#trauma from being mocked by my dad for anything i like

[moncherellie]

𓆩⚝˚‧no room for the holy spirit ♱꙳˚₊‧

a/n: finally it's here! been screaming into the void abt this one for... ever. a thousand thank yous to @thirsting-over-women who proofread this for me :>> my savior actually. if the religious themes offend you (whether you are religious or have trauma) i encourage you not to read, maybe check out my other works instead :D

content/warnings: 4,500 words, preachers daughter!ellie x fem!reader, nsfw, reader wears a skirt, semipublic/car sex, fingering, oral (r receiving), reader's first wlw experience, sexual awakening?, religious motif, christian themes, mild religious guilt throughout, mentions of religious homophobia, internalized homophobia, ellie smokes a lil, she's a bit mean, fuckin in a church parking lot

The pressures of being a teenage girl were hard enough without the pressures of being a gay teenage girl. Being a gay teenage girl was hard enough without the pressures of being the daughter of a fucking preacher. Ellie had never really bought into the whole 'organized religion' thing, ever the skeptic. Even as a puny 8-year-old, she asked why she had to wake up early every Sunday for something she didn't even like doing. Her attitude didn't change much after that, but her parents got stricter and stricter in an attempt to control her sacrilege. She didn't spend much time with her family, instead seeking familial bonds at school, especially with her mechanics teacher, Mr. Miller. But, you know what they say:

Strict parents raise sneaky children.

And it's true. If Ellie's dad knew what she was doing outside the holy walls of the ministry, he'd have an aneurysm and have her exorcised. But, she always thought, what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

You were the opposite. Raised the same as Ellie, you took to religion and fully participated, though mostly out of obligation. Just go every week for an hour and your family will leave you alone. This tactic, for the most part, worked. Your traditional family had their rough moments, specifically when they mocked the outfits you'd wanted to wear to service and called you some... unsavory names. But if you could avoid any similar incident, any clash with authority, you were taking the holy road.

On the outside, you were the purest of people. There was never a bad or dirty thought in your mind. You were a pillar of the community, someone that parents pointed out to their kids. "Be like them," they'd say. Your parents were proud, so you should've been proud. Should've.

You and Ellie had grown up quite close due to being in similar social groups and seeing each other every week at service. Since then, you'd grown apart as you took different paths in life, though you still felt a sense of commitment toward her; So when she cursed out her father in front of the clergy, your eyes widened.

"You fucking dick! You don't know shit about anything! You use all this- this... bullshit- as a crutch so you don't have to own up to your own baggage!"

As she stormed out, you silently move from your spot in the choir, doe eyes shining in the bath of stained glass light, and shuffle up to the front of the room.

"Father, if I may, I would like to go check on your daughter." You're a model fixture, a saint.

"Of course, my child. I hope someday she'll be more like you. I pray that-" You shuffle off again, not wanting to hear about how he wishes his daughter was different. He really wishes his child hid who she was, you think bitterly. You admired Ellie's rebellion, though you'd never say it, and you wished you were as strong as her.

You walk away from the church to the little park you and Ellie used to go to. Your memories flood with nostalgia for simpler times, and you smile to yourself, pleasantly strolling through the large trees and foliage and looking for the rough girl. You find her crouching against a tree, squatting with her head between her legs.

Is she crying?

"... Ellie? Are you alright?" You whisper, not wanting to startle her.

You notice Ellie tense up before quickly standing up and whipping around to face you, a hand behind her back. "Oh! It's... you. Hey. Aren't you s'posed to be inside?"

"Yeah, but I just wanted to check on you. That was intense in there."

"Mhm, I'm good. Just needed some, ah, fresh air. Y'know?" She sounds a little too jolly, weirdly chipper. It's suspicious.

"Uh-huh," you say, unconvinced. "Whatcha got there?" You point to whatever she's trying to conceal.

She knows she's been caught. Her attitude suddenly shifts from faux-innocence to her usual snarky persona as she rolls her eyes, leaning against the tree and revealing what she had. She brings her hand up to her lips. "Nothing."

"Ellie!" You shriek. "You can't do that! Where'd you even get a cigarette?"

She laughs as if you'd said the funniest thing imaginable. "You think this is a cigarette? Are you stupid? No offense. But are you stupid?"

You scoff. "No! I mean, you're smoking it. What else am I supposed to guess?"

"A blunt, idiot. Kush. Mary Jane. Weed. Ma-ri-jua-na." She spells out for you like you're a toddler.

You cross your arms defensively. "Okay, I know what weed is, smart guy. You still shouldn't have it. Where's it from?"

"Stole it. I just wanted to see why people liked it so much. They say it relieves stress, and I think yes." Ellie grins lazily, eyes lidded. "I got another. You want?"

The answer to your question only makes you freak out more. "No! And you stole?! You stole? Oh my goodness, Ellie, you're gonna get us thrown in jail or something!"

Ellie wordlessly watches your breakdown, eyes red and amused, the corner of her mouth turned up. "Relax, man, it's barely illegal. Who's calling the cops for a single gram? Don't be lame like that."

"Lame?" You scoff. "Are you a first grader? Ellie, it's against the law, you could go to prison. And it's not juvie anymore, you're gonna go to real jail!" Your hands flail around wildly as you explain the repercussions of her actions.

"Jail..." She rolls her eyes.

"Yes, jail! That's kinda what happens when you steal something, Ellie!" The high-pitched, prissy tone with which you said her name was starting to annoy her, but the way you looked when flustered was intriguing. Maybe in another context, she'd enjoy hearing her name fall from your lips.

Ellie takes another hit, looking up at you. She tilts her head, asking if you're being serious. "Jail? Over a single blunt? Who cares that much?"

You gasp when you realize: "I'm an accomplice!"

"You're not an accessory just because you're here." She chuckles as the wind blows past and carries her smoke near your head as you duck dramatically and swat away the smoke. She looks at you for a moment, slightly smiling. Her green eyes meet yours briefly before turning her attention back to the joint.

"Why are you using it anyway? It smells rancid."

"Already told you. I wanna know why people do it. It relieves stress and I'm plenty stressed. Plus, I look dope as shit with it, right?" Ellie leans against the tree, and a small part of you wants to say yeah, you do. "You should try it. Maybe get that stick out of your ass."

"You're gonna get addicted."

"God, it's just this once. What are you gonna do, tell my dad?" She chuckles to herself, taking a long drag.

She checks you out, head to toe, examining the flowy fabrics and neat hair and the Mary Jane shoes that drive her crazy. Who wears those? Her gaze returns to meet yours, and she looks utterly dumbfounded by you. Your eyebrows furrow as you see how her expression changes. "What's that look for?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "I dunno. You're just so robotic. It's like you never think about stepping the teensiest bit out of line. It's creepy. You've never had an independent thought in your life. Have you ever done anything even remotely rebellious?"

You make a noise that seems to say Well why would I? "No! Of course not! And you shouldn't either, I mean look at your dad, he's-"

Her voice raises, a tone you've never heard and don't care to hear again. "-My father? You mean the preacher?" She mocks. "What about him? You don't know anything about my father." Ellie's look hardens, eyes steely and mouth pursed into a thin line. It's a look you've seen maybe twice before, both in much more tense situations. Her voice says that you can't change her mind. You don't care to try. Whatever she's referencing, you believe her.

"Okay. Okay... sorry." You say gently, losing the defensive energy you'd held a moment ago. Ellie sighs and takes an irritated puff. To relax, you think.

"And you always apologize. It's so weird. You need to loosen up a bit." Another long, somehow sarcastic hit. "What's the worst thing you've *ever* done?"

An embarrassing, very private thought crosses your mind. You obviously can't tell her what you think about at night- you're barely able to admit to yourself that you have such impure thoughts. Instead, you shake your head. "Can't- I can't think of anything."

You watch her forest green eyes roll up, then down. It's a very familiar expression on her. "Thought so." She grins up at you, and you look away into the treeline nervously. "Do you wanna try something fun?"

"Is it... illegal?"

"No. Don't worry about that." She motions for you to come closer, so you take a tentative step forward, eyeing her like a wild animal. She hates the way you look at her, making her feel alien. Just because she lives authentically. It makes her want to ruin you, to have you stoop down to her level. Then maybe you won't look at her as if she were extraterrestrial.

You need an attitude adjustment, you need to chill the fuck out, you needed to get fucked, and hard. Ellie thinks she can help you with that.

She grins that toothy smirk as she watches you step closer, taking a puff and placing the blunt between her slender fingers. She doesn't miss the way your eyes trail the two long fingers that hold it. You wonder if she's doing this on purpose.

Ellie backs you up against a tree, and you recognize is as the same old oak that you would climb with her as kids. The branches and bark have left scars on you that Ellie helped you heal. She wonders how they look now.

Your back hits the trunk with an unceremonious thump, and you startle. Ellie keeps walking toward you, now getting uncomfortably close. "Uh- so what are we..." You trail off, thinking she'll explain what she's doing right in your face. She doesn't.

Her arm raises, trapping you between the tree and her body as she studies you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin, but feels incredibly electric at the same time- it's a sensation you've only felt around her, though you don't know why. She takes another hit and you nervously look away.

She tilts your jaw back to look at her. You have to face her pretty green eyes, unwavering as she stares you down, while you sneak glances just to check if she's still there. Your breath speeds up when she leans closer.

Ellie puts her stupid pink slightly chapped adorable smiling lips near the base of your neck.

"What are you doing?" You say breathlessly. You swear that you feel her ghosting over your skin, so close, yet not as close as you want her. Maybe if you lean in...

Before you can, she breathes out her smoke, lightly trailing her lips down your neck. Her tongue comes out to prod at the skin, tasting you. You whine. The smoke envelops the two of you, and your nose crinkles at the foul smell. You look down to chastise her but she's already looking at you with those eyes and that cheeky look. No matter what you say next to defend yourself, you know you're caught, that Ellie knows she's affected you. It's in your eyes, the way you've seized up so tightly, how you look at her like you can't wait to see what she does next.

She presses a chaste kiss on your collarbone and you crane your neck upward. You're not sure if you're trying to get away or if you're giving her more access. She pulls away and you find yourself leaning forward to try to get her back on you.

"Is that the most rebellious thing you've ever done?" She chuckles, taking another drag and blowing it over you, bathing you in the white haze. "You like being treated like that, huh?"

You shiver. "I don't get it," you say dumbly. You've never been this confused.

"What don't you get? I just think it's fun to make you squirm." She thinks you've had enough and blows her next exhale away from you. "I wanna corrupt you, sweetheart." It sounds derogatory coming from her but you find that you don't mind the tone. The spot Ellie had made contact with feels as if it's burning. You crave for that feeling all over your body.

You stammer over your words, pathetically unable to spit out any sort of coherent reaction to her. Any reaction would be better to tripping over your words. Fed up with trying to sound like a person, you decide to stop talking.

"You enjoyed that huh? Admit it." She inhales and repeats her action. "Makes you feel hot inside."

"What? No- no, are you insane?" The sane part of you is telling you that you shouldn't be doing this, especially not with Ellie fucking Williams of all people. She's everything you aren't- she's rude and snarky and devilish... and tall and strong and hot. Oh shit! The batshit insane part of you is slowly melting the angel on your shoulder, and you can basically see the little devil cackling as you feel yourself straying further from the good girl persona you'd cultivated. You feel your heartbeat in your pants.

