#this might be a waste of time but WHATEVER

[sickslimez]

HOLE IN THE WALL! — NANAMI KENTO

SYNOPSIS...as an overworked and stressed employee, you find relief in giving blowjobs to complete strangers at an adult store

INFO...nanami x fem!reader, oral (m!receiving), jerking off, nipple play, tit job, pussy job, cum eating, praise, a little twist at the end, not proofread (as usual)

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

had to repost this bc tumblr took it down for whatever reason even though I have things more explicit than this on my other blog lmao

Working at an office where you were constantly hassled for your deadlines always put a lot of unwanted stress on your shoulders. Higher ups yapping in your ear about something you’ve been told one hundred times before and your fingers are typing as fast as they can on the computer. It was a complete and utter shit show, a waste of your precious time. But you have one little secret no one knows about, you volunteer at a glory hole every now and then when you feel too worked up.

After a long week of staring at a computer screen and boring meetings, you walking to the adult store, greeting the worker who already knew what you were there for. All you needed to relax was to watch random strangers cum from your touch. Believe it or not, it brought you joy hearing their moans on the other side of the thin wall. Maybe you chose the wrong profession.

As you entered the room, you let out a sigh, locking the door behind you. You slipped your coat off, and placed your bag down on the chair. Despite what others might think, the room was always clean. It wasn’t a random glory hole you’d find in a public bathroom or a shack in the middle of the woods. You unbuttoned your shirt, letting your tits breathe as you finally were able to relax and wait for the first person to come in.

You perked up at the sound of the door to the other room opening and closing shut. He let out a loud sigh, the sound of his pants being unbuckled making you excited. “Just make me cum, I’ve had a long fucking day,” he grunted. You looked down at the hole, the man placing his semi hard cock through it.

“You and me both, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good.” Your hand glided up and down his shaft, slowly stroking him, feeling him grow harder in your hand. You stared at his cock with a smile, his swollen tip flushed a dark pink, prominent veins running on the underside of it. Whoever this man was, he sure had a pretty cock. “You’re so big,” you giggle. Your hand barely able to fully wrap around.

Delicate fingers traced the prominent veins, teasing the underside of his dick before your thumb rubbed over his swollen tip. You felt him throb in your hand, a bead of pre cum forming at his tip, a smile tugging at your lips. The stranger was fully hard, dick long and pretty. You continued rubbing your thumb over his tip, sticking out your tongue to give him kitten licks, tasting his pre cum. You heard the man shudder, a breathy gasp leaving his throat. “Oh, you’re so sensitive!” You gasped, now slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, moving from base to tip.

You moaned in satisfaction, lip tucked between your teeth as you jerked the stranger off, your free hand cupping your tits as you started to feel turned on by the sight in front of you. “Oh, fuck,” he let out breathy moan. More pre cum began leaking from his tip, allowing you to use it as lubricant to jerk him off easier. Your wrist moved in circular motions, squeezing gently the closer your got towards his sensitive head. “Shit, sweetheart! You really know what you’re doing, huh?” A moan could be heard from the other side of the wall.

Your hand pumped him faster, squeezing tighter around his shaft. “You better not cum yet!” You smiled as if he could see you, but you were taking joy in hearing him in pleasure. Opening your mouth, you stuck out your tongue and took him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down while simultaneously moving your hand. You pinched your nipple, moaning around his cock as his tip hit the back of your throat.

“Oh, baby, your tongue feels so good! Let me feel that throat,” he whimpered, bucking his hips against the wall, trying so desperately to fuck your face. You removed your hand from around his cock, allowing him to fuck your face. Glug, glug, glug. “There we fucking go, atta girl!” He moaned loudly. As you sat there and let him use your throat, you couldn’t help but think at how familiar the man sounded, though you couldn’t remember from where. But it was the least of you worries, you were only thinking about making him cum.

You pulled your head away, trying to catch your breath as drool coated your chin. You lazily smiled to yourself, wrapping your hand around his shaft again and slowly jerked him off. You positioned yourself to where your tits were close to his dick, rubbing his tip over your hard nipples. “Mmm, feels so good.” Your brows furrow in pleasure.

“Keep doing whatever you’re doing, sweetheart. God, I wish I could see your pretty face right now,” he grunted. You smiled at his words, continuing you give him a tit job before spitting on his cock again. You licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, taking him in your mouth slowly, allowing him to stretch your throat. You gagged on it, tears forming in your eyes before clenching them shut. Mascara ran down your cheeks as you began moving your head up and down, more spit coating his cock and falling on your chest. Your hands messily spread the spit over your tits, teasing your sensitive nipples. “Wanna cum all over your face—mmm, fuck me!” He groaned.

You pulled away again, taking a deep breath. You grinned when his cock twitched, a small giggle erupting from your chest. “You’re so close to cumming! I love it. Do I make you feel good, huh?” You cooed, dragging your fingers over his head. His cock looked even prettier dripping with your saliva.

“Can I feel your pussy? Please, sweetheart? I need it so bad,” he begged. You sat there on your knees, processing the words he said. You usually never let anyone fuck you at these glory holes, but you could think of the next best thing.

“How about a pussy job? Would you like that, baby?” You questioned, waiting for his answer while you slipped your soaked panties off. You dipped your fingers in between your folds, letting out a small gasp from how wet you were. “You got me so wet.” You slapped your pussy a few times, a lewd wet sound filling the room. “Hear that?”

“Goddamn you.” His cock twitched just from hearing how wet you were. “Let me feel her, please—fuckkk me,” he breathily said once he felt your hand grip his cock and rub his tip over your sopping slit.

You were bet over, using the chair as support while the other reached over and guided his cock along your pussy, his head rubbing between your folds and nudging your puffy clit. Your jaw went slack, eyes fluttering shut. Moans could be heard on either side of the wall. He desperately wanted to shove himself inside your gummy walls and fuck you until you passed out. “Cum all over my pussy, I know you want to.”

“Fuck, fuck, shit,” he grunted. “I’m cumming! Oh, sweetheart I’m fucking cumming!” Not even seconds after saying those words, you felt hot spurts coat your pussy, the man moaning and you continued to rub his cock all over your sloppy pussy.

“Yes!” You laughed, gasping from how he was still going. “Oh my goodness!” You felt him twitch one last time in your hand before you pulled away, sitting on the chair and spreading your legs to see at the mess he created. Curiosity got the better of you as you dipped your fingers in, scooping some of his cum and licking it clean off. “Mmmm, you taste so good!” He let out a breathy chuckle.

“Thank you for that, baby.” He pulled away from the glory hole, cock disappearing. You heard him put his pants back on. “Can I ask you a question?”

You kneeled back down towards the glory hole. “Yes, what is it?”

“Will you allow me to see who you are?” He sounded like he was nervous to ask the question.

“There’s no fun in a glory hole if you know who the person is,” you replied in a playful tone.

You heard the man let out a small laugh before sighing. “I guess you’re right. Until next time then.”

“Until next time.” You smiled to yourself. One thought sat in the back of your mind, though. Why did this man sound so familiar to you? It was a forbidden glory hole ‘rule’, but you couldn’t help yourself from peeking through the hole in hopes to catch a glimpse of the man on the other side. You noticed a familiar watch on his right hand, his figure coming more into view when he walked towards the door. An audible gasp escaped your lips when you saw the blonde hair. It was none other than Nanami Kento, your co-worker who you regularly greet at the office, the man who sits in the cubicle right next to you.

#☆—sickslimez #anime #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x reader smut #nanami bento x reader smut #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami smut oneshot #nanami smut drabble #jjk smut oneshot #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

[leviathanleva]

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Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

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Request:

This is kind of a weird req and I want to write something for it eventually but-

Fem! Reader who was frozen but eventually escapes and falls for the Ghoul and they fuck a couple times and for some reason she has symptoms of pregnancy and they're like what the fuck but it just turns out that she was pregnant before she was frozen and the Ghoul's reactions and whatever. Angst or fluff I don't really mind :)

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[MDNI, Angst, Smut, Fluff]

[ I don't usually do requests, but I wanted to help out a friend who believed they wouldn't be able to do justice to this prompt. It's sloppy, not perfect, but time is limited and I have other projects that need my attention so I hope this suffices. ]

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Freedom.

Freedom was sweet.

Freedom was bitter.

Since the moment you’d awoken in that Gods-forsaken cryo pod in that wasting away vault you’d known there was no other path except the path of freedom. Stepping over mummified corpses, fellow vault dwellers you presumed, you’d lead wobbly legs and a pounding heart to the entrance of the vault. It felt like yesterday you’d first set foot in there. In reality, you had no idea how many years had passed, but from the looks of the rusting walls and thick blanket of dust, it had been a while.

You took what you could, stuffing a stray children’s backpack you’d found along your scavenging mission, anything and everything that would be necessary for a journey into a land you used to call home. A small pocket knife was the best you could get and it wasn’t the perfect self-defense tool, but with no other choice there wasn’t much you could do but stuff it in the pocket of your suit and hope for a miracle if you ran into trouble.

And trouble you found.

Since your first step into the bone-dry, scalding hot, merciless wasteland, you’d found trouble in the shape of a deranged group of people hammering at the vault door with makeshift weapons. You might have been able to fight off one of them, you doubted given how dizzy and out-of-touch with reality you were, but there was a slim chance. Three of them though, all large burly men with enough scars to put a military general to shame? No, that was impossible. You ended up a writhing mess on the ground, face pushed into the cracked soil and screaming and kicking as you were being taunted and tied up like a good catch after a successful hunt. Trafficking, cannibalism, organ harvesting, death. A slew of words so vile they made your stomach churn and your eyes bulge out of your skull because who in their right mind said such things to an outnumbered, weak woman who pleaded in a broken voice and had tears staining her cheeks?

