were a little different. You really just needed to be a hundred percent sure Eddie wrote this song about you.

March 1993 and the day you’d been stressing about since you agreed to do the song had finally arrived.

You had put on the most comfortable yet sexy outfit you could find and done your makeup differently to what Eddie would have seen you in. sprayed on some rose-scented perfume and plastered on a big smile, the fakest sincere shit you had become quite the expert at over the years — your trademark.

The band's manager, Marianne, greeted you on arrival. Holly and your bodyguard, Hank, had come with you to the recording session. You asked Holly to be there as emotional support and Hank was there just to get his paycheck. Either way, you were quite glad not to be facing this alone.

Everything’s fine, you told yourself as you followed Marianne across the building and to a studio where the producer and a handful of sound technicians were waiting for you. Finn, Jane, Kit, and Gavin — in no particular order of importance, their own words. Happy to be working with you, can’t wait to make some magic, big fans of your work, etc. You just smiled. Then Marianne opened the door to the room behind the sound-proof glass and a shiver ran down your spine once you walked through.

Although you did your best to not look his way, Eddie’s presence was instantly known to your senses. As though no one else was ever here, all you could feel was his eyes on you and it caused your heart to rattle inside your ribcage. The sheer fact of being in the same room as him again, after all this time apart, was infuriating yet exciting at the same time. You wondered what he was thinking, was he happy to see you? Surprised? Annoyed?

Holly was on your heels, saying her charming hello’s to everyone you had just introduced yourself to. She actually met Jeff at Eddie’s party so the two of them hugged like old pals and within a split-second, they were off to the side, catching up. You lost your protector quite possibly at the worst time.

“And our frontman, Eddie Munson.” Marianne introduced, one hand hovering over your back while the other extended in the direction of the curly-haired man,

You focused your attention on her arm, refusing to look up and meet Eddie’s chocolate gaze. From the corner of your eyes, you could see as he wiped his palms on the pleather of his pants and held out his right hand in your direction. You glanced at it briefly, the smile on your face faltering.

Suddenly, he was right there. Right at your fingertips. Just take his hand, you thought to yourself, it’s not that big a deal, just take his hand and look at him.

“We’ve met before,” you said with little to no emotion, and without meeting his gaze, then quickly turned to Marianne. “Should we just get started? I listened to the song, I have no notes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Marianne seemed to be taken aback by your abrupt change in attitude. She glanced at Eddie then back at you. “Uhm, yeah, sure. Of course. Right this way.”

The two of you silently left Eddie’s side, though you continued to feel his eyes burning into your frame. This whole situation was honestly nauseating. Not only were you forced to face the memories of this one magical night you shared with the famous rockstar, you were also about to sing a duet together, a song he most likely wrote about said night. All while pretending you don’t care about him or the night in question.

Marianne propped you in front of a microphone and handed you a set of headphones and shortly after the band had taken their places. You glanced across the room at Holly who gave you an encouraging thumbs up before hurrying out to re-join Finn, Jane, Kit, Gavin, and your bodyguard, Hank.

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. This was so beyond fucked, you almost wished it wasn’t too late to back out. The only thing making this just a little bit worth it was Eddie’s clear discomfort. He was the last to take his place at the microphone placed only a feet away from yours, his movements reluctant. You still refused to look at him, focusing instead on the carpet between your feet, hands now on your hips.

“You know what I’m gonna say,” Marianne’s voice echoed through the room, “The day I don’t say it though is gonna be the day we make a shit piece of art so, here goes, good luck and have fun.”

An unsettling silence filled the air as soon as she closed the door behind her. 

You weren’t sure how their band sessions really went, who took the lead and who followed. You hoped someone would speak so you wouldn’t be the first, but no one did. Eddie’s eyes were burning into the side of your head. At this point you were starting to think the universe was playing some sick joke on you. So you glanced upwards, first behind the glass to where you located Holly who gave you another thumbs up, and then you tilted your head in the direction of the man next to you.

You exhaled softly and leaned in closer to the microphone before saying, “Honesty, take one.”

-

Eddie had thought about you every single day since that fateful night in August. The memory of you, your smile, the colour of your eyes, how you felt to the touch, the pretty sounds you made just for him, it had occupied his mind permanently. And he tried to get over you, really, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Not the drinking, not the weed, not losing himself in music, not even hooking up with strangers after the bands’ shows.

He was a goner, yet too fucking stubborn to call or try contact you in any way.

But now here you are, a mere arms-length away, and you’re singing the song he wrote about you, harmonising with little to no effort as you stare right into his big eyes. Eddie is staring back at you, holding your gaze ‘cause he’s afraid if he’d look away, you’d never look at him again. He wants to know what you’re thinking. He’s trying to decipher the angry sadness behind your eyes. Not like he deserves anything from you, but he wants to know how you’ve been. Most importantly, he wants to know if you even like the song?

“Okay,” Marianne pops her head in as the track ends, “Let’s break for lunch.”

Everyone starts to gather whatever they might need for the next hour — bag, bottled water, smokes — before following Marianne out of the recording studio. You’re still staring at Eddie and he’s thinking now’s his chance to talk to you. However, just as he’s about to open his mouth to start perhaps the most awkward conversation, you drop his gaze and hurry out the door.

“Shit,” the curly-haired rockstar curses under his breath then proceeds to follow you down the long hallway until you disappear into the ladies toilets. “Shit,” Eddie swears again as the door closes in front of his face. He runs a hand through his locks, debating whether he should continue his chase, though, eventually, he decides going inside would be a total breach of privacy. Instead, he leans across from the entrance, lights a cigarette, and waits. You’re bound to return at some point and when you do, he’s going to be here and you would have to talk to him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long.

The door opens slowly and you emerge, wiping your hands on your denim skirt. Attention solely on fixing your outfit, it takes you a second to realise Eddie’s there ‘cause honestly you didn’t even know he followed you. As you take a step forward and his worn-out converse sneakers come into view, you swallow.

Closing your eyes momentarily, a desperate attempt at some kind of composure in this situation. Ultimately, there’s no use in continuing this childish game of cat and mouse so you gaze upon him.

“Hi Eddie,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

He exhales a puff of smoke, then replies, “Hey, sweetheart.”

Your heart aches at the moniker and you can’t help but wonder if it’s a nickname solely reserved for you, or if he goes around calling everybody he sleeps with. After all, with the way things turned out to be, you were simply a number on his undoubtedly long list of conquests. You weren’t special.

“It’s nice to see you,” Eddie admits, though his words only twist the imaginary dagger he had jabbed into your heart. “You look… great.”

This makes you roll your eyes. Truthfully, you didn’t have high expectations for your first conversation with the Corroded Coffin frontman, but there was something about him casually flirting as if nothing had happened, that made your blood boil.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

He’s taken aback by your words and the harshness behind them. Obviously he messed up, treated you with an indifference no one deserves to experience, especially someone with a heart as pure as yours. To hear you say that though, mixed with the pure agony behind your eyes, it makes him feel sick.

About to walk away, you turn on your heel. Eddie puts out the half-finished cigarette against the wall, letting the bud drop to the floor, and reaches out to grab your arm. Surprisingly, you don’t flinch at his touch, not at first anyway, which gives him enough time to step in front of you and lift his hands to cup your cheeks.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie begins in a whisper, thumbs caressing along your cheekbones. Your skin is softer than he remembers and it only makes his heart ache more, mournful for the time lost.

“Let me go,” you plead quietly and shake your head, fingers attaching themselves to his wrists, digging at the dips in his knuckles and the valleys of space where his hold met yours, in an attempt to separate the two of you.

Eddie doesn’t budge. He’s stood firm as you claw at him, trying to break free from his grasp. If anything, he inclines closer and in the space of a single heartbeat, you can feel his hot breath as he dips his head to your level, forcing you to meet his gaze. There’s a sense of despair behind his brown eyes and you almost stop fighting.

Almost.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Okay? Is that what you wanna hear?”

His words, although an apology, didn’t sound like one. To you, it seemed like Eddie wasn’t actually sorry for his actions, he just hated the fact that you were giving him the cold shoulder. He wanted to be in your good graces not ‘cause your night meant something to him, but because he had a bruised ego. A cruel joke really. 

So you clear your throat and call on the only person guaranteed to get you away from his situation.

“Hank,” there’s very little power behind your voice and Eddie furrows his brows a little confused at first, but then you move your head to the best of your current ability past Eddie’s shoulder and say his name louder, “Hank!”

“Please—”

“Hank!”

Eddie drops his hold on you then and runs a hand down his face as you take a single step forward, arm brushing against his a little too steadily to be called an accident. Seconds pass and neither of you moves, each staring in a separate direction while your bodies continue to press together. Eddie extends his fingers. You feel the metal of his rings and the air hitches in your throat.

How come one second you cannot wait to get away from him and the next you’re aching for his touch? One second you’re pushing him away and the next your fingers are intertwining themselves with his. It was fucking messed up, hating him yet caring for him at the same time, and you didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

When your army-veteran bodyguard appears at the end of the hall, you snatch your hand away from Eddie’s grasp and plaster a fake smile on your face.

“Everything okay, miss?” Hank asks, glancing between the two of you.

“Can you call the car? I’m not feeling well.”

He nods. “Right away.” Then disappears just as fast as he rushed to your aid. 

You’re once again left alone with Eddie. Only this time, the Corroded Coffin frontman makes no attempt to reach out for you. Instead, he slides his hands in the pocket of his jacket and tilts his head in your direction. You can see him from the corner of your eyes and it takes all the strength you have to not look his way.

“I am sorry,” he says in a defeated tone, “Whether you choose to believe me or not.”

With that, he walks away.

-

The world hadn’t stopped spinning since your earlier interaction with the Corroded Coffin frontman.

You felt sick while recounting the moment on loop. The sad look in his eyes, the defeated sound of his voice. His body language was screaming I wanna be closer to you, unfortunately, you couldn’t figure out if he was being sincere, if this whole situation really weighed on him as deeply as it did you.

Holly had berated you for even indulging in a conversation with him, to which you huffed and puffed ‘cause she’s the one who left you alone in the first place for “not-a-date” lunch with Jeff.

“Hope you at least got some,” you tease, rummaging through your half-unpacked suitcase for the box of smokes you carefully hid in there, for emergency situations only.

Holly laughs from her spot on the sofa. You can’t see her face, but you can tell she’s smiling. “Shut the fuck up,” she deflects with a giggle, “We went for some friendly burgers. I wasn’t looking for anything else.”

“Was Jeff?” You quip, placing a cigarette between your lips and reaching for the ashtray. You carry the item towards one of the hotel windows before lighting the tip, slowly inhaling.

“You’re unbearable, you know that?” Holly jests, shifting in her spot to look at you. “Just ‘cause you’re sexually frustrated.”

You smirk, exhaling some smoke. “What gave you that idea?”

Holly raises a brow, an amused look spread across her face, and points to the cigarette you’re holding onto. Before she can make her point of you only smoking when you’re stressed or craving some action — and in this instance, it’s clearly both — there’s a knock on the door. The two of you glance in its direction then back at each other.

“Where you expecting—”

“No,” you answer before Holly can finish her question, “You?”

She shakes her head in response. There’s another knock, louder this time. You quickly put the cigarette out and waved the curtain around, your best attempt to somewhat ventilate just in case this was a surprise visit from your Nana who, despite being a heavy smoker herself, would kill you for indulging in the cancer sticks.

While you spray some perfume on, Holly walks towards the door. She shoots you one last glance, making sure you were presentable for whoever was on the other side of that door, then opens to reveal someone you both were least expecting.

Eddie fucking Munson.

“Oh,” he breathes, brows up, “I didn’t think—”

“What are you doing here, Munson?” Holly interrupts, holding onto the door so he knew he wasn’t welcome inside.

“Shit, if you just let me finish.” Eddie grumbles back. “I didn’t think anyone else would be here. I came to see her.” He looks at you then and your heart twists the second your eyes meet his.

Holly tilts her head in your direction and a sigh escapes her lips. There’s a reason she’s your closest friend. She can read you like a book and the expression on your face right now, gaze not leaving Eddie’s even for a second, is telling her to let the rockstar in — whether she agrees with that or not. 

So she drops her arm and pushes the door wider before stepping to the side. Eddie looks at her then back at you. He walks inside, not wanting to waste this opportunity since he didn’t know how long it would last, as Holly approaches you. The girl places her hands on your cheeks, forcing you to focus on her just for a moment.

“If you need me, I’m right next door, ‘kay?” Holly whispers and you nod. “Shout, scream, do whatever. I’ll come runnin’. I’m here for you, this time.”

“Thanks, honey.”

“Always,” Holly affirms then lets go of you. She straightens her top before turning around and walking back to where Eddie stood with his hands in his pockets. She sizes up the curly-haired man, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she shuts the door with a timid bang.

Silence settles in the air. Once again, it’s just you and Eddie staring at one another with immense longing yet sadness. Only, unlike earlier today, you don’t want to run away.

There are approximately three pieces of furniture between the two of you and the longer he continues to look at you with his doe-eyes, you’re calculating how exactly to manoeuvre around them to hug him, putting an end to this entire charade.

Something is still holding you back, however.

“What are you doing here, Eddie?”

He swallows and proceeds to hesitantly walk towards you, past the sofas you were debating jumping over mere seconds ago. He stops about an arms-length away, careful not to totally invade your personal space in fear of you pulling away again. Instead, he leans against the back of one of the couches and tilts his head to the side.

“What do you think of my song?”

You furrow your brows. “What?”

“Do you like it?” Eddie asks, but doesn’t give you enough time to answer, “I’m thinking you do since you agreed to be on it, but then again maybe you don’t and your reason for doing the feature is to mess with my fucking head.” His fingers are at his temple, pointing to emphasise his words.

There’s an ache in your chest. “You really think that low of me?”

Eddie’s face falls at the deflated tone of your voice and he’s cursing himself for hurting your feelings again. He didn’t mean to. Word vomit, is how his uncle Wayne described it back when Eddie was still living in Hawkins, it’s as though Eddie’s mouth and brain didn’t connect.