Ellie begins to kiss down your neck, sucking and licking at your jaw and collarbone. This time, you're acutely aware that you're actively giving her access to do as she pleases with you. "Maybe I'm insane, but I can tell. You did like it. And if you deny, I'll do it again until you tell the truth."

"Well I didn't, so you can forget about-"

She places her thumb on your lower lip as you start your tirade, effectively shutting you up. "Too late." Ellie leans in and before you know it, her lips are on yours. Her arm snakes around the back of your waist and pulls you as close to her as you've ever been. That warm feeling flushes down your body, leaving chills across your skin. More. All you can think is that you want more. Your hands come up to grip her shoulders, you almost want to push her away, but you find yourself pulling her closer and closer. No room for the Holy Spirit.

Ellie pulls away, smugly looking down at you. "Told you you liked it."

"I didn't say that." You were being a contrarian on purpose at this point. Anything to keep Ellie treating you like this- you wanted to prolong this moment for however long you could. She hoists you up, bringing you out of the park and into the back of the parking lot. She throws you into the backseat of her beaten pickup and crawls atop you with darkened eyes.

You squeal in surprise. "El-lie!"

She continues to kiss you, making you wetter by the second. The heat pooling in your panties is so fucking embarrassing, but you find that you don't care how humiliating this is. You just want more.

"Els, what if someone sees?"

She scoffs as if the idea is preposterous; as if the prospect of getting caught is impossible. "Nobody can see us, and they won't leave until later. Don't stress about it." Ellie bites her lip and it makes your body get hot flushes. "I can do whatever I want to you. But you know what? I think you'd let me. Is that right?"

"...Maybe." Read: Yes, yes, anything! She leans down, placing her hand on the back of your neck and pulling your head closer up towards her. Her hand forces your legs apart further to allow her access. The way she lays on your inner thighs, atop your clothed core, makes you feel lightheaded. You love the way she manhandles you, and it's exactly how you thought she'd be. Every time she adjusts her position, your clit rubs against her and sends jolts of electricity up your body.

"I knew it. You're not as perfect as you try to be. You're dirty."

You want to deny it, you really do, but the evidence is clear. You're disheveled under her, lips swollen from hers, and she's pulling your panties to your ankles and shoving them in her jacket pocket, yet you're ashamed to say that you don't feel an ounce of guilt over it.

Despite how excited you are for whatever is about to happen, you're still incredibly nervous. This is the most physically vulnerable you've ever been with another person, and the fact that you're completely bare under your skirt makes your stomach flip.

Your face must betray your emotions because Ellie momentarily softens. She pulls her hands away from your hips and cups your face, peppering kisses across your cheeks and up to your forehead, making you laugh lightly. "You alright? We can stop."

"No... please don't." Her face lights up.

"Sorry, say that again?" You roll your eyes and she chuckles. "I knew you were like this. Not so pure now, huh?"

"Guess not."

"So you admit it?"

"...Fine. Yes."

Ellie sighs in relief as if her thirst were quenched- that's what she's been wanting to hear from you forever. She could see it in the way you snuck glances at her during mass, finding your wandering, hungry eyes from across the room. She could feel it in the way your hand lingered on her a little too long to be friendly, your touch suspiciously light, like if you touched her any harder you'd start to tremor.

But now, there's no semblance of the timid person you'd been. When Ellie pulls away, your hand comes up to the back of her neck to pull her back in. You're insatiable, and Ellie fucking loves it. She tugs at the bottom of your sweater. "Pull that fucking thing off. Show me those pretty tits." Her breath becomes heavy as you oblige and become needier. "Did you know you were this easy?" She teases.

"What? I'm- I'm not." Everything she says feels designed to evoke the biggest reaction from you. She keeps you on your toes, never letting you get too comfortable. How exciting.

"So it's just for me then?" You don't answer, and it excites Ellie to know that she's right. This reaction is purely for her. Nobody else has seen you like this, and she's grateful to be the one who gets to corrupt you. It really didn't take much effort. "You're so easy to control."

Her hands drift back to your thighs, sliding under your skirt, her lips press to your jawline. Hot breath trails along your neck, down further to your collarbone. Her fingers slide over your inner thighs, sensitive skin rippling as she applies light pressure, testing how reactive you are. You twitch, unwittingly opening your legs more and giving Ellie more access. "You look good like this, though."

Ellie's fingers dig into you, grasping the flesh of your ass and moaning softly into your ear. Her thumbs are on either side of where you desperately need her, and your hips buck up into her, seeking her touch. "Knew you had a nice ass, too."

"Shut up." You mumble.

"Why would I? You like it when I say things like that, don't you? You wouldn't be this drenched if you didn't." She swipes the pad of her thumb over your clit and applies delicious pressure. You nearly cum on the spot.

Is this what you've been missing? This pleasure, this euphoria? Ellie grins at your reaction, drinking in your desperation for her like a succubus. "Aw, sensitive little pussy. Haven't you touched yourself like this before?"

You had, a few times, actually, but it never went this far, deep-rooted guilt gnashing in your stomach and ending the moment before you'd been able to finish. After admitting this, she coos at you. "Poor baby." Her tone is so condescending, but it makes you clench around the tip of her fingers.

She slides the first knuckle of two fingers past your entrance, pumping them in and out painfully slowly. "Ellie, you prick. Come on." She continues her ministrations, gently stroking your entrance, never giving you enough to feel remotely satisfied. She uses this time to take in your disheveled, sweaty appearance. Your cute tits bounce as you shift uncomfortably, waiting for Ellie to please you. A bead of sweat rolls down and she can't help but bring her mouth up to lick at it as it slides over your nipple. Her mouth attaches to you and you sigh, holding her closer by her hair. She grins up at you, making eye contact through her lashes. You can see the tip of her tongue poking out, wetting your bud as the cool air nips at you, making you all the more sensitive. Even now, Ellie still hasn't stopped her teasing below.

"Can't call me a prick then beg for me to fuck you. 's not how it works, pretty girl."

"Then what do you want?" You whine.

Ellie can feel your clit flutter and pulse as she moves. "Fuck, you're so desperate for me, aren't you? I want you to tell me how bad y' want me."

"I- I d-" You begin to protest, being cut off with a squeal as Ellie licks a sloppy stripe up your pussy, finally tasting you.

"Don't bullshit me. If I'm gonna fuck you, I needja to be a little more honest with me. I see how you look at me. You been trying to push some thoughts down, huh?"

It was so humiliating how well she could read you. Whenever her tongue came out of her mouth to take communion, your eyes would be trained on the muscle, breath hitching as she would wink at you. Without fail, you would trail your gaze up her body when Ellie walked in with a suit, her way of dressing nicely for service. Always, always, she could feel the heat radiating off your body as she pulled you closer, not taking her eyes off the pastor speaking.

Your thoughts were impure, sinful, and how embarrassing that Ellie knew. You believed you were hiding it well- obviously not.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Ellie's big hands wrap around your thighs, fingers landing on the sensitive skin near your pussy. She looks up at you and you can feel her hot breath on your clit. It takes everything in Ellie to not eat you out immediately, but your embarrassment is too tempting to pass up.

"Tell me about it. You try to fuck yourself thinkin' of me?"

"I do. I- I tried to, at least. Doesn't work."

"Why not, babe? You're so responsive right now." Her fingers find their place back at your entrance, pushing in as you speak.

"I- oh, shit-" You gasp.

Ellie grins. "Talk to me."

"My fingers aren't good enough."

"Ah," she says, "and mine are?" She knows the answer.

"So good."

Ellie likes that she's made you desperate enough that you've abandoned your pride. She enjoys the flush on your face as you shamelessly admit your secrets to her, the good-girl persona a figment of the past.

She's so busy staring up at how your face contorts in pleasure that she doesn't realize that she hasn't moved her fingers in a hot minute. The teasing is torturous for you.

"Ellie," she hears you whine, "Please!" You rut your hips against her fingers and she feels lightheaded. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Got distracted." She smirks. "I'll give you what you want now." Ellie finally moves her fingers, curling them in and out slowly. You groan again and she laughs. "Okay, okay! Sorry." Her face darkens and she bites her lip. "You want me to fuck you? Alright, I'll fuck you."

Ellie's fingers begin to pump inside you, hitting all the spots that make you jump and squirm, and you're sure the rusted heap of a car you're in is about to fall off its chassis. She's going so fast and hard that you're immediately overwhelmed and you don't know where to put your hands. In the span of a minute, they cup your face, a forearm slings over your eyes, and you throw your arms up against the window. Finally, you settle on cupping your cheeks, fingers slit open so you can peer down at Ellie's focus on you.

Her eyes haven't left your pussy since she started. She's absolutely mesmerized by how fucking wet you are, how you seem to suck her fingers back in as she tries to pull out and your body betrays how desperately you want her. Ellie's mouth is slightly agape and she can't help when her tongue flickers out to lick curiously at your clit, wanting to taste you again.

"Fu- fuck!" You yelp, bucking your hips up into her face. Ellie snorts as she watches how you squirm. You can feel something building and though you have an idea of what it is, it's building fast and slightly scaring you. "Wait, Els, hold on a second, something- ah- I think- I think I'm-"

You're nervous about how it creeps up on you so suddenly but you find there isn't time to be self-conscious about it because you cum, and you wonder why God could possibly think that doing this is a sin. How could it be a sin if it felt so right?

You don't know what sound you made or how your face looks, but by the way Ellie looks up at you, it must've been something. Her eyes flicker back down to how your clit pulses as you finish, leaking cum onto her fingers and trailing down her hand. You know what she's fucking thinking because you always do. Before you can form a sentence, she's licking up your cum like it's the best meal she's tasted.

You shudder violently. "Ellie, holy fuck, stop, I'm still sensitive! Oh m- Ellie, come on!" Only when you push her face up does she stop, giving you the cheekiest grin.

You roll your eyes and throw your head back against the car door, panting. The dull ache in your thighs is apparent when you attempt to sit, pulling your panties up and cringing at how your cum pools on them.

Ellie still hasn't said anything. You glance over at her, wondering how she feels about whatever just happened. She's looking down, grey hoodie still pulled up to her elbows, staring at the fingers she'd just fucked you with. She glances up at you, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. 

“That was hot.” Her hand rubs up and down your thigh, a kind of comfort you’d never received from her. It wasn’t unwelcome.

You don’t quite know how to feel. There are twinges of guilt gnawing at your stomach, that religious guilt creeping in. Had you done something wrong? 

But at the same time, there was a warmth in Ellie’s gaze that made you feel like maybe, it was all worth it. Was it unholy? Almost definitely. But this awakening couldn’t be all bad if she kept looking at you with those soft, fond eyes.

my masterlist...

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #fem reader #moncherellie writing #ellie williams oneshot #tw religion #tw religious trauma #tw #ellie williams

[thishazbinamistake]

In my opinion, Loona is a character with some of the most wasted potential in Helluva Boss.

Though we don't have a ton of information about her background, we do know she lived in a shelter for much (or maybe even all) of her childhood. Loona is cold and distant to her adoptive father, and outright rude to many others, particularly Moxxie, who she constantly mocks and belittles. I'm thinking that this behavior is either a result of her upbringing, or perhaps it was even the reason she was put into the shelter to begin with. But until more is revealed about her past, I want to complain about the way she's currently written.