Then he appeared, your guardian angel.

A man so grotesque on the outside, so vicious and bitter and terrifying, and yet he was the one who shot your captors down. He was the one who cut your wrists and ankles free and helped you sit up as you heaved and choked and sobbed. He was the one who checked you over despite the visible revulsion on his gaunt face at the sight of your vault suit. He’d dragged you to your feet, forced some sense into you, given you a stern reality check of the world he came from and never really shooed you away when you’d started following him around like a lost pup.

You loved him since that day.

And maybe it wasn’t the good kind of love because he’d used you as a distraction for his enemies more than once and never shared his water with you even if you were on the brink of passing out from dehydration. But he also let you sit close to the fire at night, told you stories of his bounty hunts, taught you how to handle a gun and always kept you in his sights lest someone thought you were up for grabs. He was a cruel man, but he was also a kind man.

You never overstepped. Always following his every order, whether it was to hide, to strip bleeding men of their valuables, or to get him another drink when his feet were kicked high and he couldn’t be bothered to do so himself. Always pliant, always willing, no questions asked because you wanted to live despite the hellhole reality you were thrust in. Maybe that’s why he grew fond of you over time, you didn’t rebel against him and took what he gave you with a whisper of gratitude. A good dog, that’s how he saw you. He slowly softened for you, split your rations evenly when you sat down to eat, thrust the canteen in your hands when he noticed your lips were dry, and smushed his hat over your head when the sun was too awful and you were too delicate to withstand it.

Cooper Howard, that was his name, a man made ghoul by the sheer toxicity of the surface, a man who gave you enough scraps to keep your love for him flourishing but never progressed things beyond a one-sided infatuation.

That is until he was left struggling on the floor of an old abandoned farmhouse, a feral ghoul looming above him and pinning him in place and snapping its jaws at him as foul-smelling, viscous drool dribbled down its chin. His hunting knife was gripped tightly, but between keeping himself from being bitten to shreds and holding one of the ghoul’s hands at bay before it could sink into his side and tear at his gut, he was stuck.

When the shot rang out and the ghoul slumped against him lifelessly, he saw you. Holding his gun as you shook violently, about ready to piss yourself because you’d never killed anything remotely resembling a human in your life, eyes wide and lips trembling and knees buckling. Smoke leisurely rose from the tip of the barrel and as he pushed the corpse off himself you sunk to your arse and burst into a fit of haggard breaths and disturbed whines.

You didn’t resist when he picked you up with alien tenderness, didn’t protest when he stuffed you in an old rickety couch and crushed you beneath his weight with a handful of sweet praises. You didn’t pull away in disgust when his tongue pushed past your lips in search of your own, twirling, dancing, letting words spill without ever being spoken. He wasn’t gentle, since the moment you heard his belt unbuckling he was all pawing hands and chopped curses, fiddling with your clothes until his need became too much to bear and he simply ripped them off. He threw a weak promise to get you new ones, but you couldn't care less at that moment. High-pitched mewls and desperate grunts bounced off the walls as he took you on that couch, rutting into you like a man possessed and gripping onto you so firmly as if you’d come to your senses any moment now and run away from him.

A radstorm raged outside, clashing against the boarded-up windows as the pitter-patter of acid rain poured against the tin roof. You never even noticed, too drunk on the sloppy sounds coming from the slick mess of your conjoined bodies, on the verge of a climax so raw it would surely knock you out. Blunt fingernails sank in your supple thighs, scarred hips slammed into yours as he fucked you dumb into the couch. His mouth never left yours, whether it was to keep himself quiet in case too many loving words escaped or because he craved your taste like a rabid dog did blood, you didn’t know. When your ankles locked around his waist he snarled, whatever self-control he’d managed to scrape by completely dissipating as he drove himself deeper. The tip of his cock snapped against the barrier of your squishy cervix so deliciously and you screamed his name in desperation and he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He released one of your hips to slide a hand between your bodies and drag his rough thumb over your swollen clit. Your back arched, eyes rolled back and mouth agape as you bombarded him with barely coherent sentences that he didn’t deserve. He clutched at your hair when you clamped down on him, milking him for everything he had while he rocked out his release with face stuffed in the crook of your neck.

Something in him changed after that night.

It might have been the unfathomably long time without a caring touch or him finally succumbing to the little voices in his head telling him what he held for you wasn’t simply fondness. He took you every chance he got. In a guest house, against the wall of a bar after one too many drinks, bent over on a chewed-up fence after scavenging another farmhouse. He was relentless and you loved that about him. You loved everything about him. Always needy and ready and he couldn’t ask for more because this was the closest he could get to expressing himself when it came to you.

Life was good.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You wince as the needle prickles your skin before retracting back in the Pip-boy. The green screen whirls, loading up and analyzing your blood sample for a full body scan. You give the damn thing a few smacks when it freezes and stutters.

Now really wasn’t the time for technical difficulties.

“You okay?”

Apparently, no matter how hard you had tried to hide your bubbling panic, it was still evident enough for Cooper to notice. He’s looking at you with a hint of suspicion, attention averted from the steaming can of cram he’d been stuffing in his mouth.

“I’m good, no worries.” you muster up a weary smile and instinctively tuck the Pip-boy closer to your stomach.

When the Vault Boy pops up on the screen with all the information available regarding your condition, you tense up. Your fingers hesitate to turn the cog to the main body scan as doubts and confusion and raw, untamable fear chew at your sensitive stomach and tug you slowly towards the gates of insanity.

“Don’t look okay to me.” Cooper straightens from his slouched-over position over the measly fire and sets aside his food before clasping a hand over one of his thighs. “Was wrong? Was I too rough again?” there’s a teasing scowl brightening his usually stoic expression, he scoffs and shakes his head. “I told you t’ smack my shoulder when I get too loose, woman. You never listen.”

You want to cry and laugh, but you do neither.

“That’s not it, Cooper.”

“Then speak for fuck’s sake!” he grumbles and gestures to you with slight agitation.

You pay him no mind, having delved too deep in the premises of your mind on what you were supposed to do if you read that single life-changing word on the scan. With a huff and a mental pat on your back, you turned the cog and opened the main body scan.

“Pregnant.”

It made sense. It explained the morning sickness that you hid, being forced out of your sleep while Cooper snored lightly next to you, and carefully pulling away before rushing to a safe spot where you could empty your stomach without being seen. You never told him, just jammed RadAway after RadAway, hoping it was poisoning or maybe some sort of flu. When the cravings came, you started second-guessing. You never gave into them, throwing caps left and right for a slice of some nearly impossible-to-get delicacy was unthinkable, you had to survive and there was no room for luxury.

You failed to spot the rugged ghoul as he left his seat and crept closer, spurred by your awkward demeanor, until he was kneeling right next to you and silently sharing the sight of the green graph.

“What in the hell…”

You recoiled at his words, at his realization, and tried to cover the Pip-boy with your hand and hide the thunderous revelation of your condition.

He was having none of it.

He smacked your hand away and gripped your forearm so tight you shuddered, bringing it closer to his eyes as his face contorted.

“What the fuck does this mean?” he spits and looks at you with something vile in those whiskey-colored eyes you loved so much.

“I don’t – ” you swallow thickly, crumbling under his gaze and snuffing out the need to rip away from him and run. You meet his stare for a split second before turning away. “ – I haven’t…Not with anyone except you.”

Lightning strikes into his core and he pulls away like bitten by a snake.

“The hell you mean you haven’t fucked anyone ‘cept me?” he stands, intimidating and cold, berating you with just his visage and nothing more. “How the fuck did you get pregnant then?”

“I’ve been with you since the day I left the vault, you know this.” you reach out for him, desperate for some sort of comfort, desperate for him to calm down because you couldn’t mentally take on both him and the news. “Cooper, please.”

He shoots you down with a snarl and a spine-chilling glare.

“Don’t fucken’ touch me.”

He’s pacing, trotting around like a cornered animal, the spurs on his boots clinking, a sickening cacophony that roots you in place and keeps your mouth shut. You don’t know what to say, you’re not a liar, yet you wish this was some twisted joke and you could laugh it off and confirm it wasn’t real.

A hand is rubbing vigorously at his chin as he tries to think, but there’s nothing in his head except that one single word that means so much and makes absolutely no sense.

He knew you weren’t lying, he’d always kept you within arm’s length, there was no way for you to even sneak past him without being noticed.

It still hurt though, the image of you leaving because he was a rotten man who’d struck gold by finding you. He was no good for you, never would be, and it tore him to shreds because he knew all of this and still he kept you by his side and cocked his gun at anyone who tried to step too close.

Why wouldn’t you bed another man when he looked like a walking corpse and acted even worse? Why wouldn’t you ditch him to be with a nice bartender or a good-mannered farmboy who would treat you like a lady should be treated?

Why wouldn’t you cheat him out of the only happiness he had?

“Is not fucking possible, sweetheart.” he finally speaks, faltering at your audible sobs. The idea of you slipping past his fingers to sleep with someone else is pushed to the side by the absolutely pathetic sight of you curled up on the floor and crying.

Ghouls were sterile, all of them, 100%, there was no way for him to knock you up even if he wanted to. But the Pip-boy said otherwise and now he was left questioning the very foundation of his existence.

“I know that.” you sputter through choppy hiccups. “But you’re the only man I’ve been with...It doesn’t make fucking sense.” you clutch at your sides, waterfalls streaming down your cheeks and pooling under your chin, eyes distant and jittery. “What if it’s deformed because of the radiation? Or if it’s not even alive? Or – What am I supposed to do…”

His body moves despite his protests.