He sighs, running a hand through his locks. “I gotta get something off my chest, just in case you kick me out and we never get a chance another to talk alone,” he says then takes in a deep breath, “You probably don’t wanna hear this, and you probably won’t even believe me, but I genuinely cannot stop thinking about you.”

Your face softens at his confession, though you remain in place, arms crossed.

Eddie continues. “And I’ve never experienced that with anyone. I certainly didn’t expect to feel these things for you, especially after spending only one night together. Which is why I acted like a dick when you called. I was hurt that you hadn’t reached out sooner considering how near perfect that night was.”

A timid smile circles your features. Briefly, you’re cursing yourself for giving in to his charm so easily. Very briefly.

“Mr. Rock ‘n’ Roll isn’t used to having someone else’s life take priority over his, huh?”

That’s when Eddie laughs, and the second the melodic chuckle falls from his lips, you drop your arms and take a step towards him. Your fingers reach for his instinctively and he takes your hand gladly, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Totally not, no.” He admits. “But I am willing to change.”

“Hmm,” you hum, lifting your other hand to brush a loose strand of his brown locks away from his face. “Hope you’re a man of your word ‘cause I’m booked and busy. Can’t have you throw a fit every time I don’t call you.”

The smile on Eddie’s face widens. His right arm makes its way around your waist and he pulls you in, effectively closing the gap between you. His gaze drops to your lips, if only for a split second as he licks his own, then meets your eyes once again.

“I wanna do this right,” he mutters, his grip on you tightening. “I don’t want us to just jump the gun again and leave things lost in translation, so before we do anything else, I’d like to take you on a date, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat ‘cause who knew Eddie Munson was such a damn romantic — definitely not you.

“And where would we go on this date?” You muse, “Since we can’t really blend in with a crowd.”

Eddie purses his lips together, pondering your question. He lets go of you and places his hands on his hips as he walks around the room. You’re following him with your gaze, the smile ever-present. Then his eyes twinkle. 

“Well, how about right here, baby? We can order some room service and watch MTV in bed.” The rockstar announces, pointing to the California King and wiggling his brows.

So that’s exactly what the two of you do. 

With a tray of overpriced hotel food between you and the current top tracks blasting through the television speakers, the evening was perhaps the most normal you both have felt in a really long time. Eddie, of course, gave his opinion on every song that played in the countdown while stuffing his face with french fries. Most were unsurprising, like Whitney Houston’s I WIll Always Love You, well Dolly Parton’s is miles better in his humble opinion, or Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses, the guitar makes the song. Then came number three on the list.

You visibly grimace while moving the now empty tray to the floor beside the bed and Eddie chuckles lightly.

“Not a fan of your own music?” 

Shaking your head, you sit back although closer to him since there was no longer anything between you. “Just not my best song, is all.”

Eddie nods, resting his hand on your thigh and turns his attention back to the TV. Suddenly, you’re feeling nervous. For one, he’s touching you, thumb gently rubbing circles into your bare flesh. Then there was the music video which, as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, Eddie seemed to be totally hypnotised by.

And full transparency, he was. How could he not be? It was a one-shot type video of you singing while walking down the street as it poured rain. The outfit you had on was sticking to your skin as a result, hair wet and makeup smudged. Raw, is the first word that came to Eddie’s mind. Not to mention completely different from your usual vibe.

“You gotta give yourself more credit, sweetheart.” Eddie says after a minute and tilts his head to look at you. “Personally, I like this a lot more than your other shit.”

You meet his gaze. “You don’t think it’s too… desperate? Like yeah, the song is making rounds and charting in all sorts of places, but it’s so—”

“It’s about me, isn’t it?” He interrupts, scanning your eyes for the answer he already knows.

“Yeah…” You exhale. “Like I said, desperate.”

He squeezes your thigh before effortlessly throwing your legs across his lap and pulling you in even closer. One hand remains in your lap while the other makes way around your lower back, settling on the curve of your ass — all without breaking eye contact.

“There’s nothing desperate about you, sweetheart.” He mutters, face now inches away from yours. “I wrote a song too, remember? One we’re actually performing together, which is arguably way worse.”

That makes you chuckle lightheartedly as Eddie continues, “Plus, you look fucking hot in that music video. Anybody that says differently is stupid and/or blind. If anything, I’m glad I inspired all that.” His voice fizzles into something darker for the end of that sentence while his eyes snap to your mouth.

You can feel him under your legs as he presses his forehead to yours, all of him. It doesn’t help that he’s so pretty from this angle. The curve of his jawline. The dips in his cheeks. His doe-eyes focused solely on yours, dimming by the second with longing. And just like that, almost as if no time had passed, you’re back where you both started. Hearts beating in tandem. Eagerly waiting with anticipation for the other to make the first move.

“I really wanna do this right, baby.” He repeats his earlier statement, but the way he brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, dragging it down till it bounces back gently in place, betrays his words.

“We don’t have to do anything right now.” And although you mean it, you hope he doesn’t give up too easily.

Eddie exhales. Eyes closing momentarily. He’s fighting every urge ‘cause he doesn’t want to fuck this up again. For once in his life, he wants to see where things can go. But the feeling of your skin, the smell of your perfume, and the memory of you moaning his name so sweetly, well it’s got his heart racing and his dick harder. 

The hand on your thigh tightening in grip, causing you to whimper delicately. And that’s when he loses the internal battle.

“Fuck it.”

He wastes no more time, slamming his lips to yours in an eager sloppy kiss. You immediately kiss him back, hands settling on his neck, nails digging into the sensitive skin. He’s groaning against your mouth at the contact, pushing into you further so that you can feel his cock twitch against your leg. And you’re convinced that if you were standing, it would make your knees buckle.

Heads rotating side to side, nose grazing against one another with each wet kiss, Eddie adjusts your positions so that you were now fully resting on your back as he lingered over you. One of his hands was now on your waist, holding you firmly in place as he starts to grind his hips into yours.

“Eddie…” You moan against his puffy lips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl.” Eddie affirms quietly, trailing hot kisses from the dip of your lips down your jaw. And he desperately wants to stay true to his word so before you get a chance to react, he’s removing your underwear then slides down until his head is between your thighs.

You let out a tender giggle as his facial hair grazes against your skin. Eddie shushes you and after adjusting your skirt for easier access, he begins to place kisses along your inner thigh, drawing closer and closer to his desired destination. Aching for his touch, you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at his curls. He smirks against your flesh and proceeds to spread your lips with his fingertips, revealing how wet you truly are, then blows several cool breaths over your hot clit. 

He proceeds to gently slide his tongue up and down your pussy, so slowly, you feel every moment of pleasure. Then he flicks his tongue over your clit, sucking and licking the sensitive area until you’re a panting mess. And when you moan his name, Eddie works a little faster. Then continues to increase his speed as his tongue darts in and out of your dripping cunt. 

Just when you think you’re on cloud nine, he forces two fingers into you, his lips focusing on your clit. They arch up to reach that sweet spot he didn’t have a hard time finding the last time and you clasp your hand across your mouth, muffling a scream. He’s relentless in his movements and you find yourself grinding into his face, meeting the pace he’s set with overwhelming frenzy. 

Faster and faster, his tongue licks up and down, spreading your pussy lips further as his fingers dig deep within your cunt, sending you over the edge with every thrust. Your legs start to shake and thighs clasp hard against his head, trapping him in place, while he continues to sucking till you go limp. 

It takes you a moment to recover and Eddie’s feeling mighty proud as he places a tender kiss to your cheekbone before moving to your mouth. You can taste yourself on his lips and it’s enough to drive you crazy all over again.

But Eddie’s got other plans. He’s decided this night is all about you, so despite the desperate hard-on currently concealed by his trousers, he cleans you up before asking where you keep your pyjamas. Your heart soars as he helps you get changed and eventually settled under the covers. 

“Stay with me.” It’s a request he’s happy to oblige. Throwing off his t-shirt and jeans, he joins you in bed briskly. The two of you fall asleep shortly after that, MTV still playing in the background. As first dates go, this one was pretty perfect and you were starting to feel like everything with Eddie was going to be this way. 

Unfortunately, the serene moment was short lived, which, in hindsight, you should’ve known people of yours and Eddie’s stature weren’t privy to normality. 

The following morning, you were both abruptly woken up by a frantic Holly. She doesn’t say anything about Eddie being in your bed, for which you’re grateful, just chucks a newspaper into your lap while you wipe the sleep from your eyes.

Slowly, you sit up then reach for the paper. Glancing between your friend and the guy in your bed, you unfold it. Eddie rests his chin on your shoulder and you both focus on the front page.

“Shit,” he expresses exactly how you’re feeling at that moment ‘cause gracing the front page, with a rather raunchy headline, is a photo, taken yesterday, of the Corroded Coffin frontman towering over you, his hands cupping your face.

#celebrity skin. #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson story #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut

[tilly-tilly-2827]

Benedict Bridgerton and the Multiverse of Madness

What always puzzled me (and adored) about the characterization of show! Benedict is his emotional maturity. Quoting the amazing Times article, he is a “loyal friend, a sympathetic listener with an open mind, a game and giving lover, and the emotional bedrock of his family”. (Lang, 2024) He’s very emotionally intelligent and sympathetic; the ability to sense his siblings and friend’s discomfort, and soothe them in his own way, the open-mindedness to Granville’s sexuality, the list is endless. I love him.

Now look at Book! Benedict. Although we have his character development/arc throughout the story, when readers first see him in 1817, he’s a complete dick. Arrogant, slightly abusive, manipulative, completely ignorant of Sophie’s insecurities, doesn’t accept Sophie’s rejection. His emotional immaturity toward Sophie is completely different from what show! Benedict is.

However, now that I’ve seen the first half of season 3, I could see how show!Benedict is changing into the Book! Benedict. As @the-other-art-blog (read her great review from here!!) has pointed out, his unnecessary hostility towards the debutants is slightly disturbing. He is bored and exhausted from the society, yet he doesn’t have a purpose in life, giving up on his artistic pursuits. In his season, He meets his love of his life at the masquerade, but she completely disappears from his world. His younger brother is happily married. His elder brother has two sons, so he’s no longer the spare. My guy is in absolute shambles and descending into madness at this point.

So as dickhead book! Benedict could be, he might not be relatable, but he is at least understandable. Benedict is at his lowest point when he reunites with Sophie in 1817; that is why he is so possessive and patronizing towards Sophie. He has to threaten and blackmail Sophie to London because he doesn’t want to let go the only light (Sophie) he found in his miserable life, and he’s already lost the love of his life, he doesn’t want to risk losing it again.

One of the most dickheaded moments in AOFAG?

The lake scene. Love that scene. Very Romantic. However, if you think objectively, seeing Sophie spy on him, Benedict proceeds to kiss her and asks her to be his mistress and tries to take her down on the ground? Knowing that she is a virgin? Absolute chaotic behavior and nothing like the soft, considerate respectful-to-women Benedict we saw in the past seasons. Why is he acting like this? Because at this point of his life, He is absolutely LOSING HIS MIND AND SANITY.

The aggressive “YES!!!” From season 3 Benedict? Oh we are slowly stepping in to the worst side of Benedict Bridgerton. Not the charming, respectful Benedict we have fallen in love with since the past seasons.

This is completely different from the topic that I rambled on, but I’m can’t wait to see the reaction when Sophie rejects Benedict during the pond scene. “I don’t see why not.” “But you wanted to just few second ago.” Imagine the look of confusion and frustration on Benedict’s expression. (In the past, viewers see that Benedict can bring girls to bed with one smirk and a flirty banter,) And as we all well know, Luke Thompson is the mastery of micro-expressions. Would love to see him deliver these lines.

Also, Benedict sleeping around with Lady Tilley, and also with the past ladies really heightens the tension between Sophie and Benedict, especially on the point of physical intimacy. For Benedict, he just likes to have fun, having sex is just light and breezy. So of course he would have no problem fucking an innocent girl who seems to like him back. In outdoors. On the FUCKING GROUND. However for Sophie, physical intimacy is almost like a sin; She can’t repeat the tragedy of her mother and make another human being suffer from the baseness of their birth. Ben and Sophie are perfect for each other, but Their polar opposite perception towards physical intimacy creates so much conflict and tension between the two. This point is also what differentiates Benophie from other couples, especially compared to Polin.

Benedict and Sophie are soulmates, two lost drifting souls finding solace, comfort and love in one another, but there is a deep rift between them that they have to overcome.

The angst in AOFAG is just pure drama.

Any thoughts? Love to hear your ideas too🥰🥰

I’m further rambling on in the comment section 🥶

References

Lang, Cady. Why Benedict is the Best Character in Netflix's Bridgerton | TIME, 2024

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benophie #sophie beckett #an offer from a gentleman #benedict x sophie #luke thompson #just my thoughts #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton season three

[crooked-wasteland]

Hazbin Hotel Live Blog: Masquerade

So, been a few and we pre-gamed for this one extra special. I will be transparent in that I have a personal history with SA and quid pro quo sexual abuse as well as physical and domestic abuse. My partner has warned me prior on the larger portions of the shock value Medrano uses, but we both are not really sure how I will react to this.

Amazon has added an explicit warning for sexual assault to the episode that was not previously there. So good on them for that.

The audio between Keith David and Blake Roman feels like they were done in different parts of the world.

Tell not show. Husk just says all the things.

Angel Dust is shrill. I’ve never described a human being as shrill, but this vocal performance is shrill and I wish he never spoke again.

WTF was that animation as Charlie kicks her legs.

Valentino could be such an interesting character, but he lacks any depth.

So Charlie is just an idiot.

Blake completely loses the Angel Dust voice. He’s not even in character and the only thing he has to act with is his voice. You have to stay in character to be a voice actor.

The whole scene in the dressing room lacks any weight. Everything is so sudden and contrived. Charlie fucks up the shoot so Valentino has an excuse to abuse Angel Dust and it’s so obvious where the direction of events are going that it isn’t even emotionally investing. And it’s a testament to the fact that I was a pilot fan and invested in where Medrano would take the show to now saying I just don’t care.

“Just don’t hurt her” Where was the inclination that would happened. Angel Dust going off on Charlie was actually well written, but the fact that it is supposed to be seen as insincere ruins it.