Loona is abusive, plain and simple. The way she treats Blitz, her adoptive father, goes way past simple angsty teenage rebellion and well into the abuse territory. Any semblance of Loona being remotely sympathetic was thrown out the window in Seeing Stars, when she kicks Blitz in the groin, all because he was relieved to see her and wanted to give her a hug. And all of that after she gives Octavia the "cut your dad some slack" speech.

I've seen people try and defend this behavior by pointing out that Loona has childhood trauma, and this is why she has these behavioral issues. It's certainly not unheard of for victims of childhood abuse/neglect to have anger issues and poor emotional regulation, and I would have absolutely no problem with this being the case if it was shown to actually be a problem, but it isn't. Not once does Loona get called out for her behavior or face any sort of consequence for treating others poorly. If anything, this abusive behavior is treated as a joke more often than not.

It's extremely ironic that one of the most despised characters in Helluva Boss, Stella, receives so much hate for being abusive towards Stolas, when we've seen Loona do far worse to Blitz. I honestly cannot think of a logical reason as to why we're supposed to like Loona, while also hating Stella. We see Stella nearly hit Stolas and it's (rightfully) treated as being abusive. But when Loona is constantly beating up her dad for no good reason, we're just supposed to laugh? It seems extremely hypocritical on both the writers' part, as well as many of the fans'. I honestly can't tell if the writers genuinely think this behavior is okay (when it's coming from Loona) or if they just see it as a quirky character trait of hers.

If we're supposed to find Loona likeable, which we clearly are, then the writers seriously need to start making some changes. I'm not saying they should just completely retcon Loona's character and suddenly make her nice, but they do need to start being consistant with how they portray abuse, and they seriously need to stop excusing and coddling her horrible behavior, regardless of if she has childhood trauma. That is not how you grow as a person and overcome your issues. Yes, it's a process that is often long and difficult, but it hasn't been shown that Loona is actually trying to make any change at all, or that anyone is actually encouraging her to change.

If you want an actually halfway decent example of a character overcoming their trauma (at least within the Hellaverse) look no further than Blitz himself. It's clear his father was abusive and explotative towards him, not to mention he accidentally caused the death of his mother and the maiming of his close friend. Both of these things likely contributed to many of Blitz's flaws and issues as an adult. But the thing is, despite all that, Blitz himself isn't abusive to his daughter. He has shown nothing but unconditional love and devotion to his daughter despite his past. I'm not saying Blitz is a perfect character by any means (I won't excuse him literally threatening to rape his employees), but it really goes to show this whole argument of 'Loona acts the way she does because she has childhood trauma and that makes it okay' doesn't hold up to scrutiny as much as her stans seem to think.

I think a good idea would be to start showing more of how Loona's behavior negatively affects those around her, something which would give her the motivation to want to change. Show how hurt Blitz feels whenever Loona lashes out at him. We get a taste of this in Spring Broken when she hurts Blitz's feelings, but it's clear from both her dialogue in the scene as well as her later actions that the writers apparently don't want her to actually learn from her mistakes and grow as a character, which is such a shame.

Loona had the opportunity to be an extremely complex and compelling character if her aggression and violent outbursts were actually addressed as being a problem she needed to overcome, and if she actually tried changing herself for the better. Seeing the effort she puts into treating others better and breaking the cycle of abuse would have made her character feel so much stronger and more likeable. But instead, the show just treats this abusive behavior as a quirky, edgy joke and "lol that's just classic Loona!! What can ya do lol!!!"

She does have her moments where a good character actually shines through, but they're so few and far in between. I want to like Loona so much, but as it currently stands, I just can't, and that makes me sad.

#helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #loona critical

[stevieschrodinger]

“Rob, come on!”

“Don’t you ‘come on!’ me!”

Steve immediately snorts a laugh.

Rob gets all flustered, “I didn’t- I mean- oh fuck you very much Harrington.”

“Don’t worry Rob,” Steve chokes out around his laughter, “I’ll try not to come- try not to get it- oh my god,” Steve dissolves into breathless laughter.

Rob slaps the manila file into Steve’s hands, “I don’t have time for your bullshit,” and she marches off down the corridor, kitten heals clacking on the linoleum.

Steve jogs to catch up, “what would Vicki say?” Steve asks, mock scandalized.

She cuts her eyes at him, scowling from behind her too long bangs, “don’t even joke.”

Steve opens the file while Robin pulls out her key card and straightens her jacket. What she wears is far more stylish than what she did when they were teenagers, but she’s never quite grown out of being a little gangly. Where Steve filled out even further, what with the morning runs and evening swims, weekends spent at the local gym and basketball court, Robin has always remained very slim. She looks good today though, she’s definitely grown up, but thank god she never grew out of being Robin – for some reason today she’s paired an emerald green jacket with navy pinstripe pants and shiny, cherry red shoes and somehow, it kind of, sort of, works.

It’s probably the colorful scarf pulling it together, or something.

“The files a little light,” Steve comments as she activates the security lock and holds the door open for him to pass through.

“Yeap. First fourteen years are...pretty vague. I’ve tracked the parents; the mother’s been dead a few years,” Steve makes a face, “and the dad is a guest of the state,” Steve can feel his face crumple even further. “Yeah. He’d been in and out for a while, assault, aggravated assault, theft, possession, possession with intent, honestly it’s a laundry list, the one that stuck was manslaughter.”

“Oh man, not the mom,” Robin makes a face in answer, “fucking hell.”

Robin holds up her badge for security to see, and they get buzzed through. Steve’s nose tickles with all the Omega scents.

“Luckily he wasn’t around at the end, I don’t know if he even knows about his parents. They kicked him out when he presented,” Steve tuts, “yeah, I know, but it was actually the best thing they ever did for him. He was picked up by his uncle, dad’s brother. The guy had regular, full time employment, suddenly the kid’s got medical records, there’s regular prescriptions for blockers and birth control, his school attendance goes from fifty five percent to ninety seven.”

“So the uncle is a good guy?”

Robin sighs, nods, “hopefully he pulls through.”

Steve continues to scan the file as Robin stops them at the final doorway, leaning against the closed door, “says here he’s non verbal?”

“Most of the time, it’s behavioral, he can speak, does, occasionally. We picked him up from the hospital; he’d gone in with his uncle, cardiac arrest that led to some complications, he's had a couple of surgeries already, but he might be in for a while. He's waiting for a pacemaker now, I think.”

“Shitty.”

“Yeah. Steve, listen a second. This kid...it could be anything. He was clearly malnourished growing up, this could be a trauma response. He might suffer with PTSD, might get separation anxiety-”

“Yeah, Rob, I get it.”

“I just,” she deflates a little, hopeless, “this isn’t the place for him. The other Omega, they mean well, they try and include him, and you know what they’re like, curious about new people, but that just drives him away. He doesn’t come out of his room much. Stopped coming into the dining hall for meals; I tried to wait it out, thought if he got hungry enough he’d cave,” she spreads her hands, “nada. I had to cave; he just eats in his room. And he’s terrible with food. Basically unless it’s been shaped into a nugget or came out of a can, he doesn’t get it. Like he’s never even seen real food before...this just...it’s not the place for him here Steve. All the others, it’s like...like a camp out for them, you know? Not him though, he needs some stability. He needs a home.”

“I get it Rob, it’s not my first rodeo.”

“I know, I know, that’s why I called you first, obviously...it’s just. I know it’s a lot. And I know it’s hard on you, after.”

Steve thinks of Dustin, who still calls him the first Sunday of every month without fail; how he’s expecting his first pup with his mate Suzie. Thinks of Max, how fierce she is, how close they got even in the short time they were together. Her mom made it through rehab though, and got custody back. She still drops by sometimes, and Steve loves to see her. The last time she brought her new boyfriend, Lucas, with her, looking for approval from the only father figure she’s ever really had. The Byers boys who came into his care when their mother had some sort of psychotic episode. How the Beta Jonathan had been so stand offish, where Will, too young to have presented yet, had sort Steve out to cuddle into every night. It was bittersweet, the day Joyce got custody back; Steve was glad it worked out for them, but he was still devastated to see them go.

He’s helped out with a lot of kids over the last six years; he can do this.

“It is...but it’s worth it.”

“Steve,” Robin touches his arm, briefly, “this one will be worse. Fostering kids is one thing, being a temporary pack Alpha for them...Eddie is two months off being eighteen years old, legally able to take a mate, potentially sexually active-”

“Rob, I’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. And if he needs me,” Steve shrugs, “it is what it is.”

“Steve,” she tries again, voice gentle, “I just need you to be sure.”

Steve’s only had one other Omega in his care who was old enough to need Steve in a sexual manner, as well as all the other needs that the people in his temporary pack often have; when she left it was...bad. Neither of them ever say Nancy’s name out loud, haven’t for a couple of years. But Steve knows now, what it is he’s getting into.

He knows this has the potential to be painful, he’s broken enough bonds now. Pack scent bonds; it’s unavoidable. It’s the support of an Alpha, it’s exactly what Steve is there to provide. What happens after will not be Eddie’s problem; it’ll be Steve’s.

And he won’t make the mistake he made with Nancy. This time he’ll remember that Eddie’s going to leave, won’t let himself fall into the illusion that it’s real. He knows now, that it hurts.

Just like it has every other time, when his new pack leaves.

“It’ll be fine Rob. I’ll be fine.”

She bites her lip, not looking sure at all, but she nods and leans more against the door, pushing it open with her shoulder as Steve follows her though. There’s laughter along the hall, two young Omega playing chase rush past them, “take it outside please!” Robin yells after them.

Steve tags along, knows all the doorways are bedrooms; young Omega on this wing, all in need of a safe haven. Steve can hear the bustle and chatter of the dining room, the clatter and scrape of cutlery loud as they pass the doorway. At the very end of the hall, the last door stands propped open by a plastic chair, there’s a red plastic tray with a plate sitting on it. There’s evidence of crumbs and sauce from what had been eaten, but the peas haven’t been touched. The window is open too, letting in a fresh breeze. The Omega is curled up, wedged in the corner of the room on his single bed, a book held open in his hand as he stares at them in the doorway.

“You know you won’t die if you eat a green thing, right?” Robin asks him.

He tilts his head, his curly hair shifting, and purses his lips, kind of frowning with one eyebrow quirked up, to Steve is sort of says, ‘why take the risk?’. Steve has to school his features so he doesn’t laugh.

“Okay Eddie, this is Steve, and he’s been kind enough to offer to put a roof over your head for the next little while, how does that sound?”

Eddie shrugs.

“Good enough for me,” Robin replies like Eddie’s spoken, “okay, pack your things.”

It’s not a scowl, not really, but the way Eddie side eyes the radio means...well, Steve’s not even sure what it means, “you can change it, if you like.”

Eddie huffs and shrugs, crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in the car seat, looking out of the window. The next song comes on; Steve pretty sure it’s Taylor Swift, and Eddie suddenly lunges for the radio. He presses the seek button until he hits something that, to Steve, sounds like two angry guitars hate fucking in a bear infested mine, but he lets it go since Eddie doesn’t turn it up any louder.