He kneels in front of you, encasing you between his thighs, his fingers twitching and rising as he drowns in the long-forgotten feeling of being presented with such news. His hands are shaking and he rests them over your shoulders and pretends he can’t feel his pulse rampaging in his throat.

“What do you wanna do?”

It’s such a simple question, but coming from him under such a premise makes your head spin and your heart stop.

“I – ” you press your forehead against the center of his collarbones, arms protectively curling over your belly because despite not showing there was someone in there. Someone precious. “ – I don’t know…I’d like to – I don’t know.”

You stop and start, cutting off words that you weren’t ready to tell him yet and he wasn’t ready to hear either. But life didn’t care if you were ready or not, things happened, consent or not, and now you were both stuck in a mess you’d unwittingly made all by yourselves. There was always the easy route – find a settlement, get to the doc, have it removed, done deal, easy peasy.

But did you really want that?

It wasn’t just your kid, it was his too and him not saying a word, not even mentioning discarding it made things so much harder.

No, he gave you a choice, he put everything in your hands and he was holding you while you fought a silent battle that would dictate the entirety of your future.

“I think – ”

“ – I ain’t goin’ fucken’ nowhere.” he slices through your hesitation like butter, body rigid and jaw clenched because for once he was trying to be a man and not a monster.

Maybe even a father.

You shatter in his arms like glass and he presses one of his palms against the back of your head while the other circles your waist and brings you closer.

“You’d stay?” you ask with such horror and disbelief that it clutches at his chest and he struggles to breathe. You’re no coward, despite how heavy the air feels, you look up at him and you’re so vulnerable and angelic that he forgets every setback that would come his way. “If I kept it…you’d stay?”

He can’t answer, the words refuse to form, but he holds your gaze with calm stability, a good masquerade to hide a mind that was racing and a heart that was pounding so heavily he felt his entire body pulsing. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your forehead in a voiceless promise.

You suck in a breath like it’s your first and cling to the collar of his coat, disappearing in his form, hiding from the world that was so cruel yet gifted you with something so precious.

The Pip-boy is still lit and waiting, the scan bright and piercing. You skim over it absentmindedly, a simple curious flick, then look again and squint your eyes at the tiny text printed under your pregnancy announcement.

“Four months.”

You’d only been out of cryo for three…

He followed your wide-eyed stare, he was no fool, he could do basic math.

You’d been pregnant before meeting him, before leaving the vault, before the bombs.

You want to puke. You want to rip your skin off and bury yourself alive because for the love of God it couldn’t be just perfect, there had to be some sick underlying thing to ruin everything. It wasn’t his, he was right, ghouls couldn’t have children.

It wasn’t his child.

You look disgusted and utterly pained because the realization makes you mourn at the idea of carrying his baby. You wanted to, you’d give anything for it to be his and not some random bloke you couldn’t even remember the face of. You wanted it to be his…

You search his face for anger or disappointment or anything that would prepare you for what was to come. Why would he stay if the damn thing wasn’t even his? He had his own problems, his mission. You were just an obstacle that had nearly made him believe he was going to be a father and maybe it was his second chance at doing it right.

There was nothing though.

He simply blinked at you, lips parted as he formed a sentence that had you pledge yourself to him for as long as you stood and breathed.

“That don’t change a damn thing.”

Tag list: @bountydroid @v3lv3tf0x @silverose365

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul fallout #x reader

[jimraisedmeup]

TICK // 0.1 Eddie Munson

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Synopsis: what did your parents think of you? did they worry what strangers on the street might perceive? did they wake in a cold sweat, unable to sleep over fears of their community whispering behind their backs? did bile rise in their throats as they smelled sweat, cigarettes, and fornication on their eldest daughter?

good. clutch those fucking pearls.

"that Buckley girl is going to hell, what a waste of life."

(While this prologue takes place in Season 4 of Stranger Things, the majority of TICK will be set in the years prior, cause I mean for the love of all that is holy, Eddie deserves a backstory)

Rating: Overall this is an explicit slow-ish burn, but each chapter will be labeled accordingly!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!OC (Robin's older sister)

A/N: I posted this a couple years ago on Wattpad, took it down because I was in a terrible place in my life. Of course, being the sadistic goblin that I am, here you go... that haunting year of my life actually spawned something beautiful. 21 chapters of TICK are already written out, ready to be revised & reborn. I am open to comments/suggestions/requests.

☾ TICK // 0.1 - prologue

☾

Robin sighed, rubbing her left temple and looking around the video store.

"Guys… my sister might know where Eddie is hiding."

Dustin raised an eyebrow as Max scoffed, hand on her hip.

"Since when do you have a sister?"

Exasperatedly, Robin grabbed one of the phones and handed it to Max. "Since forever,” the brunette explained with a grimace. “She graduated last year. But she won't help us if I call her. One of you better do it. She isn't… she's a very private person."

Drumming his fingers on the countertop, Dustin pressed Robin. "And why exactly do you think your sister knows where Eddie is?"

“Umm…” Robin’s voice reduced to a mumble as she coughed out the last bit: “he's her... ex… boyfriend?” 

Two pairs of young, wide eyes stared at her. “What?”

"They kinda used to date, or whatever. A couple years ago."

Max snatched the phone from her, annoyed with the wasted time. "Just give me her number. I doubt she's that bad, if she fell from the same tree as you."

Frantic, Robin's hands were in the air. "That's the thing! I swear she was actually raised by wolves or something." 

"Just dial, Robin!"

The phone rang three times as Robin and Dustin stared at Max in anticipation.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this… uh… Ms. Buckley?"

You hesitated, suddenly feeling feral and defensive, as an instant layer of sweat formed on your palm that was holding the phone.  

"Might be. This better be a damn good reason to bother me in the middle of a perfectly good Saturday."

Max felt a little intimidated by the tone in your voice. "Well, I was wondering if you had seen or heard from Eddie Munson recently?"

On the other end of the line, you snorted rudely at Max's question.

"Why? Does he want his virginity back?"

☾

TAGLIST for this series if you would like to be notified when I post new chapters!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you

[fluffymiyaa]

Waste The Night

Painting!Gojo x Painter!reader x Painting!Geto

Summary: In a haunting twist of fate, your tragic painting suddenly springs to life, its sorrowful characters and somber scenes manifesting before your eyes.

3 4

Masterlist Main Masterlist

You decide to start your morning by making breakfast. Just a simple omelet and a nice, hot cup of coffee. You eat it quietly, enjoying your morning routine as you watch TV. Then suddenly, there's a knock at your door. You furrow your brow, wondering who could be visiting your house this early in the morning.

You quickly finish up your nearly-done omelette and rush to the window, trying to discreetly peek outside. Your eyes widen in shock, and your body starts shaking when you see the police car parked outside your house. The sight sends a wave of fear and confusion coursing through you.

What? What's going on? What happened? What did i do?

Your mind races with a thousand questions as you approach the door, each step heavy with apprehension. What could have prompted the police to come to your house? You rack your brain, trying to recall if you've done anything that might warrant their attention, but nothing comes to mind. Your pulse quickens as you reach for the doorknob, your hand trembling slightly. With a mixture of fear and determination, you twist the knob and swing the door open, bracing yourself for whatever awaits on the other side.

You face the two police officers, their stern expressions sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart races as you try to maintain your composure.

"...can I help you, sir?" you manage to stammer out, your voice trembling with apprehension.

"Ms. L/N Y/N, correct?" One of them addresses you, his tone serious and probing.

"Y-yes, that's me..." you reply, the words barely escaping your lips as you struggle to keep your voice steady.

The two police officers glance at each other, a silent exchange passing between them. One of them retrieves something from behind his back, and your eyes widen as he holds up your phone. How could you not have realized your phone was missing? Your furrow your brow in confusion, wondering how they came to possess it.

"Huh...yes, that's mine...but how?" you manage to ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty and concern.

"Miss, please come with us to the police station." one of the officers replies, his tone firm yet respectful.

"What? No! I didn't even do anything!" you protest, your heart racing as panic begins to set in.

The officers sigh, their expressions sympathetic yet resolute as they try to maintain control of the situation. They show you a picture of a familiar old man - your manager.

"Do you know this man?" they ask, their eyes searching yours for any sign of recognition.

You gulp, feeling a lump form in your throat as you nod in acknowledgment.

"Yes...he's my manager." you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The officers nod, their demeanor becoming more serious as they continue to speak.

"He was found dead in the hallway just 50 meters from here. There was a long, sharp cut on his neck, indicating that someone had slashed his throat. Based on the condition of the body, it is estimated that the incident occurred in the middle of the night or early morning, as the body was still quite warm when it was discovered. We have called an ambulance to take him to the hospital, and we are currently trying to contact his family, including you." they explain, their words weighing heavily on you.

"So what I'm saying is, miss, you are the first suspect in this case. The last time the victim had contact was with you." they conclude, their gaze unwavering as they hold up your phone as evidence.

Your mind races with disbelief and fear as you try to process the gravity of the situation unfolding before you.

You freeze in place, a wave of shock washing over you, followed by a surge of panic that leaves you sweating and trembling. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you struggle to comprehend the situation unfolding before you.

"W-wait, there must be a misunderstanding! I-I didn't have the phone with me! Someone must have stolen it from me! Please, you need to trust me! I'm innocent! Somebody must have framed me!" you stammer, your voice trembling with desperation and fear.

The officers exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable as they listen to your frantic pleas. Yet, despite your protests, their demeanor remains stoic and unwavering, their duty to uphold the law evident in their unwavering resolve.

"Save that explanation at the police station, miss," one of the officers responds sternly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a heavy heart and a sense of dread gnawing at your insides, you nod weakly, realizing that you have no choice but to comply. The weight of the situation presses down on you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you feeling helpless and vulnerable.

