#the 'raising your hips because its so good' kind of good yknow

[rotshop]

*manifests from a pile of shoes*

Could I request head-canons w/ Sanford and Sheriff for a Mag!S/o that kinda looks like siren head?

*re-enters the shoe pile*

-Boot/👢Anon

AUGH ok . ok so. so. um. uh. alright. uhm. i MIGHT have changed a few lil things here and there just so its a LIL easier 4 me ,,, sorry if this isn't what u wanted and if its a little short [runs away crying like an anime girl] /j

TW ; violence / fighting / some gore (?, not heavily detailed, briefly mentioned), injuries / gashes

Sanford

-im going to be completely honest ,you terrified him at first. LIKE. OK. sanford gets scared sometimes. he gets anxious and nervous. but seeing you crawl out and scream some deafeningly loud siren / radio static / etc was one of the moments he was genuinely petrified.

-chances are you came out when he was getting his ass kicked by some soldats / another mag. you felt some sort of pity for him (that or you just wanted a fight / them out of your area) so!!! you step in and start raising hell. it's too hard for soldats to properly shoot at you when they can barely see straight with the noise you're making and that mag has no chance to fight when you're already tearing them in two

-the entire time he's just laying there in shock as he watches you turn agents into unidentifiable masses like its nothing . he doesn't even think to like, run or hide because his brain is just barely processing anything going on at that very moment

-eventually you turn to him and INSTANTLY he goes 'oh shit' and tries to make a run for it before you cut him off by grabbing him and dragging him back. he tries to kick at you or try to (even though he knows DAMN well it wontwork) yell at you in some attempt to scare you off and obviously!! it doesn't work. instead of trning him into mystery meat though you instead just kinda. throw him over your shoulder and start walking???? ur tall as fuck so its !! not super funsies especially when u got blood loss status effect

-after a while you kinda (gently, a surprise to him) drop him down on the ground and go to look for something in some pile of boxes and debris. he KNOWS he should try running for it but he just?? cant??? something just kinda. tells him not to. you end up coming back before he can think better of it and you just??? grab his injured leg and start to try and wrap some gashes up??????

-thus is the start of a rlly weird friendship. he PROLLY cant bring u back to base (unfortunately :[ ) BUT he visits you real often. the other three all just kinda look at each other whenever sanfords super chipper and excited to go on some little 'mission' by himself. chances are he slips on his excuses one time and mentions u and they all just collectively go 'Who.' he (VERY reluctantly) introduces them to you, deimos screamed the second you crouched under an exit to walk outside

-they get used 2 u tho dw

-he LOVES fighting with you, people are fucking HORRIFED the second you walk in purely bc ur a gd powerhouse (and. yknow. for the more obvious reaosns too) which leaves them with a perfect blindspot for him to take advantage of. unfortunately tho agents are mean and homophobic so chances are they do say some shit that gets to you sometimes, this usually leads to him comforting you

-it's usually just you kind crouching and / or leaning way down while he kinda. pep talks you???r3 fhejvedD??? "listen, those aahw fucks don't know a single goddamn thing about you, I do though and I can say with 100% certainty you ain't just some kinda monster or sumn..you mean a lot to me, I care about you, ok?"

-also he acts huffy whenever you hold him but he secretly rlly enjoys it. chances are he struggles with kissing u bc ur just so damn tall !! however this leads to a system where he just kinda. taps on your leg or something so you lean down so he can kiss you

-i may have gotten a little caried away here. woops.

Sheriff

-aahw gave him you bc he asked for some kinda backup / a bodyguard and WHOO boy. yeah. yeah,,,,,,, /derogatory

-you ALSO scared him at first, as in him going completely silent and being squeaky whenever he does have to talk around you. (it's that one 'pov ur just a little hater' 'and?' pic but he's sobbing and shaking /j)

-it takes some raid where hank has him cornered for him to kinda come to his senses. he FULLY expected to drop dead when he seen the barrel of that gun pointed at his head until you fucking grab hank like a ragdoll and- do something. Sheriff squeezes his eyes shut before he can really see, all he can hear is popping and squelching and honestly!! that's all he cares to really hear!! he's good on not getting a visual. he's forced to open his eyes though when you're crouching down next to him and inspecting him for any injuries or anything like that with a surprising amount of gentleness

-it's just as bad afterwards but just in a new way. now he's always following you around like a lost puppy and staring at you. its. yeah. anytime you ask he always jumps and then stammers out some lame excuse (most times it does get him to go back to his office tho bc he completely falls apart hwen u point out how it doesn't make any sense)

-he tries?? showing off in front of you??? almost got his shit wrecked trying to show off his shot skill before you kinda yanked him out of the way and dealt with the bandits urself. he just kinda goes tense in ur hold before relaxing cus u've got him against ur torso / kinda on ur hip (?? if that makes sense) and he's just. 'aha :flushed:'

-you both cause chaos and problems on purpose, he does a lot of the distant shots or anyone who tries getting to ur blindspots / ones u dont notice, u do the same for him and most of the dirty work

-if you ever get injured he makes you lay down so he can help you out, huffs and fusses over you the entire time, scolds you (very gently) because!! what if you got seriously hurt >:[ !!! its ok tho because he gives you a kiss as an apology of sorts lol

-LOVES having you stand by him and seeing how people are obviously intimidated (he likes to think they're intimidated by the both of you but like. its very obviously just u making them nervous lol)

-also will kick a motherfuckers ass if they ever say some hurtful shit to you, YEAH he might be a coward and flighty but if someone treats you like that they're asking for it and just fucked w/ you AND him personally so!! :) /th

#mewhen i remember how to format headcanons ; pic of futuristic society #sanford x reader #the sheriff x reader #sheriff x reader #madcom sheriff x reader #madcom x reader #madness combat x reader #madcom imagines #madness combat imagines #rot writes #boot anon #👢 Anon

[maximumjinx]

Steven Universe Gravity Falls AU

~Yknow what they say, if you run out of content, ya gotta make it yourself. This is a ? shot (I might continue or not who knows not me) please don’t ask for more I have 18 unfinished fanfics on this site.~

California was nice, Steven had to admit. The people were nice, the food was fantastic, and the weather was splendid. It reminded him a lot of Beach City. Though there were just so many people, and traveling north, Steven was beginning to long for something small and simple again.

Oregon was the perfect place for that, right?

“Ronaldo wants pictures of Bigfoot, and if anyone can find him, its you Steven.” Petey’s voice was faint on Steven’s phone speaker, tossed into the passenger seat as Steven blindly picked a highway exit.

“Sure Petey, but couldn’t Ronaldo just go to a circus?”

“Not big feet Steven,” Petey emphasized, “Bigfoot.”

“Saying it twice isn’t helping buddy.” Steven was half paying attention. He was focusing on the winding roads and the looming trees surrounding him. Deep, in the pit of Steven’s stomach, he felt something start to tug him toward one direction farther away from the highway. He wasn’t quite sure if it was a good or bad feeling yet.

“Forget it, I’m going to take a blurry photo of that mean Gem in the woods and say its Bigfoot.”

“Just don’t let Jasper catch you, she’s no joke when she’s angry.”

“I saw her ripping grass out of the ground I think I’ll be fine. Later dude.”

Steven heard a small click and smiled to himself. He’s happy to see how far the people of Beach City have come and how they’ve taken to the gems. He remembers when the Crystal Gems were once the outcasts of town that locals warned you to stay away from.

He looked up to see a welcome sign.

“Gravity falls. Well, that’s a funny name.”

—

Steven wanted small and simple but he feels he may have overshot it.

This small town had exactly three attractions. A town museum that mentioned marrying woodpeckers (Steven couldn’t figure out if that was a normal human thing, like taxes and velcro), a small diner, and as one local described it ‘some tourist trap’ deep in the woods. It was a sticky summer day and the former two attractions didn’t have airconditioning. Steven gambled on the last stop in hopes of stretching his legs and maybe finding a source to the strange feeling in his gut. It had become much stronger since he entered this small town. Alluring, but nothing related to Gems as far as Steven could tell.

He parked in the nearly empty lot and stepped out. Jacket wrapped loosely around his hips, Steven made his way inside.

A girl that looked about 13 was petting a pig on the front porch. She was incredibly reflective, and depsite the heat wore a knitted bedazzled sweater that made her glow like a disco ball in the sun.

She looked Steven up and down as he approached, a wide smile taking up her face and Steven saw bright braces with colored bands.

“Hi!” She launched upwards, startling the pig away, “I’m Mabel, but you can call me anytime.” The girl winked and stuck out her hand, palm facing the floor.

Steven blinked.

“Mabel, stop scaring away the customers!” A gruff voice yelled through the screen door, and soon an older man stepped out in a suit, wearing a fez and eyepatch.

Immediately the old man squinted at Steven, sizing him up.

Stanley Pines knew this teen wasn’t local, but he wasn’t sure if he had any money. For all he knew he was another boy trying to hit on his giftshop cashier, Wendy.

Oh well, a customer is a customer.

“Come in, come in, and see our mystical and magical wonders!”

“Magical?” This could be it, Steven could figure out why this town has felt off. Maybe it was gem related after all.

Quickly this older man who had introduced himself as Mr. Mystery gave Steven a tour of what looked like failed taxidermy projects. Now Steven may have a lived a sheltered childhood, but he felt pretty confident there was no such thing as a Sashcrotch. And so far, nothing had felt magical or mysterious.

“That concludes our tour! Here is our mistifying giftshop and it’s purchasable wonders!”

“Right...” Well, at the very least he was able to spend some time in airconditioning.

There was a girl behind the desk in plaid that looked about Steven’s age, and just a half inch shorter than him. She looked bored, flipping through a magazine as a young boy that looked a lot like Mabel made googly eyes as he swept by the door.

Steven guessed there was no harm in asking around.

“Hi, I’m Steven.” He smiled easily, walking up to the register.

“No refunds, even if an exhibit bit you.” She sighed, peeking up before turning back to her magazine.

“Oh no, nothing bit me, I just wanted to know something.”

She looked up to get a better look at Steven and gave a small smirk.

“Sure, but only because I like your shirt. Mr. Universe merch, now that’s a deep cut.”

Unbeknownst to Steven, Dipper Pines would had been watching the exchange felt a twinge of uneasiness as this out of towner talked with Wendy.

“Have you ever seen anything strange or weird actually happen in this town?”

Wendy’s smile dropped.

“Why do you ask?” Her eyes flickered to Dipper, just for a moment, and that was all he needed to rush over.

“Excuse me sir, please buy something or exit the store.” Dipper spoke in the deepest voice he could muster.

Steven looked over with a questioning expression.

“Oh sure uh-“ He blindly reached for the wad of bills that his dad had given to him before he left. Steven pulled out a hundred dollar bill and put it on the counter. Wendy looked up baffled as Steven stuffed the other cash back in his wallet.

“Boy was I wrong about you kid!” Mr. Mystery, seemingly materializing out of nowhere, now bounded over. He had loosened his tie and lost the eyepatch which turned out he never needed.

“Whaddya wanna know? I’ll tell you everything. There’s gnomes in the woods you know-“

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper protested loudly, dragging his Stan away and harshly whispering at him.

“Did you steal that money?” Wendy asked as Steven watched the pair whisper fight in the corner. He turned back to the girl and gave a sheepish smile.

“Uh no, my dad gave it to me before this roadtrip. He’s actually Mr. Universe.”

Wendy lit up.

“No freaking way! Your dad is Mr. Universe? I only got into him since he managed Sadie Killer and the Suspects and they always perform covers of his songs on tour, I can’t believe he’s your dad!” She rambled, stars in her eyes. Steven beamed, he loved when people praised his dad’s music. Greg really deserved it.

Steven learned Wendy’s name and they swapped stories back and forth, only interrupted as the girl from outside slowly rose from the behind the counter beaming.

“A cute musician that loves weird stuff, take me now.” She swooned. Steven blushed profusely, not used to the attention.

“Sorry, my girlfriend Connie probably wouldn’t like that very much.” He said gently. Mabel looked him up and down and pouted.

“I can wait, but not forever.” She warned, and winked, bounding to break apart her grunkle and Dipper, who are now whisper screaming with arms flailing.

“I wasn’t going to mention that Dorito shaped jerk! Just the normal stuff!”

“It’s dangerous! He could be a spy, or government, or another stack of gnomes!”

Steven raised an eyebrow and looked at Wendy. She chuckled and shrugged. Steven carefully approached them.

“He can hear everything you’re saying anyways so might as well tell him!” Mabel interrupted, nodding towards Steven as he came up.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m definitely not government.” Steven technically didn’t exist at all. He never had a social security card and didn’t have a birth certificate.

Dipper only glared. Rich strangers with an interest in the paranormal didn’t come through gravity falls without some kind of agenda.

Steven hated the conflict he was starting. No information was worth this family fighting.

“Okay,” he surrendered, hands up, “I’ll just go. I’ll stick around town until tomorrow if you change your minds”

“Wait Steven-”

“Let him go Wendy,” Dipper glared as the boy in pink walked out, “We can’t trust him.”

“But I was going to ask for Sadie tickets...” Wendy groaned, defeated.

“There’s something weird about him.”

“Great!” Mabel beamed, “He’ll fit right in.”

~.~

Steven wasn’t crazy about sleeping in his car, but was seriously considering it after seeing the state of his motel room. It looked like it hadn’t been used in decades, a thin line of dust covering every surface. He was also pretty sure they didn’t even have free ice. 

“Wish Pearl were here..” He mumbled, exhausted. He curled up on top of the covers, fully clothed, and let sleep take him.

Being Steven Universe however, meant rest was sure to allude the half alien. 

Steven found himself in a dark space, fog all around him. Before a word could come out of his mouth he heard a fast, repetitive muttering. 

“Stranger...Wendy looked pretty today..Can’t trust...Tell no one...Ford isn’t here..”

“What, the-” Steven quietly walked toward the source of dialogue, and saw the faded silhouette of the boy from the Mystery Shack. His back was turned to him, but Steven recognized the blue vest and mosquito bitten legs. 

“I thought I was over the dream hopping.” Steven spoke a tad too loudly, starting the young boy - Dipper.

“What-” Dipper’s eyes grew wide in panic, and the boy fell back harshly.

“No, no, you can’t be in my head!” 

“Wait, I’m not-” Steven tried to reassure him, stepping carefully towards the boy but Dipper let out a screech of terror, sweat gathering around his temples.

“Bill sent you didn’t he?! He’s not really gone- he’s going to hurt Mable again-” Dipper began to hyperventilate. 

“Dipper please,” Steven took a step back, arms in the air in surrender. 

“I-”

“I’m not going to hurt you I swear on the gems.” He placed a hand over his heart. “This is a total invasion of privacy but it’s something that happens when someone’s emotions are out of control-”

“How are you here?” Dipper demanded, scrambling to his feet. “Tell me what you are and what you want.”

“I’m just passing through!” Steven insisted, then lowered his tone to calm the younger boy. “I’m kinda of magnet for weird stuff. I just wanted to help in case anything was going on.”

“We deal with things just fine around here.” Dipper spat, then watched as Steven deflated. He seemed tired, like he hasn't slept well in a while. 

“So what are you anyways? How can you be here?”

Steven winced, and laughed nervously. “It’s kind of a long story..”

Dipper raised and eyebrow and swept his arm around the void dramatically. 

“You have until dawn.”

~

“I thought that was a conspiracy theory, it wasn’t even covered by major news outlets.” Dipper look exhausted, cross legged on the unseen floor as he ran his hands through his hair. 

“I think Garnet is pretty persuasive when it comes to government and reporters. They all kinda fall in love with her.”

“She’s the one that’s really two aliens?” 

Steven shook his head with a small smile. “It’s hard to explain but yes, I guess that comes close.”

“That’s actually insane. I’m insane, aren’t I?” Dipper stood up, leaving Steven on sitting next to an empty space. “It’s been too quiet around here and now I’m so desperate for weird, that I’m making it all up in my head.”

“I get that feeling.” Steven smiled without humor, “but no, this is real. I’ll prove it when you wake up.” Steven felt a shift, the fog in the void getting denser. 

“Sooner than I thought, you’re an early riser huh?”

Dipper looked back at Steven, panicked. “You’ll come to the Shack again right? In just a bit?”

Steven smiled. “Promise.”

~

Dipper woke up to his sister braiding his hair. Mabel still had her pjs on, and a make up kit next to the bed. Dipper frowned, tasting strawberry shortcake. 

“Stop testing party looks on me, Mabel.”

“Stop having my face structure and maybe I will.” She grinned, covered in blue glitter. 

Dipper quickly washed up and got dressed for the day, feeling like he was anxiously waiting for something but not quite remembering what. 

He felt like he had a strange dream last night...

He quickly remembered, choking on cereal as Steven walked into the shack right as it opened. Hair slightly frizzy from the heat and eyes strangely tired. Maybe dream hopping took energy that he anticipated. 

“Steven!”

“Meal ticket!” 

“Grunkle Stan.” Mabel chastised as Dipper rushed over to the older boy. 

“Good morning everyone.” 

Dipper stopped short, slightly hoping that everything he experienced wasn’t just his imagination. That everything exciting and weird and interesting wasn’t always trying to kill him, ruin his life, or steal his candy. 

Steven looked tired, like he had been doing this much longer than Dipper, but he had still come out with enough energy to smile. 

“Not insane?” Dipper asked hopefully, quietly. Steven snapped his attention from his Grunkle and Mable bickering down to the Dipper. He gave a reassuring smile, eyes quite serious. 

“Not insane.”

#I feel like I made up a strange tension but please don't ship them THEYRE FOUND FAMILY #Steven universe #gravity falls #universe falls #??? #what's the tag? #dipper pines #Mabel pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #bill cipher #this is something or maybe nothing idk people need to give me plot ideas #probably no plot just one shot series

[hopelesshawks]

Love and Admiration Part 15- Adrenaline

18+ Bakugo x fem!pro hero reader

Summary: (Y/n) has known Bakugo since middle school, admired him since high school, and had a crush on him since the first time they met. Even now, a top pro hero in her own right, she can’t shake her school girl crush. Too bad Bakugo literally has no idea she exists. Well that’s not entirely true… He does know pro hero Mercury exists, but (y/l/n) (y/n)? Never heard of her.