Steve carries Eddie’s unfortunately light bag of belongings into the house, “we can go shopping, maybe tomorrow or the day after. I don’t know if you know how this works or not, but you have a state budget, or rather, I do, for you. So don’t worry, if you need anything, just ask.”

He leaves Eddie’s bag at the foot of the stairs, Eddie cautiously following him as Steve points out the blindingly obvious, “lounge, kitchen, through there is the garage, that’s out to the yard.” Eddie eyes are huge in his head, darting around like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “Utility through there, bring me your basket when you need, I’ll show you how to use the machines. That’s my office, I work from home two days a week, but I have to go into the office for three,” there’s a distinct spike of anxiety in the air, “but that isn’t for a couple of weeks, or until your Alpha is better, so don’t worry yet. One of the perks; you get me PTO.”

Eddie frowns at him, “Paid Time Off.”

Eddie frowns again like Steve’s presented him with an alien. Never mind.

“Okay, upstairs, this is my room,” Steve opens the door, watches as Eddie scans the room with poorly disguised interest. The bed is neatly made, the thick comforter and pillows all fluffed up. The carpet a deep gray and the rest of the room dark rich wood with some splashes of forest green, “now, I’ll show you your room, but it’s entirely up to you where you sleep. I under stand that your uncle was your familial Alpha and you lived in close quarters so...where you sleep is up to you. If you need that.”

Eddie’s gone so red Steve worries his head might explode; Steve, somehow, manages not to laugh at him. He shows Eddie to the next door down, “this is your room, I will never come in here unless you explicitly invite me or I think there’s a genuine cause for concern, okay? There’s a lock on the door, but I do have a master. So if you don’t want me barging in, you need to let me know you’re okay when I ask, okay?”

Eddie nods.

“Good, I need to be clear about that from the start,” Steve puts Eddie’s bag down in the threshold, “there’s extra nesting materials in the top of the wardrobe, the bathroom is through there, help yourself to all the toiletries, they’re for you. Feel free to chill out for a bit, get cleaned up, I’ll do food for about six ish.”

And Steve leaves him to it.

Steve’s chicken parm is, even if he says so himself, pretty damn good. His sauce is ninety percent blended vegetables; carrots, tomatoes, bell peppers; a trick he learned when trying to hide more vegetables in the kids food. He’s got a similar recipe for mac and cheese that no one has ever complained about, even though the sauce is at least fifty percent carrot.

Also, he figures the breaded chicken is just, like, a giant chicken nugget, right?

So that has to look sort of familiar. And you can get spaghetti out of a can so, surely, this isn't so different.

If Eddie doesn’t like cheese...well, that’s just unnatural. Steve’ll just have to take him back to Robin.

Steve’s got everything on plates and is about to call for Eddie, but the kid appears in the doorway, exactly six oclock. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, uncertainty coloring the air, but he’s here, that’s the important thing.

They eat together in the breakfast nook, Eddie picks at his food rather than just eating. Steve tries to match his pace, suspicious that as soon as Steve stops eating, Eddie will stop too. He’s right.

Steve makes a mental note to do a grocery shop and go heavy on the snacks. Steve can see the evidence of Eddie growing up malnourished. He’s too pale, his eyes far too large in his face, his joints protrude and his clothes hang off his frame.

There’s no conversation, but Steve doesn’t push it. It’s not time yet.

They watch TV for a while before bed, Eddie curled up tight at the opposite end of the couch, as far from Steve as he can get. Steve adopts a relaxed posture, lets himself sink down. Pulls a blankets off the back of the couch to go across his knees and leaves another in the middle, an obvious hint to Eddie if he wants it. He doesn’t touch it.

Eddie slips away after an hour, heads upstairs. Steve watches the kid go but doesn’t say anything. It’s a pretty solid start; he’s had much, much worse. Eddie doesn’t appear to be any kind of flight risk, which is a huge plus in Steve’s book.

He messages Rob with an update before pulling out his laptop and responding to some emails. He might legitimately have a couple of weeks off work, but that doesn’t mean he wants to return to a landslide of unanswered messages when he does go back.

He heads to bed a little after. Showers and goes through his night time routine; it’s only nine but it’s been a bit of a day, and Steve intends to read for a while. It’s thirty minutes before he hears Eddie’s door open and close. The creak of the stairs. Steve sneaks to his own door, opens it a little and stands there, ears straining.

Listens as the front door rattles but doesn’t open. The key is right there, Eddie’s not trying to escape; he’s checking the house is secure. Steve hears the fridge door a few moments later, then the TV, turned down low.

Steve goes back to bed, happy that Eddie is already making himself at home. He’s asleep thirty minutes after that. And he sleeps well, until something disturbs him, the bed covers shifting. Eddie freezes when he realizes he’s woken Steve. Steve’s still half asleep, and it’s easy to just not make a big deal of it, he yawns, lifting the covers. Eddie slips in, rolling over and wriggling back, allowing himself to be the little spoon. Steve throws a leg, an arm, and the covers over Eddie’s slim frame, and easily goes back to sleep.

When Steve wakes up, Eddie’s gone again.

Steve finds Eddie on the couch. It’s a scene he’s used to, the TV displaying the little, ‘are you still watching?’ box. He’s had a lot of kids who can’t sleep without company, or background noise, or something, and finding them on the couch is pretty normal.

What’s not normal is the position Eddie is sleeping in, his head hanging off the edge, one arm flopped awkwardly above his head and the other bent underneath him, one leg hooked over the back of the couch. He’s snoring. It’s...kind of loud.

And also kind of adorable. Steve pushes those feelings down reminds himself; he cannot get attached to this one.

He knows how much it hurts.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #fliclet #robin buckley #waynes going to be fine #obviously #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie because he's so pretty #omega eddie munson

[punkeropercyjackson]

If Zutara is a feminist ship then it's absolute bottom of the barrel feminism SORRY like it's so downlow💀Katara's a fem girl with parentification trauma and open softness and Zuko's a masc dude who turned into a Team Dad to heal his inner child and break the cycle of abuse and high up walls so they're already a cisheteronormative ship based off that alone but there's also how while Zuko made up for what how he hurt Katara,his attacks and insults to her were racially motivated and that adds a thick layer of racialized misogyny AND directly goes against Katara's wishes to force Zuko onto her because she fought for a loooong time to break the mold of womanhood should only exist in 'what girls are SUPPOSED to be like' and frankly the emphasis on supposed 'realism' when it comes to girls and Zutara said by the shippers so often has transmisogyny underlaying it,if not then at least bioessentialism,with how cis and exclusive of unconventional girlhood it is and it dosen't help their case that they often feminize Toph when she gets older when in CANON she stayed gnc and ruthlessly talk badly of Aang because he's a boy who's feminine and gets hurt when bullied for it in-universe and he has a fucking right to even if he's cis!!!!They're making fun of him for being himself!'Fragile masculinity' my ass,if you saw a stud or a non-fully transitioned transfem you'd hurl and he thinks Katara's punk girl slay is the hottest shit ever and showed hints of crushing on Toph's butch ass too

But back on topic,this is why i can't stand Zutara man,there's nothing for me to relate to!I'm a punk femme woc like Katara and i headcanon her as trans,bi and autistic like me because i relate to her in some very important ways(though i hc her as transfem while i'm transmasc bigender)and this is also a big part of the appeal of Kataang for me because i'm the girl who had a crush on Aang instead of Zuko Zutara shippers always told you don't exist and i loved Taang because i was rowdy tomboy like Toph but i never had a beef with Kataang,i didn't see anything wrong with it!!!I minded my own damn bussiness and let Katara just vibe instead of making her some evil bitch!And while i'm in love with Zuko now thanks to the comics going into the Gaang's adult years,my canon self-insert ship with him is him and Ty Lee because i'm a super bubbly and optimistic pastel girl who's interests are considered 'stupid/silly/lame' by society and is high maintenance but nice to everybody instead of demanding and it turns out that me as a kid and me now are those ways due to autism and transgenderism!!!!

Zutara does nothing for the woc in me because Katara dosen't look like me since i'm black,i love her and Zuko as bickering found siblings,i have older sister/maternal feelings towards Aang like Zuko does older brother/fatherly ones,i see Mai as a comphet (trans) lesbian but love Maiko because she's weirdgirl rep and Zuko's in love with her and there's also black etchnic subgroups in each nation confirmed in Turf Wars so i don't got anything stopping me from making an Atlasona instead of ruining characters and dynamics!!!!!Zutara is such a less than nothing ship if you're 'not a normal girl' and the fandom's make it beyond crystal clear how they feel about us so that's why i hate it so much in addition to what ass is is!The only thing Z/k's were 'robbed' of is the ability to get a grip,a boyfriend,friends who think they're goddesses platonically like mine do to me and me them and media literacy seeing as Atla's title refers to Aang being the sole survivor of a genocide based off an irl one but they will do everything and anything to remove that out of the context in analysing him and the franchise as a whole

And not to diverge topics again but this is why i'm okay with shaming and mocking Zutara re Natla(and no i don't mean harrasing,i mean og posting)by me and anybody else,they deadass SHOWED PART OF THE AIR NOMAD GENOCIDE and ALSO ADDED 'TOKEN GOOD' FIRE NATION SOLDIERS and it's so beyond fucking racist and disturbing that they're trying to do any gotcha or praise of it involving their military war ship.You's grown and Zuko loves Aang the most anyway,you normie losers

#anti zutara #zuko #katara #aang #toph beifong #mai atla #nia the dragon nomad #kataang #pro kataang #kataang defense squad #taang #katophaang #pro maiko #zunia #pro aang #aanglove #aang defense squad #katara deserved better #pro mai #dragon parents #dadko #trans zuko #autistic zuko #genderfluid aang #audhd aang #pastel punk aang #atla geekery #avatar:the airbender legacies #summercore #summerposting

[blorbo-adoption-poll]

Adoption poll preliminary match 4

Sirin (Honkai Impact 3rd) vs

Candace Flynn (Phineas and Ferb) vs

Elphaba Thropp (Wicked) vs

Suletta Mercury (Gundam)

Only two will move on!

Propaganda under the cut (some of them have a lot)

Sirin (Honkai Impact 3rd) Propaganda

She is an orphan, was experimented on, and watched all her friends die due to said experiments.

Candace Flynn (Phineas and Ferb) Propaganda

Her own mother mocks her and thinks she's going insane. Literally the only thing she wants is to be believed, trusted and listened to. Everything goes wrong for her and nobody ever believes her about anything or cares. She asked a random-ass woman to adopt her on New Year's Day when the woman said she'd bust Candace's brothers, and boy did I want to leap into the screen and accept it on her behalf. No, she's not perfect, but she's a good kid who's maybe acting a bit erratically as a result of the insane, stressful situation she's under. As dearly as she loves them, her parents aren't helping her at all and for the most part actively make her obsession with her brothers' antics worse.

Elphaba Thropp (Wicked) Propaganda

Big spoilers

If we’re going for characters with bonkers home lives, Elphie has got to be up there. Depending on who you count as a ‘parent’ Elphaba has like five of them.

Her bio dad is super duper evil and keeps having her friends and family killed (to the point of like, having her dead boyfriend’s widow’s sisters executed, ten years after she’s made any active moves against him). He’s a literal evil dictator, so, bad look all around.