You take a deep breath and follow the officers as they lead you towards their patrol car, your mind racing with unanswered questions and fears of what may await you at the police station.

Your gaze shifts to the handcuffs encircling your wrist, a stark contrast against the soft fabric of your pajamas. These hands, once so adept at wielding a paintbrush with grace and precision, now rendered powerless and confined.

Alone in this sterile white room, the silence weighs heavily upon you, broken only by the rhythmic whirring of the fan above. Each breath feels labored, as if the air itself has grown thick with uncertainty and fear.

The door creaks open. A figure steps into the room, their footsteps echoing against the sterile white walls.

It's a detective, clad in a crisp suit with a stern expression etched onto his face. His presence alone sends a shiver down your spine, amplifying the feeling of unease that has settled over you like a suffocating fog.

"Miss Y/n, good morning" he says, gesturing towards the lone chair positioned in the center of the room.

Oh yeah what a good morning

You comply silently, the handcuffs rattling as you move, a constant reminder of your current predicament. Sitting down, you feel small and vulnerable under the detective's scrutinizing gaze.

He takes a seat across from you, opening a file with your name written on it in bold letters. His eyes flicker over the contents before fixing on you once more.

"We have some questions for you regarding the events of last night," he begins, his voice firm yet measured.

You nod slowly, your heart hammering in your chest as the gravity of the situation sinks in. This is far from the peaceful morning you had envisioned, and you can't shake the feeling that your life is about to change in ways you never imagined.

"Where were you last night?"

The officer's gaze remains fixed on you, probing for any signs of deception or evasion in your responses. You swallow hard, the weight of his scrutiny bearing down on you like a heavy burden.

"I was sleeping, in my room." you reply, betraying the nervousness that grips you.

He nods slowly, jotting down notes on a pad of paper as you speak. The scratching sound seems to echo loudly in the otherwise quiet room.

"How do you feel about him being your manager?" he inquires, his tone measured yet insistent.

You hesitate, searching for the right words to convey the mix of emotions swirling within you. "He... uhm, he's good at his job," you finally manage, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears.

The furrow in the officer's brow deepens as he continues to study you intently. "Ms. L/n, does your manager ever mistreat you?" he presses, his voice taking on a more serious undertone.

Your mind races, recalling the countless arguments and disagreements that have punctuated your working relationship with the now-deceased manager. "Well... it's just normal arguments," you offer hesitantly, attempting to downplay the significance of your conflicts.

But the officer doesn't seem convinced, his scrutiny unwavering. "Do you have any feelings of hatred towards him?" he probes further, his gaze piercing through your defenses.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the weight of his question. "N-no... not at all," you stammer, though a nagging doubt lingers at the back of your mind.

"Ms. L/n, I need you to answer the question truthfully," the officer presses, his tone firm yet not unkind.

Your hands tremble slightly as you respond, the weight of the interrogation bearing down on you.

"I do" you admit

The officer's gaze remains steady, his eyes searching yours for any hint of deception. "Do you know if he engaged in inappropriate behavior, such as harassment towards someone else?" he asks, his voice soft yet probing.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, struggling to find the right words amidst the chaos of your thoughts. "W-well, he has a bad temper," you offer tentatively. "I think he may have had a lot of enemies."

"Enemies, huh? Does that include you, miss?" the officer inquires, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you meet his gaze, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. "No!" you exclaim, a surge of frustration and desperation rising within you. "I told you, I have nothing to do with this! Somebody else must be trying to frame me!"

The officer raises a hand in a calming gesture, his expression remaining composed despite your outburst. "Please, Ms. L/n, I understand that this is a difficult situation, but I need you to remain calm and lower your voice." he advises, adjusting his glasses with a practiced motion.

You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves as you nod in acknowledgment. Despite your fear and uncertainty, you know that maintaining your composure is crucial if you hope to convince the officer of your innocence.

"Do you perhaps know somebody else who harbors ill feelings towards your manager?" the officer probes further.

Your mind races as you consider the question, recalling the various individuals who had clashed with your manager over the years. "Uh... I have some people in mind," you admit hesitantly, careful not to implicate anyone unfairly.

The officer nods, gesturing for you to continue. "Can you say their names?" he prompts, his voice calm yet insistent.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before naming those who had openly expressed their dislike for your manager and had been heard saying disparaging remarks about him.

"Are any of them aware of your security password?" the officer inquires, his brow furrowing in thought.

"Hm... Miko? She's one of the closest to me," you respond, your mind racing as you try to recall if you had ever shared your password with her. "But I never thought she's the one who stole my phone..."

The officer nods, jotting down notes in his book before closing it. He rises from his chair, his posture professional yet empathetic. "I think that's it for today. You can go home," he informs you, his voice carrying a sense of finality. "But you must remember, you're still a suspect. The police will continue to monitor you."

As he walks towards the door, he pauses, turning back to face you with a somber expression. "Oh, and I think you might need a lawyer." he adds, his words hanging heavily in the air as he exits the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon you.

As you step back into your house, a wave of exhaustion washes over you, leaving your body feeling heavy and your limbs weak. You can hardly muster the energy to move, let alone eat. Your appetite seems to have vanished, replaced by a gnawing feeling of anxiety that weighs heavily on your mind.

Collapsing onto the nearest chair, you curl up into a ball, seeking solace in the silence of your empty house. The minutes tick by slowly, each passing moment adding to the weight of the burden you carry. You glance at the clock, its hands seemingly frozen in time, mocking your sense of helplessness as they stubbornly refuse to move.

As you sit there, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on your shoulders, you feel a surge of panic rising within you. The thought of finding a lawyer seems like an impossible task, especially considering the overwhelming number of options and the uncertainty of who you can trust. The exorbitant costs associated with legal representation only add to your distress, leaving you feeling trapped and helpless.

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to comprehend why this is happening to you. You've always tried to live your life with integrity and honesty, yet now you find yourself thrust into a nightmare of accusations and suspicion. It feels unfair, unjust, as if the world is conspiring against you for reasons beyond your understanding.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the sobs that threaten to escape your throat. The weight of uncertainty and fear bears down on you, making it difficult to see a way out of this predicament.

"What should i do..? Why is this happening to me?"

You cry until exhaustion overwhelms you, and you don't even notice as you drift into sleep, your head resting on the table. Once you slowly wake up, your body jolting in panic as you glance at the clock.

"Shit, how long have I been asleep?"

It's already 3 pm. Feeling too restless to eat, you grab a pudding from the fridge and quickly devour it. Then, you make your way upstairs to your studio.

As you enter the room, your eyes land on the paintings of Suguru and Satoru on their canvases. You long for their comforting presence right now. Absentmindedly, you pick up a brush and examine it, lost in thought.

Suddenly, a light bulb seems to illuminate above your head. An idea forms in your mind.

"Wait, if I can't find a lawyer, maybe I can just make one?"

You chuckle at the absurdity of the thought, imagining crafting your own lawyer from brush, paint, and canvas.

But then you pause, considering the idea more seriously.

"...I mean, it's not a bad idea. And I wouldn't have to pay him or anything, right?"

Lost in contemplation, you sit in silence, the idea lingering in your mind as a potential solution to your current predicament.

"God..im gonna get real in jail if they find out it's a fake lawyer."

Your hand slowly dances on the canvas, skillfully shaping the figure as you contemplate what personality to imbue him with.

With each stroke of the brush, you pour your passion and determination into creating this imaginary legal representative. Despite the absurdity of the situation, your focus is unwavering. After all, you refuse to entertain the thought of ending up in jail.

As the painting begins to take form, you infuse it with characteristics that you believe a trustworthy lawyer should possess: intelligence, confidence, and a hint of charisma. With each brushstroke, you mold him into the ideal representation of legal expertise and competence.

In your mind, this painted lawyer becomes more than just a creation on canvas. He becomes your lifeline, your protector against the unjust accusations looming over you. And as you continue to paint, you feel a sense of empowerment wash over you, knowing that you are taking control of your own destiny, one brushstroke at a time. You drop your brush and let out a satisfied groan as you admire your creation. The image of the lawyer stares back at you from the canvas, exuding an aura of confidence and intelligence.

"Ah..i end up making him good looking. Well, what's the harm anyway." you mumble to yourself, a faint smile playing on your lips.

Stretching your tired muscles, you take a moment to appreciate the sense of accomplishment that comes with bringing your idea to life. Despite the unconventional circumstances, you can't help but feel a sense of pride in your artwork.

With a deep breath, you remind yourself that desperate times call for creative solutions. And if your painted lawyer can help you navigate through this legal ordeal, then his good looks are just an added bonus.

Feeling a surge of determination, you gather your resolve to face whatever challenges lie ahead, knowing that you now have a unique ally on your side, even if he exists only in paint and imagination.

"Now the problem is..i don't know when he's gonna become real!" You cried out, frustration evident in your voice.

"Please please become real in the morning till evening! Not in the night please please please!" You beg in front of your painting, your desperation palpable.

What a scene it must be, if somebody else were to find you in this position—on your knees, pleading with a two-dimensional figure. They would undoubtedly be puzzled, perhaps even weirded out by the sight.

But you don't care about appearances right now. All that matters is finding a way to ensure your painted lawyer materializes at a time that's most advantageous for you. So you continue to beseech, your words echoing in the quiet of your studio, hoping against hope that somehow, your plea will be heard and answered.

"What are you doing?" You hear someone's voice, and as you turn around, you see Suguru looking at you with a puzzled expression, while Satoru regards you with a mixture of concern and pity.

"Oh no..is she losing her mind?" Satoru expresses his worry, his brow furrowing.