Warnings for unprotected sex, semi-public sex, lots of dirty talk, mention of reader having a vagina, fingering, dom/sub dynamics, creampie/minor cumplay, size kink, and like one (1) line that’s sort of degradation

Masterlist Help Lulu <3

Bakugo looks surprised when you show up to Ground Zero in a cropped hoodie and jeans instead of your hero costume. “What the fuck are you wearing?” he asks although by now you know him well enough to know he doesn’t mean it as negatively as it sounds. “Hero costumes would be a little bit conspicuous don’t you think Mr. Explosion Murder God,” you reply with a raised eyebrow before making a pointed glance at the large gauntlets of his own costume. The overall design of Bakugo’s costume has gotten a lot more streamlined since the two of you were in high school, with some of the flashier pieces being done away with, but a lot of the core elements have stayed the same. You can tell the moment he realizes you have a good point because he gets a vaguely disgruntled and yet begrudgingly accepting look on his face as he declares he’s going in to change. It shouldn’t be nearly as endearing as it is. Kirishima walks out shortly afterwards to start his patrol so the two of you get to take some time to catch up and he keeps you occupied until Bakugo returns. The man looks absolutely sinful in a gray Henley, the sleeves once again pushed up to his elbows, and jeans. Kiri has to nudge you hard in the side to snap your attention back to him, much to your chagrin. It doesn’t seem to bother him though as he just waggles his eyebrows at you before declaring he’s heading out with a wave. “What were you talking to shitty hair about?” Bakugo asks, his eyes narrowing at his friend. “Ah nothing much, just catching up. We should do a big hang soon, it’s been awhile since I saw Denki and Midoriya too,” you note. “Whatever,” Bakugo grumbles as you start leading him to the warehouse. “I know you hate this kind of thing but could you coordinate with the guys? I’ll handle the girls and maybe I can swing Shinso too. I just think it’d be nice since I kind of ruined their reunion yknow?” you shrug. Bakugo gives you a look then, almost calculating, as he tries to figure out what to say. “You didn’t ruin anything dumbass. I’ll talk to the idiots about it,” he finally tells you. “Yea?” “Yea. Now hurry up and take me to this fucking warehouse.”

You hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to stay unrecognized even in your civilian clothes. Multiple times you and Bakugo have to duck your heads close together or squeeze into some alleyway to avoid someone recognizing who the two of you are. Thankfully as you get deeper into the warehouse district where it’s far less populated it gets much easier to maintain your anonymity. It doesn’t take long to find the warehouse in question and sure enough you can already see the high grade equipment in what is supposed to be an abandoned building. The two of you crept inside and made your way through the building, first identifying the two men you’d been tracking and then checking to make sure they were alone. Once you’d confirmed they were the only two around you and Bakugo attacked.

Bakugo could watch you fight for hours on end and be no less amazed by it. Your quirk isn’t in and of itself anything special but the way you use it is so effortless and it’s obvious you’ve taken a great deal of time to learn precisely how best to utilize it. Your fighting style is almost graceful in its execution and it’s what had initially drawn Bakugo to you and made him so sure you’d be taking a spot in the top ten this past season. It makes him want to show off more, as if in hope that maybe just maybe you admire his fighting skills as much as he admires yours. It doesn’t take long for the two of you to subdue the villains but then you get this look in your eye and immediately Bakugo is suspicious. “Take them outside and call the cops to round them up, I wanna check something out,” you tell Bakugo, already starting to drift deeper into the warehouse. “What the fuck are you up to idiot?” Bakugo huffs even as worry starts to creep in. “Just trust me! I’ll be right out,” you promise before rushing off before he can stop you.

Bakugo growls out his displeasure but there’s not much he can do other than listen to you. He grabs both the unconscious villains, hefting one over his shoulder as he drags the other outside. Bakugo does trust you so he stays put until the cops can show up and start cuffing the villains. When you still haven’t re-emerged by the time the cops are carting the villains away he decides to go back in after you. He’s inside maybe a couple minute before he finds you sprinting full speed towards him chanting a frantic litany of “shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” “What the hell-“ “We gotta move!” is the only explanation you provide before you grab hold of his hand and tug him hard after you. It doesn’t take long for Bakugo to match your pace but before he can interrogate you further he hears a loud booming noise erupting from deeper into the warehouse. He’s set off enough of his own explosions to know what one sounds like. The booming noises are only getting closer and closer and there’s no way the two of you are going to make it to the main entrance so Bakugo course corrects you both towards the nearest window. Just as the largest one yet starts to set the room the two of you are in aflame he grabs hold of you and pulls you into his body, shielding you from the blast as he sends you both flying out the window and into the back alley behind the warehouse.

The two of you manage to land relatively unscathed so you heave out a sigh of relief as you stand and brush yourself off before checking for injuries. “You good Dynamight?” you ask but before you can look to him for an answer you’re suddenly being shoved against one of the brick walls of the alley. “What the fuck were you thinking?” Bakugo demands, carmine eyes burning with his signature temper as he pins you to the wall with one arm across your chest, just below your collarbone, and his other hand planted on the wall next to you to stop you from escaping. “I was thinking that that bust would be for nothing if we didn’t destroy the supply chain as well,” you huff, not backing down even though being this close to Bakugo is admittedly distracting. “So the explosions were fucking intentional?” “Well I didn’t know they’d be that big!” “You could’ve gotten hurt!” “But did we die though?” Something in Bakugo visibly snaps at your flippant comment and you’re half expecting him to literally blast you through the wall you’re still pressed against.

Imagine your surprise when you feel his mouth on yours instead.

You’re quick to get with the program, kissing him back before he can do something stupid like pull away and it only makes him even more aggressive. The arm pressed to your chest drops so his hand can grasp onto your bare waist instead. He kisses you like a man possessed, every ounce of adrenaline and pent up lust fueling him as he slots his thigh between your legs and grinds in the most delicious way. His erection presses insistently into your hip and god it’s so fucking big. Your mind practically spins as fantasy becomes reality in front of you. It’s almost embarrassing how turned on you are already just from his kiss but then the hand at your waist sneaks up beneath your shirt to grasp at one of your breasts, squeezing and massaging with just the right pressure as his thigh once again grinds into that sensitive spot between your legs and you can’t help but let out a gasp. Bakugo takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, desperate to finally taste you the way he never could in his fantasies. The two of you shouldn’t be doing any of this in an alley of all places where someone may walk by, but that doesn’t seem to bother Bakugo at all as he uses the hand not currently fondling your breast to unbutton and unzip your jeans. He wastes no time slipping his hand past the waistband of your pants and panties to finally touch your bare sex and a possessive growl rips out of his chest as he feels for himself how much of an effect he has on you. “You’re so fucking wet for me already. You this much of a slut for everybody or just for me?” he growls in your ear as his fingers skate along your pussy, collecting your juices and so tantalizingly close to where you really want them. “Just for you,” you pant and it must be the correct answer because you’re rewarded with two of his dexterous fingers sliding inside of your cunt. Your hands fly to his shoulder and reel him in closer, fisting the material of his shirt as you keen and whimper. Your eyes squeeze shut, head bowing as the sensation of his fingers stroking along your inner walls continues to drive you insane. As amazing as his fingers feel though, your mind keeps wandering back to the bulge you’d felt against your hip only a moment prior and you know it isn’t enough. “P-please. I need-“ you beg but you can barely get the words out as he starts to rub circles into your sensitive clit. “Look at me,” Bakugo commands, the hand not currently shoved in your pants slipping back down to your waist. It takes a moment but finally you force yourself to look into his crimson eyes. “What do you need princess?” he asks and the pet name sends shivers down your spine. “Need you,” you whimper, as he continues to relentlessly plunge his fingers in and out of your desperate pussy, “all of you. Want you inside me.” “Say my name.” “Ba-“ “No. My first name dumbass. Then ask real sweet.” “Katsuki please, I need your dick inside me.”

You take it as a win that Bakugo, no Katsuki, curses under his breath as he pulls away just enough to use his free hand to undo his own jeans. You whine at the loss when he extracts his fingers from your aching core but use your resolve to finally, finally have his dick inside you as motivation to focus enough to shove your pants and panties down to your ankles. As Katsuki does the same your eyes widen as you take in the sight of his cock. You subconsciously feel yourself clench at the sight alone. He notices you staring as he steps between the v of your legs and over your jeans to get closer to you. “Like what you see?” “God yes, Jesus Katsuki you’re massive.” “You sure you can take it all?” “Abso-fucking-lutely.” Bakugo grasps hold of your thighs and hoists you up until your legs can wrap comfortably around his hips. The brick wall behind you helps distribute your weight as he lines himself up with your entrance. “Ready princess?” “Please,” you whine and the smirk you get in response makes your heart race even faster than it already has been. He pushes into you agonizingly slowly but even still it burns slightly as your body tries to accommodate his girth. “Too much?” Katsuki asks and there’s a gentleness there you’ve never heard before. You hurriedly shake your head no. “Just give me a second,” you tell him as you focus on relaxing to allow him in. It’s a shockingly intimate moment, the sounds of the city are a soundtrack you’re both oblivious to; all you two can hear is the sound of your breathing.

You finally lean forward and press your forehead to Katsuki’s. “I’m ready. You can move,” you tell him and he’s all too eager to oblige. He starts out slowly pulling himself out until only the tip remains inside your entrance before he snaps his hips forward, shoving himself back inside and making you see stars. “Still good?” “Fuck yes, do that again,” you moan and that���s all Katsuki needs to bring the smirk back to his face as he starts to really pound into you, his pace relentless now that he’s confirmed you can handle it. “I’m gonna fucking ruin that pussy of yours. Make sure nothing and no one can please you the way I can,” he growls possessively before capturing your mouth into a kiss again, swallowing every whine, whimper, and moan that comes out of your mouth. Your grasp onto his shoulders for dear life, probably leaving long scratches along his back from where your hands have scrambled for purchase but neither of you care. Nothing matters to you outside of the pleasant pull of Katsuki’s thick cock slipping in and out of your clenching pussy. “God you’re so fucking tight for me. I can feel you clenching princess, you gonna cum for me?” he asks. “I am. God I am, ‘m so close,” you whine. Katsuki shifts the angle just so and immediately you know it’s over as your vision whites out with a final cry of Katsuki’s name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your entire body clenching around Bakugo as he desperately chases his own climax now that you’ve gotten yours. His rhythm stutters and gets sloppy as he gets closer and closer. He’s so focused on fucking into the tight, wet heat of your pussy still fluttering around him that it takes him by surprise when you whisper in his ear “Please Katsuki. Fill me up, make me yours.” “Fuck (y/n),” he groans and it’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever experienced. The reality of finally having you this way far surpasses every fantasy he’s had about this moment and by the time his orgasm finally passes it’s almost overwhelming.

Bakugo lets you back down onto the ground almost gently, before slowly pulling out. He watches with rapt attention as his cum dribbles down from between your legs and he just barely stops himself from reaching over to push the bit that’s leaked out back in. Instead he forces his eyes to meet yours. He’s not entirely sure what he sees in the (y/e/c) depths of your gaze but it makes him panic, his cheeks flushing as he looks away. He wants to offer up round 2. He wants to invite you back to his place. He wants to make you moan his name and beg for his cock to fill you up but he can’t make himself say the words he wants to. The fact of the matter is that with the adrenaline now drained from his body and the lustful haze lifted, the great Bakugo Katsuki has lost his nerve. So even though he wants to ask “what are you doing the rest of the night?” he instead says “we should head back.” “Oh... right yea, of course,” you reply dazedly as Bakugo backs out of your space and quickly moves to pull back up his pants and underwear as you do the same. The two of you walk back to Ground Zero in silence, both still processing what’s just happened. “See ya around,” Bakugo tells you before striding towards the door to his agency. “Yea, see you,” you reply, equally as spaced out. You watch his retreating back until he actually enters the building and the door shuts behind him. As the door clicks closed you both have the same thought:

“What the fuck just happened?”

A/N: Kirishima definitely texted Mina the minute he realized the police had submitted the paperwork for y/n and Bakugo’s bust but the two of them hadn’t returned from the mission yet. They love gossiping about their two favorite horny idiots

Taglist: @pixelwisp @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @heroacadema @kozukatsuki @captaincyberqueen @undead-nyx @ineedtofocusfr @i-heart-fictional-boys

#hopelessla #bakugo smau #bakugo x fem!reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katsuki #hopeless.thirst

[firstknightss]

GWAINCELOT ESSAY THREE???

[commentary voice] ah yes and this gwaincelot essay.... which turned into a fic was inspired by @nextstopparis and @little-ligi

GWAINE TEACHING LANCELOT HOW TO READ. and thats how they actually CONFESS.

imagine gwaine seeing lancelot trip up reading leon’s plan for the day, seeing him trying to understand it. and gwaines, hes a little in love. Hes. Hes a little hit with feelings for this Noble (tm) knight. So OF COURSE he CANT EMOTION and he tries to show his affection for lancelot without yknow being in ‘loVE’

he comes over with his swishy hair and bantery tone like “oooOhHh LANCELOT! Lancey! Hey! Hello! Can’t read leon’s goddamn awful handwriting huh?”

And Lancelots embarrassed and flushes red and gwaine thinks hes Fucked Up (and he really doesn’t want to fuck this up, this is the first time he’s actually felt emotions this deep for someone) and tries to fix it panickedly, like the Anxiety Clown He Is.

He keeps on saying sorry and apologising, and Lancelot, the EVER CALM KNIGHT GUY, goes “it’s fine, it’s okay. It’s nothing to do with you...” and then he hesitates. He HESITATES. “....it’s just that...” and then he BITES HIS LIP and gwaine thinks he might just faint there and then, “...i cant read.”

and now it hits him, gwaine, gwaine, who thought literacy was something trash and something he didn’t really need, realises how important it is. and so, yknow because hes kind of wrapped in those Emotions (tm), he pulls lancelot’s sleeve after practice, when they’re alone in the changing room. (and if lancelot wasn’t so tired and miserable, he would have easily seen gwaine BLUSH)

And he, shyly asks if lancelot wouldnt mind being tutored by him.

Now Lancelot is OVERJOYED, and he’s borderline CRYING because lancelot, poor old village boy lancelot who’d been kicked out of the knights of camelot, and had to become a MERCENARY and fight for masters who didn’t care for him, has NEVER HAD someone literally CARE about him so much. (Apart from Merlin. He loves merlin <3)

so now imagine lancelot waking up an hour early the next morning, and showing up into gwaine’s room. He knows gwaine literally doesnt sleep with a lock, so he just barges in, and starts shaking gwaine.

Now GWAINE sleeps like a Log (had so much shit going on irl, time to sleep it away) and when he opens his bleary eyes, seeing lancelot in one of his stupid v neck shirts over him, hes like “....h...helo??”

and lancelot’s all like. “We- werent YOU gonna give me reading lessons.” And gwaine nods, yawning (and in that moment lancelot thinks gwaine looks unimaginably cute, so cute that he wants to literally ruffle gwaine’s hair and run his hands through how silky and brown it is.)

THEN gwaine pulls on the dont care-ish mask, and makes his arms into a pillow under his head, as he leans against the wall behind his bed, in some kind of somewhat???flirty??? manner??? [i dont...i dont know what hes trying to do. On the other hand! Not does Lancelot :) ]

Lancelot, does not realise this is gwaine’s poor attempt at flirting - since he’s seen gwaine ACTUALLY flirting and this is like. Nothing. And its also poorly executed. Which is NOTHING like gwaine.

So he pulls gwaine’s arm, and half hauls him out of bed.

As gwaine’s head crashes into lancelot’s stomach, he can smell lancelot’s clothes. They smell of flowers, and cotton and everything so natural and gwaine, who literally smells of wine, and wood and Tavern. (And aftershave, or the 500AD equivalent)

[see here, see im trying to bring themes of dionysis okay. OkayyyyyyyyY. yours truly likes looking at greek mythology. And both these two complete dionysis]

Gwaine, in his sleepy stupor, nestles his head on Lancelot’s hip, who gives a sigh and stands there. One hand clutching gwaine’s, leaving the other free.....

....to rake through his soft, flowy brown hair. And twirl his fingers through its waves, and Gwaine cuddles in further.

And since Lancelot left the door open, Leon (the other bitch who wakes up at 4am to do idk nothing) sees them two...like that, illuminated by the SUNLIGHT behind them, and smiles a little.

And then he trips over the stairs, the moment is lost.

Gwaine and Lancelot pull away at the same time, and gwaine’s face turns back to “ha ha im a Jerk (tm)” and if he wasnt too busy trying to hide how flustered he was, he’d see Lancelot looking at him the way he used to look at GWEN.

They both blink and look at each other, understandingly, neither of them to speak of this again.

And then Gwaine drags himself out of bed, and Lancelot raises his eyebrows as he watches him (totally not checking him out) haul out a book from his cupboard.

Gwaine’s too sleepy for this, he keeps yawning and rubbing his eyes (looking like a cat, Lancelot notes) and Lancelot takes a deep breath, his eyes understanding.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Lancelot, I love..” he bites his tongue, cursing his half asleep mind “..doing this, and love hanging out with you...I just cant stay up this early.”

Reading lessons, from now on, are at 1:30am-whenever Gwaine and Lancelot stop rambling about Odysseus and Circe and Telemachus

[i dont know any other ancient books apart from like. Ancient greek/Roman ones. So i guess. Its not historically accurate,,,,BUUIT this is a fanfic for a pair who had like no scenes together SO i think i can take some ✨creative liberties✨]

Lancelot has heard of the journey of Aneas from travelling bards, singing songs in his native old english. Gwaine’s eyes are quick at latin, and he learnt the flaws of Romulus and Remus in his pure latin. Gwaine’s a good teacher, and lancelot is a quick study, and it’s not long before they’re arguing over which Goddess caused the most harm in the Illiad.

Gwaine’s never met someone who he could reveal that he loved reading to, he loved doing.

Lancelot’s never met someone who he could tell he couldn’t read, and ask if they could teach him, love learning.

They make it work.

The other knights notice, of course they notice. Percival notices how Lancelot stumbles into the Gwaine’s room at night, bright eyed. Elyan notices Lancelot and Gwaine’s voices from Gwaine’s room opposite him; sometimes slow, Gwaine speaking slowly and Lancelot following; sometimes heated and passionate.

(They’re arguing. They’re arguing about how to pronounce Minerva)

Merlin finds the two, in the early hours of the morning - when the birds are figuring what song they sing today - on Gwaine’s bed.

Gwaine leaned against the bedframe, his trousered legs splayed over the sheets. Loosely braided, long brown hair fell over his closed eyelids, his mouth in a small smile.

And Merlin follows his arm draped over Lancelot, snuggled beside him, his head on his broad shoulder, every breath of wind pushing against curly black hair, making it almost /bounce/. His eyes are covered by the other man’s hair, and he looks...content. More content than Merlin has ever seen him.

He slips out as quietly as he came in, and smirks, hes gotta tell arthur they finally got their shit together oh GOD

Its no surprise to anyone but them, when Arthur pulls Lancelot out of training, and into his chambers.

“I’m glad you’ve found someone Lancelot.” He starts, his face geniune, his voice giving away hints of relief. (He thought he was never going to see his knight smile again after all the ordeals that had happened to him)

“Oh...” Lancelot’s heart sinks, “...how did you find out, Sire?”

Arthur blinks, taking in the change of mood in Lancelot, maybe it wasn’t anything important, maybe they were trying to keep it casual, hell they didnt want the king knowing.

“I- uh, I just noticed...” Goddamnit Merlin, and Goddamn his need to tell him everything he saw. (Merlin had advised him not to do this, as they sat on his bed after a long night. This was really his fault.)

Lancelot pales, and he places his hands down on the table beside him, palms slapping stone as he did so.

“Well, I guess I should tell you the whole truth then,” his voice is quiet, and Arthur steps closer, “Sire I am not of Noble birth, and was born in a village - as you know.”