Her parents as far as she knows them are a nutty preacher who sees her being born green as a manifestation of his own sin, calls her a punishment from his god in front of her when she’s like seven, and openly favours her sister to an absurd degree. Her mother sort of just tolerates her, and is usually too high to even do that— also she was so desperate for a boy that Elphaba openly calls her younger brother, who her mother died without meeting, mother’s favourite child.

Nanny comes in to look after Elphaba and is the best parent she has in that she seems to care about her even a little bit, but she also ends up having to favour her sister. Also she is an employee, which narrows things down a little.

Her parents also have a boyfriend who she seems to like a fair bit, but he was human sacrificed when she was very young, so there’s that. Oh, and the goat professor she gets very close to, and then he’s murdered, and she has to break into the crime scene to save his research from being destroyed by her dictator dad. It’s a mess really.

Other important things include; her mother being so determined not to have another child who looked like her she took medicine that caused her younger sister to be born with a disability (and her being constantly blamed for it, in the musical), her parents deciding to raise her in a swamp despite her having a severe water allergy, and therefore presumably causing her constant pain. Her parents dragging her on missions where she apparently saw enough deaths to be able to competently recognise the signs at seventeen.

Oh, also her bio dad had her first boyfriend murdered, which led to her being pregnant in some kind of trauma coma in a convent. So that’s awful too.

Please ignore the propensity for domestic terrorism and the fact her hobby is amateur monkey surgery. We can work on that.

Suletta Mercury (Gundam) Propaganda

She’s my sweet baby tomato girl. She’s adorable and awkward and her mom is so fucked up.

#adoption poll #tournament poll #sirin honkai #honkai impact #candace flynn #phineas and ferb #elphaba thropp #wicked #suletta mercury #gundam #witch from mercury #g witch

[lunar-years]

Tell us about the Time Loop lad?

the full note for it in my Notes app is "time loop but its going from established rjk to Jamie traveling back to s2 roykeeley at their peak relationship, reliving man city over and over" which I vaguely remember dreaming up and then dismissing soon after as being too depressing even for me lol.

The full idea I think was that Jamie gets sent back to a bit earlier in the s2 timeline and tries to get Roy and Keeley to remember that like, in the "real" current timeline they're all together and happy!! But Roy and Keeley don't remember anything and Roy is still in his #1 Jamie Hater era, so Roy gets pissed that Jamie is talking to Keeley again and accuses him of trying to get back together with her, which makes roy hate jamie even more, etc. Still, Jamie is trying to slowly win them over when Man City approaches. Jamie in the current day has come a long way in terms of healing and distancing himself from his father, so he's like fuck this i don't need this and tells security before the game that if his dad tries to come into the locker room he's not allowed. So the confrontation never happens, but then neither does Roy comforting him of course, and nothing changes, and then Jamie wakes up and he's back to where he started in s2.

Repeat cycle, and Jamie has to keep reliving man city in different ways whilst trying to find a way to both stop his dad from abusing him at wembley AND get roykeeley to believe him about the time loop and help him. Nothing seems to work. For example, one time he tries not giving his dad tickets at all, and then Bug and Denbo come and beat him up so badly he can't play at all. He wakes up in the hospital and Roy and Keeley are there, but Jamie's so out of it on drugs he can't stay awake long enough to talk to them, and by the time he wakes up--bam he's back to the start again. Another time he has a heart to heart with Sam and gets Sam to believe him about the time loop, and he's feeling so good about at least winning his friend back that he forgets about his dad until he's in the locker room, only this time Sam steps in first and shields then hugs Jamie, so he again never has that moment with Roy.

Eventually this culminates in Jamie deciding Roy never would have warmed up to him if he hadn't witnessed Jamie being abused and then "felt so sorry for him" that he took him home afterwards. Like, he gets in his head that Roy pitying him is the only way to get Roy to eventually love him (obviously this isn't actually true, but it's very heartbreaking in jamie's head for a bit). anyway, there's lots of angst and jamie has to decide whether it's worth letting his dad mock him exactly how he did in canon, even though every instinct inside him is screaming at him to prevent that from happening again, if there's a chance it will jolt him back to the present. Because nothing else he does seems to get Roy to CARE. and then he has to reckon with why he even wants that relationship back when he thinks it's just built off his trauma.

I have about a 95% chance of never writing this tbh because 1) the wonky timeline/time travel/time loop combo is too wonky for my pea brain to keep track of 2) i have zero clue how this would end??? 3) truly idk what i was on when I thought this one up because??? damn. that's depressing as shit.

but anyway there you have it!

#royjamiekeeley #royjamie #ted lasso #asks #ask games #my writing #tw abuse #my most fucked up idea honestly idk im so sorry jamie

[belabeya]

Trigger warning:

Abuse, homophobia, cussing.

"C'mon Lance," he. Said hyping himself up and slapping his cheeks. "It's just a confession. What's the worst that can happen?"

"He could hate you forever,"

"You'll never be friends again,"

"You know that we are right,"

His mind continued to taunt him endlessly. "Shut up!" He shouted in a whisper. For once, the voices were silent. He got up from his comfortable place on the bed and walked over towards the door, opening it and heading to go get food.

He arrived, grabbing a plate of food and sitting to enjoy, eyes scanning around for a certain someone.

"Hey Lance!" Keith called from a bit over, walking over towards the table Lance was sitting at and placing his food down. He sat down next to Lance and began to ramble about the troubles of today and how he got yelled at my pidge for putting his reds in with the rest of the washing. After 10 minutes of chatting and eating, Lance and Keith head back to Keith's room.

"So, what are we going to do?" Keith asked.

"Well, um, actually... I need to tell you something..." Keith focused on the taller boy, ready to listen to what Lance had to say. "Look... Keith," he took a deep breath." I'm not straight, and I really like you. " he rushed past the last part. It had already taken far too long to say. Lance looked up at Keith with anticipation but was met with a face of pure discust.

"What the fuck!? Ew" he said, scrunching his face up. The pure look of discust of Keith's face would have been enough to shatter Lance, but it continued further as his eyes brimmed with tears, threatening to fall " Your GAY? Why? That's so gross, you are discusting"

"But- it doesn't change anything" Lance sobbed lightly.

"Yes it does, that isn't normal, get a grip on yourself, or someone needs to fix you" Keith continiued to spit at Lance, each insult, each rejection, stuck into Lance, driving a dagger further and further through his already bleeding and shattered heart. As Lance stepped forwards to attempt to make things right and apologise, Keith pushed him away. "Get away from me you fag!" He yelled, pushing Lance violently further towards the door. As a heart broken mess, he looked back one last time at Keith, a violent and descusted look plastered across his face. Lance finally stumbled through the door as a crying, Sobbing and aching mess.

(K)

"He's gay?? And he likes ME. Uugh, is shouldn't have said those things, he may be ... gay... buy he is my friend.

"Oh please you know being gay is wrong, and un natural, and filthy and-" Keith shuddered, sitting down on his bed.

"Oh God... I'm turning into my dad". Keith reluctantly remembered his father, the abuse, trauma, homo and zoo phobia. Worst, he was a paedophile. Him and his sister Sabrina had the scars, although whilst most of Keith's were physical... Sabrina on the other hand...

"Uugh shut up you stupid brain", he scolded himself harshly. "I just need to go over there and apologise, simple." With that out of the way, he got up, making his way to the most likely place that Lance was...

His room

Keith arrived and knocked on the door

"GO away" Lance's voice still sounded dry and croaky.

" Lance I need to apologise" this, seemed to grab Lance's attention, he blew the door open, fury riddled across his tear stained face.

"Oh fuck off." Lance spat at Keith.

Look, dude I know what I did was wrong but I didn't mean-"

" what the actual fuck do you mean "you didn't mean it" he mocked "What makes you think that you can apologise now, what gives you the right?!" Keith opened his mouth to speak. "No, shut the fuck up you homophobic bitch. Why do YOU get to come here and apologise after you broke me, I don't care that you rejected me, I care that you ruled it in and were an over all fucker about it! You don't get to come her to apologise to me just so that you can clear you own guilty conscious!" Shiro came around the corner to see what was going on with Hunk and pidge in tow. "I'm sorry" " doesn't cut it, I need to see results!"

"Hold on, what is going on!?" Shiro demanded

"Shut up shiro" Lance snapped "I need you to have said those awful things in the first place, do you understand me Keith. Just because you had a rough upbringing, doesn't mean that you can take your internalised homophobia out on me! Okay!?..." Keith looked at Lance in awe. Pidge, shiro and Hunk were simply staring, mouths agape and eyes wide open. Finally, there was a strange silence that hadent been heard for a long while at this point.

"I fucking hate you Keith, get out of my sight." Lance spat and slammed the door.

#gay #bisexual #klance fic #keith kogane #klangst #vld keith #klance #keith #lance mcclain #lance vld #lance #vld

[bloggingboutburgers]

Hey AKHTS, I recently discovered that I am aromantic. my pronouns are she/her btw lol. My stepdad (who is a constant trigger, he(cis ofc) constantly calls me "an incel with a different coat of paint" and mocks me for "getting no chicks." He deadnames me as well as saying that I am "coping" with not being able to find a partner. He also s I don't mean to trauma dump(we aromantics have to know how to deal with trauma as we deal with it every day), but can you give some advice to deal with this?

Heya! First off sorry, I think a part of your message might've cut off based on what I'm reading, I hope I didn't miss anything too important TwT

Also don't worry about any concerns of trauma dumping!! One of the perks of being online is to be able to connect with people who might relate and sympathize with us after all TwT

I'm so sorry for your situation though... That seriously sounds like a headache and a heartache. I'm part of the lucky ones, as my parents never gave me that amount of shit... Just misunderstanding at worst but no judgement, at least not about THAT part of me. When my dad remarried I also had the option to keep a fair distance away from his wife as I'd already gone away to uni. So I'm not sure any advice I personally give may be the most accurate... I apologize in advance if it sounds naive or anything!

One thing I've found is that sometimes asking obvious questions might leave some form of satisfying reaction behind. Like asking "is having a partner really necessary in life? Like, do I need it to survive?" for one thing. Of course it's FAR from working all the time, because normative people will be normative people, and if you feel that'll lead to nothing with him, feel free to disregard that. A lot of the time, I feel, exhausting yourself trying to reason with a person who can't be reasoned with is worse for your mental wellbeing than not bothering and staying away from people who won't understand as much as possible... It's sad and definitely not ideal but you gotta give yourself the mental breaks.

So I'd say, if he's really too much (which he probably is based on what you're saying), avoid interacting with him as much as you're able to (it's on him at this point) and especially (I imagine that last part would be easier to do than the former) try to surround yourself with people and things that'll validate you otherwise, IRL if you can or online, to compensate for the lack of validation at home. It's not much, and I definitely feel like I'm hardly giving any advice at all here and just being milquetoaste, so sorry about that, but I hope it can be something in the meantime...

Of course ultimately the main fix I'd recommend is to get out of there and live independently as soon as you can, because that solved most things for me, but I know that's getting harder by the year (and I already became financially independent like 8 years ago so you can imagine how much easier I had it), so I don't know when that can happen, but I really hope you can sooner than later TwT

#aro #aromantic #anon #i'm sorry i barely offered anything #contributions very welcome ofc #i just hope you'll be as OK as you can be T^T

[cuppachar]

Rewatching jamie in early season 1 is so hard cause like. I wish they knew what he was going through. I remember being young and hurting and so mean because of it. And it was so not okay of me. But also, I'd see everyone else allowed to be silly and sensitive and emotional and mediocre and I wasn't allowed to be anything but tough, and it made me so mad. And I just want to hug him and tell him I get it, and that it's gonna be okay.