"I think she is." Suguru agrees, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

You flush with embarrassment, realizing how bizarre your actions must appear to them. But you don't know how to explain yourself, especially considering the circumstances. All you can do is hope they won't judge you too harshly for your desperate attempt to summon a painted lawyer to aid in your defense.

You quickly get up, trying to conceal the painting behind your body, although it's barely covered.

"You guys are surprising me! Don't show up like that!" you exclaim, feeling caught off guard.

"And so are you. Besides, why are you hiding it behind you? The canvas is way bigger than you." Suguru remarks, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Satoru takes hold of your wrist, his expression one of curiosity mixed with concern.

"What are you trying to hide from me?" he asks, his tone gentle yet probing.

You glance between them, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. How do you explain the bizarre situation you've found yourself in?

Satoru gently pushes you aside to get a better look at the canvas. His eyes widen in surprise as he takes in the figure of another man painted on the canvas. A pang of unease and hurt tightens his chest.

Suguru narrows his eyes, studying the scene with intensity.

"What's the meaning of this? Explain." he demands, his tone icy.

"Are you cheating on us? Are we not good enough for you?" Satoru's voice trembles with a mix of hurt and confusion as he confronts you.

You feel a lump form in your throat as you try to find the words to explain

"Wait, no! I can explain! Please, hear me out! I-I need him!" you plead desperately, feeling the weight of guilt and fear pressing down on you.

"You don't need us anymore?" Satoru's voice cracks with hurt and confusion.

"N-no! T-that's not it! P-please, I just..." Your throat feels dry, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you struggle to speak. It's all too much, the overwhelming weight of everything that's happened crashing down only in one day.

You break down into sobs, unable to contain the flood of emotions any longer.

Satoru and Suguru rush to your side, their faces filled with concern and apology as they try to comfort you.

"I'm sorry, y/n... Please, just take a breath," Satoru says, squeezing your hands tightly in his.

"Hey, calm down." Suguru murmurs soothingly, gently stroking your cheek in an attempt to calm your trembling.

"Let's talk about this calmly," Suguru interjects, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. He takes a step closer, his eyes soft with concern. "Y/n, we're here for you. Just explain to us what's going on."

Satoru nods, his expression a mix of worry and understanding. "Yeah, we're not going anywhere. You can tell us anything."

You take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself enough to explain. "I... I made him because... because I didn't know what else to do. I'm in trouble, guys. The police came to my house today... they think I had something to do with my manager's death."

Suguru and Satoru freeze in dread as news of the police's arrival sinks in, a heavy silence enveloping the room. That night, driven by uncontrollable impulses, they acted rashly, blinded by a desire for vengeance. Unbeknownst to them, their actions inadvertently shifted blame onto you, leaving you to bear the weight of their mistake.

As tears continue to stream down your face, they exchange guilt-ridden glances, debating if they should tell you or not.

"Wait a second, Y/n." Suguru interjects, his voice tinged with urgency.

They step away from you, huddling in a corner, frustration evident on Satoru's face.

"What are we going to do?" he mutters in frustration, his mind racing for a solution.

Suguru closes his eyes, grappling with the weight of their actions.

"This is on me. I should have been more professional, ive been doing this for years but my recklessness led to this. I dont know what makes me so uncontrolled that night." he admits, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

Because it was you.

Satoru look at you who still slump down on the cold floor. He cant seeing you like this it hurts him.

And so Suguru, he put you in danger and he was behind all of this.

"It's not just your fault. We did this to protect her, but we've only made things worse." he insists, his voice filled with remorse.

"We need to clean this for real this time." Suguru agrees, determination flickering in his eyes. Satoru turns to you, resolve in his gaze.

"I'm going to tell her," he declares.

"Wait what?"

Satoru turns back to you, steeling himself for the inevitable confession.

"Y/n... we..." Satoru begins hesitantly, but Suguru interrupts, his voice strained with uncertainty.

"Satoru, don't." Suguru stopped him.

"But i can't lie to her!"

Suguru exhales heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration, his eyes filled with remorse.

"Fine."

With a heavy heart, they turn to you, their expressions fraught with sorrow.

"W-what is it?"

"Y/n... we're the one who killed your manager" Satoru confesses, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

The revelation hits you like a sledgehammer, sending shockwaves through your entire being, leaving you feeling as though the ground has been pulled out from beneath you.

"H-huh?"

Ik this isnt make sense, lets just pretend theres no cctv or they managed to avoid them im literally so dumb😮‍💨

Thanks for the notes, reblogs make me feel more appreaciated<3

Tags: @ceramic-raven @beastofthetrees @r0ckst4rjk @gothiccwhore666 @barryatsumu

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #jjk #wtn series

[dazed-and-confused23]

Golden Rule

Summary: Lucy is presented with her first case of Ghoul Bigotry, and it goes as well as what you think it might.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean

Warnings: Eh none? This was just for funnsies lol. Short and sweet

"Oi. Get your rotter outta here, Vaultie. We don't like his kind around here."

Lucy looks at the merchant in shock. The woman had been perfectly cordial until Cooper had come inside, and her attitude had changed immediately to disgusted annoyance. She cuts her eyes back at Cooper, who doesn't look affected by the harsh words whatsoever, but Lucy can't believe her ears.

"Excuse me?" Lucy demands once she's gotten over her initial shock. Her hands ball into fists, and she squares her shoulders, "What the heck did you just call him?"

The woman sneers at the vault dweller, "A rotter. A zombie. Get it the fuck outta my shop."

Lucy feels her face go hot in anger. How dare this woman say such mean things about Cooper. He was an asshole and rough around the edges, but Lucy would never even dream of calling the ghoul such ugly words.

"You can't just call him things like that, ma'am. Cooper is just as human as me or you," Lucy snaps at the woman, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

"I can call that zombie whatever the hell I want, girl. Now, if you ain't got the caps, get the hell out."

Lucy huffs, lips screwing up and gearing up to tell this lady what's what, when Cooper appears behind her, one hand curling over her shoulder to pull her away from the counter. She lets herself be led away from the counter but can't stop the last retort from falling past her lips.

"Fine! I didn't want to trade with an old hag like you anyway!"

Cooper snickers as he drags her through the door and back out into the wastes. It'd been a long time since someone had stuck up for him like that.

"Let it go, Sweetheart. Some people are just too set in their ways," Cooper scoffed and tugged her along when Lucy huffed and crossed her arms indignantly.

"It's still not right. You're better looking than half the men I've seen out here, anyway."

Cooper laughs at that one and sends the smoothskin a wink, "Keep talkin' like that Darlin' and I'll start thinkin' you actually like me."

@therulerofallpotatos

#fallout show #cooper howard #fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #cooper howard x lucy maclean

[ihatealimore]

Lover, You Should've Come Over

(word count: 1.432) (angst, comfort)

Sitting alone in the dim room, Kurapika finds himself consumed by a painful wave of regret. His hands curl into fists at his sides, fingernails digging dents into his skin as he thinks about (Y/N). A beautiful woman with sharp eyes that saw right through him.

"I pushed her away," He mutters to himself, the extent of his actions weighing on him heavily, "I was so concerned about dragging her down with me... I didn't consider what it would do to her."

The memories of their past together begin to seep into his mind like venom spreading its poison throughout an unsuspecting body. Their laughter echoing through empty halls, the way she'd playfully tugged on a lock of his blonde hair whenever they sparred together. Each memory brings forth another flood of bitter sorrow that gnaws at the edges of Kurapika's already damaged heart.

"She deserved better," He whispers hoarsely against the icy silence that wraps around him, "And I... I couldn't give it to her."

The taste of regret is sour on his tongue, but nothing stings more than remembering how (Y/N) had looked at him when he walked away, pure understanding reflected in those knowing eyes. A silent acceptance that cut deeper than any blade.

"(Y/N)," Kurapika breathes out, the name slipping from his lips like a prayer. 

His gaze focuses on the empty space before him as if he could summon her back with just his longing.

"I'm sorry. I should've stayed," He murmurs quietly into the stillness of the room, shame lacing every word, "I miss you..."

A strained sigh escapes Kurapika's lips, his eyes dull and filled with sorrow, "If only I could see her again..." His voice trails off into a broken whisper, the words hanging stubbornly in the stagnant air surrounding him.

He would give anything to see those bright eyes again, to see her smiling at him so tenderly, to feel the warmth of her skin against his own. The pain plaguing him seems unending, spiraling deeper within his chest with every passing second.

His hand instinctively moves towards where he imagines (Y/N) might be sitting if she were here, an empty gesture aimed at filling a void he himself had created. He misses everything about her, her stubbornness, her recklessness...

But most importantly, how understanding she was, even when things didn't make sense.

"I'll do whatever it takes," Kurapika declares quietly as if making a vow to himself, "I just want another chance."

The blonde-haired man's hand hovers over his phone, a deep sigh leaving his lips. He contemplates calling her, the weight of his decision making his heart pound louder in his chest. His fingers itch to dial her number, a series of digits he had memorized by heart.

The screen glows softly in the dim room, casting an eerie light onto Kurapika's face as he scrolls through his contacts until (Y/N)'s name comes into view. Her contact picture is one they'd taken together during happier times, both of them smiling so brightly that their joy seems almost tangible.

His thumb hovers over her name for what feels like an eternity, every second amplifying the heavy silence encompassing him. The fear gripping at him feels strong and suffocating. What if she doesn't answer? Worse yet... What if she does?

"(Y/N)..." He says under his breath, steeling himself before finally pressing down on her contact information.

As he brings the phone up to his ear, Kurapika bites down hard on his lip. He can taste the metallic tang of blood dripping into his mouth but he barely registers it. All he can focus on is the rhythmic beating of a dial tone, a stark contrast to his erratic heartbeat.