Arthur nods, his arms crossed, but his Kingly Bravado fell away at the sight of his knight, and one of his closest friends, being this vulnerable.

“Yes I know, but what does this ha-“

“And we children in the village we-“ he falters, “-we were never taught to read.”

“Yes, no I understand, I-“ he pauses, Lancelot’s words hitting him a bit too late, this was about literacy?

This, this whole conversation was about literacy?

Not being gay?

Merlin was going to have a field day

“Sire?”

“I understand Lancelot, and is this why you feel a little out of place with the other knights?” He carries it on, with a smile, he has a few questions to ask merlin.

“Yes, and that’s why I asked Gwaine to tutor me from time to time, although, the sessions carry through late into the night, which may have been affecting my performance at practice. I’ll have you know that this is a temporary th-“

“It’s fine Lancelot,” Arthur places a hand on his shoulder, “You are still exceptional at practice,”

“Thank you Sire,” Lancelot twinkles.

✨

“Theyre, theyre not together?” Merlin cant stop laughing, tears streaming down his face, “theyre not TOGETHER?? oh my God arthur what did you DO”

They sit together on Arthur’s bed, drinking wine from stemless cups together, with Arthur recounting the events of the day; red faced.

“I mean, it was your idea Merlin.”

“I just saw them, and I assumed...I didnt...I didnt think youd ASK them.”

“What do you think I’d do then?? Let them be on their merry way.”

“Yes!”

✨

“Do you like me?” Gwaine asks, unexpectedly, one night, the moon vibrant against the loud sea.

“You’re...tolerable...” Lancelot says, a smile tugging at his lips, as the silver moonlight falls against his hair, a halo around him.

✨

The knights give them the look every morning, as the two of them stumbled out of the same room, more frequently than ever.

Sometimes Lancelot would throw on Gwaine’s shirt, when he’d crumpled his own beyond repair. Sometimes Gwaine would put some of Lancelot’s hair oil on, when his hair was frizzy.

They gave each other knowing looks when Gwaine and Lancelot started whispering and giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls.

✨

And then Stupid gwaine had to go get fucking stabbed, and their delicate dance was like trying to waltz through a minefield.

Lancelot clutches onto Gwaine’s arm as Merlin feels his forehead with shaking hands.

“He’s burning up.”

“Infection...?” Lancelot sounds broken, and nods, fumbling with his pack to find some bandages.

It was just a simple quest; a save the day, get the girl, do various harmless shenanigans type of quest.

He’d half expected Gwaine to get the girl, and he cant help but give out a half choked laugh. Gwaine had no idea what hit him when she turned out to be the evil one all along.

He tries to forget that Gwaine showed no interest in her, he tries to forget that Gwaine’s been less frequent at the Tavern, he tries to forget that he hasn’t seen Gwaine with anyone since months now.

Gwaine, his beautiful Gwaine was lying on his lap, hot red blood rushing from his side, staining his polished chainmail with dark, sticky blood.

He’s been out for nearly an hour now, and Lancelot remembers carrying him, through the entire forest, forgetting his sword and his helmet and just grabbing Gwaine and getting the shit out of there.

Gwaine’s lack of self preservation was really rubbing off on Lancelot nowadays.

Merlin watches as Lancelot holds back tears, his own eyes stinging. Gwaine can’t die like this, he can’t die like this....

“hælan beorn adl”

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold, and Lancelot could feel warmth coming back into the fingers he was grabbing.

He was coming back.

And then the weight of everything hits him.

He was in Fucking Love.

✨

“Hey.” Gwaine’s voice is rough from disuse, but Lancelot nearly sobs when he hears the voice.

“Don’t fucking do that to me again, amor meus.” He puts his head down on Gwaine’s chest; finding the hammering of his heart calming.

He shimmies onto Merlin’s bed, which Gwaine had been lying in for the past few days.

“Did you mean, ami meus?” Gwaine sounds tired, too tired to be awake.

“Huh? Did i say something else?” Lancelot decides to play dumb, a sparkle in his eyes,

“I thought I heard amor meus,” Gwaine pushes his nose into Lancelot’s hair, taking in the wonderful smell of coconut.

“Well then, at least your hearing’s okay, amor meus.”

Gwaine gulped, and was sure Lancelot could hear his loud swallow.

“Lancelot, I hope this isnt a big joke with me teachin you latin and all,” Gwaine’s voice is a little wobbly from the slee deprivation and the magic and the pain numbers, “because I’ll have you know that I really love you, and I cant go on like this any longer,”

“Its okay Gwaine, I learnt latin from the man I love, of course it’s not a joke.”

“The man you love? Who’s tha-“

Realisation hits him like a brick.

Oh.

Oh.

“Me?” His voice cracks, and Lancelot looks up, a smirk on his face.

“Of course dumbass.”

“Like I’m meant to know that,” Gwaine tries to keep his dont care-ish aura, but they both know he’s too exhausted to keep that up.

“mmm?”

Gwaine kisses him on the nose, and he wraps himself around him.

And thats how Merlin finds them later that day, eyes blinking as he stood there.

✨

“I’m glad you’ve found someone, Lancelot.” Arthur coughs.

“Is that what that whole talk was about???”

“Answer the question.” His words sound harsh, but he’s barely hiding a smile.

“I’m glad too, I’m Glad I found Gwaine too.” Lancelot blushes, turning to gwaine.

“Why are you asking anyway, Princess?”

“Oh just, making sure this time.”

#shit this turned into a fic #im sorry #uhh #gwainecelot #gwaine #lancelot #gwaine x Lancelot #gwaine/lancelot #i should post this onto ao3 #but like. fix it up first #fun times #first tumblr fic yall #im growing!!! #IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AN ESSAY WHAT IS THIS #gwaincelot #im SO sorry

[ad1thi]

based on this prompt, and my own absolute lack of an ability to open any jar of any sort

//

Tony is tired, like the kind of tired that seeps into your bones and pulls you down until you can scarcely remember left from right. He’s also extremely hungry, which had lead to the situation he’s currently in - which is attempting to burn off the jar on his nacho dip with a bunsen burner that he smuggled from the lab.

After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, Tony (carefully) throws the bunsen burner onto the bed and flops down next to it, with the full intention of resigning himself to the possibility that his stomach will soon start to eat itself in a desperate attempt of sustenance. And then, just as suddenly as he lays down - he sits back up abruptly, blinks through the vertigo, and fumbles for the jacket closest to him because neighbours.

He has neighbours, or rather people who live in adjoining dorm rooms and surely one of them must have the muscles required to open a jar?

He grabs the jar, belatedly pulling his hand away as the lid burns him; runs it under a cold tap to cool it slightly - and only just remembers to pocket his phone and room-key before he steps out of his room and begins his quest for a jar-opener.

Ma was right, he grouches as he knocks on the third door with little avail, men were good for opening jars, maybe he does need a man after all.

He almost gives up at the fifth door, but then he hears shuffling on the other end of the door; so he waits until it opens. Standing on the other side of the door, bare-chested with his boxers hanging precariously on his hip; is the most beautiful person that Tony has ever seen - and so he promptly looses all grasp of the english language and simply thrusts the jar his way.

The guy - who has blue eyes Tony faintly notices - looks down at the jar, and then back at Tony with a raised eyebrow.

“Jar!” Tony says, resisting the urge to thump his head against the wall, “I mean, I have a jar?”

“I can see that,” the guy replies in a gruff voice, but he looks amused, so not all hope is lost”

“Look I know its -” he looks down at his watch and gulps when he realises what time it is, “late, and I’m really sorry for waking you up but I’m really hungry so do you think you can help me out and open this jar?”

The guy looks at him for a couple more seconds and Tony is almost convinced that this is how he dies; but then he takes the jar from Tony and slips off the lid with one expert flick of a wrist.

He hands it back to Tony, and he has the unsettling feeling that the man is laughing at him; even though his expression hasn’t changed once.

“It wasn’t that easy when I tried,” Tony explains hurriedly, “I tried to loosen it with a bunsen burner and everything - because yknow, heat”

Both eyebrows quirk up, “you didn’t try hot water like us normal people? You went straight for bunsen burner?”

“i’m -” Tony flails, “I’m really sleep deprived”

“Yeah,” he huffs, “I was too until this cute brunet decided to break down my door at 5 in the morning”

Tony opens and closes his mouth several times before he finally settles on, “you think I’m cute?”

His eyes crinkle, and Tony counts that as a win, “yeah I do. So do I get any of that nacho dip for my hardwork?”

“I’ve got a variety of Doritos waiting back in my room,” Tony gestures behind him

“Yeah let me just grab my phone and my keys,” he closes the door on Tony and he takes those precious few seconds to comb his fingers through his hair to tame it and checks his face for any offending stains or marks or god forbid - drool.

“I’m Tony by the way,” he says just as the guy comes out and closes the door behind him, “so that you don’t have to call me jar guy or something equally embarrassing”

“I’m Bucky,” he replies with a half smile, “now - about those doritos?”

Tony blames it on his lack of sleep that he takes until they get back to his room to ask, “what the hell is a Bucky?”

Fin

#my writing #buckytony #winteriron #bucky x tony #bucky barnes x tony stark #bucky/tony #alternate universe: college/university #meet cute #pre slash #listen im actually horrible at opening jars #like how do people open jars #where do those muscles come from #and how do i develop them? #hey look im using fullstops and everything #im a big girl now

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut (coming in ch3!) - college!au

wordcount ~ 2.3k

warnings ~ pretty much n/a, mentions of drinking and light smut

a/n ~ v excited for these lil dorks! i thought about combining this with the upcoming chapter but it felt right on its own and i wanted to go ahead and post an update for yall haha. ch 3 will most definitely have some serious smut to look forward to 👀 thank yall for reading, i love and appreciate any form of support or feedback so so much, so feel free to msg me or send me an ask abt whatever you want! 🥰 hope u enjoy this chapter!!!

previous: chapter 1 ~ next: chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 2 ~ cowboy bebop & chill

You couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook. Every time you brought the enamel of your favorite mug to your lips, teeth knocking the rim as you exhaled to cool off your tea, it called back the click of his earrings in your mouth. Whenever you reached behind your ear to tuck away the hair you'd impulsively cropped to your chin this year, it hit the same spot you'd sucked into a bruise on his neck and you shivered. Even your slight headache thanks to the shitty vodka from the pregame reminded you of the wine you'd sought out from him in the first place and never fucking got to drink. 

You found yourself reading over your responses to each other's discussion posts from your film class, trying to find any more justification for this sudden crush than the drunken flirtation that mortified you as soon as you remembered it sober. He did seem to like your directness...but you could easily ascribe that to his similarly loosened-up state. Scanning through your reflections on The Shawshank Redemption and Casablanca, you painstakingly overanalyzed every smiley face and "I loved that part too!" Could he have been into you at all before this? Or had he just eyed you for another quick fuck at a party? Shit, what if he hated you for working him up and then leaving? If he wanted to, you knew he would have easily found someone else to finish the night with. But what if he still held it against you? The image of him bitterly turning aside to find another girl in the crowd, with your hickey still fresh on his jaw, turned your stomach more than you wanted to admit.

Shaking your head with a grounding exhale, you reminded yourself that whoever else he did or didn't hook up with was none of your business. Plus, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and probably didn't hate you in the first place. Wow, the bar really was so fucking low. Maybe that was part of the reason you were never that bold with boys. Every classmate you'd fallen for so far at college had remained innocently unaware of your feelings, likely because you never worked up the courage to clearly express them. You hadn't even been trying this time, though—this semester had been so busy you'd barely had time for your friends, much less crushes. And now your one blowoff class had become your biggest distraction.

Jungkook, a communications & media major, couldn't afford to lose as much focus in this class as you. Normally near front-and-center, he sat all the way in the corner of the last row, wary of imaginary stares burning through the hopefully-opaque-enough curtain of his hair. Even the risk of zoning out staring at the back of your head stressed him out less than the thought of you doing the same to him.

You walked into class through the back right entrance today so you'd pass Jungkook in the front row, though you could have gone straight to your usual left-side seat from the main door. Knowing you'd never summon the courage to talk to him, you still couldn't help wanting to see his face. You didn't know just what you were looking for—some kind of confirmation or dismissal that would let you just move on with your dry-ass life—but any reason to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was a good one. Today, though, he sat far closer to the entrance than you'd expected, and his proximity stopped you in your tracks a few feet behind him. Eyes dragging down the sculpted form under his soft black sweatsuit, your stare traced the veins in his forearms to reach the hands in his lap. Catching a half-page cartoon ass in your view of the manga he gazed at intently, a snort-laugh escaped you, the sound setting him on high alert. He snapped the book shut, spinning around with eyes wide and still-long hair an understandable mess for a Monday.

"I'm so—"

"I'm so sorry!"

You both shoved out the words at the same time.

A pause swelled between you, eye contact maintained as your mouths fluttered open and shut like fish. Even awkward and off-guard like this, he was just so damn pretty. It felt unreasonable for him to seem as flustered around you as you were around him. Finally, you spoke again, solely to force the conversation forward and put you both out of your misery.

"W-what do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who, like—ugh, I was drunk, I'm so sorry, I never would have been so, yknow, if I was sober, like that's not me I promise, I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or—"

"No-no-no-no-no!" Jungkook cut you off, dismissing your barely intelligible apology. Before you could cut him off in return and continue, he held up both hands between you, his eyebrows knit together in a pleading expression. "Are you kidding me? Seriously, I feel so bad, I was kind of drunk too, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable! Please, you have nothing to worry about, it was, uh...I was...good...if...you were." He grew shyer as he continued, drifting off as a hand reached back to rub his neck. A light laugh. "You did make me have to keep my hair long for another few days, though. It's gotten so annoying to take care of, I was planning on cutting it right after the costume."

This admission perked up all your earlier curiosities about him, and a cautious smile spread over your face as Jungkook unconsciously reminded you that he was, in fact, a total dork, rather than the fuckboy you'd irrationally feared him to be.

"Wait, hold up," you snorted again. Gently. "You're telling me you grew out your hair for three, maybe four, months...for a Cowboy Bebop costume?"

"Hey, it was free and way less lame than a wig," he defended himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fidgeted uncomfortably, face blushing into a grin as you continued to giggle at him.

"You are such a fucking weeb," you accused lightheartedly.

Jungkook furrowed his brows back together, an anxious hand grazing the spot where you'd marked him again. "Well, you recognized my Spike costume, at least," he pouted. "You're not all innocent."

"I watched one episode with my friend, and it was dubbed," you downplayed. "Isn't watching dubs instead of subs a crime for real anime fans?"

"Actually," his eyes lit up at your rhetorical question. "The dub of Cowboy Bebop is excellent. It's pretty universally considered better than watching the OG with subs. You're right though, that is the general rule."

"Oh man, who knew." Looking down, grinning, you tried to hide how endeared you were by his earnestness. "Well, it was pretty cool, not gonna lie. I guess I kind of get the appeal."

"Would you want to start watching the rest sometime? That's one I just never get tired of," he blurted, then blushed, closing his mouth and working his lips between his teeth as his eyes stayed wide and on you. Jungkook's heart accelerated in his chest, a fist opening and closing at his hip as he tried to decide whether he regretted taking a chance on the question.

You instantly diverted all your mental energy from hoping he couldn't sense your attraction to massively overthinking your response. This was a "Netflix and chill" kind of invite, right? If he wanted you, of course you wanted him, but you had to be sure before you did something else stupid and risked having to find another discussion board buddy.

"Um...yeah, sure," you accepted. "I have to ask, though, do you mean, like...Cowboy Bebop and chill?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to look bolder than you felt. "Or...Cowboy Bebop and just...Cowboy Bebop?"

"I..." Mirroring your playful grin, Jungkook shrugged, not wanting to look like a fuckboy if he answered with the first option but also wondering—were you actually interested in watching this anime with him? The possibility puzzled him, the same way it confused you how he could go bold and then back to his shy weeb-ass self within seconds. You shrugged too, with an anxious exhale of a laugh.

"That was...weird to just say like that, sorry. We can just see where it goes, whatever you want," you backtracked, full of faux-nonchalance. The Google Calendar schedule on your phone suddenly became very interesting. "We could do another day if that works for you, but I'm free after this class once I write my discussion post—I don't have any other homework or meetings today for once."

He nodded quickly, eyebrows up. Swallowing, Jungkook saw the opportunity to show a little more initiative and seized it. "We could do that together even, 'cause we usually jump off each other anyway. So you can come over right after class if you want." He glanced up and to the left for a quick mental inventory. "Oh shit, wait, but I seriously need to clean my apartment first, can we do more like dinner time tonight? You can just come over for ramen or takeout if you want, or eat first or whatever."

"Yeah, that's fine!" you agreed warmly. "Ramen and homework, two birds with one scone. I should probably, like...get your number? So you can send me your address when you're ready or something?" You didn't want to sound too desperate, especially since you knew he was used to it, but you found yourself weirdly excited to experience something he so obviously loved. If you got dicked down too, even better, but you were definitely willing to wait on that part, especially now that this first sober conversation had restored your inhibitions. He had this slightly shy sweetness about him that just made you want to make him happy somehow. You wanted to see more of his cheesy little smile. You wanted to hear the bright laugh that occasionally rang out at the most inappropriate times, during Citizen Kane or attendance. You wanted to watch his light pink lips fall open in bliss as you kissed down his sensitive neck to the trim of his worn-in hoodie...

"Yeah sure, here." The quick touch of his hand over yours snapped you out of your thoughts as he took your phone, ready to type in his number, and—

"Wait, did you say 'two birds with one scone'? Not 'one stone'?"

You blushed furiously. Somehow him calling you out on your quirks embarrassed you more than the indecent daydream he'd interrupted. "Okay, so I saw this tweet a while back where they said 'feed two birds with one scone' to replace 'kill two birds with one stone,' I think it was just some vegan troll being all like 'don't talk about killing birds!' but it stuck with me because I just really fucking love scones."

"You...really fucking love scones?" he repeated in slight sarcasm, eyes down on your phone. You grew even shyer, but continued.

"Yeah, I bake a lot and they're my favorite thing to make. The flavor possibilities are endless and they last for days so I just keep them on hand for breakfast and snacks and to give out to friends. And they go with tea, which is my other favorite thing." Ooh, was he a tea person? Should you bring some tonight? Something earthy, to go with your ramen. Your go-to green sencha, or maybe chrysanthemum? Chamomile?

Jungkook held your phone back out in front of you, but waited silently for you to notice, enjoying the view of wheels turning in your head as you pondered tea pairings. This was the you he was used to, daydreaming in class and going on tangents as dorky as his in discussions. Even from a distance, he'd noticed you consistently gave off a vibe somewhere between absentminded professor and grandma, and this confirmation made you even cuter to him. But the hair still falling over his ears wouldn't let him forget his new physical proof of another side to you.

You finally collected your phone with a mumbly "Oh right, yeah, cool, thanks," that you prayed sounded more chill to him than it did to you.

"I just texted myself, so I have your number too now, and I'll just send you my address when I'm ready, and, uh...yeah!" he rambled a bit in response.