The song has the most graphic depiction of sexual abuse and yet the whole message is confused.

Angel Dust is sexually abused and proceeds to Sexually harass Husk.

So Charlie ruined his day, but let’s blame Husk.

Why are we supposed to believe Husk is judging Angel Dust? He’s an alcoholic.

Angel Dust is living in self harm with his promiscuity and drug abuse, and that isn’t supposed to be who he actually is, it’s supposed to be his persona` to get by, but that feels like we are getting a whole new character introduced 4 episodes in.

Loser Baby is the worst thing I have ever heard musically and lyrically.

I stand by what I said about Loser Baby. It completely lacks any depth or emotional processing. It’s just two people who are making excuses for themselves and saying “well, I’m not the only one.”

So this is the shortest list I have because so much of it cannot be bullet points. Animation wise it lacks weight. The characters being hurt doesn’t feel real it lacks the sense of gravity needed for the violence to feel mature. This is less intense than Tom and Jerry. On the other hand, Blake Roman’s vocal performance is awful. He can’t keep his voice in character when he tries to have any amount of emotion, but the vocal deliveries that at least are in his character range are on par with Whitey from 8 Crazy Nights. It is ear splitting. Aside from that, the transparency of how Medrano is obviously ticking boxes to get to the emotional beats she planned, actual nuance and depth be damned. I just don’t care about what is happening, which actually is the only reason this isn’t so triggering. This episode revels in sexual abuse fetishism and it is equally as defensive about it. The signs pointing at Angel Dust are repulsive and to then have it set against the backdrop of “You aren’t alone so why bother changing” is appalling. I stand by the statement that this is group therapy without the therapy. The whole idea behind the group therapy setting is that you can learn from others on how better to help yourself, but this online generation has seemed to think that the group part was what made the therapy effective. In reality it is very easy for a group setting to become a cesspool of covert narcissism.

On the other hand, I don’t get how anyone could have thought this was about abuse of any kind. Because the whole episode treats sexual abuse as a joke from the beginning to the end. The only time it is taken seriously, it is whiplash. Angel Dust telling Husk how he wishes to become so ruined and broken that his abuser wouldn’t want him anymore is so heavy and abruptly serious when every other moment of abuse is either so cartoonishly done like the dressing room, or is played as sexy or a joke. It is a joke in the script from how poorly written the pornos are (which its shown Angel doesn’t want to participate in, but it’s made to be comedic so that aspect fades real fast) to how unimportant it is that Angel is literally attempted to be drugged.

And Charlie has officially become the worst character. I didn’t even see Charlie as a character, it’s very obvious where Medrano sources her inspiration. Just like how Lute is Peridot, Charlie is just Harley Quinn, except she has none of the charm and all of the annoyance. Which goes back to what I said before.

I think the worst part is that I don’t care. I really just don’t care because the characters just don’t care, and even when they do, I don’t know them enough to invest in them emotionally. This is not at all on the series being 8 episodes, this is exactly how I feel watching Helluva Boss, whom Vivienne is making a season 3 for as we speak. So the limitations are not why this series is so painfully shallow, it’s a reflection of a creator who lacks depth as a human being. Who has no life experience to draw from to really empathize with the characters and craft around it an emotionally visceral narrative. This is someone who lives their life as a simulation, pressing the right buttons, making the right choices to get the predictable outcome. If you told me Vivienne Medrano was actually a prototype android AI, I would believe you. This is how a computer thinks humans feel, even the abrupt changes in emotion is simulation of an AI program. Things move unnaturally fast in a computer, hours are like years in terms of social media. So I don’t think anyone is surprised that this feels like a script written and directed by ChatGPT.

This episode I didn’t find triggering. The episode itself does not affect me. What does trigger me is knowing the kind of person needed to make an episode like this in the first place. I don’t think anyone should necessarily be banned from telling any sort of story, but the byproduct of a machine and internet algorithms should never be allowed to tell human stories.

-20/10

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #spindlehorse critical #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel episode 4 #hazbin hotel liveblog #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical

[problematicturtle]

Takeaways from the ep:

- Claudia realizing that she’s not meant to be a daughter but a proxy for Louis’ sister hit so hard. Louis, who has lost everyone and everything, who finally managed to feel comfortable as a vampire by throwing all of that love, that life that he has into that one girl - whether fairly or not, is another matter entirely, but her actually *seeing* Louis, the way Lestat, for all his proclamations of love, never truly acknowledges, breaks my heart.

- Louis losing Claudia was always going to send him over the edge: he was already there, she just held him in place for a while. Does Louis love Lestat? I’m sure he does. Does it matter? Beyond the catholic guilt, Lestat is inhospitable to Louis’ nature. Louis is passive and suicidal and depressed and Lestat is absolutely the worst man to support him through any of that.

- hints of Lestat’s past, and the vampires out there, but Lestat never talks about it, so again, does it matter? Your trauma is just all your sharp edges cutting everyone else in your proximity if you don’t acknowledge it and try to work through it. Same goes for Louis, to be honest. They can’t communicate, and so are stuck in this toxic stew of not being able to be what the other person needs them to be.

- Kudos to Sam Reid for making Lestat cheating on Louis an act you feel sorry for Lestat for. All that desperate, delicate yearning for connection, and finding it elsewhere when he can’t get it from Louis. Heartbreaking. (Also he keeps threatening to kill Antoinette whenever Louis finds out Lestat is still fucking her, but she’s still around. I love Antoinette.) also kudos to Jacob Anderson for the absolute betrayal and hurt on Louis’ face without a word when Claudia drops the A word.

- why did the house turn into a pigsty? Louis didn’t do the cleaning? What are you, Lestat, do you have a disability that prevents you from doing the housework?

- IWTV fandom, please stop framing Lestat cloud dropping Louis as a result of emotional abuse from Louis. Please, just don’t. You can frame it as two dudes in a toxic, fucked up relationship if you want, and it is, because they’re both not human, and a violent act between them can be just that. But stop framing it as “well he was physically violent because Louis was emotionally abusive”. I cannot abide. Let them be fucked up, you don’t have to justify it. You can love a character who would drop a man from a cloud because he never said he loved him. He’s complex. And so is Louis. You don’t have to woobify a character to love him. He’s not real. (That said, I want to say I’m surprised, but… I’m not.)

- I’m deathly curious about Lestat’s POV of all this. We have only seen Claudia and Louis’, in all its imperfections and self-justifications. Suspect Lestat will have a wildly different take, and the truth is somewhere in between.

- hate what happens to Claudia. First writing move I disagree with. I shall, like Louis, tear the pages out and pretend it didn’t happen. You can grow up and mature without going through that. It’s a cheap shortcut to emotional maturity for a teenaged character, and I hate it.

- Louis and Claudia are both Black, and this matters still. Being vampires doesn’t change the way they have to navigate the world because you can’t kill everyone who engages in fuckery, can you.

#iwtv spoilers #interview with the vampire

[dsaf-confessions]

Henry and Dave had 'good' times and bad times, because Dave's not stupid, not even when he was young, he's hurt, he was quite literally physically weak from dehydration and hunger, and he'd never really been shown love before, but I truly think that despite all that he wouldn't of stuck with Henry if there was no mutual emotional connection there. And what do I think that emotional connection was, for the main part? Sympathy. Realised or not. Imagine Henry with this young homeless orphan boy, wide eyed, a quick learner, bubbly yet thick skinned, henry already a fair bit deep inside of the rabbit hole of his frankly deteriorating mind. I don't think there was entirely a net positive there, giving it a go to see if this child could help him bring back David and Martha, or atleast show the world what his intellectual prowess made him. I think there was an unrealised sympathy there that really this child had remarkable similarities to a young Henry, tired legs from pushing around that newspaper loaded bike all day and tired of all his fathers bullshit. Acting far too mature far too quick to stay alive. Hungry, physically hungry, because it wasn't easy to always have food on the table for himself as well. Atleast a bit of him recognised those memories in Dave. And Dave, it was a process, certainly, to realise that this blunt yet providing figure, who also entertained his desire for any educational enrichment long enough to keep him interested, wasn't truly ridgid and harsh. Dave knew he wasn't perfect, more of the metaphorical wire monkey as opposed to the cloth, only providing in the slightest bit to his emotional tenderness, yet I think there were events where he was caught being human. Being so ashamed of himself sometimes he'd drink like his father, and being a lightweight from his usual refusal of any alcohol, simply breaking down and being caught by Dave spilling his guts out about his traumas and past love. Facing an episode and letting his underlying and overwhelming neurotic fear of so much slip, even willingly mentioning Martha and david, atleast once. Things like these, from off the bat, Dave would process, and sympathise with. He would have faced loss, friends, people who'd shown care for him, even street animals hed bonded with, being shot, disappearing, over dosing, dying or changing or hurting, he knew what it was like to loose. He'd been loosing his wole life, and relying on shallow highs and a vigorous and animalistic need to keep on fucking proving he was worth something to get back on his feet again. Seeing this man who provided to daves basic needs and lust for knowledge, with an intellect and foothold on life, hurt like him, was nice. It was nice to know that the bad things would always be there, but he could grow around them. Yet he could still sympathise, and understand, and stick with him. I think Dave realised this, he was more emotionally mature than one would think. But the bad? I think Henry miller lobotomised Dave, and I think that greatly inhibited Dave's ability to consider and understand both himself and his emotions. The lobotomy was failed, so he wasn't completely placid and docile, more preserving this nagging emptiness where his humanity should of been, and having to haul mountains to work his way around emotions and emotional intelligence. Why did Henry lobotomise Dave? It was truly not completely thought out, Henry could provide a whole explanation however, yet the true reason was simply the machinations of a desperate and driven mind. Maybe this will work, maybe this will bring them back, maybe this will make it hurt less, maybe it'll make it hurt so much that I won't have to care any more. Even if it hurts to do it, tugs on the heartstrings a tad to turn this boy into a placid pet, doesn't everything hurt now? Dave was left agonised and neurotic with a hole to fill where his heart was (mwahaha) and an inability to truly make sense of much of his interpersonal relations or how to save his own ass in bad relations. His personality was still there, yet his cunning and freewill was blunted.

And yknow, he was springlocked and all too.

-the pink anon

.

#dsaf confessions #dsaf #dayshift at freddy's #dave miller #henry miller #pink anon

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 30 | Wing Fic

Blanket Nest | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,840 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Season/Series 08, Wingfic, Nesting, Angel Culture & Customs (Supernatural), Wing Grooming, Fluff, Light Angst, First Kiss, Grace-Soul Bonding (Supernatural), Interspecies Romance Summary: Dean sits on the bed and Castiel repositions to make room for him. Strong, careful fingers begin combing his plumage and he immediately fluffs up slightly in response, which is something he can’t control. Castiel has been refusing to acknowledge for years how strong their bond has become, and he ignored it further in purgatory because their lives were constantly under threat, but now… now, in the safety of the bunker, Dean’s new home, he’s losing the struggle to not finally address it.

Wet Hot American Hunter | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,055 Main Tags/Warnings: First Kiss, First Time, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Rutting, Massage, Coming In Pants, POV Alternating Summary: Dean and Cas take a nice hike together on a sunny day. An unexpected development on their excursion results in some long-overdue changes to their relationship status. TL;DR: Cas's wings pop out, so Dean and Cas fuck a little.

Un-Simple Miracles | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4,122 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Season/Series 15, Heavy Angst, Castiel Out of the Empty (Supernatural), Winged Castiel (Supernatural), Suicidal Dean Winchester, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Miscommunication, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Animal Death, Angel Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: It’s so stupid. Dean doesn’t even fucking like dogs.

Fractis Alis | @unanimous-anonymous

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,669 Main Tags/Warnings: Wing Kink, Wing Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, First Time Confessions, Internalized Homophobia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Anger Issues, Pushy Bottoms, Loss of Virginity, Happy Ending, Post-Leviathans Summary: [This fic takes place after Leviathan!Cas when tensions are high and Cas's guilt is thick. Cas appears in Dean's motel room, injured after an altercation with the angels. Dean plays nursemaid.] “Uh, Cas,” Dean cleared his throat. "How come I can still see your wings? I usually never see them for more than a couple’a seconds at a time.” Dean peered over Cas’s shoulder, letting the washcloth lag over his collarbone as curiosity got the better of him. Cas took in a sharp breath and retreated just slightly from Dean’s proximity. “I seem to be having trouble stowing them away entirely. My apologies, they became slightly damaged in the altercation.” Dean furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, ‘entirely?’” “What you see is only their shadow; not their physical form. I keep them in a different plane of existence, but when they need tending to it becomes… more difficult to keep them hidden.” Cas’s body language was steely, as usual, and hard to read. “You mean what I’ve been seeing is just some heavenly jacked-up angel-juice projection? You have actual, physical wings, like with feathers and crap?” Dean raised his eyebrows in amazement, but Cas seemed tense.

Wish Upon a star | @malicmalic

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10,000 Main Tags/Warnings: WingFic, BlanketForts, Nesting, FallenAngel Castiel, Angel/Human relationship, Human AU, meet cute Summary: Prompts: - wingfic (wing grooming is especially a bonus) - snow fort building OR blanket fort building after a day in the snow. basically: forts and comfort - nightmares and h/c - picnic (cloud watching, homemade food, etc etc) but honestly i’m not picky - as long as it’s destiel, i’ll devour it hahah Or the one where MalicMalic decided to write ALL the prompts.

Flight Back to You | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: General Word Count: 11,924 Main Tags/Warnings: Resurrection; Fallen Angels; Exes to Lovers (Dean and Cas); Supportive Sam; past minor character death; past Amelia Novak/Castiel; Castiel/Michael and Jimmy/Dean in a way but not really Summary: Dean's exhausted, wracked with strange dreams that bring back memories of a teenage fling he had years ago. While on the way to check out a potential case with his brother, his exhaustion catches up with him, nearly sending both him and Sam over a cliff's ledge. Luckily, a familiar face from Dean's past comes at the perfect moment to provide them shelter for the night. The thing is, as it turns out, they actually have a lot more history than Dean initially remembers. And all three of them apparently have a lot more feathers than Dean is comfortable with.