His grip tightens around the device as every passing second becomes a harsh reminder of how much time had been wasted, how many words were left unsaid, and how many actions were done out of fear instead of love. His breath hitches when after several agonizing moments, her voicemail greeting plays.

But even just hearing her recorded voice gives him a brief sense of reprieve, grounding him back to reality from where regret and pain drag him deep within its clutches. It isn't enough though. He needs more than just echoes of her voice trapped in a digital recording.

Hearing the beep indicating it's time to leave a message, Kurapika takes in a deep breath before speaking. His voice quivers slightly, but he presses on, "(Y/N)... It's me, Kurapika."

He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

"I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now but... I miss you."

The words taste bitter on his tongue, an admission of guilt and longing wrapped together.

There's another tension-filled pause before he finally lets out what had been gnawing at him all night long, "Please come over. I need to see you..."

With that final plea hanging heavily in between them, even if she isn't there physically, he ends the call. His phone drops back onto his lap as he leans back into his chair, letting out a sigh full of uncertainty and vulnerability.

She may not come... But at least now she knows how desperate he is without her.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Kurapika had begun to lose hope. The silence is deafening and doubt claws at his insides with a vengeance. He spends the passing hours aimlessly pacing around his apartment, trying to distract himself from constantly glancing towards his phone.

When he hears a subtle knock echo through the room, the Kurta freezes in place, heart pounding fiercely against his ribcage as he makes way to the door.

Dread and anticipation swirls within him as he gently pulls open the door, revealing (Y/N) standing there under dimly lit hallway lights, her silhouette creating shadows that dance across her features.

For a moment, it seems as if time itself has stopped, everything silent except for their shallow breaths mixing together in sync before he finally releases an audible sigh of relief.

"Kurapika?" Her voice is filled with surprise, and before she can utter another word, he has already thrown his arms around her. His grip is tight, a desperate hold born out of fear that if he lets go even slightly, she'll disappear.

He buries his face into the crook of her neck, every inch of him attempting to memorize her, the way she feels against him, the faint scent of her hair mixing with the outside air lingering on her clothes.

A shaky breath escapes him as he tries to gain control over his racing heart, albeit in vain, because now that she's here within his reach again... He doesn't want to let go.

"Kurapika?" She echoes and the sound of her voice, so close and filled with concern, causes something warm to bloom in his chest. As she returns his embrace and begins to rub soothing circles on his back, he feels a few of the knots in his stomach start to unravel.

"You sounded... Unwell in your voicemail. Are you okay?" Her words resound through him, genuine worry laced into each syllable.

"I..." He swallows hard as he draws back just enough to look at her, meeting those beautiful eyes that hold nothing but sincerity, "I've been better," It isn't a lie but it doesn't feel like the whole truth either.

"I can tell," She replies quietly.

He lets out another trembling breath before tightening his hold around her again, not ready yet to fully face what's been haunting him for so long without having her close.

For now, he wants to linger in her arms. Holding onto her as if she's his lifeline, Kurapika allows himself to sink deeper into her embrace, her comforting warmth seeping through the fabric of his clothes and into his cold existence.

He presses his face further into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent deeply, "Just let me hold you for a bit longer," He murmurs against her flesh, hoping she'll understand just how much he needs this right now.

"Okay, I'm not going anywhere," She whispers against his ear, the softness of her voice flowing into him and further calming his anxious thoughts.

Kurapika's heart constricts at her promise, gratitude washing over him in waves. He tightens his hold on her further, as if conveying all the unspoken emotions through this one gesture.

He doesn't know how long they stood there in silence, time seeming to lose its grip on him as he simply allows himself to exist within this comforting bubble with her by his side... And for once, it feels okay to let down the walls around him even if it is just for a little while.

This feels like home to him, something he thought he had lost forever.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #romance #hunter x hunter x reader #writing #kurapika #kurapika x reader #kurapika oneshot #idk if this is any good lol #tried to be poetic

[all-things-are-nothing-to-me]

"If the alphabet soup of communist parties ever actually pivoted toward militancy (they won’t, but if they did) then they’d literally be setting themselves up for immediate repression.

Anarchy, on the other hand, is a flawed and centerless constellation of relationships, which is to say anarchy is built on affinity, trust, and reciprocal knowledge. Pittsburgh anarchist scenes are just as fragmented as the Left. It is true that “we” do struggle to sustain coordination and momentum, beyond the intermediate term. Like every movement, anarchy waxes and wanes. I couldn’t care less. Any communist or anarchist who believes that revolt in the united settler-states actually depends on the strength of “the Left” is deluding themself. Revolt happens with or without us. So rather than waste my time obsessing over the strength of some organization or ideology’s influence in a given region, I’d rather learn more projectual approaches that might contribute to conflictuality. I know some of you reading this are studying this framework as well, and I look forward to discovering your projects, wherever they may incite or strike.

To me, it makes more sense for “the movement” to refer to a circulation of tactics, skills and projects within and between radical social scenes… and that movement sure as hell doesn’t have much to do with the political organizations that fill my email’s spam folder."

Fuck PSL.

#anarchism #psl #organization #student occupations

[zqcky01]

Hey, love your works!! I was wondering if you could make a Stone x rich reader, were they both fight because they're completely the opposite, but in the end, they have a crush on each other. Pretty pleaseeee, love your work!!!

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Opposites Attack

Stone x Rich! Reader

a/n: AUGJJNGEJKSJSB

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“This so pretty…” You muttered, holding up a small pearl bracelet. Your eyes soften at it, titling your head to the side. You felt someone behind you—“That thing is ugly.” Stone said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He stared at you blankly. You blinked a few a moments. “Why do you always pop up randomly?!” You groaned, rolling your eyes.

“I’m still going to buy it.” You huffed, eyeing him up and down. Then turning back to the bracelet. “Why would you waste your money on something like that when you could buy a can of beans or something. Maybe even some alcohol to get you a little loose…” Stone muttered under his breath. “You’d end up stealing it from me.” You sighed, placing the bracelet down. “Whatever.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Don’t huff you look you’re about to blow down my house built of straw.” Stone said, poking your cheek as he smirked. You swatted his hand away. “You might give me a disease!” “The disease of being weird or poor?” “Both!”

“You are so annoying.” Stone said, taking out a cigarette and light it. “You’re the one who’s always appearing out of nowhere, like a weirdo!” You grumbled, your gaze went off to the side. Stone placed his cigarette between his fingers as smoke left his lips. “If I could, I would burn you with this.” He said, holding it close to your face. “Ugh!” You groaned, pushing his hands away from your face. “When was the last time you took a shower?” “When was the last time someone has ever shutted you up?”

You rolled your eyes—for the sixth time. “Whatever.” You grumbled, before you turned on your heel and began to walk off. Your cheeks began to flush.

You felt something in your wrist, glancing down—it was the bracelet you were staring at before. You swore that you placed it back down. You also began to smell smoke from your bag. Stone had left a cigarette burn on your bag on purpose. “Ugh! I swear!” You groaned, shaking your head.

Stone watched you leave, a small smirk on his face. “Why are all the pretty rich people so weird…”

#submission #x you #ramshackle x you #ramshackle x reader #oneshot #stone x reader ramshackle #stone x reader #x reader #fluff #silly #ramshackle stone

[ken-dom]

The Stars Look Very Different Today

∘₊✧ Ryland Grace solo fic

2.5k words

∘₊✧ Summary: The computer has a new command for Ryland — one he’s extremely relieved to carry out.

∘₊✧ Author’s notes: I’m barely half way through the book and I’m so in love with Ryland already. My god. Anyway this obviously got me into researching some of the hornier aspects of space travel, potentially unlocked a new kink along the way, and this is where I ended up. If you’re as curious as I am about the topic of this fic, you might enjoy this Vice article and also this Mauden article!

Title from Space Oddity by David Bowie, suggested by the wonderful @heresthestorymorningglory who encouraged me endlessly with this fic, as always!

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, Project Hail Mary spoilers!, masturbation, if you squint it’s kinda Ryland x Computer — and it’s kinda forced masturbation but he definitely wants to do it so take it as you wish, premature ejaculation, written from Ryland’s POV in keeping with the novel, horny Ryland, mentions of porn, low key science kink, and my favourite tag ever: cumming in space! 🪐🛸💦

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

‘Ejaculate.’

The voice has become familiar to me over the last few days. Almost comforting at times, if not a little on the unsettling side. But hey, unsettling isn’t the worst thing a person can be, right? Or a computer, if we’re being technical. Which I suppose we should be.

I blink my eyes open, groggy from what I’m guessing was a relatively short period of sleep before I check the analogue clock on the wall to confirm it. I don’t think on it for too long, however, because my attention is pulled to the heat I can feel pooling in my gut, and the throbbing sensation in my… between my legs. It’s untimely, but expected.

I’ve found myself with this little problem upon waking up for the third time in a row, now. The previous times, I’ve ignored it, willed it away while trying to keep my mind on everything else I’m still adjusting to rather than wasting my time… enjoying myself a little too much. 

This time, though, it seems the ship knows and wants me to do something about it.

I obviously haven’t heard correctly. My inconveniently timed arousal must be playing on my mind. It has been a while since I… no, that’s irrelevant right now, I’m giving in but I need to focus.

Why would the computer instruct me to-

‘Ejaculate.’

There it is again, plain as day this time. Yup. The computer wants me to… ejaculate.

Despite being completely alone, lightyears away from another living human, I feel incredibly exposed all of a sudden.

I gradually sit up and look around the room, rubbing at my tired eyes, careful not to cause any friction that might exacerbate matters. One of the robot arms is waiting patiently at the other side of the small room, holding out a little plastic cup, which I presume I am supposed to deposit my offering into. And then, what? Give it back to put into safe storage? Or eject it out into space where it’ll crystallise and float forever as evidence of my deed, only for some alien to discover and analyse a hundred years from now and take back to his home planet with breaking news. ‘Sex seed found among the stars, Earth astronaut got too excited about space travel.’