You nodded, confirming. "I'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, see you tonight."

Jungkook watched you walk to your desk, silently admiring your ass and allowing himself only a moment to savor the memory of half of it filling his hand. A strange nervousness tingled through him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you all weekend either, and now he had a chance to get closer to you than ever before. He hoped, more than he could remember hoping for anything else, that this would go well, one way or another. He had no idea what you wanted with him, but you had him questioning everything he'd thought he wanted. Easing open his laptop, he pulled up your last discussion board response to him, signed off with a smiley face but backwards.

I like the way you think. (:

He turned his head to read it right-side-up, letting his face scrunch into a smile you wouldn't see.

Meanwhile, though the film thrilled you, you struggled to stay facing forward for the duration of class. You suspected the plot of Rear Window was simply unsettling you, but you swore you could feel Jungkook's eyes on your back. No, he was probably actually watching the movie as usual, or reading his manga if not. You were definitely just being paranoid. Definitely. Probably. Right?

next chapter 

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader smut #bts smut #bts fic #college!jungkook #college au!jungkook #bts college au #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #my writing #anti-hero #anti hero

[feferipeixes]

is it just me or is tau with dipper and an adder stone a really cool concept??? like 👀 at any content w it. not like. im not trying to pressure you into making anything or anything im just. sharing mutual love for an interesting concept??? yeah lol

Yeah it is really cool! I’d never heard of adder stones before that post but they seem pretty dope. I know you weren’t trying to pressure me into making anything but here is a small thing I thought up~

===

“Dipper! Hey, hey Dipper, Dipper look at me, look at meeeee, your sister! Check this out, hey!!”

Dipper, sitting on a rock in his striped swimsuit, was hunched over a shard of black glass he’d found while walking along the beach. He groaned at the sound of Belle’s voice and curled up tighter. “Not now!” he barked back. “I’m busy studying this volcanic rock I found. I read that people used to use them to send secret messages and do magic yknow.”

Belle’s padding footsteps came to a halt inches away from him. “The only secret code on that rock is the one that says you’re a nerd,” she said, shaking him by the shoulders. “And you don’t need a rock to tell you that ‘cause I’m nice enough to do it for you! That’s just the kind of gal I am.”

He rolled his eyes and looked up. “What is it?”

His sister posed dramatically like the models she’d seen on TV, which she personally thought made her look very enchanting thank you very much despite the fact that she was ten and had sand all over her legs and swimsuit. “Look at my dazzling jewelry!” she announced, showing him her right hand.

Dipper raised an eyebrow. “You put a rock on your finger.”

“Yeah!” Belle pulled her hand away and held it up to the sky. “I found this cool rock with a hole in it like a ring! Now I’m just like a beautiful swan maiden from that movie Kidnapped At Dawn.”

“Oh my stars, Belle, you don’t want to be like the girl in that movie,” Dipper grumbled, looking back at his piece of glass.

“Oh yeah? Well... it’s still a cool ring! Maybe Danny from Mrs. Penlip’s class and I will get married someday and he’ll give me a ring juuuust like this one!”

“Ew, that’s gross!” Dipper got up and snatched the rock off his sister’s finger, to her loud dismay. “The getting married thing and the putting a weird rock on your finger thing.”

“Give it back!” Belle shouted, her face turning red. “Okay maybe not Danny -- he did pee on the slide at recess last year -- but someone else then!”

Ignoring her, Dipper put his hand out to block her from grabbing the rock, and used the other to hold it up to his eye. “Just gotta check out the damage here,” he huffed, trying out the voice of the professor from Dr. Researchman because it was his turn to act out a character from his favorite show. “Gotta see all the beach gunk you got on yourself -- whoa.”

Belle stopped flailing and cocked her head. “Whoa?”

“Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” Dipper breathed and swung his head around. Through the rock he could see a massive pink lizard, stretching as far down the beach as he could see. It looked sort of like a salamander but it had red frills around its head and a catlike smile. The... whatever it was... seemed to notice his attention, as it winked at him and started crawling away.

And that wasn’t all he could see. There were little sparkling bits of fluff everywhere in the air. One close to his head made a buzzing sound and flew into his gaping mouth. He yelped and tried to spit it out, but as far as he could feel with his tongue there wasn’t actually anything in there.

“Belle, this is so cool!” he said finally. “If you look through the rock you can see all this invisible stuff! I can’t - I can’t even explain it, I uh, I gotta sketch some of this in my notebook!”

Without taking the rock away from his eye, he scrabbled around behind him to try to find his notebook.

Belle put her hands on her hips and pouted. “Yknow, it was my rock first,” she said. “I should get to look at the invisible stuff first.”

“Finders keepers, losers criers,” he shot back, sticking his tongue out.

“It’s losers weepers -” she started, glaring at him, and then faltered. “Whoa. How are you doing that?”

At last grabbing his notebook, Dipper flipped open to a blank page and started doodling. “How am I doing what?”

“That thing with your eye!” Belle squeaked. “Through the ring rock, your eye like turned completely black! How are you doing that?”

“Uhh.” He finally took the rock away from his eye and squinted at it. “I dunno. That’s kind creepy. Hey wait...” he added, catching a glimpse of his own hand through the opening. “It makes my nails look really long and pointy too. What is this thing?”

“Let me try, let me try!” Belle squealed, grabbing the ring back. “I wanna see if it makes my eyes go all creepy too! It could be a really cool Halloween effect, yknow?”

Looking at her brother, she started to put the rock up to her face, and for a split second something dark and horrible flickered before her eye, like the worst nightmare she’d ever had come to life, sending a shiver down her spine as it came into focus, and -

“Belle! Dipper!” Lionel’s voice came from a little bit down the beach. “It’s time to go!”

Belle shrieked in surprise and fumbled the rock. It went shooting into the air and landed somewhere in the sand. Both she and Dipper gasped and dropped to their knees to search for it.

“Kids?” Lionel said, much closer now. The twins looked up at him, disappointment written all over their faces. “Come on, let’s go. I bet you two are hungry -- I know I am -- and I saw a great restaurant on the way here that serves ice cream burgers. That sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“Oh boy, does it!” Belle shouted, jumping up and running toward the car, lingering thoughts about the stone already dashed.

“You coming, Dipper?” Lionel asked.

Dipper picked his hands up and watched the sand filter through his fingers. “Yeah, I guess,” he murmured. He stood up and gave his dad a weak smile, then ran ahead to catch up with his sister.

“Hey Belle,” he said when they reached the car, both panting from exertion. “Um. Did you see any of the cool stuff I was talking about? In the rock?”

She frowned. “Iunno. I didn’t really get a good look at it. There was something kinda scary in there but I dunno what it was.”

Dipper kicked at the pavement with a sandaled foot. “That blows. It was so cool -- it was like there’s all this hidden magic stuff all around us and we just can’t see it.” He sighed as their father caught up with them and started to unlock the car. “I just. Wish I could see that sort of stuff all the time.”

(Only a couple of years later, Belle saw Dipper’s eyes go dark again, and from then on he no longer needed a magical rock to truly see the world around him.)

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #belle sterling #fic #my stuff #long post #Anonymous #asks

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

animaniacs - s4e8: mindy in wonderland

episode summary: a lighthearted episode about mindy chasing a rabbit down a hole in the tree she’s always tied to, and ending up in a magical, literary dreamland. there’s no mice, but it’s fun, and takes up the whole runtime, and-- what? no, i-- look, it’s just-- i don’t--

sir, you don’t pay me at all--

alright fine ugh ughghghguhgughgu ugh.

great.

episode summary: the hip hippos are expecting a baby! unfortunately, ordering babies off the internet instead of concieving them through, like, hippo sex? appears to have its’ downsides, and instead they are presented with.... brain.

look, i don’t know either, okay? i’m dragging my hands down my face as we speak.

the rundown:

we open with the stork.

“i got a very special delivery! the rockefellers have been waiting weeks for this one.” he pronounces it “spatial”, probably because he’s high out of his mind. this is not a sober bird. please don’t drop that baby, my dude. that’s going to cause more problems than it solves, really.

spoke too soon, i guess.

unfortunately for him, our dude does exactly that, and ends up taking a bit of a tumble. gets all dizzy. this does not bode well for the plot. or the wellbeing of the baby, actually!

hold up. computer, zoom, enhance.

hmmm. that is a very familiar tiny face. troubling. anyway our resident avian expert on drugs seems to have survived his accident, and drops the baby off to the rockefellers with no further trouble.

they seem to look more. hippo shaped than usual.

“congratulations! you’re new parents!”

you’re welcome, weird stoner bird. they slam the door on him, wordlessly exacerbating his injuries. they care not for his plight, only that of their dearest, darling... not very.... hippo sized...................... baby.

hm.

“oh flavio! darling! a baby of our own, just look at him! let us call him--”

“--alfredo!”

“goo.”

alright. as existentially horrifying as this episode is, i laughed. maurice lemarche, completely dead in the face, sits in the recording booth, stretches his shoulders. “goo.” he says. deadpan. no intonation whatsoever. the audience cheers and he is given a thousand dollars.

i don’t know what it is about brain saying basically anything that appeals to my sense of humour so much. jockey for position basically did me in. i just. every time he says “goo.” i am in TEARS.

the hippos seem to have lost their enthusiasm, as anyone would have if they heard the voice of a grown man come out of their newborn baby.

“he’s... small. very small.”

“goo.”

still, marita sympathises with him. this is very definitely her child, after all! she steals him away to do mom things with, chastising flavio that ‘alfredo’ is “their little boy.”

“oh, you are right, my lightbulb of love. now our little universe has expanded to three.”

yeah, don’t include your.... shoulder... birds, then. asshole.

it’s very cute, i’ll say that. for all the fuss i make about the hippos, they do love each other, in a very healthy way that you don’t often see with married couples on tv. like, they’re kind of slowdancing their way out of the room. it’s nice! they would make good parents.

(”goo.” says brain, in the background, oblivious to the heterosexuality happening around him. “now, take me to my money.”)

credit to flavio and marita; they are very well prepared. this is a very loved baby. i’m not entirely sure how any child would feel about the presence of Clown Bear, but it’s the thought that counts. also i know that’s a changing table? but the design is sick and i wouldn’t mind a chest of drawers like that.

there’s also a theatre, i guess. or..... maybe just a really fancy shower???

Definitely Alfredo is gently placed on his little Alfredo Table. he appears to be asleep, or at least he’s deliberately choosing to keep his eyes closed. can’t think why.

but he, ah. sure went all out for this one. i respect brain for his dedication to the craft.

“now, sweet baby alfredo,” says marita, while the music does a terrifying swell in the background, for some reason, “it is time for your first bath.”

please stop looking at me like that, marita. YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO BATHING. am i about to be inducted into the alfredo cult?? i am, admittedly, a manlet, but i would like to think i am also unmistakably larger than a baby hippo.

(google has no data about the height of a baby hippo, apparently. they do weigh about 100lbs at birth, though, so i guess i have to be careful with this losing weight shtick. not that i’m ever gonna weigh 100lbs, quite frankly, but the minute i do marita’s gonna climb through my window and steal me off to los angeles.)

(i’m terrified.) (on the other hand, they’re definitely going to give me back as soon as they work out how much my medication costs over there.)

i’m literally babbling nonsense, at this point. anyway. brain gets a bath.

remember to Wosh U Mouse. wash he teeth and soul. marita proclaims excitedly that “babies love the bath”, and Definitely Alfredo is Definitely Enjoying Himself, judging by the screaming, so, yknow, good for him.

and then, i guess, flavio just pours boiling water on him for no reason, so brain freaks out and launches himself into the light fitting.

because wouldn’t anybody?

the hippos freak out a bit when the lights stop working, but soon get brain back down to resume their usual Alfredo Activities.

“this is highly undignified.”

but still, marita loves him.

and then she stabs him in the dick, i guess.

“GAH.”

“oops ):”

fortunately, nobody ever died of getting stabbed in the dick (as far as i know?) but even magical babies delivered by amazon need to get their vitals checked, so flavita take him to the hospital anyway.

bomf.

i’ll be dead honest with you, this scene is just torture porn. i’ll summarise it as best i can.

temperature is fine. blood pressure is normal. i am pretty sure inflating babies is not standard medical practice, but brain is cosmically unable to have a good day or he dies, i guess.

the doctor shows up.

“oh, but you’re a cutie. say aaaah.”

“if you think that you’re going to stick that thing in my--”

it’s not very comfortable.

“hmm. rather puny.”

“you have to feed him more.”

NOW LET’S TEST YOUR REFLEXES

i’m pretty sure this man has never been to medical school.

“and now to vaccinate. my, that’s a lot of zeros.”

my, that’s a... screenshot that lives on my laptop now, i guess. hopefully nobody i know ever has to borrow this thing, for whatever reason.

“i’ll see you in three months for a booster shot,” says dr acme, as brain swells and changes colours in a way that no baby ever should.

i feel like this is a good time to interject - my issue with this episode is not the core themes, or anything surrounding them. it’s the amount of unrestrained suffering that goes on within that. like. okay. if this was some kind of consensual dynamic between the three of them for-- whatever reason???? stress?????? - like i wouldn’t mind. i wouldn’t care. consenting adults can do whatever they want with their bodies. this is a positive space. no judgement here on pinkys fault or brains fault dot com.

but it’s not and brain spends most of the episode in pain and terrified and that’s really what i object to above all else. it’s the same problem i have with peatb, really. brain can wear as many cute dresses as he wants, but he’s gotta want to wear them.

but they’re back at the Hippo Digs now so. it’s fine, i guess.

“such a good boy. that trip to the doctor wasn’t so bad, was it?”

hm.

still, it appears i can never escape Terrifying News Lady, even in this hellscape. flavio does the classic dad thing of sitting down with the tv as soon as he’s home, leaving marita to deal with getting Definitely Alfredo settled in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby chair.

what are those straps connected to, anyway??? it’s not the chair, that’s for sure. is brain just wearing a harness for the hell of it? what on earth is going on?

but flavio! it’s time to feed the baby!

“is baby-waby hungry-wungry?” well are you, cranky big head mousie??? huh????

sorry for the paralysing fear that probably caused all of you. undeterred, the terrifying news lady continues to talk in the background about the “richest and most influential child in the world.”

oh no.

oh no.

flavio vaguely wonders if they waited too long to feed their baby, as he has what could be possibly classified as a tantrum.

“you sophomoric, corpulent, pachycerebal aristrocrats! you are imposters and i demand to be taken to the rockefellers immediately!”

the birds don’t care. they’re chilling. marita attributes this to “baby gibberish” while flavio wonders about the “vocabulary he learnt from mr rogers”. he’s maybe a few hours old, at this point, a day tops, but i guess hippos learn latin in pre-k or something.

anyway so then they stick a tube down his throat and inflate him with guacamole.

and with that, “alfredo looks healthier already!”

this is the second time brain has been inflated in this episode. it is unsurprising that he dedicates his nights from this point to raising absolute hell.

but he needs pats first because he ate too much. :<

cut to that night, i guess! where brain is very convincingly crying. very loudly. the hippos look unimpressed, despite the fact that this is literally the most common factor of signing up for a baby.

“it’s the baby. you take care of him.”

well. alright.

air mouse. nyoom. he seems to catapult himself at something, like, once per episode. it’s on par with the closeups by now, surely.

bomp.

unfortunately, the bear is not weightbearing (bear ing. lol) and falls off the shelf on an epic quest for a Great Big Hug.

the resulting bomp alerts the hippos, who go fully, entirely haywire the moment they work out that Definitely Alfredo is not in his correctly-sized-for-a-baby-hippo baby bed.

turns out flavio sat on him.

“really, flavio, be more careful where you sit.”

so they put a padlock on his crib.

this is completely useless. i know this. brain knows this. he’s small enough to just... fit through the bars. but he decides to be dramatic, instead, because that’s what he does best.

“attica! attica! i want out! let me out!”

i am not old enough to get this reference.

i am, however, old enough to empathise with this exact emotion. i feel kind of bad for the hippos, actually. i’m sure they were doing what they thought was... right? in the context of... thinking they had a baby hippo rather than an adult mouse. easy mistake to make. i go check on my weirdly tiny hippos in their hippo cage all the time.

but who could be at the door?

“there seems to have been a mix up. uh. i have your baby right here.”

and guys?

i need to tell you how fast they just throw brain at the guy. it’s actually a little heartbreaking.

but! it’s okay! he still has time to make it to the rockefellers before they......... die. i guess.

man, this plan was not thought out very well.

conclusion:

thank god this is almost over.

the stork repackages the baby, who is now a good few hours old, at least, and delivers the bundle to the very, very different looking house.

they are not any nicer.

“oh, reggie. just look at him.”

“goo.”

“well, frau haussenheffer, we’re off on a cruise. goodbye baby. see you in a year.”

parenting!

“alright then. staff, we have a brand new charge.”

oh dear.

brain, as one can imagine, is having none of this.

but unfortunately, neither is the carpet.

bomp. cause of death: suffocating in the rockefeller mansion carpet.

good thing it all sort of blurs out, huh.

“brain?” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain.” AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA “brain, wake up.”

“i was dreaming?”

oh, thank god for that.

“oh, pinky, you wouldn’t believe the nightmare i had.” and it’s... probably best not to tell him, actually.

“it must have been a doozy, brain! but, oh, a delivery came for you.”

“it’s the rockefeller baby. can we keep it?”

oh dear.

so let’s ignore the fact that this asks more questions than it answers-- but okay, was that a dream within a dream, and why was brain dreaming about that in the first place, and-- and mark this one down as a severe case of outside influence.

brain: 3 ½ pinky: 5 ½ outside influence: 10

“it’s not too late. i demand that you deliver me to the rockefellers immediately!”

“

“aw, how cute. i just love baby gibberish.”

#patb #a! #pinky and the brain #animaniacs #i'm almost done with a! now! #only one more short to go #more importantly #i'm done with this short specifically. so i never have to watch it again

[kilibaggins]

Would you be willing to do a Clurphy fic where they're friends with benefits? Maybe they started because they want the comfort? They don't have to be endgame and anyone else can be involved and any kinks. If not, that's okay!

Clurphy Friends with Benefits

I DECIDED TO MAKE THEM ENDGAME CUZ ITS CUTE AND I WANTED LOVE, IM SORRY 😂

Uh, idk if this counts as Friends with Benefits since it doesn't really talk much about the fact that they are friends with benefits... sooo.. sorry?

And this Fic is another example of "How many times can Ry use the same 'John Murphy is Insecure' idea without it getting old". Heh, once again he doesn't take off his shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There you are, I've been waiting for you, for a long ass time." Murphy says grumbles watching as Clarke walks into his room in the Ark. Clarke raises her eyebrow.

"Oh, I'm sorry. While you were doing whatever the hell you do when no one's around, I was actually helping people in the medbay." Clarke sass's back walking up to Murphy, who is leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face.

"Ah, alright Princess, whatever excuse you need to use." He says smirking at her. Clarke rolls her eyes and grabs his jacket pulling him down into a rough kiss. Murphy gasps and kisses back.