Hi Anon

Thank you for that insight and hearing your experience.

I get you completely - re-watching S1 just reminds me that we do not know what's going on inside other people or know what has happened to them. I think it's why I love that scene with Roy in S3 where he's doing the press conference after Isaac's aggression to the abusive football fan.

'to do what he did today, even though it was wrong, I give him love.'

Knowing some of Jamie's background (and I wish we got more to be honest, but's an ensemble cast with multiple characters who have complex issues and/or dynamics, so it's limited in that regards) and seeing S1 again, it's such a different viewing and understanding of a character and makes Jamie so much more human and real. Jamie isn't just a prick. He's a prick with trauma and reasons.

I don't see cocky prick Jamie who thinks he's best who never passes because everyone else is shit - I see Jamie, who's terrified of what his dad will do to him if he isn't dominant.

I don't see a Jamie who doesn't celebrate his teammate's birthdays and eat cake - I see a Jamie who's been told to treat his teammates as 'assists' and has diet plans that don't include cakes or pastries because he has a weight he needs to keep.

I don't see a Jamie who doesn't want to greet his new teammate - I see Jamie, who flinches at fast movements and doesn't trust easily. I see a Jamie who's realised he's not their only ace anymore, and that terrifies him because of the implications that may have with his father (Imagine the writers hadn't gone down the rehab route for James Tartt Snr in S3 and how Zava's introduction and place in the team would have caused some serious consequences for Jamie, both psychologically and physically).

I don't see the Jamie who cockily refuses to 'practice' - I see a Jamie who shifted into 'I don't like angry men shouting at me' (and at some point pre-canon, I imagine Jamie's hero-worship of Roy was destroyed and tainted when he met 'Shouty, I don't give a shit-Roy-Kent And I'll take out my negative emotions on you, even if you deserve it or not' and Jamie's poster hero , who he'd imagined stepping out of the wall and putting his dad through the said wall was gone and Jamie's automatic response was to be a prick in defence/offence.)

I don't see a Jamie who brought two dates to the auction - I see a Jamie who wasn't sure if he could get Keeley to bid on her own boyfriend, so he brought another plus one instead, terrified that he'd have to have sex with an older woman like those ladies behind the glass windows in Amsterdam. Watching that episode back really icks me out, and seeing Jamie's response back when I first watched it, you could mistake Jamie's reaction to both Keeley and Roy's 'teasing' as Jamie just being mocked and teased, but re-watching it, I see a Jamie who's really uncomfortable with the attention he's getting and upset at his rival and girlfriend cruelly mocking him (of course, they don't know about his experience in Amsterdam) but I'm always struck at how Jamie walks away from the table, from the both of them, because he's upset (and it kind of hits me even more, 'cause I think that Jamie doesn't even know why he's so upset with how much he's suppressed the memory, the implication of what his father orchestrated despite his tender age).

Although, I think they could have had a bit more Jamie and Ted interaction or reflection on Jamie's relationship with his father and/or trauma (because there did seem to have link to Ted's panic attacks, especially when you consider Ted's panic attack during the match in S2, because you can hear Jamie's dad verbally abusing Jamie from the S1 final as Ted spirals, which was really interesting and I only realised this recently) I really do appreciate Ted's "I promise you there is something worse out there than being sad, and that's being alone and being sad. Ain't no one in this room alone" sentiment, but I just really wished he'd reached out to Jamie, because Jamie wasn't just alone and sad, he was scared and traumatised, and although he didn't verbalise it in S2, he obviously had no safe places or people he felt he could turn to, so he not only left the profession he loves, he left the country.

Anyway, my ramble is over.

In summary, you only really get a better understanding of Jamie by re-watching Season 1 and seeing him in a different light after watching S2/S3.

#jamie tartt #character study #he's a traumatised prick cinnamon roll #little prick cinnamon roll #ted lasso tv #ted lasso #roy kent #james tartt #just random thoughts of S1-S3 Jamie Tartt

[justmeinadaze]

Unattainable Part IX (Eddie X Theater Girl)

A/N: I genuinely took my time with this one. Not that I don't with the other stuff I write but lol I think I read and reread this a billion and one times.

Warnings: *holds up hands dramatically* TIS TIME! Loss of Virginity for my beautiful theater girl. Eddie is sweet and adorable (as always). Some scenes of her past memories, slight trauma triggers but nothing too dramatic.

Word Count: 3900

“Eddie! Oh my god. You should just ask for more fries!” I giggle as he reaches over to steal a fry for the second time from my basket of food. 

I had been staying at the Munson residence for a couple of days now. My dad never tried to call back and my mother never came looking for me. Wayne asked if I would feel comfortable with him driving to my house to explain to her that I was safe. 

“Pfft”, Eddie scoffs. “You’d be wasting your breath.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Eddie.”

I told him it was fine and when I saw him again he said that she appreciated him telling her. 

“Is…is she okay?” I ask as quietly as possible so Eddie wouldn’t hear from the bedroom. Wayne removed his cap and rubbed the top of his head.

“Physically she seems to be. I can’t imagine anyone who smells like bar floor is really ok.” I look away guiltily. “Hey. Um, I think you two being away from each other is good for her. Maybe she’ll realize she needs to shape up; be a better mom.”

I respond with a tiny half smile. He’s way more optimistic about that then I’ll ever be. 

Eddie insisted we still get out of the Hawkins for the day so we got in his van and made our way up north. We stopped for lunch at this diner called “Oasis” and got two baskets of burgers and fries. After inhaling his meal, he was now trying to pick at mine. 

“But your fries are so much better. Ow!” He jumps as I lightly kick him under the table with my shoe. “Well shit. I’m not taking you to the arcade then.”

My eyes narrow in his direction as I reach for a fry and hold it in his direction. As he leans in to take it, I pull it away at the last second and take a bite. He sticks his tongue out me and I bunch up my nose to mock him. 

A few miles up from the diner is a huge arcade with wall-to-wall games to play. When we step inside it is packed with kids ranging from elementary to about our age. In the back corner there are pool tables under clouds of smoke from the patrons that were playing. There was a bar in the middle of the room where some people were sitting and watching a football game.

“I’m going to get some change. Go find a game.” He kisses my temple before he disappears. I walk along the wall looking at the selection. I stop when I see a game I used to be familiar with; Galaga. 

“Okay, baby girl, sit right here.” My dad picks me up and places me on a stool near the side of the machine. “Now watch and learn. These were the moves that got your mom to marry me.”

My mom smiles as she rolls her eyes at him. “Calm down, Danny.” She leans down near my ear and whispers loud enough so my dad can hear. “I took pity on him because he was so terrible at it.”

“Abby, stop telling our child lies.” They both laugh as he leans across me to give her a quick peck on the lips. 

 “Oh! Good choice.” Eddie comes up next to me, shaking his cup of quarters. “You want to go first?”

“Sure.” I plaster a smile on my face. He kneels, puts a few coins in, and hops onto the stool next to me. The music starts to play as the game comes to life. I try to focus on the ship as it targets the little alien bugs above it but I feel my brain start to wonder.

My dad glances over, catching my mother adjusting the watch on her wrist. 

“Got a hot date?”

“No”, my mother replies with an edge. “I was just checking the time.”

“Why? We don’t have anywhere to be.” His eyes stay on the monitor as his fingers repeatedly smash the button on the consol. 

“I do tomorrow morning. Some of us still have to work.”

Dad doesn’t say anything, choosing to focus on the task in front of him. 

“You know what? I’ll go wait by the car. Come out when you’re done.” She sighs and stomps her way out the front door. There’s the faint sound of an explosion coming from the game. My dad doesn’t move. I see his head hang for few seconds before he finally turns to me with a big grin on his face. 

“Come on, little one. Let’s go home.”

“Sweetheart?” I turn my head to the left to see Eddie is no longer sitting but hovering over me. “You okay?”

I furrow my eyebrows, sighing. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit rusty I guess.” I push at the game with my sneaker as I smile up at him. “You should go next. Show me how it’s done.” 

As I start to step aside, I feel his arms wrap around me from behind. He gently nudges me forward with his hips, taking my hands, and placing them back on the controls. He lets go only long enough to put some more money in and move my hair to one side as he rest his chin on my shoulder. The screen in front of us lights up as the level begins. With his hands guiding mine, we start to play. 

Safe. I am safe. 

“I wish you would tell me where you go.” Eddie’s voice is low in my ear. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” I joke trying to distract him but I can see in the reflection of the screen in front of me that he’s not falling for it. I feel his breath heat up my skin as he sighs. The next level begins to start.

“I can’t.”

“Because?” 

The game makes a congratulatory sound as a small cut scene plays.

Tell him. Let him know what he’s in for. Go ahead! Geez, you’re so pathetic! How do you expect to—

“My parents used to hang out at arcades when they were younger. They would sit me on a stool like this or another machine and I would just watch them play. After a while it was just me and dad going. Then it was just me.”

The ship crashes into a bug and explodes. Eddie pulls my hands off the controls and wraps my arms around my chest cocooning me against him. I turn my head to look at him. “I’m just happy to be able to create new memories here with you.”

He smiles down at me, placing a kiss on my forehead. “That is the grossest thing I’ve ever heard. Why are you so obsessed with me?” He rolls his eyes playfully as I lightly elbow him. Eddie pretends to fall letting go of one of my arms as he twists the other one making me twirl in a circle. “Come on, Sweetheart. Let’s go make some memories.”

########################################

After spending a few more hours at the arcade, it was time to head home. Halfway through our drive it had started pouring rain. When we got back to the trailer, we had to make a mad dash to the door. 

“Jesus! It’s really coming down!” Eddie shakes his hands through his hair.

“I-I-I-I am regret-t-t-ting wearing shorts-s-s-s.” I say as my teeth begin to chatter. His head whips around and notices I’m completely soaked. 

“Oh my god.” Eddie tries to control the smile that begins creeping across his face at my words. 

“D-D-Don’t laugh, you jerk!” I hug my arms around myself and head towards his room. Eddie makes a quick detour into the bathroom and grabs a towel. As I sit down on the bed, he flops down beside me and runs the towel over my arms trying to warm me up. 

“Better?” he asks. 

“Y-Y-Yes. Thank you.” Eddie keeps chuckling at me. “Stoooop! Dork. I’m going to go shower really quick.”

####################################

As soon as I step out of the shower, there’s a loud crack of thunder followed by the lights going out. 

“Whoa! Ok, babe. One second!” Eddie shouts from his room. I hear his feet shuffle around and then a light knock on the door before he opens it just enough to push his hand through. He’s holding a lit candle in his hand. I thank him as I grab it and he closes the door. Now that I can see I search the bathroom for my bag so I can put on my pajamas. 

Uh oh. I do three circles before I realize I forgot it in Eddie’s room. As I reach for the doorknob so I can ask him to bring it to me something makes me freeze. I turn and look at myself in the mirror. 

You are beautiful. You love him. You trust him. Go for it.

Whore.