My Soul Whispers Your Name | @casblackfeathers

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,933 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, winged Dean, wing kink, wing grooming, soul and grace bond, fluff, hand jobs, blow jobs, bunker, domestic, happy ending, mutual pining, jealous Castiel, protective Castiel, sweet Dean, getting together, hurt and comfort Summary: When Amara tells Dean that she will give him what he needs most, the last thing he's expecting is to sprout fucking wings and to be able to sense what his own soul — and heart — really want, making it impossible for him to ignore all the feelings he's been harboring for Cas over the years. It’s no shock that Dean’s soul is drawn to Cas like gravity and now that Dean can perceive Cas’ grace all the time, he’s constantly reminded how stupidly breathtaking it is. He had been a goner since the second he laid eyes on Cas, and this just seals the deal. Now that he’s stuck like this, he might as well pull his head out of his ass, give it a shot, and finally get what he always wanted.

Cupid in Love | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 18,285 Main Tags/Warnings: Strangers to Lovers, Pining, Retired Hunter Dean, Angel Castiel, Oil Gland Kink, Wingfic, Bottom Cas, Top Dean, Omega Cas, Alpha Dean, Happy Ending Summary: Castiel’s success rate for matching humans who stay together for the rest of their lives is the best among his kind. Enter Dean Winchester, an alpha who breaks up with the perfect match Castiel found for him not once, but twice. If he wants to save his reputation as a cupid, Castiel has no other choice than to go to Earth in order to find out what this alpha’s issues are. It is supposed to be a quick trip. But things don’t always go as planned…

We're Butter off Together | @whichstiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27,207 Main Tags/Warnings: Butter sculptures, Bed sharing, Magic, True love's kiss, Bed and breakfast Summary: Set immediately after the Season Five episode “The End” this canon-divergent story begins with Dean and Sam heading to the Wisconsin State Fair to check out a butter sculpture of an angel that sounds awfully similar to Castiel. Sure enough, when they arrive the incomplete sculpture looks a lot like Cas - enough so that the Winchesters call in the angel himself to help investigate it. Castiel, upon arrival, is mistaken as Dean’s partner - as in “life partner” - and they’re forced to share a room at a local B&B during the investigation. When Cas falls prey to the dark powers at work, Dean must confront his feelings in order to save Castiel.

Calming the Weather | @seidenapfel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 35,490 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post 15x18 – Despair, the finale never happened, Angel Dean Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Repressed Dean, Internalized Homophobia, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Dean Winchester in Denial About Sexuality, Dean Winchester Has Sexuality Realizations, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, Kid Jack Kline, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, First Kiss, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester Wing Kink, Wing Kink, Mild Smut, Angel Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: Rescued from the Empty, Cas is fully human, and miserable. So, rather than acknowledge what happened in the dungeon, Dean searches for a way to change that. He finds it in a simple spell. The spell gives ordinary humans a limited dose of angelic powers. Too afraid it might harm Cas, Dean tests it on himself. But it backfires. Thanks to a piece of Grace bound to his soul, Dean wakes up fully powered, wings and all. With their roles reversed, it is up to Castiel to teach Dean how to wield angelic powers, and for Dean to share the peaks and lows of humanity with Castiel. Misconceptions come to light as they learn from each other. Meanwhile, a storm is brewing. In order to stop it, Dean not only has to get a hold on his emotions, but he must face a revelation about himself, one he had repressed all his life.

The Angel's Widower (WIP) | @pray4jensen

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 60,416 Main Tags/Warnings: top!cas, bottom!dean, soul bond, mating rituals, wing kink, enemies to lovers, s12 canon divergent, angst with a happy ending Summary: After Castiel dies, a portal to another world opens and obliterates the universe that Sam and Dean know. A world with new rules and new consequences, a world where humans live in camps enclosed by high walls to keep angels out, where angels will do anything and everything to seduce and lure humans away. Why and to where beyond the wall, no one knows. But then one night, on the other side of the wall, in the middle of a snowy blizzard and under the cover of darkness, an angel with beautiful black wings and a familiar face appears. His name is Castiel. And he asks Dean to go with him.

Dangerous Temptation | trenchcoat_paradigm (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 101,143 Main Tags/Warnings: Curse Breaking, Mutual Pining, Dreamsharing, dream walking, Castiel Gets Wings Back (Supernatural), Wing Kink, Dean Winchester Can See Castiel's Wings, Mutual Pining, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Smut Summary: “The fuck is that?” Dean grabbed his wrist before fingers could make contact with his forehead. The gold talisman swings wildly with the sudden and fierce motion from Castiel’s clutched fist. Dean’s posture slumped in discontent as green eyes met his stare. “Damnit, Cas.” -------- When a childhood fairy tale comes to life, Team Free Will 2.0 is left with the challenge of finding and destroying an enchanted talisman known as the ‘Crown of Luck’. A mystical medallion so powerful that it is said to grant the wearers' most deep-seated desire. But the boys know all too well from past experience how detrimental that can be. However, Castiel is oblivious to its true power, (even if it managed to fully reconstruct his wings) he already knows the one thing his heart truly desires is something he can never have. Dean thinks he’s going crazy, he’s always had a little crush on his best friend, a ‘look but don’t touch’ kind of thing. But with his head giving him ideas, dreams shared with his favourite angel (and with him flaunting those damn wings all the time!) it’s making his little infatuation harder to ignore.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #wing fic #day 30

[vegaly-art]

The Tragedy of the Shroud Brothers, a Comprehensive TWST Analysis

Since my previous Ortho Rant did so well, I decided to write up another (and have one or two more in the works related to other aspects of him). I quite like sharing my interpretation of him, with all the evidence I can possibly get about it, and see how others react to it! It’s really nice to see!  This analysis will be on the Shroud Brothers, their relationship, and the several things that made it dark, unhealthy and extremely trecherous for much of their time in game, up until post Book 6. Now, to clairfy, I am NOT implicating either of the brothers for this directly, nor trying to slander them. Both of them had their parts to play (though admittedly Idia had a larger one), but I do not believe either of them did what they did, or formed the codependant and unequal bond they did out of maliciousness. They loved, and still do love each other very much, however their collection of mental issues, physical and mental limitations, circumstances and more made them have a very existencially uncomfortable dynamic, that is also profoundly sad... because they were both fucking trying, but sometimes trying and love alone are not enough. But they worked through these issues and I am very proud of them. Their relationship is flawed, and to some extent almost existencial, but it is also entirely human. It is filled with miscommunications and reliance and unfairness, because a relationship is not a ledger that resets at 0, but a consistent, ever growing and changing force of it’s own, that needs both sides to contribute to grow healthy. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s begin!

Too Much Labour Let’s start with the first and simplest examination: what the relationship looks like on the outside, and then delve deeper. Idia and Ortho are brothers, with Idia being about 2 years Ortho’s senior, and them clearly having a rather close bond. Idia takes Ortho almost everywhere he goes, whether to classes, around school, etc. Though they’re not always together, especially when Idia’s in his room or Ortho’s busy with errands, they spend much of their time together with Ortho being Idia’s closest friend, confidant, and emotional support. Idia trusts his little brother with almost everything, from his interest in games and anime, to his tech work, to homework, and occasionally his emotions, though he keeps a distance from Ortho with that at specific times, chosing to lock himself away rather than face his feelings. Ortho, on the other hand, balances Idia out. He’s much more outgoing and extraverted, he is much more careful and knowledgable of concequences, and to an extent more generally mature. He is always the one helping Idia if he’s in a slump, he’s the one comforting him or giving him space, helping him with schoolwork, helping with chores, forcing him to give certain things up before the concequences catch up to him (See Idia’s Labwear Vignette). And Ortho wants the best for Idia, even above himself, always. Idia is his everything. He is the only one who does maintanence on Ortho, who keeps his code and learning in check and has some level of control over what he can and cannot learn or do. He is all of Ortho’s responsibilities, his thoughts, his time. Ortho protects Idia’s reputation as best he can through petty or sometimes destructive means, and punishes those who speak ill of him. The amount that he does for Idia reflects that Idia is the only reason he’s... alive... at all... but I think the issues are already becoming present even from such descriptions. 

Ortho does basically ALL the emotional labour in their relationship. Not only must he be reasonable and smart and consistent and push Idia to try new things but not hard enough to upset him and make sure he’s always by his side and never get any new friends and do all his chores and other work that’s not school related but also... Ortho holds up the burden of pretending to be someone he is not, and fitting an image IDIA put onto him because he could not process the death of his brother (and nothing else. That was the only image he could live as or aspire to)... but what’s sadder still is that it’s an impossible task. Ortho could never live up to the Ortho who was alive... because Idia doesn't actually see Ortho as his brother, and Ortho is PAINFULLY aware of it. Idia mentioned at the end of Book 6 that Ortho "Doesn't have to pretend to be his brother anymore", and alludes a few other times to the fact that he knows Ortho is just a reconstruction. One that he made out of guilt and grief over the death of his sweet baby brother who was probably his emotional support even in childhood, and who he felt he could not function without... so he rebuilt  him for the soul purpose of ACTING like his emotional support, and also general support which is why he has things like medical knowledge, cleaning, why he has better social and reasoning skills than Idia (even if that was gotten from AI learning). And... I think it's very clear to see that Ortho knows how Idia thinks of him.

Filling In For Someone Who is Gone

He acts silly and whimsical even though he can clearly chose not to because that's what Idia needs from him. And that’s fine and all to do, it seems to be his preferred form of expression post Book 6, however at that point he at least expressed true negativity, true hopelessness, and true drive to grow and evolve and change. But... before Book 6, and even during it, Ortho was always positive, even when it was clear he was upset. He always went to Idia for help when needing problems solved, but all those problems were related to his technology, to his abilities, never to his emotions... He had to act like the perfect image of someone who did not exist. And he DID. And he did it WELL. VERY WELL... But there is still that distance there. The distance Ortho tried so hard to bridge because he knows that's what he's SUPPOSED to do, but he can't. Because he is not Idia's 'real' little brother, and never would be. He was just an AI reconstruction based on him, and nothing more. Just a computer; a doll; a puppet... but dammit he tried anyway. Though that was partially out of force... because Idia did not LET HIM be any other way. The way he absolutely rejected Ortho having free will in Book 6 is proof enough of just how controlling he truly was over Ortho, whether he intended it or not... but Ortho had his own will anyway, and put it aside because he knew his brother either would not like it, or it’s not what he needed... Ortho worked so hard, every moment of every day, without a choice to do or be anything else, and without the opportunity to be anything more... it’s so tragic. But one thing that likely complicated this is that: Ortho's memories are likely extremely fucking strange. Specifically he has probably the most depersonalized childhood you could think of (This is HC however it makes complete logical sense, let me explain). Obviously they couldn't get human Ortho's memories, only how others remembered him and likely camera footage. So it's likely he has to live up to this biased, 'perfect' standard of himself. And it also gives another reason (besides Idia’s controlling behaviour) why it took him so long to find his own identity as an individual since most of his memories were not actually him alone, and held NONE of his actual thoughts and feelings... which is really tragic and fucked up and terrifying. He may even have felt that his negative emotions may be 'unproductive' or 'bad’, and overall things he should not have because they cause others, especially Idia to feel bad, and likely were not put into his memories, or were not prioritized. So he masked these negative emotions with a smile and internalizes them, working through them completely alone. (This is very much based on his Burst Gear Vignette)... and it fucking sucks. He has to be the therapist for Idia, and also for himself because... well... who would be there for him? Idia is too unstable and would just see any emotions of Ortho’s own as a defect or ‘logic bug’, his parents probably want nothing to do with that sorta thing, and who else does he even have until Post Book 6?? Just... imagining being in such a situation is so viscerally terrifying if you think about it. KNOWING all you memories are not your own, KNOWING you have to live up to a clearly IMPOSSIBLE image of a person who didn't exist outside the minds of others, KNOWING that no matter what you do you will never be able to because people know that person is dead, and KNOWING that you have to do so anyway because your will is not your own, and this is the only path you have in life... and continuing to try and make the best of it anyway.

A Fresh Start    However, the most interesting part of all this to me is the Epilogue of Book 6, where, with a bit of the original Ortho's soul, Ortho chose to still be Idia's brother of his own will, even when Idia insisted he did not have to. While I think that may be a bit out of habit or obligation, I do think it also just reflects Ortho’s maturity. He is implied to have known all this time about the amount of control Idia had over his life. The unfairness of their relationship, and that he was forced to be someone else for Idia because he couldn’t move on. The amount of labour it took from Ortho, and the amount of emotion he suppressed after all that time, and that their relationship would likely take a while to be a truly honest, open, and equal one. And he was willing to give Idia the chance anyway, even though honestly he did not have to. He was willing to put aside the hurt, and put aside Idia’s immaturity and trust in him to be a better brother, and encourage him. Because he knows Idia still needs him... He is shown to be more independant from Idia post Book 6, such as with the Fairy Gala Remix where he made his own gear and solved issues on his own, or with his Union Gear which shows that he has his own room and likely has started doing his own maintanence and repairs, but he still cares for and is close to Idia. They just need that bit of natural distance. So Ortho can go to his own classes, do his own things, have his own friends and responsibilities. And Idia is obviously not super happy about that, it’s shown DIRECTLY in the Fairy Gala when he’s upset with how Ortho didn’t even come to him for any help, and didn’t heed his warnings not to take part in the fashion show... but... even still, he trusted Ortho’s judgement and believed in him. His heart hurt, knowing he had to let Ortho go into the big scary world alone, and also that he now would not always be there for comfort, and Idia had to get his needs met and be more responsible himself. But even though it hurt, he still supported Ortho anyway. Because it didn’t matter what Idia felt, Ortho deserved the respect and freedom. And Ortho responds in kind by being in a weird way a role model for Idia, with all that he’s learning and being mature and such, while also remaining a consistent wholesome presence in his life if he needs. And others also encourage Idia to be more honest with his praise of Ortho, which probably helps validate Ortho a lot so he doesn’t feel like he’s just... expected to do everything, but he chooses to and would get rewarded for it.  I love their relationship post Book 6 so much. And the one they had before Book 6 may not have been the healthiest, but it was rich, and genuine, and HUMAN. It had struggles and hurdles and unfairness and difficult communication and just... so much nonsense, but it was still filled with love and good intentions. And while that alone does not make it ok, I think that to judge it as morally wrong would be unfair. 