Sex seed? Jeepers.

Maybe, more likely, they’ll keep it to repopulate in the event of this whole thing not working out, or-

Ok. Let me think this through a little more scientifically.

Why would I need to ejaculate right now? What’s different about this time to the previous times I’ve woken up with a raging erection straining against my uniform?

‘Ejaculate.’

‘Just give me a moment, please?’ I reply, irritable, and the computer does not answer. The robot arm remains, though, and I know I will be given no choice in this.

Is that ethical? 

Whatever. I don’t think I need to get caught up in the semantics of whether one can consent to a spacecraft computer asking for one’s semen, robot arms or not. And after all, in the words of the wise Beyoncé, I woke up like this.

So, back to the question. If it’s not for repopulation purposes, perhaps… ah! Of course! It’s for my own good! The computer is trying to make sure I stay healthy.

Masturbation has been proven to lower anxiety levels and stress. This is a high-pressure sort of situation after all. Maybe it thinks I need a little relaxation to be able to focus properly, or to keep my blood pressure levels well maintained?

That’s the stuff. I’m really getting the ball rolling now.

I remember a study I read, and realise that actually, the fact that it’s been a while is actually important here, too, and not just a distraction my body insists on.

Infrequent ejaculation can result in prostatitis, and the way to avoid the secretions and subsequent bacteria growth that cause the condition, is to ejaculate. Frequently.

The computer has either noticed my recent arousal levels; the higher heart rate, the dilated pupils, the change in blood flow to cause certain… swellings, and let’s face it, the scent of desperation I must be giving off after this long without an orgasm, and thinks I’m overdue an ejaculation or two… or, it’s programmed to encourage masturbation at set intervals with frequent ejaculation in mind as a necessary tool to health.

In honesty, I started to lose my erection when the first of all these thoughts occurred to me – nothing like a computer and a robot arm teaming up to persuade you to rub one out for them to kill the mood – but… mmh…

Listen, I know I can get a little… carried away with science, but I really am alone out here and I don’t think the computer is at all concerned with what gets me going. It just wants me to cum in a cup. I can do that. I think.

I retrieve the cup from the robot arm, which folds away, patiently waiting for me to return with the goods, no doubt.

‘Don’t look, okay?’ I say a little weakly, feeling my cheeks heat up. I know it’s a computer, but it knows things. Too much, almost, and I feel watched. I’ve never been into that, being watched. Nothing against it, but I much prefer to do this with my curtains closed and my doors locked, preferably in a darkened room, or the shower. Since I can’t be afforded these luxuries aboard the Hail Mary, the least I can ask for is the computer not to look.

It doesn’t answer me, of course. I didn’t really expect it to, but at least with whatever else it gathers about me, it’ll know I’m not enjoying it’s presence while I knock one out for it.

Who knows, maybe over time, we’ll get to know one another and the computer’s presence will be the only way I can jerk off. Maybe it’ll start talking me though it… would dirty talk be programmed incase of difficulty… getting into it?

I chuckle softly, knowing that liking the computer is a real possibility. Doll syndrome, it’s called. I’d start preferring the computer to a real living, breathing human. Or maybe there’s another syndrome specifically for the preference of a computer…

But I’m letting myself get distracted again.

Back to the matter at hand. Ha!

I sit back down on my bed, my erection pressed painfully against my uniform trousers now, as I consider the little plastic cup. By the look of it, it holds about 100mls. The average ejaculate is around 1.25-5mls, and from experience I tend to fall somewhere in the middle of that range, so it’s extremely unlikely I’ll fill it, but it really has been so long, the fleeting thought passes through my mind that it won’t be big enough.

Then my thoughts switch to how this is all so clinical and not at all sexy. I guess that’s another kink I might be missing out on, but before I can get carried away again, the robot arm drops something else down for me.

Oh. It’s a dirty magazine. The sort they keep on the top shelf, hidden behind more family friendly editions like House and Home or Celebrity Chat or whatever people read these days.

A pair of breasts almost knock me clean out as the magazine drops into view before me. The robot arm flicks through the thin, glossy pages and holds it open at a page of a woman with her legs spread, glistening folds displayed beautifully as if just for me.

But she’s not real. Looking at the image only reminds me that I’m alone, and whilst her aroused state and thoughts of how she might pleasure herself does make my cock twitch, my heart sinks a little that I’ll never feel another wet pussy.

‘No thank you,’ I choke out, slightly reluctant, and the robot arm switches to a magazine it was apparently holding behind the one with the pretty vagina photograph.

This one displays an image of a thick, handsome penis, uncut and leaking at the tip, fingers ghosting over the happy trail above…

‘No, that’s not the issue,’ I say, a little high pitched, because my cock is leaking now too, and I know I’m not going to make it to the cup if they keep showing me images like this.. ‘I just… I can manage on my own, thank you.’

Still, I feel a little disappointed when the robot arm takes that enticing cock away, too, and I’m left truly alone once again.

I let out a long breath, as even as I can muster. I need to get out of my head.

I close my eyes, breathing deeply. I focus on the ache between my legs. I think about taking my time, really enjoying the sensation of touching myself in space – and the thought that I’m actually in space, does it for me again. With an involuntary pulse of my cock, I feel a thick drop of pre-ejaculate form at the tip.

Take my time? Who am I kidding.

Clasping the cup securely in one hand, I slip the other over the crotch of my trousers and the strangled noise that escapes me would’ve been enough to wake the whole neighbourhood had I been back home on Earth.

I feel a rush of shame flood my senses, but then I remind myself that I can be as loud as I want here. In space, no one can hear you moan. I laugh again, feeling giddy. This is kind of exciting, actually. The thought that I’m alone is finally working for me, and without overthinking it any further, I tear open the fastening on my trousers and let my cock spring free.

I’m so hard it’s painful, visibly throbbing, angry red tip shining with pre-cum. Begging to be touched.

I realise as I stare down at my neglected equipment that words like cum and cock aren’t usually so easily thrown around in my vocabulary, and that I must be unusually horny – another word I tend to shy away from until the moment calls for it – to be thinking like this.

I bite my lips together, anticipating how it might feel.

I’ve never done this in space before. It must be ok to do it, otherwise the computer wouldn’t expect me to just get on with it, ‘reading’ material included, but what if it feels different? What if it hurts?

I tentatively raise a trembling hand and carefully drag a featherlight fingertip up the underside, base to tip, tracing a thick vein and collecting some pre-cum on the way.

I squirm, moaning loudly. I wonder if the computer has really shut its ears off, or if it’s simply programmed to know the difference between horny, desperate groaning and other types of sounds, like real pain or distress.

Whatever, I need more. Fuck.

I suck my finger clean and do it again. A gentle fingertip ghosting up the hot flesh and my body jolts upright.

I’m not gonna last more than a few seconds, and I know it.

It turns out that for whatever reason, touching yourself in space feels fucking incredible.

I lose track of most of my thoughts after that, feeling like I’ve transformed into some sort of rabid animal.

I slump backwards, spreading my legs, and my hand wraps around my shaft, immediately pumping furiously as a broken string of growls and roars rip from my throat.

I barely have time to remember the cup, but somewhere in the haze of unbridled bliss, my lizard brain must have kicked in at just the right moment because only instinct could have given me the sense to raise my other hand and position the cup to catch the insane amount of ejaculate I release as I writhe on the sheets.

Some of it dribbles down over my fingers, but it doesn’t matter, as long as I deposit some in the provided receptacle, I suppose, the computer will be satisfied.

It seems to drag on for a while, this release. Not that I’m complaining; it feels so good I wouldn’t be able to comprehend words enough to form an actual complaint at this moment, even if I wanted to. But as climaxes go, this one, long and intense and oh, so delicious, is up there with the best.

I shakily place the cup (around 7-10mls not including what I didn’t catch – that has to be some sort of record for me) onto the floor and roll over, curling into a ball, my softening cock twitching through aftershocks of pleasure as every muscle in my body relaxes me into another round of sleep.

I wake up five hours later, sprawled on my back with my cock out, still soft for now, and my hand sticky. It must have worked. I must have needed it.

Slowly, I sit up again, tucking my co- my penis back in. Making myself presentable. I am in uniform, after all. I reach up to smooth my hair down. It’s a mess, and there are loose strands stuck to my forehead. I’ll deal with that later.

I notice the cup of ejaculate has gone, collected by my trusty pal, the porno robot arm, and a little sink has been revealed from behind its wall panel.

The computer isn’t going to instruct me to clean myself up – it’s giving me that dignity at least, but it’s pointing me in the right direction. And it’s correct.

I stand on shaky legs to head over there, feeling a slight headrush.

Hopefully, the computer will never speak of it again-

‘Thirty-seven seconds.’

‘Until what?’ I ask, too relaxed to care very much, as I soap up my semen-coated palm.

‘Thirty-seven seconds to produce 7.8mls of semen.’

My cheeks burn. It timed me? And I couldn’t even last out a whole minute?

Did computers care about premature ejaculation as much as humans seem to? Is it even premature when you’re only trying to pleasure yourself?

‘Yeah, well, it’s been a while,’ I retort, sheepish but clearly irked. ‘A long while.’

No further comment from the computer. Great.

I know it’s time for me to get on with the thousand other things occupying my time on this ship, so I do. But the nagging thought I couldn’t shake as I observed the beetles told me that I had to prove the computer wrong about my stamina.

I can last.