No, I’m not. I’m not!  I am safe. HE is safe with me.

With the towel wrapped around me, I grab the candle and open the door making my way to Eddie’s room. His back is to me as he lights a couple more candles and I place the one I’m holding on his dresser. He had changed while I was in the shower, putting on a simple black shirt and sweatpants. 

“Hey, so I don’t think we are going to get any food delivered in this. Do you want me to try and find something or—” His sentence is cut short as he finally turns around. His jaw falls slightly open as he tries to keep forming words. 

I move forward slowly towards him. “I was thinking we could try something.”

Thunder shakes the trailer causing Eddie to jump, juggling the lighter in his hands before it falls to the floor with his failed attempt to catch it. We both laugh but his comes out slightly more nervous. 

“Wow. Did I just cause thee Eddie Munson to become speechless?” I cock my head to the side as the grin on my face grows. 

“Yeah, well, um”, his hand flies up to rub the back of his neck. “It happens when I’m thrown off.”

“Thrown off in a good way or a bad way?” I ask trying to sound as confident as possible. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

“Definitely a good way, my lady.” His eyes shift between me and the floor as if he’s unsure of where to look. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a little nervous.”

I’m now directly in front of him, standing so close my hair shifts with the wind of his breath near my face. “Why?”

“Well, I mean, I’m a guy. Guys get nervous and”, his eyes meet mine, “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

I reach up, placing a hand on his cheek. “You could never disappoint me.” I open my hand that’s holding the towel around me and it falls to the floor around my feet. “I trust you.”

He leans forward with his hands pulling my lips to his. As we kiss, Eddie slowly guides us back towards his bed. The back of my legs touches the cold metal of the bedframe and I let go of him to climb on the mattress. On my knees I left myself up so we’re face to face. I reach below him to take off his shirt and he raises his arms to left it over his head, tossing it casually to the floor. My hands move down his chest, brushing over every tattoo and beauty mark on his skin. My lips land on his shoulder as they make their way towards his neck. I feel his chest pressed against me exhale in as a small mewl escapes from his throat. His fingers become entangled in my hair holding me to him. 

Eddie tilts his head down so he can capture my lips with his. Tilting my palm downward, I glide it down into his sweats. He whimpers slightly when my hand wraps around his already hard cock. I lean my head back so I can look at him. His eyes are closed with his mouth hung open. I watch him as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip and hums in pleasure. It’s weird for me to be able to have this effect on someone especially Eddie. 

He always seemed so confident and strong. On the outside he looked like he didn’t care about anything and had everything all together. To see him come undone like this; it was wonderful.

“You look really good like this.” I whisper.

He opens his eyes to look at me. Eddie hadn’t realized I was watching his face. “Like what?”

As I scoot my body closer to his, I reach over and pull the waist band of his pants low enough to pull his cock free. Without the constriction of his sweats, I can move my hand a bit faster. His eyes start to close again as he leans his head forward to rest on my shoulder. 

I press my lips to his ear. “Like this.” 

“Oh my god” Eddie’s arms wrap around my waist as he abruptly pushes me flat against the bed. He lets me go and shoves his pants off the rest of the way leaving him completely naked. He starts to crawl up the length of my body stopping at my stomach. I watch him as he runs his tongue from my belly button up to my chest between my breasts. With his right hand he reaches up to run his fingers of my nipple causing a small whimper to fall from my lips. I run my hand through his wavy mane as he takes my other nipple into his mouth sucking on it delicately.

His soft lips gradually make their way up to my neck. He pulls back to look down at me affectionately as his hand comes up to caress my cheek. 

“Have you done this before?” Eddie asks, his voice laced with nothing but compassion and care. 

“This exactly, no.” My voice comes out a bit shakier than I wanted it to. “Have you?” I’m not sure why I asked. I already knew the answer and he confirms it with a nod.

“Does that bother you?”

“No. Makes me feel a little better, like you know what to do. I just, um, I may not be any good at first.” Eddie tilts his head to the side with an amused smile as his hand slides down to my tummy. “I just mean *I* don’t know what I’m doing.” His smile turns into a big grin as I feel my face flush with embarrassment. He grips my leg closest to him and pulls it over his hip as he runs his hand along my calf up to my thigh. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m nervous to.”

I swallow down a moan at the familiar feeling of his fingers opening my folds as he rubs his middle finger between them. His mouth gradually leans down to meet mine quickly before making their way down my jawline. 

“I got you, ok?” I feel his finger invade my entrance causing me to groan and turn my head into his voice. I wanted, needed to hear more of him. “I’m going to take care of you. You don’t have to be nervous or scared. You’re safe with me.” He turns his head slightly and leans up on his elbow to look at me again. His eyes meet mine as he slides a second finger into me pumping them in and out at a slow pace. 

“Eddie” I moan as I claw at the sheets trying to control that need to grab his wrist. He notices and smiles to himself. My leg drops from around him as he moves down the bed, situating his upper body between my legs. He pulls both my legs up over his shoulders and then reaches on either side of me to grab my hands and places them in his hair. He gives me a wink before his face disappears and I feel his tongue flick at my clit. 

I gasp out his name excitedly as I tug at his hair. Crafty bastard. He knew I could grab and claw at his head and hair and it only push him further into me. He definitely didn’t mind it either. With every light pull of his hair he hummed against me making me squirm. Eddie inserted his two fingers back inside of me while his tongue continued its assault. The coil in my belly snapped and his hand flew up quickly to hold my hips as he licked and suckled me through it. 

“Eddie…I…stop…need a minute.” I said between pants trying to catch my breath. I felt him get up and watch him through hooded eyes as he rummages through his dresser drawer, coming back with a condom. He tore the foil with his teeth and tossed it on the floor causing me to let out a breathy giggle. 

“What?” he asked as he looked down at me from the side of the bed. 

“Nothing. It’s just”, I point near his bed side table, “there’s a trashcan right there.”

He lazily reaches his hand towards it before dropping it back to his side shaking his head. “Eh. Too far.”

I laugh at him then and continue to watch his slide on the condom in his hand. He gently hops back on the bed and lays down on top of me. His head bends down to kiss the edge of my nose. 

“I love your laugh. It’s so beautiful.”

I reach up with my hand and brush the crazy strands of hair that fell out of his face. “I love you.”

Eddie reaches his hand down to grab his cock and guide it toward my pussy. My stomach starts doing little nervous slips and I, a bit too quickly, wrap my hands around his shoulders. He places a delicate kiss on my lips before he whispers “I love you to. Are you ok?”

I let out a timid chuckle. “You know you ask me that a lot.”

A gigantic smile spread across his face. “You’re right. I should stop caring.” He slowly pushes himself into me. 

We both let moan but mine comes out a little sharper. He starts making slow forward and back motions with his hips inching his way further in. During one particular movement, my brows furrow together as I let out hiss. Eddie immediately stops moving, eyes flying up to meet mine with concern. 

“It’s ok. I’m ok. It just hurt a little bit. Please don’t stop.” I crane my neck to reach his lips as he resumes his original pace. 

“Oh wow”, I exhale when I feel him fully sheathed inside of me. Eddie’s forehead had been leaning against my own. His eyes were squeezed shut trying to control his body as best he could. 

“Good wow or bad wow?” he breathed out, wetting his lips. 

“Good wow. I think”, I roll my hips slightly causing Eddie to growl. “I think you can move a little faster.”

With that his own hips start to thrust at a confident pace. I felt my eyes roll back as I whimpered his name. His head lulled forward and I could feel him breathing heavily into my neck. I positioned my arms around his neck pulling him as close to me as I could. Eddie reached down to grab my leg and wrap it around his waist. 

“Hey.” I whispered in his ear. “Babe.” He grunted in response. “Look at me, Eddie.” His head lifted, his eyes meeting mine. “I know you like watching me cum.” I smiled up at him. His pace slowed as he thrust into me harder. I watched him as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them, before reaching down to rub fast circles on my clit. My pussy started clenching around him and we both exclaimed at the same time.

“Fuck!”

“Fucking hell!”

My back arched as I felt that familiar coil snap. Eddie started groaning above me as his hips began to sputter. I opened my eyes as he closed his and with a few more aggressive thrusts he came into the condom.

His hair had fallen around his face slightly blocking my view of him. His gorgeous brown eyes met mine as I moved his ruffled fluff out of his face. 

“I wasn’t lying you know. You really do look good like this.” He smirked at me as he carefully pulled himself out of me, taking off the condom, and throwing it in the trash. I let out a fake gasp. “Did you just throw something in the trash?”

He glared at me playfully as rolled back over on his side to face me. I slid closer to him as he slung his arm over my waist. We laid like that for a while with Eddie’s hand rubbing up and down my back and arm. As peaceful as it was, his silence made me a little nervous. 

“You okay?”

He tries to contain his smile as he mimics my voice. “You ask me that a lot.” Giggling at his impression, I lightly push at his shoulder. “Yeah. I’m good. Better than I’ve been in a while.” He props himself up on his elbow. “I know this was a big step for you. I, um, not many people trust me. Usually they see this mean, scary dude and…” Eddie’s voice starts to trail off. “What I’m trying to say is thank you for trusting a freak like me.” 

I prop up on my own elbow as I reach over with my other hand to lift his chin. “I don’t think you’re a freak. I never have.”

As Eddie leans in to give me a kiss, the lights in the trailer spring on. “Well, shit.” He dramatically rolls off the bed onto the floor making me laugh. “I know I had pants at one point.” He starts sifting through the pile on the floor. I lean over the bed where I knew he had left his boxers and throw them at his chest. “Oof. Why thank you, my Lady.” He saunters into the kitchen and I hear him shuffle around before he comes back, flicking off switches along his path. He casually tosses a pizza box on the bed and walks towards the bed side table, setting some drinks. He looks around the floor again and bends down to grab one of his shirts before tossing it at me. 

I beam at him as I shove it over my head. “Thank you, my knight in shining armor.”

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn smut #fan fiction

[arcadian-litterateur]

bury it | kirin o'connor

masterlist

summary: kirin has a no-side-effects solution to dealing with trauma: he buries it. but as time goes on while he’s trapped on the island, he realizes slowly that this “no-side-effects” solution does, indeed, have side effects—and they might just be eating him alive.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of ab*se and r*pe

a/n: i know we never got kirin’s full backstory in the wilds before it was cancelled; only a tiny part of it, so i decided to use what little information we had, kirin’s obviously trained responses with josh’s situation, and fan theories to create my own backstory for him. this is a super dark one shot, guys, and it’s not romance or anything. it’s just a backstory for kirin, but i do indeed plan on making more kirin one shots that will most likely use this backstory as a foundation, so keep an eye on that! this is like my own little the wilds world-building, ig you could say. also... @mirchoff here it is! probably not at all what you thought the "kirin one shot" would be but i have a dark side ig. don't worry we'll get less dark kirin content soon.

𝗞𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡 𝗜𝗦 no stranger to this shitty feeling. This shitty feeling of not mattering to the people he's supposed to matter to. It hit him early, and it fucked with his soul. He had a choice: let it fuck him up, or bury it.

He buried it, and he's been burying it ever since.

On the outside, he's always been the golden boy, the star athlete, the happy, popular jock who has everything he could ever want. He's always been a stereotype; a cliche…an easy-to-read, hard-to-get-with jock.