Further Reading/Sources in Game that support my points:  - Book 6(As usual, most of my analysis is based on Book 6. Notably from about when Ortho meets the Phantom to the Epilogue covers most of what I mentioned here).  - Book 5 (Shows his defence and also closeness with Idia, to the point of it being a little bit... too much. If that makes sense. Basically covers the first section of their relationship before getting into deeper details) - Ortho’s Dorm Uniform Vignette (Also shows his defensiveness of Idia, and implies his reliance on his brother’s opinions, changing his emotional state based on Idia’s, from proud to sad and apolegetic, and seeking validation after his prank finished.) - Fairy Gala Remix (I explained this directly, but still think it’s good to read for oneself :)) - Ortho’s Burst Gear Vignette (Reflects Ortho’s selflessness and focus on Idia’s emotions over his own. Also important timeline wise as it heavily implies that Ortho was only awoken a short while before Idia’s 3rd year at NRC based on dialogue, though this is more my interpretation. ) - Idia’s Labcoat Vignette (Shows the difference in Ortho and Idia’s maturity levels directly. ) - Idia’s Cerimonial Robes Vignette (Shows Idia’s extreme reliance on Ortho, to the point that Riddle actively points it out, and also Idia being COMPLETELY out of the loop with Ortho’s emotions and not having the mental capacity to think or care about them especially when his mental illness is getting the better of him. Also important timeline wise as it heavily implies that Ortho was only awoken a short while before Idia’s 3rd year at NRC based on dialogue, though this is more my interpretation.) - Idia’s Stargazer Gear (Shows that Idia does in fact see Robot Ortho as seperate from his real self, implies Ortho having limited memories/experiences as he chose to focus almost entirely on Idia in the memory he brought up, and Idia at least seeing that Ortho’s trying to get the two of them to grow closer together.

#The Shroud Brothers need therapy so bad <3 #twisted wonderland #twst spoiler #twisted wonderland book 6 #twisted wonderland spoilers #shroud brothers #ortho shroud #twisted wonderland ortho #ortho #idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia #essay #character analysis #brainrot #relationship analysis

[karikarasuno]

sonder ch. viii

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader x Levi Ackerman

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Lack of Communication, Flirty Behavior, Masturbation, Eavesdropping, Descriptions of Sex, Too Many Feelings

Word Count: 5.6k

song(s) for the chapter: my all by mariah carey

chapter vii | chapter viii | chapter ix

Pandora’s box. That was what Moblit and Hange were currently trying to pry open from you with their bare hands. When you agreed to take a late lunch with Moblit, you hadn’t realized that your chicken caesar wrap would be accompanied with a side of interrogation. All lighthearted and well-intentioned, but you’ve been unsurprisingly irritable lately. Your newly realized feelings for Levi and Erwin left you emotionally drained and physically tense. Not that it was anyone else’s fault but your own. Moblit, though, was not helping the situation. And Hange’s erratic commentary was truly the cherry on top.

“I’m just saying you all seem awfully close,” Moblit said. He was teasing you and it was clear, but you couldn’t help but bristle at his words. 

“Friends fuck sometimes and that’s okay,” Hange added, thoughtful and serious, which made your jaw drop and your food bitter in your mouth. 

“Hange, please,” you said, pushing your half-eaten wrap to the side and taking a sip of your iced hibiscus tea instead. “We’re not,” your lips refused to fix around the word fuck out loud, “sleeping together.”

“So then what are you three doing together all the time?” Moblit asked innocently. The innocence was a mere facade, though, since you knew he was simply trying to fish for information. 

“Hanging out. Y’know, like we are, right now.” 

“Right,” he said unconvinced. “So you expect us all to believe you’re not dating?”

“Yes, exactly that. Because it’s not a belief if it’s a fact,” you bit out, your eyes narrowing at him when he smiled and shrugged.

“So you and Erwin are just hanging out as friends this Saturday?”

“How the hell do you even know about that?!” You whispered loudly, leaning towards him and snatching a potato wedge from his plate as payment for your distress. Levi had asked a favor of you yesterday when he had to take a last minute shift for Saturday since one of his regular patients needed an emergency session. Erwin’s father and his fiancee signed up for a dance lesson for their upcoming wedding and invited Erwin and Levi to join them. But given Levi’s schedule change, he asked you to join them in his place. You said yes (obviously) because you said yes to all of their requests, even if it was at your own emotional expense. 

“Levi told me,” Hange said casually. “He only feels a little bad over it because he hates dancing.”

“Of course he did and of course he does,” you responded grumpily as you slouched back in your seat and looked out the window you were seated beside. “This is just a favor anyway, nothing else.”

“Not a date,” Moblit nodded, as if he was agreeing with you when in actuality he was pressing you further. 

“Do you think my first date with someone would be a double date with his dad and his dad’s fiancee?”

“Sounds romantic enough to me,” he grinned, swiping the uneaten half of your wrap and taking a large bite in retaliation for the wedge you stole. You stared at him for a minute, observing the tiny moments of intimacy he always shared with Hange. The light grazing of his fingers on the back of their neck or the way they always made sure he had enough to drink in his cup. It seemed so easy. Fluid. Envy turned in your gut and it was only worsened by the knowledge of knowing your friends bore witness to your complicated relationship with Levi and Erwin, but knew you couldn’t do anything about it. 

“I don’t see what your point is,” you mumbled, glancing away from them again as Hange took a napkin and cleaned the corner of Moblit’s mouth that had a smear of caesar dressing left there aggressively. You fought a disgusted sneer at the softness between them to not come off as bitter. Which you definitely were.

“My point is, if it sounds like dating and it looks like dating,” he said it slowly as if you were beyond the capability of comprehension. “It’s dating.”

“Well maybe you should break it to your buddies that according to you they have a girlfriend,” you said with an annoyed eye roll. “Because as far as I know I am their neighbor who also happened to turn into a friend.”

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” Hange started, leaning forward with their elbows on the table. “But we’ve known Levi and Erwin for a long time and all we’re trying to say is it’s worth a conversation.”

“What conversation is there to be had?” You whined in exasperation. The memory of your almost kiss with Levi popped into your mind without your consent, the skin of your neck and chest warming up at the thought. That was a conversation that definitely needed to be had, but it had already been weeks since that night and neither of you made a move to bring it up. And with all your dinners together since then another incident like that hadn’t happened again. So, you forced it from your mind and refused to dwell on something that may have meant nothing at all. 

“The one regarding your feelings,” Moblit emphasized.

“What feelings?” You said stubbornly, arms crossing and an agitated huff released from your lips. You were starting to hate how easy it was for Moblit to read you. He had an uncanny ability of seeing straight through you. His intuition was nearly always right, especially when it came to the sticky complication of the emotions you swore you hid quite well. 

“You’re hopeless,” Moblit shook his head, placing your wrap back on your plate with a large chunk missing. Thankfully, they dropped the topic after that. But your mind couldn’t help but toss the concept around in your head for the rest of the day. 

They made it sound so simple. So normal. As if you entering an already established relationship with two men wasn’t odd or complicated. And it wasn’t as if you were any sort of advocate for traditional relationships. It was just something you never considered. A relationship with one man nearly broke you in two. And almost a year later, you were still reeling from the aftermath. It was hard enough grappling with the fact that you were falling in love with two people at the same time. You recognized long ago that you had the capacity for it. Loving people with your whole being was not a foreign concept to you. But extending that love, acting on that love, that you held for Levi and Erwin seemed crazy in a way that you couldn’t imagine. 

If one man had the capability to crack your soul in half so deeply the damage seemed irreparable, you could not fathom giving your heart away to two. Surely, the loss of their friendship alone would leave you raw and exposed. It would reverse all the work you had done this far. And you were afraid of the person you would become if you faced another loss like that. You felt jaded and cynical enough. If you handed your heart over to them, only for it to be returned in pieces seemed like a fruitless endeavor. Stupid, even. 

So you kept it exactly where it was. In the center of your chest with a stitched crack down the middle. 

“Erwin, we’re going to be late,” you called for him from his doorway. He was adamant on finding his black t-shirt, which you didn’t realize was even a remotely big deal. But, apparently it was and you had to be at the dance studio by 5pm. Currently, it was 4:36pm and it was a 20 minute drive. 

“Just a second! I found it,” he yelled back excitedly and you couldn’t hold back your loud sigh because you really did hate being late to things like this. It always made you anxious. Another minute passed as you began to tap your heeled foot against the concrete step outside his door because you were convinced that if you stepped inside he wouldn’t feel your obvious sense of urgency. 

“Erwin!” You shouted again, pulling your phone out of your purse to double check the time. 

“I’m coming,” he rounded the corner breathlessly, black shirt fitted around his torso with a zip up slung over his shoulder since it was still chilly outside this early in the new spring season. 

“You looked fine before,” you complained, grabbing his forearm and tugging him outside when he was close enough. “I don’t know why you needed to change.”

He locked the door behind himself, bounding down the steps to meet you at the gate. His hand found the small of your back then as he guided the two of you to his car, “I wanted to match.”

He grinned down at you with pleasant sincerity. As if matching with you was a necessity to this particular outing, and if he didn’t he would’ve ruined the entire thing. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” he smiled again and opened the door for you. “What’s the point in going to a couples dance class if we don’t match?”

Your jaw ticked at the word couple, your muscles spasming in your lower back when his hand disappeared and left you cold and tense. He was excited, but you could sense his nervous energy the moment you were in the car and driving towards your destination. This wouldn’t be his first time meeting his father’s fiancee, but it was still evident that he struggled with the idea of his dad getting remarried. And in typical Erwin fashion he played everything off as if it didn’t truly bother him. But knowing him for almost a year now, you could sense the tiny cracks in his facade. The fractures in his usually ebullient personality were starting to become more and more apparent. You wanted him to feel comfortable in your presence. And at present his nerves were crackling off of him like sparklers in the hands of a child on new year’s eve.

“Are you nervous?” You asked, eyes tracking a couple on the sidewalk beside the car as they walked their dog. 

“About?” His tone was hesitant, like he could sense you calling him out on his anxious energy. But instead of confronting him like Levi probably would have, you allowed his feign on indifference to steer your conversation. 

“Stepping on my toes,” you said with a teasing smile at him. He stopped at a red light, turning to grin at you–teeth white and smile blinding. 

“Oh sweetheart,” he replied in playful condescension, “I’m a terrific dancer.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” you responded snidely, expression unconvinced as you turned to look at him just as the light turned green. He released a loud laugh, his hand moving from the gear shift and hovering above your knee for a second. You were curious as to what he was about to do, your thigh tensing involuntarily before his hand landed on your knee and he squeezed. Your breath was held tightly in your chest, your cheeks growing warmer (a constant, uncontrollable reaction you were becoming increasingly more irritated by), and when his hand didn’t move for the rest of the drive every attempt you made at relaxing only made the discomfort fester more beneath your skin. 

The studio was small and on the second floor of a renovated townhome with a cute bookstore on the first floor. On one side of the room were floor to ceiling windows with a perfect view of the park that was just across the street. The lights were golden and dimmed to create an intimate and private atmosphere. Before you entered the studio, your short heels clicking satisfyingly against the glossed wooden floor panels, Erwin’s phone rang and he stepped back out, leaving you to greet the instructors alone. 

They were an older couple with thick accents that you could only attribute to an eastern European country, but you weren’t sure which one. 

“Hello, pretty,” the woman greeted you first, leaning over to press her cheek against yours. She was beaming at you, her eyes sparkling with excitement and you couldn’t stop the sheepish smile from stretching your lips in response. Her husband, you assumed, extended his hand to you in a warm handshake. 

You heard Erwin finally walk in behind you again, tugging on your purse to slip his phone inside before he said, “Looks like it’s just you and me. That was my dad and he said he can’t make it.”

“Is everything ok?” You said with a note of worry, but also the itchy feeling of anxiety stirred in your chest because this truly was a date now. Whether you wanted to admit that or not. 

“Yeah, he’s okay. I refused to ask what he was up to considering the fact that he was out of breath.” He shivered at the thought, and you laughed at the grossed out look on his face. 

“I don’t blame you,” you said, stepping aside so the instructors could introduce themselves. You had to suppress an eye roll when Erwin kissed the older woman on the cheek and she pulled away blushing. Someone had to be immune to his charms and it was unfortunate that it wasn’t you.  

“You two make such a beautiful couple,” the lady said warmly as she led Erwin further into the room and you saw his face light up in the mirror that was parallel to you. 

“Oh, we’re n-”you started, but was swiftly interrupted by Erwin’s appreciative, “thank you.”

Maybe it was easier to indulge rather than explain in a roundabout way to strangers that you weren’t actually together. And that he actually had a boyfriend. Both of which you spend an alarming amount of time with. 

“If it sounds like dating and it looks like dating. It’s dating.”

Moblit’s words clanged around your skull like a ping pong ball gone rogue. The sharp sounds rang in your ears and you were dumbly frozen in place until Erwin turned towards you with an outstretched hand and a teasing, “are we gonna dance or are you too worried about stepping on my toes?”

Embarrassingly enough, you did step on Erwin’s toes. Not because you lacked the coordination or balance or rhythm, but because you were stiff as a board. He was impossibly close to you. One hand on the small of your back applied enough pressure to keep your bodies pressed together while his other hand held onto yours securely. It was a simple waltz, but you couldn’t concentrate on anything besides the way his firm body felt pressed up against the softness of yours. 

Finally, when you were awarded a short break as the instructors went over to choose another song, you all but pushed Erwin off of you so that you could inhale a breath that wasn’t stained with the smell of his cologne. He was smiling as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. And looking at you as if he was privy to some sort of damning information about you. 

“You need to loosen up,” he said while stepping back into your space, his hands swiftly finding your shoulders and massaging the very present tension there. You sighed, the knot that settled near your neck forever ago being worked out by his attentive and strong fingers. “You know Levi can massage this out for you,” he added when he felt the obvious discomfort in your shoulders. 