"Yknow, this whole 'Lets have sex, and never ever talk about how close we actually are' thing is getting kinda old." Murphy says against her lips, just for clarke to grind against him, to shut him up.

"Less talking, more stripping." She says smirking up at him. Murphy smirks back and starts unbuckling his pants. He pushes his pants down and watches as Clarke strips her clothes off and gets onto the bed. He bites his lip and appreciates her body for a minute, and sheds off his jacket. He feels himself get hard and climbs into of her on the bed. She immediately wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him to her for a rough kiss.

"You know, id love to feel your skin more than this." Clarke says and Murphy pulls away immediately. He sighs and looks down at her with an annoyed look at the fact that she's bringing up his shirt again.

"I don't want to." Murphy says seriously, he says it clearly and just loud enough for Clarke to know he's upset that she's brought it up again. Clarke sighs and nods her head, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back down to kiss her. Murphy kisses back and trails his hands down Clarke's body. Clarke grinds up into him, causing Murphy to moan. His boxers are getting tight and he's desperate for Clarke's touch.

"Clarke." Murphy groans and leans down running his lips down her chest. He stops at her nipples licking and sucking them, Making them become hard under his tongue. He continues trailing his lips downwards, licking her stomach and abdomen. He stops at her hips sucking hickeys into the skin.

"Don't tease me Murphy." Clarke says in a strong tone causing Murphy to softly whimper. He nods his head and licks her folds softly, wide strokes up and down them as he gets more and more into it. He sneaks his tongue through her folds and towards her entrance prodding at it and moaning into her flesh.

Clarke moans loudly grabbing his hair tightly and pulling him into her, she thrusts into his face and he moans into her. She bites her lip and throws her head back.

"Murphy." She moans, and pulls him up and away from her pussy, Murphy let's her pull him by his hair and moans licking his lips.

"Get up here." Clarke says and Murphy immediately starts crawling to her. He straddles her and leans down kissing her lips. Clarke can taste herself on his tongue as she deepens the kiss.

She can feel him humping down on her thighs and she wraps her arms around his neck and thrusts up causing him to moan from the extra friction.

She uses this as an opportunity to completey dominate the kiss and flip them over all while Murphy moans into her mouth. She pulls back and runs her hands down his clothed torso and she reaches the hem of his shirt and stops.

"Clarke." Murphy says softly and then winces when he sees how much she wants to feel all of him. He bites his lip and sighs softly, looking her in the eyes.

"You dont have to be self conscious around me, John." Clarke says reaching up and running her thumb across his cheek. He gasps softly at the use of his name and then swallows thickly.

"I can't. I can't lose what I have with you. I can't have it all, so I have to hold onto this as long as possible and if that means keeping my shirt on so i dont scare you away than that's what I'll Do. I like you too much to lose you." He says looking up at her sadly. She is giving him a look of shock and then she smiles softly and leans down kissing Murphy's lips.

"If you wanted more with me all you had to do was say so. I like you too, you idiot. Friends with Benefits doesn't work very well when both of the people in it fall in love, hmm?" She says smiling down at him. He's softly smiling up at her as she grabs the hem of his shirt again and his face drops slightly.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He mumbles and she smiles happily lifting the hem of shirt up to his ching looking him in the eyes the whole time waiting to see if he changes his mind. He sits up slightly and slips off the shirt and lays back down completely looking up at Clarke with uncertainty.

Clarke let's her eyes trail down Murphy's scarred chest and bites her lip. She lifts her hand to run along a particularly big one across his pec. He shudders and his eyes slip closed as she does this.

Murphy completely trusts her. Hes not sure when that happened. Not sure if it is a smart thing to do or not. Hes not sure if its a side effect of hwr just telling him that she loves him. All he knows is hes trusting Clarke to look and caress his Scarred skin. The skin he never shows to anyone other than Abby.

Clarke keeps tracing different scars and then leans down kissing the biggest scar. Murphy gasps and shifts slightly under her. Clarke can feel his exposed cock rub against her ass and she smirks.

"Clarke... Please." Murphy begs feeling her grind down slightly. She's still tracing her lips around different scars all over his chest and its driving him crazy. Clarke sits up to her knees and grabs Murphy's cock causing him to moan. She lines up his cock to her entrance and slowly takes him in.

"Oh fuck, oh shit Clarke." Murphy moans fighting to keep his hips down so he doesn't fuck up into Clarke's wet heat. Clarke keeps softly taking him all in and finally takes him all the way in.

"John..." Clarke moans as she brings herself up and back down again. Murphy moans and grabs her hips helping her move. She leans down and licks over his scars and that makes Murphy moan loudly.

Murphy reaches down and runs his finger across Clarke's clit making her moan loudly above him. She lows down her movements and Murphy fucks up into her.

"Murphy..." She moans loudly feeling her orgasm approach. Murphy bites his lip when Clarke starts biting and sucking his chest. There's no doubt in his mind that there will be a Hickey there by the time she's done.

"Clarke, I'm close." Murphy moans fucking up into her faster. He can feel his body exploding neither energy and pleasure and he feels clarke Tighten around him with her orgasm and he goes over the edge cumming hard as Clarke slowly rotates her hips working them both through their orgasms. Clarke stops moving when Murphy whines at the slight overstimulation. She pulls off of him and lays next to him breathing heavily. About now Clarje probably would have gotten up and gotten dressed. They always wanted to keep it strictly sexual so they could just have sex and have no feelings associated but obviously that didn't work out since they confessed they liked eachother just a bit ago.

"Good as always?" Murphy asks as he smirks and he looks over at Clarke. She shakes her head with a laugh and slaps his chest softly, which ultimately reminds Murphy he doesn't have a shirt on and his scars are out in the open. He blushes slightly and looks down his chest to see a fresh Hickey starting to form and he chuckles darkly and winces at the scars. Clarke runs her hand softly over his chest and lays her head on it.

"You know, the scars are kind of hot." Clarke says and Murphy laughs and leans doen to kiss Clarke's forehead.

"Are we really going to do this?" Murphy asks hesitantly.

"Do you want to?" Clarke asks turning so she can rest her arms on Murphy's chest and look up at him.

"Fuck Yeah." Murphy says and smirks down at her. She smiles widely and leans up softly kidding his lips.

"Good."

~Tags~

-Permanent-

@livinglikepogues @httpxsiren

-Clurphy-

@malvieswift

#john murphy #Clarke Griffin #the 100 #John Murphy x Clarke Griffin #clurphy smut tbh. #clurphy #the 100 clurphy #clurphy smut

[jungshookz]

You know what would be great???? Culinary student! Jin and a hopeless y/n who eats ramen out of coffee pots and eats cool whip straight out of the can. Also ily and I hope you know that

→ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

→ genre: what a surprise it’s bratty!y/n, culinarystudent!jin and his fancy pasta, humour, a touch of nsfw because i’m obsessed with jin’s broAd shoulders it’s almost ridiculous

→ wordcount: 3.4k

→ note: i hope i did ur request justice also i love u more :~)))

(gif isn’t mine!) ((also i was going to use a gif of him actually cooking but tumblr refusEd to accept it so i’m sorry)) 

listen

being completely honest

jin thinks you’re really cute

like SUPER cute

like he’s really REALLy frickin attracted to you because you’re just so??? yOU and somehow it works and it gets his gears GRINDING okay

you were the one who moved in right next door and you greeted him with a friendly smile and a ‘here, i baked cookies!’ and of course he accepted the cookie because he’s not a complete monster

but good GOD

that cookie was awful

and to be fair he’s a culinary student so it makes sense that he has high standards but even a fOOL would know that your cookies were god-awful

before you got the chance to distribute your nasty cookies out to the rest of the people on your floor jin was like hEY hEY how about you give me.,.,,. all of your cookies,.,.. because i,.,. really like them.,.,., and.,., i want to eat.,.,. all of them.,., thank u., yes,.

anyways

you’ve known each other for almost eight months?

and nothing has happened because let’s be real

you’re both wussies

and no one’s admitting anything to anyone so you’re kind of in this flirty-friendly space and you’re both FULLY aware that there’s like.,.,. a sprinkle of flirting going on.,,

but you know what

that’s beside the point

he doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about his undeniable crusH on you

because right now all jin can focus on is the fact that you’re eating ramen out of a coffee pot

let him repeat himself

you’re eating ramen

out of a

a COFFEE pot

you’re in the middle of rambling to him about your day and he’s trying to pay attention to what you’re saying but he wants to scream every time to pause to sluRP out of the coffee pot

laundry room gossip is a pretty normal thing for you two

you’re both so busy during the day

you with your classes and jin with his culinary classes

so once or twice a week you’ll both coordinate a time to come down and do your laundry together (you guys usually shove all your clothes in together because u end up saving some $$ too) and you’ll both end up sitting there for a couple hours just talking to each other while waiting for your clothes

jin raises a brow before pressing his lips together

his mother raised him not to be judgemental but COME ON

RAMEN

out of a COFEE POT??????

out of all the things he’s seen you done this has to be the absolute worst

here are a couple of examples as to what monstrosities you’ve exposed him to:

a cold pizza sandwich (two slices of cold pizza with a drizzle of ranch and crunched up cheetos as the filling)

cereal eaten out of the baG ITSELF (u poured the milk in and everything)

chicken pancakes?? aka shredded deep fried chicken and shredded cheese mixed inTO pancake batter and panfried and then topped with a dollop of sour cream and a sprinkle of green onions

one time you made scrambled eggs in a mug and dat shit looked nasty

but this

this doesn’t even make sense

disrespecting what looks like a pretty high-quality coffee pot (he remembers you got it for christmas or something) by using it as a holder for $1 ramen

it’s probably going to stink up the coffee pot and every time you make coffee it’s always going to have that faint aftertaste of chicken broth

a shudder goes down his spine and he winces

you perk up when the drying machine suddenly beeps and stops rumbling “god finaLLy”

jin keeps his eyes glued on the damn coffee pot as you set it down next to your basket and go to retrieve your freshly-dried clothes

you bend down and pop open the dryer and the loud hiss makes jin look over

“jin?” he glances away quickly and looks up at the ceiling as a poor attempt to conceal the fact that he was totally just checking u out just now

“hm, what?” he clears his throat

“aren’t you going to come and get your clothes?”

“oh, right.” jin pushes himself up off the ground and grabs his basket

he props it up on his hip and starts picking out his clothes from the pile

“hey, these are cute.” jin can’t help but smirk as he twirls a burgundy thong around his finger

your cheeks flame up immediately

“cut it out, you perv” you scowl playfully and grab it from him quickly

the little voice in the back of your mind can’t help but wonder if perhaps jin would be interested in seeing you wear the thong

it comes with a matching bralette

hm

“ya-“ jin pokes your arm and you look over at him “was that your dinner?” he points to the coffee pot and you glance over at it “didn’t you have ramen yesterday?”

“…yeah. instant ramen has been my dinner every day for the past week. why?” you hum nonchalantly and continue picking through the pile

you help jin out and toss one of his white t-shirts into his basket

jin can’t help but let his jaw drop

you’ve been eating processed garBAGe for the past weEK

how???????????

“it’s never enough for me tho so i usually eat a bag of chips too. i might have a frozen mac n’ cheese thingy in the freezer so that’s an option too.” you gasp excitedly “ooh i can crumble the chips over the mac n’ chee-“

“oh my god.” all of a sudden jin reaches over and puShes the rest of the clothes into his basket before grabbing your wrist and dragging you towards the door

“hey, we haven’t finished sorting out the-“

“we’ll do it later i just need to get some actual foOD into your system before all the MSG and sodium starts breakING down your internal organs”

as he’s dragging you up the stairs (the elevator is broken again what a surprise) you can’t help but admire how b r o a d his shoulders are

the cotton shirt he’s wearing is kinda thin and u swear u can see his back muscles flexing slightly

you can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like

running your hands all along his back

digging your nails into his shoulders as he,.,,., y’know

wrapping your legs around his tapered waist as he.,,.,.,. y’knOW

s i g h

you purposely pull back a little so jin slows down and gives u more time to ogle him

are you a pervert for doing that

you might be

“let me see what’s in your fridge so i can work my magic”

he’s never actually been in your apartment before

well

he’s never had a reaSon to

(you always wanna invite him in to watch a movie or something but u get shy and shrivel up immediately)

he has a good idea of the layout because his place is exactly the same as yours

he’s not surprised to see that your place is relatively neat and organised besides a couple scattered markers on the coffee table and a throw blanket tossed haphazardly over the couch

there’s a candle burning away in the middle of the coffee table that makes your place smell like warm vanilla

but then

he enters the war zone

the kitchen

oh my god

this is a living nightmare

this is HIS living nightmare

there’s just

he sees all the takeout boxes in the bin and the pizza box sitting on your kitchen island and the- well that must’ve been your breakfast or something because you sprinkled cinnamon toast crunch on a bagel smeared with waY too much cream cheese

“oh hey i forgot about this” a piece of jin’s soul dies and floats up to heaven when you pop the rest of your cinnamon-cream-cheese-bagel monstrosity into your mouth and chew thoughtfully

why does he like you

“ah, i probably should’ve offered you a bite… i’ll make one for you tomorrow if you want!”

whY DOES HE LIKE U

“i’m… good. i think i’m more than good.” he shudders before nudging past you heading to your fridge “lemme see what we’re working with here…”

“you know you really don’t have to make anything for me. i told you i had a frozen mac and cheese…” you’re rambling and jin is most certainly not paying attention to you mainly because he’s shocked becAUSE you have like NOTHING in your fridge

a bottle of three-cheese ranch

a couple oranges, an avocado, and one red apple

a half-eaten sandwich?? it looks like turkey and a shitload of mayo

a takeout box with…,,. three pieces of orange chicken and a piece of broccoli that you’ve taken a bite out of

a baby carton of chocolate milk and a regular sized carton of milk

and a can of cool whip

unless he makes an orange-chicken-turkey-avocado sandwich with ranch on the side accompanied with a glass of chocolate milk with a dollop of whipped cream on top there’s not a lot he can do here

is thiS how you live

“you know what, maybe you should just come over to my place!” jin closes the fridge and clasps his hands together “yeah, let’s do that.”

“what do you mean?? i have plenTy of food in my fridg- okAy” you stumble over your feet when jin grabs your wrist and drags you away from the fridge

when you enter jin’s place he pushes you down on the couch and you nearly bounce off of it “you stay here, and i’ll whip something up for us.”

as he turns to head towards his kitchen he hears a vioLent schrrr

he turns back around and your finger freezes on the nozzle on the whipped cream canister

“wha- where did you even hiDe that” jin furrows his brows and you shrug before squirting some more into your mouth

“you sure you don’t need any help??” you’re already bored and you’ve only been here for less than a minute

“i don’t want you burning down my kitchen, so i’m good.”

“but i’m boRed and i’m hunGRY” you whine and flop back against the couch

jin raises a brow before bending down and grabbing the remote

he turns the tv on and it just so happens to be playing the late-night cartoons

perfect for a petulant child like you

miraculously jin gets 20 minutes of peace and quiet until he hears you whining again about how hunGry again

that’s what happens when you eat nothing but empty calorie foods

your eyes light up with excitement when jin emerges from the kitchen

he has a rag tossed over his shoulder and a grey apron hanging around him that you assume is from his culinary school

his cheeks are kinda pink from the heat of the kitchen which is adorable

he sits down next to you and you turn to fully face him while crossing your legs

he hands you the plate

wow

“….do you go to culinary school or something?” you tease and jin snorts

the pasta’s been plated into a loose nest and there’s a pretty little basil leaf sitting on top

“chicken, bacon, and spinach spaghetti. and since you’re a whipped cream freak we can have assorted berries and whipped cream for dessert.”

“assorted berries.” you mock quietly and jin scowls playfully before handing you a fork

he doesn’t know why but he’s a little bit nervous lol

like he KNOWS he’s good at cooking but for some reason he feels like he’s presenting a dish to gordon ramsay or someone of that calibre

you twirl a bit of pasta around the fork and shove it into your mouth

and you didn’t think it was possible

but you’re pretty sure your mouth is having an orgasm

HOLy shit

fireworks are going OFF

the bacon has retained its crisp

the spinach is wilted but not toO wilted that it’s falling apart

the chicken is so soft and tender

the spaghetti is cooked *ahem* al dente

and the sauce!!!!

it’s so creamy

so flavourful

you swallow your bite and blink down at the plate of pasta

“what’s wrong?”

“this is…. almost too good.” you mutter and poke at a piece of perfectly cooked chicken before stabbing into it and popping it into your mouth

jin’s cheeks warm with pride as he watches you continue to eat

“it’s almost as good as my frozen mac n cheese meals.” you joke and jin resists the urge to smack you with his rag

it doesn’t matter if you’ve eaten 20 pounds of food for dinner because you’ll always aLWAys have room for dessert

especially if dessert involves whipped cream

it’s healthy-ish!! it’s basically dairy and don’t u need dairy for strong bones or something

and strawberries and blueberries are fruit

and fruit is healthy

so if you really think about it assorted berries and whipped cream is the ideal combo if u wanna get in shape

jin doesn’t trust you with the canister of whipped cream (because he’s 100% sure you’re just going to hog all the cream and squirt all of it into your mouth) so he’s squirting some out onto a particularly juicy looking strawberry that he knoWS you want to devour

he turns and offers it to you and your mouth opens automatically as you lean forward to take it into your mouth

“hold on now.” your brows immediately knit together when he pulls away juSt as you’re about to take a bite “admit it. my spaghetti is much better than your stupid mac n cheese meals.” there’s a glint of playfulness in his eyes as he points to his ear and waits for your response

“i dunno. i get the mac n cheese from whole foods so you know it’s good.” you tsk but keep your eyes right on the berry hovering in front of you

“huh. i guess i’ll be enjoying this seasonal japanese strawberry for myself, then.” jin pouts mockingly

“nO i WANT IT“ jin yelps when you’re suddenly clambering over and grabbing his wrist so that you can shoVe the berry right into your mouth

now

a normal person would eat the berry and then return to their seat

unsurprisingly

you are far from a normal person

you keep your hold on his wrist and suck the whipped cream off his thumb after swallowing the strawberry

god have mercy

your eyes flicker up and you see jin staring right at you with parted lips

“…something the matter?”

and within one second

the berries and your trusty canister of whipped cream have both been abandoned in favour for

well

“can’t believe it took you thiS long to make a move” you murmur against jin’s mouth and he responds by nipping at your bottom lip

“says you!” he gawks before proceeding to press kisses down your neck

and you finALLY get to feel his muscles rippLe underneath the soft cotton of his shirt as you slide your hands from his waist to his back

meanwhile jin’s hand has found its home in between your legs and your eyes flutter shut “god, jin…”

“something the matter?” he mocks before pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth “you gonna admit it now?”