And apparently, the thought of proving the computer wrong about my own masturbation habits was doing it for me and-

‘Mmhhnnn-’

That delicious friction against my sensitive cock in these pants was tormenting me. And I thought cock not penis so I must be horny again. Does space travel typically cause high levels of arousal?

Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.

‘Computer, you got another cup? You can watch this time. I’m gonna put on a real show for you.’

#not s f w 💀 #ryland grace #ryland grace smut #project hail mary #project hail mary smut #ryland grace fic #project hail mary fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ken-dom writes

[celestial-ringleader]

Since I'm getting so much brainrot over Remy it's time to look through and find where most of these outfits come from (I don't know the exact issues or the years but will try my best to find them)

Variant Cover drawn by Russell Dauterman

First one we have is Classic Gambit, debuting in 1990 in Uncanny Xmen #266

Iconic 10/10 love the hot pink and metal boots

Next one is ANXF Gambit (my beloved) written in 2010

Yellow may not be His color but he looks amazing nonetheless, also this era he gets to be a cat dad with his speedster bf so it's an overall win

Next one is from Knights of X debuting this year

He died but he died looking hotter than hell

Right below that one is Excalibur Gambit debuting in 2020

I wasn't a fan of this comic but he looked very nice in it, but that's probably thanks to Marcus To drawing him. Also Remy looking like a thief in a DnD party is always a plus

(More TBA in the reblogs so this post doesn’t get too long)

#remy lebeau #gambit #robin speaks #this might be a waste of time but WHATEVER #its not like i have anything else going on and i get to stare at pics of remy #so im not complaining at all

[dufrau]

saw somebody tweet “i would ship ronance if vickie didnt exist” and like, my friend my buddy my respected comrade. she pretty much doesn’t. Right now she is the equivalent of one of those signs in a mall saying like SEPHORA COMING SOON WATCH THIS SPACE except instead of “sephora” it’s “love interest”.    

#ronance #anti vickie #obviously ship whatever the heck you want #but the idea that we should feel some obligation to ship robin with vickie #is like well in that case we are probably actually obligated to ship robin with tammy thompson #because robin had a crush on her first and apparently crushes are sacred and binding #its nonsense #i also think that people who say this probably wouldnt actually ship ronance #like nobody actually ships robin with vickie they just use it as a reason not to ship ronance #just say you dont care about wlw #i am also just generally opposed to doing what i am told which translates into a strong dislike of the concept of Love Interest characters #vickie might wind up being awesome btw i am not actually anti vickie #but she will never be more awesome than nancy wheeler so why are we wasting our time

[cherryapparition]

Bedtober Day 8: Kigurumi

Prompt List by OceanInSpace

#just him in some pajamas i wanted at a certain point #the one on the right is sold out and its my biggest regret like EVERRRRR #but before i begin crying over it #i wanted to colour these or whatever but ugh can't waste more time but the sketches are cute anyways so here before i go sleep #double feature today #might just combine the prompt of today and tomorrows for convivence sake #bedman #guilty gear #my art #bedtober

[switch]

>if the short is well received it will be made into an anime

quit yanking our fucking dicks toei. your stupid self-aggrandizing glorified toy commercial of an alleged doremi movie already performed well and won an award it super did not deserve. you’re moving goalposts at that point. you have been doing this shit for 15 years. either commit or quit dangling carrots over everyone’s heads again.

#god i hate this line companies throw out so much #you’re TOEI for fuck’s sake either do it or don’t what do we look like?! #how are they defining a free short as ‘does well’? #there’s no way to know! fuck off! #ooh it ~might~ be a movie or a web series or whatever great i’m glad you have no vision for whatever this is #that definitely makes it sound like you’re actually planning to do this and arent just wasting everyone’s time again #switch speaks

[p-p-panda]

Random art vent lol

I get tired of constantly pouring my heart out when asked about my stuff only for it to fall flat. Like why did they even ask me to begin with??? Just to tease me??? 😭 bruh

#this is very different than what I usually post #I don’t really like doing it but tbh this has been bothering me for the past couple of months in different places I’m active in #and it’s starting to become annoying #i listen to everyone’s lore and ocs or whatever the convo is only to end up with like one reply and they die on me. AND IT KEEPS HAPPENING #IN DIFFERENT Group chats #man I’m just so tired of even lore dumping all the time at this point 💀 #it seems like when I actually have the motivation to finally open up that’s when I get ignored the most :/ #I’m probably being a sensitive baby rn so I might delete this later. only wanted to get it off my chest #i can listen to other people talk for hours then the second I speak it feels like bore everyone 😔 #i only have like 1 or 2 people that actually listen to me when it’s my turn but most of the time I’m always listening. which isn’t bad but #man #it hurts and kinda makes me wanna cry lmao #and it makes me just half ass shit at this point when people ask about my ocs/lore since I don’t know if they want a tiny bit of info or #if they’re actually intrigued :/ I just give up now #ok I’m done this is way too long ahaha #vent #it’s not that I constantly want atteion because I don’t and I love listening to other people and sometimes when I ask they don’t talk to me #but will to someone els even when I’m super invested so idk at this point #😞 #i admit I have times when I’m shy but it mostly due to not wanting to wast peoples time anymore #ok I will shut to the up #gn #it’s like 1am for me #and I really don’t want people to ask only because of this post. trust me that’s not what I’m trying to do i swear. only getting out feels

[irritablepoe]

Little rant about my friend and consuming media lmao

Ok how do you consume media and still have NO IDEA who even the main character's name is? I recommended tma and bsd to a friend - well he started both. I ask him about it - like who his favourite character is or what he thinks of it - and he's so.... Confused almost? Like he just shrugged and said that he actually had no idea what was going on - which ok is kinda fair with bsd but like. you know the characters at least. Each one of them is introduced in some dramatic way, you can't MISS any of that and surely there's at least one character that gets your attention/that you relate to/that you find interesting. I mean ok maybe you forget the name or sth, but you at least remember the characters when I describe them to you, right? But no, my friend had no idea who for example Dazai was - DAZAI?! Like. What???? Or Atsushi.. the fucking main character???? Or chuuya???? Or - anyone??? I was so perplexed. How can you watch something and still have no idea about what you're watching?

The same happened with tma. I recommended it, he listened to the first few episodes. I asked him what he thought of Jon. HE DIDN'T KNOW WHO JON WAS I MEAN WHAT???? Oh idk he's just the guy reading the fucking statements. Before every statement he says "audio recording by Jonathan Sims" like how can you... miss that?

Idk, am I just consuming media so intensely or is he just... I don't even know.... Disinterested in engaging with the media one is consuming? It's not even that he doesn't like it. I asked him and he said it was good. But what exactly does he find good when he has no idea about. like. anything.

#vent post #personal #ranted to my mum about it as well and she said it might be bc he's stoned out of his ass the whole time #hhhhh #but i think more and more people don't have media literacy anymore #like they don't consume media critically they just watch whatever gets their attention first #it feels so dystopian.... #like wasting your time on those types of media just so that you're passing the time and not engaging with it #idk if that makes sense #i think I'm kinda hurt as well bc i thought we could talk about these series together #i even watched some of the things he enjoyed but he doesn't have a clue about them either #he always says that i become the “expert” on those mediums anyways so he doesn't have sth to add to the conversation #but that's not at all what i want? like I'm not the expert of anything i just want to talk about what he enjoys #and maybe get him to talk about things i enjoy as well #this all feels so bitchy I'm so sorry #ok rant over ig #thank you for reading all of that🙏💕

[revolutionarysuicide]

man it is seriously depressing remembering how excited i was when i first got my bottom surgery referral multiple years ago now like things were finally looking up i was so excited to finally get surgery after waiting my entire life i was constantly browsing bottom surgery forums to read other ppls account of their recovery etc. i really couldnt wait to feel comfortable in my own skin and be able to have sex the way i wanted and be able to shower with the lights on and all that. and then that was all taken away from me. and all that imagining post-op life that made me so excited is so painful now bc i know it is so far off and possibly i'll never be able to have it bc the nhs can just arbitrarily take it away from me again on the whim of one doctor.

cant stop thinking about emigrating cause i know i would literally get bottom surgery faster if i moved to another country and went through their processes despite the fact that my initial gic referral was in 2017 lol. even if i got my bottom surgery referral today (realistically i won't be re-referred for like another decade p much, and no they won't let me keep my old place in the bottom surgery waiting list, i checked many times with gdnrss lol) it still might be faster to emigrate. i know that a friend of mine who was recommended for bottom surgery in 2019 recently had surgery (she's a trans woman, im aware the waiting times are an order of magnitude longer for masculinising bottom surgery bc of the nhs fucking up the st peters contract too) and like i definitely know foreign surgeons with wayy faster turnaround than that, although im not sure how quickly i could become a citizen to become eligible for those countries' healthcare systems. maybe i could take advantage of my british passport privileges idk how much easier that would make it. but anyway i've been on and off thinking about moving to cuba since i was 16 anyway for anti-imperialist reasons, and ofc they have free bottom surgery there. ive have stayed put bc i think there needs to be communists in the imperial core too to sabotage imperialist efforts to crush revolutions abroad if nothing else bc the british people are so impotent lol, but like damn if britain doesnt keep giving me reason after reason to leave this shitty place

#if ur going to give me advice within the bounds of the british system or british charities/ngos: don't; i have literally already done that #whatever you're about to say i have literally done that in 2022 #yes all the organisations. yes all the charities. yes all the nhs emails. yes that phone number too. #yes that law firm. yes that advocacy service. yes that trans healthcare fund. #yes the emails and numbers of every single gic and surgeon. like don't waste your time i know how the system works and i know what orgs #exist here trust me i've already done that lol. #if u want to advise me on how another countrys immigration system works go ahead ig you might convince me to emigrate for real lol