“I’m not gonna bother him with that,” you shrugged Erwin off as you said it, inhaling another steadying breath. 

“It wouldn’t be a bother,” he chuckled, “we have a massage table in the guest room for a reason.”

You had never stepped foot in their guest room so that came as a surprise. “I’ll think about it,” you said, waving off the suggestion because downright refusing would only trigger his more persistent side. 

“Ok! Back to positions,” the woman called out, hands clapping together giddily. You recognized the song immediately. The first sounds of My All by Mariah Carey delicately filled the room and your spine tensed once again. You stopped yourself from groaning because out of all the songs this one had all the romantic yearning you could possibly imagine. And with Erwin’s hands on you again and your chest firmly secured against his, you had to close your eyes to steady the racing of your heart that you were sure he could feel pounding against his rib cage. 

“Relax,” he leaned over and whispered in your ear, his lips dangerously close to touching the shell of your ear as he squeezed your hand in an attempt to be reassuring. “Stop concentrating and let me lead you.”

You allowed your forehead to fall to his chest and swallowed down the apprehension that wasn’t allowing you to just enjoy the moment. Regardless of what Moblit said or how you felt for Erwin or Levi, you shouldn’t ruin the fragments of familiarity and intimacy offered by them. Whether it was their strange way of extending friendship or something much more complicated, you took it. You let Erwin lead you in a waltz. You relaxed your shoulders and when you took one last breath and looked up at him he was staring down at you with affection. Maybe tonight you would pretend– just as he had when you stepped in the room– that you really were a couple. That tonight instead of going home to a bed alone, you would feel the safety of two bodies beside you. In an ideal world it would be that simple. 

But reality had a sick way of reminding you that nothing was ever that simple. But a girl could dream. 

“Oh my god, look!” You said as you made your way to the car. There was a flower beginning to bloom right beside a tree. And even though snow hadn’t fallen in weeks, the dreadful chill persisted. And while the sun set hours later, spring had yet to reveal herself to you. 

Erwin stopped suddenly beside you, his arm bumping into your back from the abruptness of it. You were pointing excitedly at the flower. It was a tiny little thing with white petals. Nothing worth noting, really, but the stranger of hope began to introduce herself to you again. It was odd how something so seemingly insignificant made your heart grow in your chest. 

“Oh would you look at that,” he said, following the line of your finger with his eyes, “Levi’s gonna be happy about this. He’s been grumbling about his plants for the last month.”

“It’s how he relieves his stress,” you teased, smiling at the memory of Levi fussing over his herbs that sat in the kitchen window and cursing winter for overstaying its welcome. 

You heard Erwin scoff out a laugh beside you while unlocking the car as you approached. “I, personally, could think of far better ways to relieve stress,” he said as he reached around your shoulder to open the passenger side door for you. There was far more suggestion in his tone than you appreciated. And with how close his voice was to your ear again, you couldn’t suppress the shiver that went straight down your spine and scattered frenetically across your skin. 

The initiation of temptation had to be purposeful on his end. The lingering touches and over-indulgent words couldn’t be a coincidence and you were beginning to wonder if this was some game or if all three of you were treading across a tightrope that got thinner and thinner the further you balanced across. Someone was bound to fall first. And you were afraid it just might be you since you were barely hanging on as it was. 

But the fear of breaking after such a long fall was what kept your core tight and your body forcing your feet to remain unsteady on the rope. You were starting to believe, though, that neither Erwin nor Levi had those same priorities. Especially when, as you were stepping into the vehicle, Erwin leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your head. It was so unexpected that it gave you pause, your foot braced on the floor of the car as you whipped your head to face him. He was smirking at you expectantly, eagerly awaiting your reaction like he was trying to bait you into something. 

And in your disheveled state most of the words you knew seemed to escape you. Yet, the only thing you could manage was a petulant, “leave that man and his hobbies alone. Don’t be nasty.”

His grin grew wildly into something wicked. Your stomach flipped and desire swirled around dangerously low in your gut. He nudged you into a seated position, your head bumping against the head rest before he grabbed the seatbelt and clicked it into place for you. When his face was merely a few inches from yours, his breath casting puffs of air across your lips, you were taken back to the evening on your couch with Levi. And you wondered if he knew what almost happened that night. But as much as you wanted to look up into his eyes for some sort of confirmation, they refused to stray from his lips. 

“Fine,” you saw his lips shift around the word seductively, “but just know my idea of stress relief is much more fun.”

He pushed himself off the center console, ducking out of your door and then shutting it behind him. You were startled in a way you couldn’t really describe. Desire flowed through your veins like fear. Lust drove through your heart like anxiety. And it was the most conflicting set of emotions you have ever had the displeasure of feeling. Because now he wasn’t even being secretive about it. 

And for the first time since befriending the neighborly couple, you were beginning to feel like you may be in over your head. 

“Ok,” you started as you strode into Moblit’s office at 8:06 am, exactly two minutes after you saw him enter the office. He barely had his things set down before you shut his door and closed the blind to the small window he had that overlooked the cubicles. 

“What’s with the secrecy?” He said, a bit concerned, but mostly amused. He was still shrugging off his coat when you started to pace. Which you knew wasn’t the best look, but after your evening with Erwin and then stealthily avoiding them for the rest of the weekend to protect your sanity after what you overheard after he dropped you off at your door. You knew you weren’t crazy regardless of how you absolutely, positively felt crazy. 

Erwin wouldn’t intentionally fuck his boyfriend loud enough for you to hear through the wall that separated your living room from their bedroom. He couldn’t possibly know you were even laying on your couch that night because you were too lazy to get up and drag your ass to bed because strangely enough the arches of your feet were sore from dancing in heels for an hour and a half. It had to be another coincidence. But you knew the mood Erwin was already in when you left the studio. He had reckless energy coursing through him the entire drive home. Even when you stopped to grab takeout on the way home, he still possessed that crackly, staticky spirit that had you shifting in your seat expectantly. 

So, you could confidently assume that he was horny. Especially with the way he carried himself with a sense of emboldened carelessness. He kissed you again on your doorstep, this time on your cheek and narrowly missing your lips so much so he might as well have kissed them. So, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when you were startled awake from a sleep you hadn’t realized you fell under to a thud. It was muffled and distant sounding. You knew it couldn’t have come from inside your apartment so you decided to ignore it and chalk it up to the sounds of the city. But then, as sleep threatened to pull you under again, you heard a groan and a creak. Realization flooded over you like a bucket of cold water. Goosebumps rose on your skin in recognition of what was occurring on the other side of the wall and a fierce blush blossomed on your cheeks. Your whole body rising in temperature and that strange feeling returned to your gut. 

The heels of your palms pressed into your eyes and you knew you should probably gather yourself and head to your bed. But when you heard another moan, this one longer and needier than the last, you struggled to come up with a good enough argument to actually get up. One that based itself on something other than this probably being morally wrong. Eavesdropping on your friends while they were clearly getting hot and heavy was not an appropriate way to end your evening, but the weight of your touch deprivation was burying you into the cushions beneath you. You couldn’t even remember the last time you touched yourself. With the chronic stress and anxiety that exhausted your body it was difficult to conjure up the energy to even get yourself off. 

But this, this fervent desire that had rooted itself in your bones hours ago due to Erwin’s blatant teasing, was nearly suffocating you. Maybe you shouldn’t have allowed your hand to trail down your abdomen, smoothing over your sleepshirt and slipping hesitantly between your thighs. And you shouldn’t have matched the pace of your fingertips rubbing greedy circles against your clit with the way their headboard thumped against the wall. You muffled your own moans with the back of your free hand, merely mimicking what you knew to be Levi’s voice groaning alongside what you could only assume was Erwin fucking him. 

Your imagination, as vivid as it was, was running away from you. The idea of Erwin and Levi together in any position you could pull from your own memory was sending a hurried flush over your skin. Lips on heated skin, hands kneading at reddened flesh, it was too much. You already knew how pretty Levi looked with rose-tinted cheeks and wine-stained lips, and you could nearly feel Erwin’s strong body cradling yours. Being held by him without the layers of thin clothing separating your sweat-dampened skin. It was surprising how close you were to finishing with only a few sticky strokes to your clit. The pent up sexual frustration evidently brought to its boiling point. 

All you could hear, all that was replaying in your mind as you came over your own fingers was Levi whining out Erwin’s name in desperation. The sound of his release was obvious when Erwin could only respond with a “yes, Levi” and the pace of the headboard hitting the wall quickened for a few seconds before everything went silent. 

You lied there in astonishment and shame. Your fingers wet with your own release and your body slightly sweaty from unexpected exertion. How were you going to face them again after that? When all you would be able to hear when they spoke to you was the gruffness of their moans and the noises they made as they came?

It would surely haunt your every conversation and interaction from now until forever. 

“Are you gonna talk or would you prefer to burn a hole into the rug with your incessant pacing?”

Moblit’s voice startled you straight out of your memory. Your orientation returned to you once you remembered you were in Moblit’s office on the verge of a nervous breakdown instead of post-orgasm and spiraling out on your own couch after listening to your best friends have sex. When you met Moblit’s gaze, his amusement diminished in favor of true concern. Maybe you also looked just as crazy as you felt. 

“I’m in big trouble,” you said, arms crossing and eyes averting to look out onto his view of the lake that was miles away but still visible through the spaces between the high rises. 

“Legal? Do you owe someone money?” He said, hands leaning onto his desk and it should’ve sounded like a joke but he was being utterly serious. 

“I don’t want to know why that was where your mind immediately went. Quite frankly, it scares me,” you said, expression a mixture of confusion and astoundment. “But no, I don’t owe anyone money. I just maybe haven’t been completely forthcoming about my current situation with Levi and Erwin.”

“You totally fucked, didn’t you?” He smirked at you like he knew it all along. Like you couldn’t possibly keep anything from him without him finding out in some way. Which should’ve agitated you more than it did, but you were too wrapped up in your mess to scold him over it.

“No!” You said louder than you intended, so you lowered your voice when you added, “we didn’t fuck. At this point, I think that would be the simpler situation.”

“I have a feeling you’re being a little dramatic,” he said softly, again acting as if having a threesome with your two closest friends who were in a years long relationship didn’t have the potential to ruin things to an atomic degree. 

“Ugh,” you sighed, deciding to sit down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “A couple of weeks ago Levi and I almost kissed, and up until my date on Saturday with Erwin I was under the impression that he didn’t know about that given the fact that Levi and I have pretended it never happened. We were also high so I kinda thought he didn’t remember it.”

“So it was a date,” Moblit grinned, leaning back comfortably in his office chair as he looked directly at you. 

“Can you believe that his dad canceled on us at the last minute?” You complained, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “So, yes it very much felt like a fucking date. And it really messed with my head, especially because Erwin was being so…”

You allowed the sentence to hang there, not sure how to really describe Erwin’s behavior towards you that night. He was treating you like it was the early stages of a relationship. The unmistakable air of a date, the touching, the closeness. It was all so real and unplatonic-like. You groaned into your hands while your body fell deeper into the seat. 

“What do I do?” You emphasized whinily, peering at Moblit’s smug face between the cracks in your fingers. 

“Did Erwin make a move on you?” He asked simply, and you scrunched your face up in thought because the answer in your mind was yes, but the lines were blurry and you couldn’t see them clearly enough to come up with a straight answer. 

“I mean, how would you define ‘making a move’?” You thought back to the kisses he left on your temple and cheek, which he has done before. And the way his hands never strayed far from your body, whether it was your waist or the small of your back or even when he rested it on your knee on the drive there. You thought of his reassuring words and how he put your seatbelt on for you once you left the dance lesson. Those all felt like moves, but they also all felt like Erwin. 

And Erwin was handsy and clingy. 

“You know exactly how I would define it,” he replied dumbly and you fought the eye roll that always followed you whenever you spoke with Moblit. You loved him, but weren’t always too fond of him calling you out on your bullshit. 

“Fine, then yes, he was very,” you made weird grabby hands at Moblit, who frowned and tilted his head but seemed to understand what you were trying to convey. 

“Did he kiss you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“He kissed me like right here,” you pointed to the corner of your mouth and refused to make eye contact with him. You felt so juvenile and ridiculous. This was so much harder than having a teenage crush. So much worse too. 

And it was made even worse when you heard Moblit stifle a laugh. When you glared at him, he couldn’t suppress the cackle where it was currently lodged in his throat and slipped out in one absurd sound. 

“You’re so annoying,” you grumbled as you rose to your feet, fully intent on trudging back to your office and hiding out there for the rest of the day. 

“Wait,” he called after you, and you stubbornly turned around to face him again. “I’m gonna suggest something a little crazy… talk to them.”

“Why can’t you just let me be difficult?” You had to stop yourself from stomping one of your feet on the ground petulantly. 

“Because this isn’t as difficult as you’re making it, I promise.”

You heard the earnestness in his voice. He truly believed that this thing between you, Levi, and Erwin would work out. And you weren’t sure if he was delusional or if you were oblivious. But the ache in your chest only ever subsided when you were with them. The feelings you harbored could be one-sided but as each day ended and another began that didn’t seem like the case. Fear gripped you, though, tightly around the neck, squeezing your vocal cords together and refusing you to utter a word about your love for them. Your very real, awful, tragic, beautiful love for them. 

“What if I ruin it again?” You said barely above a whisper. You wanted to shrink into yourself. Nothing but raw insecurity ripped through you. “I can’t do that to myself again.”

#eruri x reader #eruri fanfic #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

Open and Waiting (Chapter 4)

Summary: You try out something new with Tech. As it turns out, like with pretty much everything, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Relationship: Tech x f!reader

NSFW 18+ only. Please read the warnings below the cut.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, cock warming, domination, submission, Dominant Tech, submissive reader, drool/saliva, cock ring, mouth finger fucking, verbal degradation, naked reader, praise kink, oral kink, use of the word slut to refer to reader, possession, mental domination, Star Wars swearing, not beta read, no use of y/n. Mentions of: Vibrator, phone/comm sex, glove kink, oral fixation, grinding, leather, hand kink. 