“admit wha- oh, jin - admit whaT”

“that my food is better than your frozen TV dinners” you would’ve burst out laughing if it weren’t for the shocks of electricity tingling up your spine

“n-no way-“ your back arches against his chest and your mouth falls open in a silent moan

and suddenly

you let out a pathetic whine when jin’s hand pulls away from in between your legs “fine. i guess we’re done here!” he sits up but keeps your legs wrapped around his waist

god

you are just a vision aren’t you

you’re flopped back against the arm of the couch

your chest is heaving slightly

your cheeks and nice n rosy

“you are the absolute worst.”

“c’mon… say it…”  he hums and slides a finger from your knee cap to your inner thigh

you know for a fact you two aren’t done here because jin’s already hooked a finger into the waistband of your shorts but you’re naturally a veRy impatient person and so-

“fine, you idiot. your food is significantly better than my frozen TV dinners. happy?”

“…i’ll take it.”

((spoiler alert: you are rewarded with not one not two but thREE mind-blowing orgasms for admitting it))

((maybe you should learn to be less stubborn))

“good morning!” jin is startled awake when you plop on top of him with your legs on either side of him “it’s 10 o’clock and i made us some food”

“christ, don’t scare me like that!” jin scolds you playfully and reaches up to pinch the side of your bare thigh

you’re wearing the shirt he had on last night and it’s starting to droop off your shoulder

“good morning indeed.” his voice is thick with sleep and his hand slides up from your thigh to grasp at your waist “whatcha got there?”

“cinnamon toast crunch bagel” you murmur with a mouthful of bagel and swipe at a lil chunk of cream cheese on the corner of your mouth “my wonderful creation that i made fresh for you”

you’re getting crumbs all over jin but he can’t seem to care because the idea of a cinnamon toast crunch bagel makes him want to throW YOU ouT THE WINDOW

he sits up slowly and wraps an arm around your waist before nuzzling into the crook of your neck “you’re lucky i like you otherwise i would throw your wonderful creation righT into the garbage bin right about now.”

you scoff in mock offence and pull away from him before jabbing a sticky finger into his bare (b r o a d) chest

“don’t knock it til you try it!!”

“the day i try one of your inventions is the day i- mmph!” you shut him up and shove the last bite of your bagel into his mouth before clasping your hand over his mouth so he can’t spit it out

jin chews slowly

and swallows

what the hell

that actually..,,. that tasted good

“that was okay, i suppose. kinda sweet. but i can think of something that might taste a little sweeter.” before you know it jin is flipPing you over and you find yourself pinned underneath him

you’re a giggling mess because you’re trying to get the cream cheese and sugar particles off your fingers but jin is being very vEry distracting

“hOLd on a second sir i have breakfast waiting for us in the living room!” jin’s already made his way down your chest and is about to set up shop in between your legs

he looks up at you before offering you a cheeky grin “…i’m in the mood for breakfast in bed, aren’t you?”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

masterlist

#requested drabbles #jin #seokjin #kim seokjin #jin fics #jin fic recs #jin smut #jin smut recs #jin fluff #jin fluff recs #jin cute #jin funny #seokjin smut #seokjin smut recs #seokjin fluff #seokjin fluff recs #bts #bts fic recs #bts fics #bts smut #bts smut recs #bts fluff #bts cute #bts funny

[aquaquadrant]

Title: it wears a mask Chapter Warnings: language, death mention. Summary: Beck has a change of heart at the trainyard and takes Peter captive instead. In many ways, it turns out much, much worse. (NOT SLASH)

Chapter Six Preview

It’s good to be back.

Beck greets his friends with smiles and nods as he makes his way through the headquarters. He’s glad to finally let himself relax and fully drop the Mysterio act. There haven’t been many moments completely to himself since London. And that costume really doesn’t breathe well.

Hill offered him a place at the old Avengers compound, and Beck had to play the ‘tortured loner’ role to decline and take off without sounding suspicious. He has his whole team to think of, not to mention Peter. And besides, what’s the fun of being a superhero if you’re living in a government sanctioned compound with constant surveillance? Stark had the right idea, living it up in his own private mansion.

The event has started Beck thinking about a more permanent settlement. This temporary headquarters isn’t too shabby, but he didn’t really want to settle in Europe. Staging his attacks in America will get him more attention; American news always does. And he can be a bit pickier about exactly where he sets up shop. This base is a bit too public for his liking. Their security is tight, but all it takes it one accidental glimpse through a door as it opens, one troublesome teenager sneaking around where they aren’t supposed to, and the whole thing is blown.

He might take some notes from the Avengers and get himself a nice, secluded compound. Sturdy, well protected, with plenty of room to breathe. And he can take notes from Wakanda and set up a perimeter of drones to hide the entire thing under cloaking technology. No shame in stealing from the best.

But he doesn’t have to think about that now. He’ll have plenty of time once the buzz from the London attack ebbs- it’s already dropped down the list of trending topics, so it won’t be long. It’s been a busy three days, but the world moves on quickly. He’ll have to get his next planned attacks rolling to stay relevant, just a few little disturbances to put him in back the headlines.

At least Beck has the time for this; checking in with his favorite web-crawling do-gooder. He’s tapped into the video feed a few times since the last time, but he hasn’t actually spoken to Peter in person since making that call to his friends. And seeing as he’s due for a check-in with everyone at home base anyways, it’s a good time as any.

Beck pauses just outside the door to Peter’s room, briefly pulling up the video feed. Peter’s sitting on his bed, finishing a sandwich while trying to look like he’s not watching the news report playing on the wall. Beck closes the projection with a grin and lets himself into the room.

Peter jumps at his entrance, and the initial surprise on his face quickly turns to alarm as he realizes who it is. The sandwich falls from Peter’s hand onto the bed as he scrambles away from Beck, his back hitting the wall.

The wound on Peter’s face looks a lot worse up close. Angry red skin borders the tiny stitches along his cheek, making it look even more out of place than the bare gash itself. His right hand in its splint is held close to his chest, his left hand pressed back against the wall.

Beck chuckles. “Aw, what’s the matter, not happy to see me?”

Peter doesn’t reply, instead continuing to study him with that distrustful, wide-eyed gaze.

Beck puts his hands on his hips. “Oh, what, what’s that look for? I’m just here to talk.”

Peter hesitates. “I don’t know if you’re real,” he says, wary.

“You’re still on this?” Beck asks incredulously. “What reason would I have for appearing as an illusion now instead of just talking to you through Herod’s intercom?”

Instead of an answer, Peter blinks at him. “Herod?”

Ah shit, right. “Oh, that’s what I’ve named your drone,” Beck explains, waving a hand. He grins. “It’s a biblical reference, get it? Peter and Herod?”

Peter’s face is blank. “We don’t really, uh… go to church so, yknow…”

Beck raises his eyebrows. “Really? You’ve never heard of- forget it.” He shakes his head, mildly disappointed. “Now, even if I was an illusion, what would be the harm? Clearly I’m not going to kill you, otherwise I would’ve done it already. You’re a prisoner in a secure cell. Why would I use an illusion to attack you now?”

Peter’s expression grows guarded, and it’s immediately clear to Beck that an answer has come to Peter’s mind and he doesn’t like it. “You tell me,” he snaps.

“Ooh, getting feisty, are we?” Beck taunts, unfazed by the insult. “It’s amazing what a hot shower, a change of clothes, a good meal, and medical treatment will do for the spirit, huh?”

“Stop it,” Peter says, his voice low. His shoulders hunch by his ears defensively. “I just… need to know if you’re real.”

It comes out a lot more wobbly than Peter probably intended. Beck puts his hands on his hips, nonplussed. He genuinely didn’t expect the illusions to have such a lasting effect on the kid’s head- but in hindsight, Beck shouldn’t be surprised. He’s won Peter’s trust only to tear it all down, throw him into a nightmare, almost kill him, and then take him captive. Even if there wouldn’t be any danger involved this time, Peter doesn’t want to be tricked again. It’s only natural.

“Well, I already know you won’t take my word for it,” Beck says eventually. He stretches an arm out, almost as if for a handshake. “Go ahead, see for yourself.”

Peter gives a start, like he hadn’t expected Beck to go along with it. Then he’s wary again, eyes narrowing in on Beck’s hand like it might shoot lasers at him. After a moment, he eases off the bed and onto his feet, moving in that same slow, tense way from earlier. He approaches Beck by walking sideways- protecting his most vital organs, smart- and the bend in his knees puts him closer to the ground, ready to spring away in an instant.

Beck is abruptly reminded of his attempts to befriend alley cats outside his childhood home. Sitting still with an outstretched hand as they slunk towards him, those slitted eyes roving over him as their ears twitched curiously. They got close enough to sniff his hand before darting away, tails bristling, and the process would repeat. It was a miraculous lesson in patience for ten-year-old Beck, and his efforts were rewarded within just a few weeks; the cats would come when he called.

Amusement quirks at Beck’s lips with the memory, but he doesn’t let himself smile. Peter might take it as a warning.

Finally, Peter stops before him. When his hand darts out to make contact, he doesn’t take Beck’s offered hand. Instead, he ends up sort of poking the back of Beck’s hand, just for an instant. Another calculated move, Beck suspects, because if Peter had taken his hand, it would’ve given Beck the opportunity to grab him.

As soon as Peter’s hand falls away, he retreats to the bed. Like he can’t get away from Beck fast enough. His expression is hard to read- not from any effort on Peter’s part to conceal his emotions, but because they’re so conflicted. He settles cross-legged again, meeting Beck’s gaze evenly.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

“Just checking up on you,” Beck says, folding his arms. “I heard about your hand. Feel like telling me why you’re punching walls?”

Peter bristles, his hand curling to his chest. “No.”

Beck hums noncommittally. “Well, I know you definitely weren’t trying to escape, because doing so would kill your best friends in the whole wide world, and we don’t want that.” His smile is a bit too wide to be friendly. “So what gives?”

Peter glares at him, but Beck can tell the reminder has its desired effect from the way Peter sets his jaw. “I got angry,” he says finally, glancing away. “Lost my temper.”

Beck knows it’s a lie right away. Peter Parker is many things, but he’s not the kind of person who is prone to anger issues. Beck’s research told him as much. So he reads between the lines, searching for the half-truth. Maybe Peter did lose control of himself, but it wasn’t out of anger. That’d be something he’d want to keep to himself, especially after the trainyard.

“Alright.” Beck doesn’t press it, filing the info away for later. “Next time, count to ten.”

Peter ignores the comment. “You can’t keep this up forever, you know.”

Beck tilts his head. “Keep what up?”

“This… fake hero thing.” Peter’s voice is layered with thinly-veiled disgust. His eyes trace the projection of the news report still playing on the wall. “What are you going to do when the real villains show up? The real monsters? You keep establishing yourself, and it’ll only be a matter of time before someone challenges you.” He frowns, thoughtful. “It’s like, you’re trying to make a game, right, but there are already real players out there. And they play by their rules.”

Beck nods slowly. “Interesting point,” he says, humoring Peter. “What would you suggest I do?”

Peter studies him for a moment, hesitating. “Quit while you’re ahead,” he offers finally. “If you stop now, you could get away. Disappear before anyone knows what’s happening. But if you wait for someone or something else to expose you, your chances are a lot worse.”

It’d be a good answer, if Beck was a man of less nerve. He’s come too far to have doubt now. “I’m sorry, what about this situation has made you think you can try to bargain with me?” he asks.

Surprise flares in Peter’s eyes, and he holds his hands up. “I’m just saying, this isn’t sustainable.”

“Maybe you weren’t paying attention.” Beck lets the slightest edge come into his voice, feeling satisfied by the way Peter tenses. “I have Edith now- thanks, by the way- and Edith has access to Stark’s entire satellite surveillance network. If it’s online, Edith has access to it, and that means any potential threats can be identified and neutralized before they happen.”

“You…” Peter knits his brows together. “Wait, you’re talking about using Edith to-”

Beck interrupts with a question. “Were you old enough to pay attention to the whole SHIELD shitstorm? With Hydra and the helicarriers and Project Insight?” At Peter’s hesitant nod, Beck continues, “they might’ve been onto something. But while they used an algorithm to predict who could potentially cause problems, I’ll be using Edith to locate them and take them out before any damage can be done.”

Horror dawns on Peter’s face. “This is… you’re going to use a worldwide surveillance network to eliminate threats, and then create fake ones to fight? That’s-”

“Changing the game, I know,” Beck amends. “If we’re going with your little metaphor.”

Peter stares at him. “You’re killing all the players before they enter the stage, and replacing them with CPUs.”

Beck chuckles. “Sure, that’s a way to put it. Might be cheating, but at least I know I’ll always win.”

“But not without cost,” Peter says, his words slow with realization. “You’re… going to keep killing people for it, aren’t you? Innocent people?”

“Collateral damage,” Beck agrees. “It’s necessary.”

Sure, if Beck were more of a humanitarian, he could just use Edith to keep the world safe and not even bother with all the theatrics. But he’s got a couple reasons for going about it this way. One; many people would disagree with persecution coming before the crime, and his actions have a much better chance of going unnoticed if he gives the world something else to look at.

And two; Beck is tired of working in the shadows.

Peter’s expression hardens. “It won’t work forever,” he says quietly. “Someone or something is gonna get through the cracks, and- and what do you do then? What if you get attacked in public, no illusions prepared, with the whole world watching?”

Despite himself, Beck feels a small sliver of unease trickle down his spine. As good as Edith is, he’s not the only person who can play things close to the vest. If someone was cautious and clever enough, they could hide their intentions until it was too late. Plus, people and plans could change in an instant. Accidents happen. In this world where mild-mannered scientists could Hulk out at the drop of a hat, it’s nearly impossible to be certain you’re truly safe, at any moment.

Maybe Beck hasn’t prepared for everything as thoroughly as he believed.

But he doesn’t let his newfound doubt show. “How about I worry about the hero stuff, and you worry about keeping your friends alive by being a good little spider, alright?”

Peter’s expression clouds with disappointment and bitterness, and that alone tells Beck that Peter was really hoping to get through to him. Hoping to convince him to abandon this path. But Beck has a perspective Peter can never understand; living in a world where half the population vanished without a trace, and the other half was abandoned by the heroes sworn to protect them. Or, at the very least, avenge them. He remembers the chaos in the days immediately following, his own fear after watching the world crumble around him.

Since the snap was reversed, Beck has often wondered if it would have been easier, had he been blipped. But he’s glad to have experienced those five years. It’s made him stronger, and only solidified his resolve. There’s not enough control in the world, he realized, and the control they have is in incapable hands. It won’t be willingly handed over to the right ones, it has to be taken.

So while some people fell into despair, Beck got to work putting together his own team and fine-tuning the projection technology that would one day power his illusions. Stark’s development of Edith was the last piece to the puzzle, and everything from there fell into place.

Peter is the one outlier Beck didn’t account for, but he’s good at improvising.

“I’ll let you get back to your show now,” Beck says with a grin, nodding at the ongoing news reports. “The lights are gonna go off in a couple hours, and someone will be in to patch up the shower tomorrow morning. You have a good night-”

“Wait.”

Peter’s voice makes Beck pause, his hand on the doorknob. Looking over his shoulder, he sees Peter staring hard at the floor, his good hand clenched into a fist as if he’s steeling himself.

“The guy who was in here earlier, Virgil…” Peter takes a deep breath and meets Beck’s eyes. “He said that you didn’t show any of them what happened at the trainyard.”

Oh, interesting. “That’s correct,” Beck admits.

Peter actually looks a little upset at that. “Why?”

It’s surprising that something like this would matter to Peter, but Beck takes it in stride. “There are some things that I keep to myself,” he says mildly.

Sure, he’s not keen for the others to see the way he hesitated. He’d much rather them believe that his decision to spare Peter was well-thought out instead of the result of a… sudden weakness. But it’s more than that, it’s not wanting the others to see what Peter went through.

And not out of any concern for the kid’s privacy, no. There’s something appealing about keeping that knowledge to himself. About being the only one to have seen Peter like that- aside from William, who only heard it through the mic. It gives Beck a sort of power, he thinks. The power of knowing just how far he successfully pushed Peter, how effective his methods had been.

He’s earned it, in a manner of speaking. Earned the right to see Peter fall apart. No one else has.

Despite saying none of this out loud, the look Peter’s giving Beck makes him think the kid has worked it out on his own. Sharp as a whip, this one. The clash of emotion across Peter’s face is so startling, it’s like he’s inventing new ways to look horrified and betrayed.

Beck rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’ll be our little secret, yeah? Now finish your dinner and get some sleep tonight. I’ll be checking in soon.”

Peter looks like he’s going to say something but cuts himself off, glancing away.

Beck takes that as his cue to leave, locking the door behind him. Once outside, he quickly pulls up Herod’s projection again, just to double check.

Peter’s sitting right where Beck left him, absently scratching at his wrist splint. As Beck watches, he gives a barely noticeable sigh and picks up the sub sandwich he’d dropped. He looks like he’s fully lost his appetite, but he starts eating anyways, and he pointedly avoids looking at Herod or the projection of the news reports.

Beck closes the feed again, nodding to himself. Looks like everything’s settling down for now. All things considered, Peter’s taken this pretty well. He’s been logical enough to not try and escape, and been on his best behavior where Herod can see him.

But even the strongest wills break given time, and Beck can’t wait to watch.

#spiderman far from home #spiderman ffh #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #mcu fanfiction #my writing #im gonna see if actually posting the chapter here does anything LOL

[minnie-marvel]

WONDER BOY WIP PREVIEW

Please take this with a grain of salt. I really hate how this came out but I wanted to at least get it out of here in the open.... I’m not sure what I’ll do with this but this was the assassin! reader I was planning.. yikes yikes yikes feedback is appreciated but keep in mind i don’t think i even proofread this piece so its literally a mess. I really don’t know what I’ll do with this I might not take this on.

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You hissed sharp breaths between your clenched teeth as you quickly jumped and latched your fingertips onto the cold iron fence. The sound of bloodthirsty dogs and men with guns were quickly speeding up from behind you. This was not good.

You started climbing up the fence the clanking of the metal against the fence poles jingled in your ear as you quickly sat on the edge of the fence and hopped down. You heard a rip come from your back to see a patch of your dirty red shirt stuck to the fence. You shook your head wildly before breaking out in a run again. Fucking bastards, that was your favorite shirt!

Your feet seemed to want to carry you for miles but your brain knew better. This was all the adrenaline at work. Your eyes scanned the series of cars parked behind the large dark barn that you used to call home. You pat yourself down furiously, you prayed that you had your keys on you or you’d be a very embarrassed and dead assassin laying on the grounds of cherry farms. You heard a familiar clinking in your pockets oh thank god. Maybe you weren’t as big of an idiot than you thought.

You pulled the keys out of your pocket and started sprinting towards your motorcycle. Your keys flowed from your hands into the ignition easily before the engine roared to life. You revved yourself up and sped off in a hurry the noise of angry yelling and barking slowly fading out into what you hoped would be a distant memory.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to be swimming in money right now on the white beaches of Bali sipping from martini glasses with olives that sunk to the bottom of your cup. You would have been soaking up the sun and waking up to the beautiful Indian Ocean everyday, maybe get a dog to keep you company, because dogs wouldn’t judge you over your past.

But no. you just had to be a dumb shit who had too much trust in people who literally murdered other people for a living.