Chapter Summary: Tech decides that it’s time to play with his submissive and you end up with his fingers in your mouth. Filthiness ensues. 

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Five, Six | Ao3   

Word Count: 1936   

Author’s Notes: Please read the warnings! And please let me know if you enjoyed it. 

I’m trying out a new approach with formatting so if things look slightly different, that’s why. Chapter 3 ended up having a mature community label slapped on it by someone, which has honestly made me feel quite disheartened about this fic and my writing. I’ve only just started writing fic and haven’t even been writing for a month. This is the first fic I have ever written. I have finally found something that allowed me to experience actual joy for the first time in so many years and has really helped with my depression, anxiety, and completely ruined mental, emotional and physical health. And then some random comes along, kicks me in the guts, shits all over my work and then yeets it into the shadow ban dimension. Thanks mate. 

I have been meticulous about including warnings, notes about reading the warnings, and tagging everything as best I could. There’s a giant wall of warnings on every chapter. I even include warnings for things that aren’t directly involved and are only mentioned or referred to. Everything spicy is always under a cut so you cannot accidentally stumble across it. I’m taking this further now where everything above the cut will be general with a NSFW 18+ only warning for content and the giant wall of warnings, spicy chapter summary, actual fic and everything else will be under the cut.

–––

Open and Waiting (Chapter 4)

My reflection on Crosshair’s sadistic proclivities is interrupted by a change in movement beneath my cheek. The bouncing in Tech’s opposite leg has increased to a jittering that is almost vibrating. If he keeps this up I could probably straddle his leg and grind against his thigh and I wouldn’t even need a vibrator. Not that he doesn’t have plenty of those too. His latest invention had been so intense and had me screaming so loudly that Hunter had actually comm’d from out in the wilderness to ask what the kriff was going on. He’d been able to hear me from six clicks away. Being made to describe my pleasure in explicit detail to our sergeant over a comm channel while Tech continued to do unspeakably arousing things to me with his new toy had not been on my bingo card for that day. I’d never broadcast an orgasm over a comm channel before but apparently the noises I’d made when Tech finally allowed me to cum were worthy of a holoporno.  

A tool is placed on the workbench with air of finality about it and Tech breathes hard out of his nose as his leg stills. 

Oh?

Hmmm, he must be done. Either with the project, or me, or both.

All I can do now is wait. Tech can wield time and silence like a finely honed weapon. He has infinite reserves of patience when required and it’s all he needs to have me riling myself up into a frothing state of desperation. Jumping and twitching at any tiny perceived changes in the oppressive atmosphere slowly building around me like fog rolling in. 

Not this time though, as he begins to address me.

“On my command, you will slowly open your eyes. Ensure that you do this gradually as the photoreceptor cells in your retina need time to adjust to the change in light. Once you are able to see clearly and focus accurately, you are to look up at me. Understood?”

I make a noise of acquiescence around his cock. 

Another pause before that clear-cut voice gives the order.

“Open your eyes.”

My eyelids are immediately fluttering in response as I slowly open my eyes, the light making me blink reactively as I adjust to finally being able to see again. I keep my eyes half lidded to make certain that I’m following Tech’s instructions to the letter. Even in my slightly bleary state I can see the base of his cock poking through the opening of his blacks, a band encircling his shaft. 

It’s red. He’s colour coordinated his cock ring with the accents on his armour. The absolute nerd. 

I keep blinking as I slowly open my eyes more and everything becomes easier to see. The light isn’t quite so bright now and I can make out parts of the ship's interior behind his opposing thigh.  

I look up at him.

Brown eyes bore down into me from above. 

Tech takes a long moment to regard me, observing every detail of my obedient position between his thighs. His gaze is intense and arresting and I daren’t move even a hair. I can’t do anything to stop the glob of drool that escapes out between his cock and the side of my open lips. I feel it run down my chin but I can’t avert my gaze from his and I can see the moment he watches it fall. Tears prick in my eyes as he observes me subjugate myself around his cock. A hand gently slides into my hair before pulling my cheek off his thigh and centering my head in front of him. 

My eyes still haven’t left his.    

Tech shifts his hand to cup the side of my face and I can feel the worn texture of his leather glove as he runs his thumb back and forth across my cheekbone. I feel like an object of study under his surveying eyes and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to stop the tremble that is building deep within me. 

I’m not going to last much longer and I will break long before he does. 

His thumb ceases its caress of my cheekbone and then I hear a singular word fall from his lips.

“Exquisite.”

The admiration is delivered with reverence and his praise snaps what little control I had left and I’m nuzzling into his hand and whining around his cock. 

Oh Force, please. 

Tech permits this flagrant disregard for his rules with a knowing smirk. He has manoeuvred me precisely where he intended. The orchestrator of my downfall now has a front row seat to witness me fall right into his trap. 

I’m still trying to bury myself in his hand and my whining has turned into pitched breathy noises. The tremble that was building within me refused to cooperate and is now rampaging through my form. My eyes are pleading with him but it will make no difference. Tech will have his way with me precisely as he intends to and I will take what I am given. 

Eventually he tires of my desperate spectacle as his gloved hand moves to the back of my head. He leans imperceptibly forwards. Everything goes still. 

“Keep your mouth open.” Tech orders. 

I’m halfway through a muffled squeak before his hand is tightly gripping my hair and then pulling my mouth from his cock. Tech holds me there as another wave of drool follows his cock out of my mouth, cascading over my bottom lip before hanging obscenely off my chin. I can hear some of it hit the floor with a wet splat.

The squeak turns into a sob.

I must look like a debauched disaster. Mouth open, tongue presented forward against my lower lip, jaw slack, face covered in my own saliva as more of it continues to drip off my chin. I am kneeling before the very evidence of my own submission and I am definitely making a mess of the floor. 

“You may look away.” Tech permits.

I blink and realise that my eyes have started to water. I stare vaguely at the blacks encasing his chest for a few unfocused moments before my gaze is inevitably drawn down to his cock. 

It is completely covered in my saliva. 

Trails of drool run over the ring at the base of his cock and continue down to collect over his balls. Everything is shiny with spit and a string of saliva still connects the tip of his cock to my bottom lip. An involuntary noise of desperation emanates from the back of my throat. I resolutely keep my mouth open and jaw slack even as more drool pools at the sides of my tongue. My trembling grows. 

“You will remain in this position.” Tech informs me before releasing my hair from his grip.

He spreads his legs wider before leaning forwards, elbows resting on his knees, long fingers loosely interlocked. In doing so, the thin line of saliva still joining my mouth to his cock breaks and a distressed noise breaks from my throat. His hands are right in front of me, which means I can see every detail of what he does next. Tech’s hands shift and he slowly and precisely starts to pull each finger of a glove away from one of his hands. The glove becomes loose before being swiftly pulled off and I am met with the sight of his long, slender fingers. I chance a glance up at him and immediately know I’m doomed as those brown eyes have darkened and are regarding me with ravenous intent. 

“Maintain your gaze.” Tech commands. 

I am well and truly screwed now.

Tech waits for my continued compliance with his new order before reaching out with the hand that he freed from his glove. The pad of his index finger slides over my tongue and I can taste the leather of his glove and the salt of his sweat. A wanton and desperate moan escapes from me and I can feel even more saliva running down the insides of my cheeks. Tech continues to run his finger up and down my tongue, completely disregarding the collection of drool on my chin that is sticking to his palm.

A displeased tut emanates from him before Tech continues. “Only one finger and already you are a dishevelled wreck.”

I whine in response as he applies a touch more pressure with his finger, depressing my tongue.

“Making you beg is hardly going to be a challenge.” he chides.

I’ll beg. I will definitely beg. Please let me beg. 

Tech continues to slowly slide his finger over my tongue and I can feel more drool pooling at the front of my mouth.

“Such desperation.” he notes, in a highly amused manner. 

He is toying with me and there’s nothing I can do about it and it feels so good. I feel his middle finger briefly push my bottom lip down before it shifts to join the other digit already in my mouth. Both fingers are now sliding up and down my tongue as I make a feeble, pleading noise around them.

“Look at you, letting me use your mouth with my fingers, so eager to please. You are a good little oral slut, are you not?” he comments.

I’m sure I look like a completely wretched and desperate sight, kneeling here drooling around his fingers as they continue their unrelenting slide in and out of my mouth, their path up and down my tongue now well worn. 

Almost as if thinking about them has jinxed it all, Tech’s fingers still in my mouth and I can feel an iciness creep into the atmosphere as his eyes harden minutely.

“You were asked a question.” he states, a warning edge of hardness in his voice that wasn’t present in his casual observations just moments ago. 

Ah, so it wasn’t rhetorical. Oops.

“Yes Sir.” I hastily respond as best I can around his fingers.

“What are you?” he asks coolly.

Oh kriff, he’s going to make me say it.

“A good little oral slut Sir.” I answer.

“Whose?” he continues.

“Your good little oral slut Sir.” I reply.

Tech gives a knowing “Hmmm” in response, his eyebrow arching and lips quirking, before he goes back to languidly plunging his fingers in and out of my mouth. He’s got me wrapped around his fingers, literally and metaphorically, and he knows it. I’d say he’s quite pleased with himself and smug about it, but voicing that thought would be even more inadvisable than accidentally forgetting to answer him. 

“You do enjoy having things in your mouth, do you not?” he observes.

“Yes Sir” I quickly babble in response. Rhetorical or not, I am not making the same mistake again.

“One could postulate that you are the second with an oral fixation. Though your tendencies evidently lean towards insertables with more length and girth than mere toothpicks.” he comments, taking particular relish in placing emphasis on certain words. 

The way his tone changes on ‘insertables’ makes my cunt throb again. Tech hasn’t shown any interest in touching me below the neck yet, and I’d very much like him to insert something between my legs as well. Preferably his cock, and sometime soon. I’m only getting wetter. 

It wasn’t a question though so I don’t respond. Instead my mouth decides to do so for me as another globule of drool spills over my lip and runs down my chin.

Tech just continues to watch me. Observing. Calculating. Waiting. His fingers never ceasing in their repeated penetration of my mouth.

–––

Author’s Note: Please let me know if you enjoyed it! 

I’m not as happy with this chapter as I am with the first three but it’s done and I’m posting it and hopefully it’s ok. I can feel the struggle I was starting to have with it come through in my writing where I’m trying to connect parts together and not being overly satisfied with it all. But I managed to finish it and complete it, which is something that I really struggle with any kind of project so I’m glad I made it to the point where it’s at least postable. 

Fear not though, the next chapter is an absolute monster of filth that I am fairly happy with. I even felt content after finishing it yesterday! Content! I hadn’t felt that way in so long that it actually took me ages to finally realise what this strange, good-feeling emotion was. Why was I feeling randomly good? I’m not allowed to feel good, that’s not permitted in this hellscape.

Anyway, the next chapter is currently sitting at 2800+ words. Did I use those 2800+ words to progress the plot* like I was supposed to? Of course not! Did I instead spend half of the chapter on a tangent about previous spicy times? Of course I did! I have no idea how many chapters this is eventually going to contain but it is going to be way more than I ever thought. 

*Lol plot? What plot. Who am I kidding, this is pure filth.  

Next Chapter Teaser: Tech deploys his hickey making skills. You reminisce about Crosshair’s fascination with nipple clamps. And feelings appear again in the form of healthy kink practices. 

Taglist: @queenariesofnarnia @skywlker-sluvtt @techs-assistant @dangraccoon @iamburdened @pheesupremacy @motte-the-goblin @xxeiraxx @tc-99  

#fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #tech x reader #tech x female reader #tech x f!reader #tech x fem!reader #tech fanfiction #tech fanfic #the bad batch #tbb #star wars #tech #tbb tech #tbb fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #smut #18+ #minors dni #shoo

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Hii I love your work and honestly have been binging every from the beginning over the past couple weeks. You’re an amazing writer and have completely changed my view on shigadabi and shigadabihawks!! I was just wondering if you have any head canons on shigadabihawks your willing to share?

Hi thank you so much I'm glad you're enjoying it!

As for Shigadabihawks Headcanons:

Of the 3, Shigaraki is somehow the most emotionally mature. Dabi is consistently a mess, Hawks can only regulate his emotions behind his spy persona and otherwise struggles with them.

Dabi has an easier time being open and emotionally vulnerable with Shigaraki than Hawks because he and Hawks seem to have had similar but reversed experiences and he never knows how to handle that.

Dabi always sleeps in the middle because he is a perfect space heater

Dabihawks and Shigahawks actually have sex most often when it's not all 3 of them because when Shigadabi fuck, Dabi is usually left black and blue (consensually)

Hawks' love languages are words of affirmation and quality time

Dabi's love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch

Shigaraki's love languages are physical touch and quality time

Shigaraki almost always holds some doubt about how much the other two actually need him in this dynamic (unless he got together with one of them first) meanwhile Dabihawks are pretty sure they would be a dumpster fire if it wasn't for Shig's grounding presence.

Shig is usually the one to say "I love you" first, followed by Hawks, and then Dabi

#tanco speaks #ask #asks #shigadabihawks

[scoonsalicious]

man i miss Pocket x Buckybaby🤍

Major x Bucky are like the older wise version of Pocket X Buckybaby. Pocket and Buckybaby (as the nickname) are the babies. Our babies.

Reading unusable just made my heart swell with emotions. The snippet of Unbroken LEFT ME BROKEN. I can’t.

As much as I enjoy Major x Bucky, Pocket x Buckybaby is tattooed in my heart.

Btw I just saw someone said they’re team Lebron😂, and i think it’s because Major kinda looks like the ‘mean’ girl in Lizard’s POV. (If we switch Lenovo as reader, gahdamnn, everyone would be pissed at Major)… or they just love chaos AHAHAHAHAH.

Major does have flaws but subtle, and not the Pocket level kind of flaws. I can tell Major is not perfect. I have a feeling that she’s actually insecure of her own appearance and action but always keep her head high due to her divorce, something like that la.

I get it why it bothers some readers because we haven’t yet to see her bad bad moments. Plus, we were introduced with Major being the ‘baddie’/‘independent’ woman from the beginning. It is a drastic change from Pocket to Major. Not to mention this reader and Bucky are like rabbits 24/7😂 We’re seeing majorly of their body/physical chemistry here before it starts going to the emotional chemistry. (Might I also remind people that things would be crazy after Major and Bucky is officially in a relationship because that means war for Lebron?😂We’re still in the introduction on its way to rising action!!)

Also, we’ve been seeing more on Bucky’s and Lenovo’s POV (especially Bucky). It’s refreshing after Unwanted but I do hope we get to see Major’s POV soon because I’m starting to get attached on Bucky😂 I feel like I’m Bucky. Not only that, but Mother Pookie great mind too. I can’t wait for whatever she’s planning on WFLT.

Anyways, I feel like I haven’t done this for a long time but I wuv you Mother Pookie🩷🩷🩷. Here is your kitten smooches to boost your day!!!

PS// There are new pics of Sebastian Stan (at the Cannes event i think). He so cute. Too fucking cute. I want to pinch his cheek!!! HE SO CUTE LIKE A SMOL BLACK KITTY. I just wanna pet him.

(This is how I see him in the pic)

Me too, Pookie. Me, too. It's why I'm struggling with WFLT; I keep wanting to run right back to them. Pocket and her BuckyBaby are, always and forever, my babies, just like you said. So, I'm eager to get to Unbroken eventually. Even if, for now, I'm just jotting down little snippets here and there as they come to me.

Major and her Bucky are indeed more mature individuals, lol, which might be why it's harder to write them, because my brain just wants to jump to the most dramatic, angsty shit possible, but I am like 'NO! These are adults!'

Lizard is where I will have to get my drama out, lol. Girl's gonna do some crazy shit. Like, not full-on Cunthrage-evil, but more real-world crazy. Like, if you were friends with her on socials, you wouldn't interact, but you wouldn't block her, either, because the drama is too good.

Major's not perfect. She's got some combat-related PTSD we're going to explore, and though she would probably never admit it, she's insecure about Bucky's relationship with Lily. I know we're focusing a lot in these early chapters on Major and Bucky's... well, sexcapades, really, but I wanted to establish them as being crazy for one another, and to kind of really showcase how quick of a change this is for Lily.

But as you said, this is the RISING ACTION, lol; we'll get there!

But, I, too, love chaos. (Actual photo of me climbing the ladder of chaos below)

I love you so much, Pookie! <3 I hope you and your kittehs are well!

[thatwritingho]

no cause i have thoughts about pickle in the movie that are exactly this like. pickles has to support everyone but who’s supporting him 😭😭

Exactly!!

Pickles is stuck as the only one who:

1. Is capable of helping his friends, whether that be due to emotional maturity, life experience, etc.

2. Cares enough to actually try. (Bear in mind, I do mean on an emotional level. Physically, they all make sure everyone else is ok and not in danger.) We see him consistently caring much more about his bandmates than they do about him, and it breaks my heart. Like in SnBII, when he said to Tony "How could you replace me, we've been friends for years?" and Tony just shrugged and said he didn't know, it just happened. Like... Pickles still considered him his friend and was heartbroken to be replaced, and Tony' facial expression didn't even change💔

But... Pickles needs support, too! Sure, he finally told his mom to go fuck herself in Season 4, but all of those wounds from his family, the ones that caused him to become an alcoholic at under 10 years old, are still there. Pickles has serious abandonment issues that never get addressed, and he's consistently had to push all of his own trauma aside to take care of everyone else.

Pickles has to babysit all of his bandmates at the funeral. Toki is regressing hard because of his trauma, but neither Murderface nor Skwisgaar will help, and Nathan didn't even show up, so it falls to him. Then Skwisgaar and Toki drop him in the trust fall and seem to not even notice.

Pickles has to be a good friend and a rock for Nathan, even though Nathan was a very, very bad friend to him from Rehabklok all the way through Season 4. And while, yes, Nathan gave one (very short) apology at the funeral... that was only in regards to the Abigail situation, not anything else. Then Pickles has to be the one to slap sense into Nathan and get him to feel enough emotion to write the song to save the world.

It all just breaks my heart for him. I hope he gets a good therapist after all this.

Til then, I'm fixing it in fic!

#Pickles getting the short end of the stick in emotional support is the number one reason I created Olive #it just upsets me so much that I had to make and oc who will give him a hug #metalocalypse #pickles the drummer #aotd #army of the doomstar #aotd spoilers #army of the doomstar spoilers #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #william murderface #nathan explosion #dethklok #snakes n barrels

[lua-miyuki]

Punishment [2/?] | ZhongChi

TW: self-harm, blood

Childe barely fed himself. His body was weak and he hated his condition, but his wounds were healing slowly and the threatening shadow of the punishment that awaited him was far away.

His survival was his priority.

Zhongli was often at his bedside. Childe knew the features of his face by heart, but couldn't help drinking in the vision his presence offered. As he closed his eyes, hem saw again the gentleness of his gaze and the pursing of his lips as he changed his bandages, and watched the slow pace of his recovery.

Childe watched him, but never spoke to him. And when their eyes met, he looked away.

Childe could no longer hide his feelings for Zhongli from himself, but he couldn't forgive him either.

But Zhongli knew Childe very well. And the day he dreaded arrived early. Zhongli had just changed his bandages, but instead of leaving, he stayed. His insistent gaze foraged his profile and Childe stubbornly stared at the wall.

"Childe. You're an intelligent man. Sometimes too smart for your own good."

A finger caressed his bandaged arm and a shiver ran through the young man.

"I see what you're trying to do. It's time for this childishness to stop."

Childe clenched his teeth, feeling them grind against each other before turning his head towards him and charging headlong into the confrontation.

"Staying locked up here is punishment enough in itself!" he hissed angrily. "I'm far from my family, can't go out, and far too weak to get up and pee on my own! You're my punishment!"

Zhongli frowned.

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't understand! You're taking care of me! You brush aside my hair as it falls over my eyes so fucking gently! And all for what? To receive all this forethought only to be punished like a dog behind! You give me a fucking carrot so you can beat me better!"

His voice climbed a notch and Childe straightened up, his dull blue eyes shining with a rage that overflowed.

"I was only serving my country!"

Zhongli pursed his lips and Childe wanted to scream.

"You disappoint me, Childe. I thought you were more mature than that."

"I'm only human, Zhongli! Don't ever forget that! I'm a human being full of flaws and emotions! I can't silence them for your beautiful eyes and your stupid contracts to a country that isn't mine!"

A bitter laugh skimmed his throat and Childe tilted his head slightly, an evil smile stretching his lips.

"And what will you do, O great Archon? Force me to get better?"

Zhongli returned a few days later with the court physician. Childe's gaze pierced the god as the physician observed his wounds. And when the doctor and Zhongli stepped aside to talk in hushed tones, his knuckles trembled under the pressure of his fists.

Zhongli was checking his physical condition. For punishment. The shadow of what lay ahead threatened to engulf him.

Childe brought his wrist to his mouth and, without ever taking his eyes off Zhongli's back, sank his teeth into his flesh.

Pain ripped through his body and blood gushed between his lips, his pulse pounding wildly, but he resisted and his teeth plunged even deeper. His eyes were blurred by tears and the taste of iron made his head spin. But he resisted again and again, and his teeth plunged a little deeper.

"CHILDE!"

Zhongli immobilized him against the blood-stained mattress, his heart pounding, panic threatening to make him tremble.

"Heal him! Quickly!" he shouted to the doctor, who was looking eagerly at the open wrist.

And Zhongli's eyes widened in horror as he watched Childe. The young man gave him a bloody smile. A smile that didn't reach his tired-rimmed eyes, a tear sliding down his temple.

Written on January 25th, 2024

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#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #zhongchi #zhongli #childe tartagalia #childe #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #genshin impact fanfics #ao3 writer #angst #writers on tumblr #writeblr

[nightowltribe]

Therapy recap

So we've brought up in therapy that we struggle with keep up with platonic relationships because we feel like we have to constantly be earn friendships and good graces, but we don't have a lot of time and energy to offer after work, home, physical health, and mental health. We don't feel like we have any positive qualities that someone would want to be around us for without us doing something to earn it; we don't think we are kind, positive, fun, funny, or enjoyable to be around, we feel like we are a downer, needy, a burden, an awkward joykill. This is because we were raised by traumatized parents that didn't get help for their issues, an emotionally immature father and covert narcissist mother, we were never enough but at the same time 'better off than they were'.

Our issues were treated like we weren't trying hard enough, being lazy, or us trying to make excuses and not the cry for help they were. We struggled so fucking hard but no adult around us seen it, Kat is hung up with how our teen years were the darkest part of our life where we tried to turn to self harm as a way to manage the emotional pain we were in and suicidal idealation because we felt like this was the best life had to offer and we deserved so much worse. Kain used the dissociative barriers to hide the pocket knife when Ash would want to self harm because that would've just made our life harder, and Kat had numerous caretakers through that time because he needed to feel loved even though they couldn't give him the physical love he needed. There is still so much pain from that part of our life that needs to be healed because the only reason we didn't become another teenage suicide statistic because we have DID, but its hard because the ones that want to heal it can't access it.

Our father grew up, matured some, and apologized for what he did back then, he still wasn't a model dad before he died but he did change some of his toxic behaviors. Our mother refuses to take accountability for her part in our trauma, she will emotionally manipulate, get defensive and turn it around on us, try to make it out like we don't want her to be happy, change history by claiming it didn't happen that way or she didn't do that, claim to be a victim, and try to spin it to make our father the perpetrator. She continues to reinforce our negative thoughts about us by making us feel like shit for doing what she told us to, not be able to do something she asks of us, for making a mistake that results in something unfavorable; no 'you don't have a lot of experience so that is going to happen' or 'this is a good learnjng experience, just use this to get better at it', its all 'you should've known better' and 'you should've tried harder'.

She feels the need to have control over things in the lives of the people around her, and if she is helping then you shouldn't have an opinion about it and do it her way. Her image and reputation are improtant to her and anything that could stain it needs to be handled with with severe prejeduce, but while she can seem friendly and generous she will be talking shit about other people in her life but make you feel like that won't happen to you because those other people are just bad people. In reality she is kissing up to others while talking shit about someone else and no one is safe from her shit slinging because she will find something in everyone to complain about to someone else.

When she said she was going to start therapy I talked with my therapist about it and he said that a therapist can only treat what their clients admit they need to improve and she will likely play the victim and avoid accountability; that she might wield therapy as another way to try to control the people in her life. We talked about how we already thought of the scenario of her trying to do co-counseling to 'fix things' and that we would say no because anything we'd bring up in counseling would be seemingly met with grace in front of her therapist but it would be used as ammo against us outside of the office.

While I understand and agree that somepeople that are diagnosed as narcissists don't harm others there are those that do and do so intentionally in a very specific way to make the term narcissistic abuse a thing, something we have had to grow up with and something that nearly drove us to suicide if not for our own mental illness being how we cooed with it. We have been deeply traumatized by that kind of abuse and it has changed the person we could've been so drastically for the worse to the point we see ourselves below everyone else and we have no idea where to even start healing it.

#actually did #actually osdd #did #osdd #dissociative identity disorder #osdd1 #osdd 1b #did osdd #night owl tribe

[noisytenant]

BIG umineko spoilers up to episode 4 end stretch - grooming, implied incest/pedophilia mention; talking thru some theories/observations

am i misremembering or wasnt (someone calling herself) beatrice raised from birth in kuwadorian. everyone keeps calling her kinzo's mistress and it's like. oh they don't know...

im sure the ambiguity is intentional because the point is that we can't really pin down her age (or even how many fucking beatrices there are), but it keeps coming back to me. beatrice's drunk furniture talk in episode 4 is like really sharp when you look at all this.

they repeatedly draw attention to beatrice's age, both physically and how she acts, and age-appropriateness in general. it strikes me a lot how everyone treats battler as an adult man, even though he's only 18 and self-admittedly not very mature. arrested by trauma, none of the family members really know how to grow up, and the line between fantasy and reality is blurred.

i wonder if the thing where it seems she (or someone calling herself beatrice) perhaps had some feelings for battler in the past is related to all this. she's trapped in this birdcage, and yet suddenly there's this guy who doesn't accept the family's values. without even realizing the significance of what he's doing, he challenges them and escapes their clutches, seemingly simply because it's in his stubborn nature (and perhaps related to his "true" identity).

but he stops thinking. he doesn't build a case or try to justify it. he doesn't change anything, he doesn't protect or save anyone but himself. in the end, he swallows down the family's poison, thinking he was naive and childish for leaving. and of course, beatrice who knows little more than her cage, torn between contempt and appreciation for it, is going to push and prod at him, trying to make him remember why he left in the first place, and why he left her there. you were the only one who got your head above the water, but you didn't even realize you were breathing for the first time!

just as a matter of my personal opinion about Breaking The Cycles, i feel like a big point is that ultimately you have to be the one to break it yourself. it would be kind of lame if he just white knight saved her--but i think it's extremely understandable that a big part of her wants that.

it's hard to move away from an abusive narrative when your vantage point is so limited (remember the talk about seeing things from multiple perspectives to create a 3D composite?). beatrice's endless magic is the limitless power she has to consider everything that happened and make sense of it. but it's coated in mysticism, in kinzo's magic explanations. because it's endless, it's also inescapable. she's looking for an "out", and battler seems like one, so intent on denial. but i think with her resignation from the game, she's lost faith in him. she's retreating into her role. i'm losing my train of thought here but yeah

i think this is... really missing the specifics of who these characters are, the identity switches and so on, but i do think that it's an emotional narrative that has some credence.

beatrice has multiple selves, some fawning and some fighting, and struggles to resolve the various truths of her existence. reflected in the eyes of someone so intent to challenge everything she is, there's the opportunity that he might cut through and excise the internalized narratives that keep her chained to her role(s). but as we get through episode 4, it's clearer that he simply can't see her, he doesn't even understand the game he's playing--its emotional component, the motives. It isn't about what actually logically happened, it's about what those various speculations mean about who we are and who we can become.

...

...

...Nice petscop reference

#indexed post #umineko liveblog