It was an easy job, especially for someone in your position. All you had to do was take out a fellow assassin from your employers company-Cherry Farms.  You couldn’t even say that you felt that bad shooting them from the backside before kicking them over into the ocean. You weren’t close to anyone in the farms for that reason. If you trusted anyone in this place you’d get a knife in your back- unfortunately you were the person to prove this to be true.

It wasn’t like Cherry Farms hadn’t ordered people to kill off their own. Whenever someone became a threat to the company or had too much information, hell if they even looked at the Commissioner wrong they’d end up with a bullet in their throat. But this was different. Being commissioned by another assassins guild to go against your own company wasn’t heard of. Unless you had a death wish you wouldn’t dream of doing so. You didn’t have a death wish at all, you were just a huge idiot.

The company had promised you enough money that you could have probably bought an entire island and still have money to spare. They were a legitimate company too, you had heard of their assassins taking out some pretty infamous and spectacular kills. You guessed that you could say that you killed for them now. Not that it mattered, you were almost 97.9 percent sure that you would be dead by the end of the night.

You looked up as a small bar came into view and shrugged. Hey, if you were going to die at least you’d get a last drink before you were offed.

You pulled into the parking lot of the bar and kicked the stand as you pulled the ignition key out and killed the engine. You felt for your gun still clicked securely in your pocket and tapped lightly hearing the soft tink tink of the knives that were built underneath the toes of your shoes. What could you say? You were prepared. You cracked your knuckles loudly before pushing the bar doors open looking inside quickly before assessing the environment as not being a threat.

Eyes followed you on your way in not because you were an actual assassin with a gun strapped to your hips and knives (secretly) beneath your feet. You felt a slight draft come from behind you and realized you still had a chunk of shirt missing from your back. You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t even die with your favorite shirt intact. What a joke.

You sat yourself on a barstool crossing your arms and leaning them on the wooden bar looking up at some football game that was playing. It hadn’t been but five minutes before you felt a stranger come beside you.

“Hey there, noticed you haven’t bought anything yet, you need some cash?” You felt your nose twitch as you tried not to shiver outwardly towards the obvious creep.

“I’m fine thanks….” You muttered before fishing through your pockets for money. “Didn’t think it was a crime to take a breather before letting alcohol pump through my system.” You muttered before slamming a twenty on the counter eyeing the bartender.

“Whatever you can get me for this much I’ll take,”  you said simply.

“You know sweetheart it was supposed to be an offer of generosity, you should try to be more greatful,” He said. You could hear the aggravation in his voice trying not to break out openly in the public.

You turned yourself around to him fully now crossing your legs as you raised an eyebrow. “Yeah because you definitely want to just be a kind generous fucking soul,”  He lowered his eyes at you and suddenly didn’t care about being polite since he knew he wasn’t getting anything out of you.

“Alright bitch, See how it is, yknow that sharp tongue of yours is gonna get you in a mess a trouble some day,” he warned leaning dangerously close. It wasn’t dangerous for you at all, you were worried that you were going to get kicked out of this bar before you got to your drink.

“Excuse me,” you heard another voice call. It was gentler and sweeter than this creep’s voice. You dragged your eyes to the towering man with bright blue eyes and a charming smile that could send america’s hearts through the moon.

“I think you’d better leave her alone sir, I don’t think she wants to be bothered tonight,” he said putting a hand on the creep’s shoulder. He looked between you and the golden boy grimacing before slinking off. He already knew that he was out of his league. You smirked as Steve Rogers watched the man go making sure he was out of range.

“Well, if it isn’t the star spangled man with a plan,” You said before a drink was set right by your arm. You took it in hand taking two swigs before it was gone.

Clearly impressed (and maybe somewhat concerned) Steve gave a wary smile not confirming nor denying your claim to who he was. Not that you needed to, you could spot that guy from a mile away. After all Captain America had so many dollar signs over his head that if you happened to murder him-

You blinked.

“Are you okay there ma’am?” he asked. The dollar signs were practically popping over his head as you stammered your words.

“A-Ah uh… yeah I’m rich- I MEAN!! SHIT!! I’m okay, I’m perfect, I’m cool,” you leaned on one eye flashing him a smile that you thought was charming, but really just ended up looking ridiculous.

Steve’s eyebrows knit together in concern but he still smiled regardless.

(This is a WIP or a WORK IN PROGRESS!!! please treat it as such!!)

#behind the scenes with minnie #wip #steve rodgers x reader

[rattlung]

rivers and roads pt 3

whats up it’s ur boy skinny penis back on his bullshit with another chapter of that fnv mcgenji fic no one but me asked for.

I wrote this in like two days and hardly edited, but yknow, fuck it. if your preferred jam is ao3 you can read it there too. if smth isn’t tagged that you’d like to see tagged let me know

“From where you’re kneeling, this must look like an eighteen karat run of bad luck.” She said this while gesturing with her gun, the metal of it shining against the lanterns. It wasn’t too bright, but his head throbbed and the shine squeezed at his brain. When he didn’t make a move or try to say anything, just squinted up at the woman, she crouched down and patted his face twice, like a mother with a petulant child. “Ay, pobrecito…”

The smirk could be heard in her voice, he didn’t have to stare to see it. He couldn’t look away.

She gave a theatrical sigh and a played-up shrug when she stood again. “Truth is… the game was rigged from the start.” The woman pointed the gun, and he stared down the barrel. She didn’t stop smiling, he didn’t look away.

She fired.

=+=

The walk to Primm was not a long one. Before the sun rose over the hills, McCree could make out the few buildings and the winding track of a wooden roller coaster behind them. It was a pleasant surprise, as he thought he’d be going further than that before he reached another settlement. He made a mental note to study the Pip-Boy’s mapping system thoroughly to learn the roads better. Unreliable distances meant unreliable food and water rations, a dangerous mistake.

Mr. New Vegas’s voice carried him over the final hill, dipping straight into an overpass, the bridge leading to the entrance of the town on the left. McCree stayed right so he could cross once he reached it and kept his eyes on the cityline. There were no lights on, which he guessed wasn’t very odd, seeing as it was hardly five in the morning. It was doubtful a lot of people would be awake.

“Hey!”

McCree jolted and reached for the pistol at his hip. The shout had come from in front of him and was followed by a man hurrying toward his direction, dressed in a military esque uniform the same color as the dirt that dusted his boots.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The soldier demanded, stopping a good distance away from McCree. “Primm is off limits to civilians. Head back to Goodsprings or wherever you came from - before you get shot.”

McCree regarded him with an unimpressed look. “‘Preciate the concern, sir, but I can take care of myself.”

It was the trooper’s turn to raise a brow, giving McCree a once over. “I have my orders.”

“What’s goin’ on in Primm that needs stayin’ away from?” He asked instead of rolling his eyes.

The man appeared to age several years at just hearing the question, obviously troubled and doing a poor job of hiding it. “Convicts broke out of the prison up the road, took over the town. Anyone there is either dead or boarding up their windows. That, and the tribes of raiders causing trouble in the nearby areas.” He lifted up the goggles attached to his helmet to rub at his eyes and sighed deeply, exhausted. McCree would have felt bad for him if he’d liked him. “You really would be better off heading back.”

McCree looked back to the military camp he had not noticed during his approach. In the rising sunlight, the tents appeared to be more stones and collapsed homes against the horizon, but now that he was made aware it was hard to ignore. A few other men and women strolled around tiredly in matching gear as the man before him. His eyes were drawn toward the flag hanging limp above it all, and then the wind blew and he saw it: a two headed bear. NCR, the New California Republic. A democracy, expanding its uninvited reach from what was left of California. McCree thought he must’ve worked for them a few times, because he only knew them for their money.

“Shouldn’t you be helping?”

“We’d love to,” the soldier stated, sounding unenthused, “but they don’t fall under NCR jurisdiction. Even if they did, we’re in no shape to provide any support.”

McCree gave the collection of people behind him a pointed look. “You’re not?”

“No equipment, not enough hands to provide backup if need be. The convicts are armed with explosives, they’d slaughter us.” He crossed his arms, seemingly finished with McCree. “If you’ve got any more pressing questions, talk to Lieutenant Hayes. He’s in a tent down the road.” He turned away from McCree and started marching back to his post. “Stay on the west side of the road if you don’t want to get shot,” he called.

=+=

Lieutenant Hayes wasn’t in better spirits than his trooper that sent McCree his way, but he was polite. He greeted McCree with all of his titles that he only half-listened to and told him the same thing the other soldier did but in more detail. Not enough supplies, not enough men, convicts holding the town hostage, nothing they could do.

“They’re taken to calling themselves Powder Gangers,” he had said. “We think it’s because of the explosives meant to clear boulders they had stolen. They organized faster than anyone had thought - well, most of them, at least. This group split off from the main force, so they seem to be on their own.”

“What about the prison?”

“Most people just call it N.C.R.C.F., that’s NCR Correctional Facility. Convicts staged a coup; killed the guards and took over the prison.”

McCree left the tent unsurprised. The wasteland had never been a safe place. Thugs and raiders torturing innocents wasn’t a new development. The idea of basing the group off of an obsession with explosives, though, that was different, McCree had to give them that. He’d seen enough “cannibal” raider groups to last a lifetime.

Still, he thought back to Goodsprings, the man that had intercepted him and Hana at the Prospector Saloon, and the N.C.R.C.F. printed across his back. He hadn’t been dumb enough to think him a real security guard, but his presence in town was more troubling now knowing his origins. McCree retreated back to the overpass, keeping the idea of returning to Goodsprings in mind. But, firstly, he has to make sure there isn’t any trace of the woman in the lilac suit in Primm. If there wasn’t anything he’d be back at square one anyway.

There was a makeshift blockade on the west side of the bridge made mostly of wood planks and old rubber tires, a woman standing behind it at the post with a rifle in hand. “You’re going in there?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She scoffed, like she was surprised someone could be so stupid, and said, “Careful of the mines. Laid ‘em out in case they tried to initiate an attack.”

Most of the buildings he passed were either boarded up or hollowed out, crumbling toward the street. Among the trash and rubble were small pools of dried blood and bullet casings; the NCR hadn’t been overstating the situation in the slightest. The layout of the town - from what he could see as he approached off the bridge - was simple, unlike the winding road and similar buildings of Goodsprings. What was left of the main road was shaped in a ‘T’, headed by a large hotel with the roller coaster he had seen from down the way looming over it. An appropriately shaped sign titled the hotel “The Bison Steve”.

The front of the building to his left face the heading street, but McCree’s attention was drawn to the square office stood on the opposite side of it. Its roof was outlined by neon-light lettering reading “Mojave Express”. He recognized the company’s name, the very same company that issued the delivery order that had been left on him when he’d been attacked.

A gunshot rang out over his head. He heard the yelling from further in the town when his hearing cleared after the deafening pop. Two men, both dressed in armor that resembled the man’s from Goodsprings, rounded the corner.

“Get the fuck outta here,” one hissed, raising his pistol with a wild look in his eyes.

McCree didn’t say anything in return, only retrieved his own weapon in kind. He shot down the second man who had advanced even further than the first with a deadly looking blade. It clattered to the pavement, along with the man’s body, and the other yelled wordlessly. He fired at McCree, but the closest he came was a few bullets whizzing over his head. McCree put him down quick, once in the shoulder, second clean in the head.

They didn’t have much on them in way of supplies besides a few extra caps and ammo. The knife the thug had was deadly, but not in the sense that the cut would kill you. Rather, the rust and old blood it left behind would cause some sort of infection that’d finish you off. That, and the fact that the blade wobbled in its hilt, was reason enough to leave it behind. The gun the other had McCree unloaded and dropped in his bag.

When he’s sure no one else was on the streets looking to shoot him in the back, he makes his way to the Mojave Express.

There was a body propped against the side next to the door, a courier, by the looks of the messenger bag strapped around his shoulder, contracted with the NCR. The bag was covered in the same symbol printed on the flag the troopers had stood under. McCree opens the flap, finding a few bottles of clean looking water and flat bread wrapped in an extra t-shirt. McCree transferred the contents into his own bag before coming across a crumpled piece of paper underneath it all.

The ink was smudged in places, but there was no mistaking the contents of the letter. It was nearly an exact match to McCree’s own delivery order; the only difference being the manifest and the delivery order number. This man, Courier Four, was meant to deliver a pair of furry dice. He had no such thing on him, so McCree could only assume he had been stopping in to finish the contract and had been killed for his pay.

McCree folded the paper neatly and set it with his own, and left the man on the street.

=+=

Inside the Mojave Express, there was only an empty space behind the counter to greet him. Everything was silent except for his footsteps on the wooden floors, so he didn’t call out, not expecting anyone to be out back. It was a normal express office as far as he could tell; cleaner than most but McCree had a sneaking suspicion that was due to the raiders picking houses apart for supplies.

Besides crates of papers and bottles, the only thing interesting on the counter was a rather large piece of metal. It must have been some type of robot, he decided upon closer inspection, round and a little bigger than a dodgeball. He’d never seen anything like it before, had no idea what sort of function the little bot was supposed to be capable of - or how it would even function in the first place. Was it made to roll around? He doubted that, the several antennae melded in its base would make that difficult. He rolled it over to its side, revealing a miniature ventilation system on what he supposed was the bot’s underside. For cooling - or maybe a propulsion system so the bot hovered a few feet off the ground, maneuvering that way. A flying robot. Yes, McCree definitely wanted to see that bot working.

He ran his fingers over the metal casing, over a bullet hole, and against the plastic of a bumper sticker plastered on its side. It was bright red, even with a layer of dirt, and the lettering was blocky, reading “Roosevelt Academy; A Proud Bastion of American Ideals!", all white besides the large, bolded word “Bastion” in a gaudy yellow. There was a license plate on the other side of the bot, number itself unintelligible. The only thing that was left untarnished was the Great Midwest, Illinois, 2062.

As far as he could tell, there was no serious damage to the bot. There was no doubt it had seen some action, though, if the bullet holes were anything to go by. Whoever worked in this building had apparently tried their own repairs; piles of screws and scrap metal were strewn about the countertop, along with a few tools. McCree retrieved a screwdriver from the pile and opened the outer casing of the bot and peered inside. He grunted to himself. There were servos and gyroscopes that looked twisted and out of place, probably in need of recalibrating, something he’d be able to do himself if he had the know-how. He didn’t. What he could do, however, was replace the parts that needed fixing. What was laying around would be useful, but he needed more if he wanted to see this bot - hopefully - in the air.

Across the street from the Mojave Express building was something called the Vikki and Vance Casino. All of the windows were boarded up, and the only accessible entrance to the building was through the double doors from the heading street. McCree walked close to the walls and with his eyes on the road rather than in front of him.

Inside was a drastic difference to the exterior and last building he had been in. Countless people were milling about, everyone in the town who survived must have holed up in the casino once the convicts hit. The very entrance served as a barricade to the rest of the casino floor, all the lanterns lent to it to keep it nice and lit. It made the rest of the space difficult to see, as his eyes were still adjusted to the bright sun, which is probably what the folks had been hoping for.

An old man stood from the slot stool where he’d been sitting, not raising the pistol he had in his hand but not loosening his grip on it, either. McCree didn’t go for his own weapon, wanting to convey he meant no threat in the easiest way possible.

“I don’t know what it was that brought you to Primm, youngster,” the man started, voice smoother than what McCree would have expected, looking as worn as the man did, “but you might be wantin’ to rethink your plans. Town’s gone to hell.”

“Didn’t notice,” McCree said quietly, mostly to himself, but the man heard him and seemed to get some type of amusement out of it. “Who are you, if you don’t mind me askin’.”

“Johnson Nash, husband to Ruby Nash. Livin’ in Primm going on eight years now, thick ‘n thin.” He told McCree this all proudly, another smile crossing his features when he mentioned his wife. McCree decided he liked this man, and was glad he didn’t walk in the casino with his gun pulled. “I’m mostly a trader,” Nash continued, “not that that’s worth much with things the way they are. ‘M also in charge of the local Mojave Express Outpost.”

McCree tore his eyes away from where they had wandered as he listened - an old, shot up car on display with a protectron in a tiny cowboy hat patrolling in front of it - and stared back at the man. “I’m a courier with the Mojave Express.”

Nash gave him a strange look. “Well, I don’t have any work right now, sorry to say.”

“No, it ain’t - I lost a package I was supposed to deliver.”

“Oh, well alright. I can tell you everything I can. You got a delivery order you can show me?” McCree shouldered his bag over to rifle through it, retrieving the slip of paper and handing it over. Nash read it over and his brow raised, but he didn’t exactly look surprised. “You’re talkin’ about one of them packages. That job had strange written all over it, I tell ya, but it wasn’t like we were gonna turn down the caps.”

He handed the paper back to McCree, who returned it back to his bag. “What was strange about it?”

Nash settled back onto his stool, setting his pistol back on his lap and wiping his hands on his dusty overalls with a sigh. “That cowboy robot had us higher six couriers, each one carrying somethin’ a little different. One had a pair o’ dice, another a chess piece - that kind of stuff. Last I heard from the office, payment was received for the other five jobs.” He raised his brow again, nodding at McCree. “Guess it was just you and your chip that didn’t make it.”

“When you say cowboy robot, do y’mean that one?” McCree pointed to the back of the casino and Nash’s eyes followed his to the Protectron shuffling around.

Nash laughed once with a shake of his head, “Nah, that’s Primm Slim. He’s been here longer than me, I’d recognize him. Naw, this feller was much bigger, with a screen showin’ a smilin’ cowboy’s face.”

Victor. So there was no coincidence in the robot’s unlikely presence when he had been attacked, Victor was supposed to be there. But why? And no robot would do something on its own prerogative, so who programmed it? Who was watching for McCree?

“The first deadbeat we hired for your job cancelled,” Nash went on when McCree didn’t say anything. “Hope a storm from the Divide skins him alive,” he cursed, and even though McCree had only known him for about five minutes, he was sure this display of anger was uncharacteristic for the man. He seemed to think so, too, because he sighed again and shook his head. “Well, anyway. That’s where you came in.”

“They cancelled?” That was suspicious, like everything else about the whole ordeal. Had they known what would happen if they were to carry the chip?

“Yeah, he got this look on his face when he saw your name down on the courier list, expression got turned right around. Asked me if your name was real, and I said sure as the lack o’ rain, you was still kickin’. Then he turned down the job, just like that. I asked if he was sure - it was good money.” Nash shrugged. “‘Nope, let courier six carry the package,’ that’s what he said.” He gave McCree a long look, and then, grimly, said, “Like the Mojave’d sort you out or something. Then he just up and walked out. Never saw ‘im again.”

The idea of the courier stumped McCree. He knew plenty of people from his line of work, but none that would turn down money for him. At least he didn’t think he did. He accepted that, because of his most recent gunshot wound, he wasn’t as read up on his own history as anyone would like to be with themselves. Some things were fuzzy, others were gone completely. He could know this man, but there was also the possibility that he didn’t know him at all. Just another mystery to solve.

“Y’know who he was?” McCree asked Nash, already knowing the answer. “Where he went?”

“No idea,” Nash answered, just like McCree thought he would, but he still managed to feel a little disappointed. “Sounded like you two had some history for him to act like that - and turn down the money, too. Hope he didn’t see any trouble in that package of yours. Maybe he thought your name was bad luck.” Ain’t that the fucking truth. “Not for me to say,” the man finished with a shrug.

McCree couldn’t help but heave out a frustrated sigh. He scrubbed at his face, pinched at the bridge of his nose, then sighed again. Nash at least looked a little sorry for him. McCree would take what he could get.

“My package - it was stolen from me,” he informed. “Couple of guys with skulls painted on their faces, a woman in a purple checkered suit. They wouldn’t’ve passed through here, would they?”

Nash looked up, rubbing his chin in thought. “Well, now that ya mention it, a few nights back a townie was out at night scavenging for some supplies. He said he saw a lady in a daisy suit comin’ through with a couple of Los Muertos thugs, talking ‘bout a chip.”

It was something, a big something. It was evidence that he was on the right path, that the people who attacked him were here before and that they were leaving a trail. It should’ve made him happy, but it just made his chest tighten; didn’t ease anything, only filled him with more anticipation.

“That woman, she shot me. I need to know the best way to get to them.”

Nash didn’t seem too hung up on the prospect of McCree getting attacked, just continued to rub at his chin and think for another moment. “Well, the best way to do that would be to talk to Deputy Beagle. He was keepin’ some tabs on ‘em, slinkin’ around Bison Steve when your pretty lady and her thugs rolled through. He may’ve heard where they were goin’.”

McCree nodded, remembering the hotel on the heading street. “Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Don’t mention it. Before you go, lemme warn ya about somethin’,” Nash called as McCree turned for the door. “The Bison Steve, it’s where all the gangsters are holed up. They took Beagle hostage after they killed the sheriff. Guess it took ‘em a go of it to get ransomin’ right.”

“Good to know.”

“Just be careful out there, son.”

McCree smiled. “I can take care of myself just fine,” he assured for the second time that day.

=+=

The interior of Bison Steve was about as one would expect it to be after being overrun by criminals. Garbage cans were knocked over, the floors were covered with the trash from said cans, along with rubble from failing walls. Only a select few lights overhead still worked and even those flickered. There were vending machines that still hummed, though, with a few bottles of cola left.

McCree navigated the halls of the hotel quietly, picking up those bottles and anything he saw that seemed to work - or had once worked - by using a battery or similarly electronic. The footsteps he heard around him didn’t make him uneasy, but he still waited until he caught each man off guard and alone before he confronted them. The halls were long enough, the were walls thick enough, and was McCree fast enough to handle every convict quietly without causing too much of a commotion.

They hardly carried anything interesting, maybe a few sticks of dynamite and a pocket full of ammo, or a chem or two. Sometimes they had caps, other times they had bills that reminded him of old world cash, but those were printed with newer faces and other symbols. NCR cash. Made sense, them coming from one of the NCR facilities; was probably the only thing the guards had on them in the way of money when the convicts killed them.

From one convict he took the previously stolen guard armor and ventured into one of the hotel rooms in the hall. He tossed the chest piece onto the bed and searched the wardrobe against the wall. McCree appreciated everything Doc Amari had done and given him, but the vault suit she provided did little in way of protecting - from the sun and from bullets. He didn’t expect to find much better in the old clothes he found, but at least he would be more comfortable.

He shouldered off his bag to dress in some faded-from-age jeans and a collared button-up, then folded the vault suit and stuffed it into the bag. The blanket from the bed came with him after he strapped on the chest piece and laced up his boots. He checked it for stains - blood or otherwise - before he decided on any worth. It was red and thin, but large enough to wrap around his shoulders and cover the bold N.C.R.C.F. across his back. The last thing he needed was to be mistaken for a powder ganger and be shot down by an NCR trooper later down the road.

With the bag back around his shoulder and dressed in his new rags, McCree felt more like himself than he had since he’d been shot in the head. He adjusted the “homemade” serape to sit more securely and made for the door, but then he saw it. On top of the wardrobe he had rummaged through, seemingly untouched by the havoc around it and pristine as could be, was a desperado cowboy hat. McCree grinned when he pulled it down, gave the brim of it a few whacks to shake off any dust it had collected, and place it on top if his head with a content sigh.

Now he felt back in his own skin.

=+=

He found Beagle on the bottom floor in the back of the hotel, in the dining area’s kitchen. He was knelt in front of the fridges, hands bound in front of him. He looked ragged, his white hair wild and his face dirty, exaggerated by the pout pulling at his expression.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to rescue me?” He asked, having undoubtedly heard the gunshots that had took place just outside where his captors had been loitering. “I’d cross my fingers, but my hands are numb.”

McCree regarded the sorry looking man with a raised eyebrow. “You must be Deputy Beagle.”

“Why yes I am,” he replied, insolently in turn for McCree’s flatness. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m in a bit of a predicament here. Would appreciate it if you set me free.” Beagle held up his hands wired together, a deliberate gesture.

McCree made no move to untie him. “I hear you might have some information I need, some words about a few Los Muertos and a woman in a purple checkered suit.”

“Indeed I do, good sir, and I would be thrilled to share that information with you as soon as I’m freed from captivity. I’m gonna need to be in a calmer emotional state for my memory to function as we need it.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, McCree narrowed his eyes at the man before him just slightly. He absolutely did not want to bother with this conniver after the trouble he’s put him through - Nash did not mention the incinerator the leader had been sporting when McCree found him. Unfortunately, Beagle did not waver. With a grumble, the cowboy knelt to mess with the knot, pointedly ignoring Beagle and the victorious glint in his eyes when McCree pulled the bonds free.

“Well, that’s just marvelous.” The deputy stood, shaking out his wrists and flexing his bloodless fingers. “I’ll be makin’ my way outside, now. The airs, ah,” he glanced behind McCree and at the smouldering tables and singed bodies. “Well, it’s a little close in here.”

He checked the kitchen for anything useful, coming out with a few more bottles of water, and met Deputy Beagle outside of the Bison Hotel. He was looking out over the streets with his eyes narrowed and his revolver drawn, looking like a sad excuse for a western hero rather than the man who had just ran through the hotel lobby with his hands over his head in fear.

“Hey, Deputy.”

Beagle jumped, spun around, saw it was McCree, and changed his demeanor back to the calm and suave hero. “Well, that was quite the adventure,” he declared, like he had much to do with it. “We taught those convicts a thing or two, didn’t we?”

McCree decided not to roll his eyes. “Sure.”

“Breaking myself out of a hostage situation - not to diminish your role in the whole thing, of course - but it was quite thrilling. Problem is, there’s still no law in Primm,” he went on, which solidified McCree’s suspicion that Beagle was, in fact, being one hundred percent serious in his claims. He didn’t dare argue, didn’t exactly want to. “What’re we to do the next time ruffians menace us and hold us hostage?”

Grow a pair, McCree wanted to tell him, learn to use that gun instead of posing with it, quit your hero act, be one instead of pretending, among other things. “If yer boss is dead, don’t that make you the new sheriff?”

Beagle’s eyes widened. “Oh no, I’m just a deputy! And I can’t be a deputy without a sheriff. It’s called chain of command .” McCree felt his jaw set firmly. He wanted to hit this man. Beagle chose not to notice this. “We need a new sheriff, someone brave like you, but more of a homebody. Someone with experience who’ll settle down and watch over us.”

“Know anybody who’d fit the requirements?”

“I heard some of the Powder Gangers talkin’ about someone in the prison named Meyers. Said he used to be a sheriff ‘fore he got locked up. Then there’s the NCR just over the bridge, they’re likely to jump at the chance to control another town.”

McCree didn’t like his options. After having just run enough of the criminals out of town, the convict sheriff was a bad idea for obvious reasons. On the other hand, he wasn’t comfortable with turning the town over to the NCR as there were so few independent cities left in the desert. McCree thought back to the tired soldier he had spoken with, the state of the military camp he belonged to, and decided that the NCR wouldn’t do Primm much good, either.

“I’ll help you bring law back to Primm,” he told Beagle anyway. “Just give me some time to find someone.”

Deputy Beagle’s face lit up. “You will? That’s just marvelous! I’ll start thinking up questions for the interview!”

He turned to walk away, heading for Vikki and Vance with an excited bounce in his step before McCree called out to him. “You still owe me some information.”

The man wilted, but only for a moment. “Ah, yes. My memory is much clearer now that I’m free.” Again, McCree refused to roll his eyes. “I was sku - uh, performing recon on the Powder Gangers when some Los Muertos guys arrived with your friend in the suit. They were talking about some delivery they took from a courier. Assumin’ that was you.”

“Seems about right,” McCree conceded.

“They said they would be headin’ through Nipton to Novac to meet a contact there.”

McCree let him handle his Pip-Boy just long enough to mark the road he needed to walk to follow his attackers’ route, then he was off again. McCree was glad to see him go.

=+=

Before he left town, McCree was sure to stop in and thank Johnson Nash once more, and ask about the robot in his express office. A courier had dropped it off months back, he found out, and Nash got it working again but only for a while. He explained to McCree that he was planning on using it for courier work, but he hadn’t any luck with getting it running again. He gave permission to McCree to tinker with it, and promised him the bot if he got it working. The prospect of a new, fancy toy buzzing around was enough to get him to try. As he left the casino to make his attempt, Nash commented on the fruitlity of the whole thing, said he’d just take it to the Novac scrapyard and be done with it.

McCree ignored him, and worked for the better part of three hours, shocking himself numerous times and cursing out loud more times than that. The machine sputtered to life when the sun began to sink, the casing snapping shut on its own and the body of the bot rotating so it could propel itself into the air. The sudden reaction gave McCree a jolt, stumbling off his stool and onto his feet. He stared at the robot cautiously, not exactly knowing what to expect from it. It would be his luck to have the thing start up on a combat mode.

Instead of incinerating him where he stood, the little robot beeped a few times, tilting down enough as if it was staring at McCree.

“Well,” McCree said, hands on his hips. He nodded at his work and let himself feel proud for a moment. “Would ya look at that.”

The robot beeped again in response.

It seemed to be running fine, it’s flight wasn’t jagged or shaky, and there was no smoke - McCree always took that as a good sign. He grinned, eyes catching on the hideous bumper sticker on the bot’s side once again.

“A Proud Bastion of American Ideals, huh?” A confirmatory beep. “Alright, then. Let’s hit the road, Bastion. Could use help like yours.”

wwhwhwhwheeeeew lmao. yeh. 

#mcgenji #jesse mccree #genji shimada #kon's a writer

[tumblunni]

Man, god, im just suddenly thinking about "ak/ur/oku" and like.. How the fuck did that even become such a huge thing in early 2000s fandom? Dear god so much early gay shipping in fandom was super unhealthy "sinful" bullshit made by straight people for fetishy purposes rather than genuine representation. But a/kurok/u was such a weird one because it was like.. Just globally accepted and never aknowledged to be problematic?? Man i still remember how lil 13 year old me didnt know there was anything wrong with it, like seriously when stuff like this becomes popularized it ends up sending bad messages to actual queer youth. Learning about your sexuality via the internet cos there's no sex ed irl for you, abd you end up stumbling into toxic fandoms before you have the critical thinking skills necessary to know that this stuff is bad and shouldnt be imitated. Like seriously one of the things i worry about EVERY NIGHT AT 2AM THAT KEEPS ME FROM SLEEPING is that stupid lil 15 year old me made a post on deviantart going like "are pedophiles really all bad? I mean it sounds like an illness. I mean maybe theyre just scared and they want help." Like im terrified constantly that someone will find that old thing and judge me as if i still believe that apologist crap, or as if it was actually an opinion i formed from a fully developed mind, rather than from a kid who (as far as i knew) had never met a pedophile, thinking about pedophiles in the abstract, while being influenced by fuckin pedophile-dominated fandoms and having NO IDEA. and of cooooourse i wanted to believe that i was mature for my age, i thought that was a compliment.. Uuuuugh...

Sorry, going a little offtopic there.

But anyway isnt it kinda weird how akur/oku was just.. Not even regarded as pedophilia? And when i was a kid it wasnt just me not understanding the gross parts of the fandom, i legit never thought axel was that much older than roxas. And it was one of the more popular gay ships cos at that point as far as we knew it was the only person axel had any sort of backstory with, and he cared so much about this guy that he was willing to sacrifice his life to help sora even when he knew roxas would never come back. At the time without further context it seemed like a reasonable assumption to make? And it wasnt until Days that i realized axel was intended to be an adult rather than a teenager, and even worse A LOT OF PEOPLE WHO MADE THAT SHIPPING ART KNEW THAT. Uuugh it was so gross in retrospect to go back and see all the clues i missed that these people were fetishizing roxas's inexperience and veey much writing him as underage. AAAAAAA!

Anyway im glad that shit is now recognized as shit and now we have canon evidence of this dude being old as balls. And honestly i love the relationship of him as a big brother/dad to roxas and xion a lot more, even though as a kid i was desperate for any kind of queer representation in kh. Like.. I never really actually liked the ship that much or felt any chemistry? I just latched onto a few bad writing flubs that could potentially be interpreted as Gay Evidence because i was SO damn desperate! Like i felt like i had to support all these gross abusive ships in fandom cos if i wasnt then i was being 'homophobic', i mean they were THE ONLY AVAILABLE OPTIONS, right? :( Its only now ive grown up i can see how wrong that was, and how people just used it as an excuse to make gross shit and get away with it. Like how in Black Butler all these 'yaoi fangirls' kept erasing the rarest of rare things, a canon trans woman, because 'its sexier if its gay'. Ughhhh. And seriously that discourse still exists for poor Grell, and there's still a lot of these shitty bigoted people pretending to be allies, but like seriously this was EVERYWHERE in 2005! And lgbt rights and even lgbt communities at all were way smaller and less available to the poor teenagers who really needed that positive influence while they were figuring out who they are. So man the abusive side of yaoi fandom was WAY more powerful, and wya more.mainstream, with barely any criticism. And the whole content of this fandom was creepy fuckin adults making pedo porn, and kids who just discovered they were queer and tried to headcanon their favourote characters as being like them. Fucking predator heaven! So yeh that ruined KH for me and definately made me scared of returning to Black Butler for almost a decade. And then i found out that the manga itself has none of that pedo shit and that one of the fandom's biggest abusive gay man archetypes was actually a trans woman this entire time, and just gahhhhh....

Also like seriously this is a tad offtopic but can we kill the anime trope of either everyone looking young or everyone looking old? Or creepy things where just one character looks the wrong age in order to fetishize pedophilia? I dont think kingdom hearts was one of those intentional ones, like i mean there's super bad shit where its like 'this 5 year old looking person is really 9000 years old/actually 18 and just hasnt had their growth spurt yet' (somehow its even more insulting when theres not even a magical excuse) Or the other way around and we have a character thats canonically underage but drawn looking sexually mature with big ol knockers so its somehow okay. The existence of those horrible things is why i end up feeling uncomfortable even seeing ambiguous ages as just a trope in completely innocent anime, yknow? Like in pokemon and digimon all the 10 year old protagonists are exactly the same height as all the adults, and all the female love interests for ash have to be early bloomers in terms of chest and hips, while notably Iris is the only one who actually looks her age and also the first non love interest. Its another reason why i prefer the new art style for the latest season, they make everyone look like kids and Lillie continues to look like a kid even though she's the main girl and has all the cute scenes with Ash. The girls even got very normal looking kiddy swimsuits in the beach episode! Why is that so uncommon, to find the bare minimum thing of underage kids not being sexualized at the beach??

Soooooo yeah, thats at least part of why kid me thought axel and roxas were within a similar age range. Like i thought roxas was maybe 16 and axel was 18?? Somehow?? I dont even know, kingdom hearts isnt even SUPER bad with the 'kids look like older teens,all adults look like age 20 at the most' anime syndrome. Its probably more because id been raised on games and anime that followed that trope, before i played kh. And as a kid you just dont really know the exact differences between 'old', like i mean i knew teenagers were tall and boys get a growth spurt, so somehow it made sense to me that axel could be the same age as roxas?? And man even if i knew he wasnt, i was barely educated at all about pedophilia and i didnt know the nuances of it. I just knew 'its bad for adults to marry kids' like man i was really behind the curve in general learning due to my undiagnosed autism and abusive parenting so like HERE'S 12 YEAR OLD ME NOT EVEN THINKING ABOUT THE SEX ASPECT. And i didnt know that adults in relationships with teenagers was bad too, or like 16/17 year old teens dating kids... I was so fuckin dumb... I really cant believe that not only did i believe stupid adults saying 'pedophilia isnt bad if you're non offending, its okay to make cartoon child porn as long as you dont physically abuse real kids' but also i somehow just DID NOT EVER REALIZE that axel was an adult and roxas wasnt even a goddamn older teen...

So yeh im making a lot of excuses for why my stupid younger self was blindly parroting bullshit, but im not trying to excuse how goddamn wrong and bad it was. I still wake up ashamed in the middle of the night for crapoy decisions i made as a dumb kid, and in terrified that some shreds of it might still exist out there on the internet and maybe someone else could read it?! Gahhhh! Seriously could i have accidentally helped spread that bullshit brainwashing to other kids? And seriously when people say this shit is harmless they just need to look at this, look at how being into problematic yaoi is such a common 'phase' for ACTUAL CHILDREN. Like its not fuckin NATURAL for kids to fall into this stuff, they do it because they dont know any better but the people making the goddamn founding blocks of the fandom are fuckin grown women fetishizing gay men or grown men fetishing lesbians. There's people who do know better who actually conciously decide that a/kurok/u is a good ship while knowing all the goddamn details of what it actually is and exactly what theyre supporting by shipping it. Ughhhhh!

So yeh fuckin Please Stay Safe In Fandom, Kids

And pedophiles have absolutely none of my sympathy, please ignore that goddamn shit i wrote as a little kid being fuckin groomed by a fandom without even knowing it.

This also applies a lot to the rest of LGBT+ aside from just gay shipping, like seriously it took me til age 18 to find any positive representation of trans people or even a proper explanation of what being trans is, yet before i was even 8 years old i'd seen a million 'lol gross man in a dress who gets sexual gratification from wearing women's underwear' jokes in kids shows. And when i was 12 i'd already been exposed to the fuckin hell of m/pre/g thanks to its prevelance of untagged n/sf/w shit in the kh fandom. And by age 15 i'd been exposed to pedophile apologists arguing whether child porn was okay if they only got off to that and didnt personally abuse that kid with their own hands. All of that shit but actually learning about homosexuality and gender in sex ed would have been 'too much' for someone my age...

God what a fuckin mess. Fuck im really really fuckin worried that any of my ignorant comments at those ages could have been read by other ignorant kids and contributed to that disgusting fandom atmosphere. Fuck i think about this so damn often im so damn ashamed of how ignorant i used to be yet i know the adult fuckfaces making pedo shit never reel one lick of shame any damn day of their life. I used to excuse their shit as an actual kid cos i just ASSUMED they would be ashamed and want to seek help! Gahhhh..