On the inside, he figures he's still a cliche, just a different one. He's an eccedentesiast. Someone who hides pain behind a smile. The golden boy, sure, but the golden boy with a dark past.

Maybe that's all he is: a remix of all the other broken, blond white boys. After all, what piece of Kirin O’ Connor isn't borrowed? He acts like his mom—she's a good woman, but she’s emotionally unavailable to him, much like his emotional withdrawal from the people around him. He looks just like his dad—fucking piece of shit. He got his jock attitude from the popular boys he used to idolize on television—now he realizes it was easier for them, because they had a script, and he didn't even get a plot summary. His talk comes from his coach—who saved his life, for which he'll always be grateful, but then ended up being a shitty, racist person just like the rest of them, and he hates him for it.

If he thinks about it, Kirin O’Connor doesn't truly like being this convoluted chemical reaction of different people. He wants to be something of his own. But he isn't sure how. And when he's honest with himself, he acknowledges that he's scared he's too fucked up to be anything on his own.

It started when he was a young, young boy, and his mother's father—he will never call him his grandfather—kicked them out of his house. He's not sure when he realized that relatives aren't supposed to be jerks, but he knows without a doubt that the only thing he and that man have in common is blood. He swears he will never be like his mother’s father; he will never sentence someone to cold nights in a car with the backseat for a bed.

Kirin still remembers clearly the days before he was popular. When he was still living in his mom’s car, abandoned by his father and now his grandfather, he watched his mom slowly slip away from him. And when he voiced his concerns to his teacher, explaining as best as an eight-year-old can that his mom needed help, he was mocked by the other children.

He was bullied by the other children for being forced into the role of caregiver too early.

Kirin shoved that pain down and decided that he was above it all. He spent so much time above it all that eventually, everyone else worked their way up, pulling themselves to his level like they envied his life. Gosh, if only they knew what his life was like.

He’s had two stepdads, and neither lasted. The first was named Grant, the second was Harvey. They were both artists, like maybe his mom had a type or something, and they were both sick. Not disease sick, but fucked up in the head, gross sick. Grant would always come home drunk, the classic stepdad with a beer belly and a loud, “Honey, I’m home!” He’d force Kirin’s mom to make his gross, alcoholic friends bean dip and casseroles. They’d trash the living room and then complain when Kirin didn’t clean up after them. 

Kirin didn’t understand why his mom put up with it for as long as she did. It was only after Harvey was gone, too, that his mom showed Kirin the scar from the fireplace poker that Grant had stabbed her with when he was too drunk to think straight, whispering out the nasty threats Grant had made towards Kirin if she didn’t keep quiet. Kirin remembered that trip to the ER, but his mom told everyone she’d tripped and bumped the poker. And everyone had believed it, Kirin included.

But if Grant was awful, Harvey was a demon from hell. Actually, Kirin had contemplated this theory totally seriously at one point, so confused as to how someone could be so cruel. What his mom had seen in this guy was beyond him, but once the new couple got back from their honeymoon, Harvey turned nasty, and Kirin had to sit and watch. Harvey didn’t even try to hide the fact that he abused Kirin’s mom from the boy, who was fourteen at the time. He’d almost boast about it, as if he expected Kirin to take his side, too. Instead, Kirin learned the hard way that Harvey was harder to expose than he thought.

Sometimes, if Kirin is feeling especially masochistic, he’ll pull up his shirt and brush his hands along the dull, dark lumps of scar tissue all over his stomach from the countless times Harvey put out his cigarette on the boy’s pale skin. Maybe that’s one of the reasons that Kirin stays tan—it doesn’t hide the scars all the way, but it makes them seem less suspicious. Like they’re birthmarks or freckles.

But the cigarette burns were the least cruel abuse that Harvey subjected him to, and he doesn’t really want to even think about the other shit Harvey put him through. Kirin hasn’t told anyone about the darkest parts of that time in his life. They’ve heard about all the physical abuse; the violence, but he’s never told anyone about the worst of it. Not his therapist, not his CPS officer. Definitely not his mom, even though she’d endured the same, or even worse. If he talks about the hazy memories from those nights, he has to confront the fact that they were real, and so he leaves those memories be. Tells himself they’re just nightmares.

It could be true. Harvey is a consistent visitor in Kirin’s dreams. Even if the real man is locked away in a prison somewhere, he still haunts Kirin’s sleep like a specter. 

He haunts Kirin now, even on this godforsaken island in the middle of nowhere. Kirin knows in his head that even if Harvey escaped prison and found Kirin’s old high school, he’d have no way to get to Kirin, because nobody fucking knows where he is.

Even Kirin doesn’t know where he is.

Maybe his memories that he swears are nightmares are the reason he could tell something was wrong with Josh. Kirin can’t explain what exactly tipped him off, but something inside his chest got super fucking tight, like it was constricting all of his blood and was going to rip his heart apart, and so he jumped in and told Josh to come with him. He was convinced he was being paranoid.

But now, staring at the welts on Josh’s chest, Kirin feels his blood chill, his fingertips finding the small pebbled cigarette scars on his torso as goosebumps rise on his body. Josh spews some excuse about gluten when Kirin confronts him about it, and Kirin isn’t having it.

He isn’t proud of what he does next, but he’s desperate to get this boy to tell him what’s wrong—or what isn’t wrong. What might just be in Kirin’s head, like all the nightmares. 

So he brings up Seth, uses him as a weapon, as a match that he waves under Josh’s nose, trying to light the fuse in this meek boy, trying to get him to snap and admit something, anything. And just like Kirin knew it would, it works. Josh is yelling at him, talking about how Seth is the problem, and the way his voice quivers as he trails off and his fists tighten up in a defensive stance makes Kirin want to crumple to the ground.

Because he knows that look. That terrified, angry look. He knows that look, because he’s seen it in the mirror on himself. Josh isn’t Josh right now as Kirin stares down at him. Josh is fourteen-year-old Kirin trying to explain away the odd wounds on his stomach to his coach, who isn’t buying it. Josh is fourteen-year-old Kirin breaking down in the lacrosse team’s locker room, finally admitting what Harvey’s been doing. 

And in that instant, even before he asks Josh to elaborate, Kirin knows what Josh did. He knows without a doubt what a sick, demented fuck Seth is, and all he can see when he blinks is Harvey, leering and spitting and screaming at Kirin, hurting him in more ways than just physical.

Kirin sees red, and he knows at that moment that he’s going to make Seth pay for what he’s done to Josh, because no one ever made Harvey pay for his worst crimes against Kirin, and Kirin can’t stand to see another r*pist get away with it. 

Kirin freezes as the thought flashes through his mind, a hand flying up to his torso again, numbly pinching at one of the scars. He’s never been willing to even think it before. To ever truly face the reality of Harvey’s twisted abuse. But he just did, and the full force of it is crashing down on Kirin, bringing tears to his eyes. He blinks them away, rage almost bubbling out of his throat as he growls,

“I’m going to kill him.”

And he isn’t truly thinking about Seth at that moment, not really, but since he can’t get his hands on Harvey to tear him limb from limb, he’ll have to settle. 

Even after he’s pulled away from Seth, the sick asshole sadly still alive and breathing, Kirin knows that he won’t stop protecting Josh. He won’t let Josh do what he did. Because when Harvey hurt Kirin, Kirin buried it. That’s what he did with the hard shit. He buried it. And slowly, it’s killing him from the inside out. Kirin doesn’t want Josh to fall prey to that. Kirin doesn’t want Josh to bury it.

And Kirin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, it’s time to pull out a shovel and start digging. Not a grave for Seth or Harvey, (oh, how he wishes), but a hole into the deep abysses in his heart, so he can finally start to unbury all of the shit rotting away from inside him.

Kirin is done burying it.

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥

#fanfiction #one shot #angst #the wilds #kirin o'connor #kirin the wilds #the wilds kirin #the boys the wilds #kirin #charles alexander #the wilds angst #the wilds one shot #the wilds season 2 #kirin the wilds backstory #kirin backstory the wilds #kirin character study

[transboysokka]

ok im all for your take of zuko not having a praise kink due to trauma, like i kind of adore that. growing up the way he did, praise probably only ever came as a disguise for something else, so it makes sense that he'd immediately be suspicious of any praise he gets. not believing it or thinking that there's some other meaning behind it. and suddenly being thrown into the headspace of childhood emotional defenses isn't exactly great for the bedroom adhjsgf

and im a hurt/comfort glutton, so now i cant stop thinking about a scenario where zuko and sokka really figure this out the first time. like, everything's going well, and sokka starts saying praising nothings, cuz it's what he'd like so why not try it? and even zuko isn't entirely sure what's going on with himself, but suddenly he's defensive and uncomfortable and the mood is thoroughly ruined, and sokka and zuko have to pause and figure out wtf just happened. cue yet another insight into zuko's fucked up childhood, and sokka going "WOW. OK. what yhe fuck." and then its cuddles and a long talk about what type of language is and isn't allowed during sex

EXACTLY! Great minds think alike, haha

Here's a short little something for that:

CW for vague sexual content and discussion/mentions of past child abuse bc Ozai Is An Asshole

"Good boy." "Take it for me, I know you can." "Are you gonna come for me like a good boy?"

It didn't bother him at first, because Zuko could see Sokka... enjoyed? Talking to him that way... But every now and then some of those words would send a shiver through his body.

("Good boy, at least you can be useful for something.")

"Hey, babe?" he breathes, moving a hand up to cover Sokka's mouth. "Hm?" "Stop talking."

He couldn't stay quiet for long.

"Look at you baby, just like that." "You take my cock so well." "Fuck, good boy. Thank you so much baby." "You listen so well." "You're perfect." "You're such a good boy. Tell me what you are."

Zuko froze as if he'd been doused with a bucket of freezing water.

("You're an ungrateful bastard who doesn't deserve the title of Prince." A slap. "Tell me what you are." Another slap. "Good boy.")

He rolled off of Sokka to the other side of the bed, panting hard, covering his face defensively.

No nonono, not now...

"Babe! Zuko!" The concern in Sokka's voice grounded him enough to stop the spiral.

Zuko removed his hands from his face and peered over at Sokka, embarrassment creeping in.

Sokka stared over at him, a mix of emotions on his face: confusion, hurt... worry. He scooted carefully to Zuko's side, knowing enough not to make any sudden movements at a time like this.

"Baby, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Tell me what I did wrong. Talk to me," he tentatively reached an arm out to grip Zuko's hand, who took it and held on tight.

"I'm sorry," Zuko said eventually, "I just... Please don't talk to me like that..."

His boyfriend nodded, but still didn't seem to understand.

"Sure, babe. We're still figuring out the sex stuff, right? Remember, anything you need me to different, you just need to say. Can you tell me what it was I said that bothered you?"

Zuko drew Sokka's hand in closer to his chest, trying to think of the words to say that would bring back the least amount of pain.

"Any of the... good things you say. I just..." He subconsciously reached up with his other hand and touched his scar, a motion Sokka quickly recognized. His eyes widened.

"Oh shit, babe, I'm sorry. I didn't know. Your dad...?" Sokka reached to wrap his arms around Zuko, and he settled into them gratefully, leaning into Sokka's chest, "Sorry, you don't have to give me the details if you don't want."

"It's okay, I..." He took a shaky breath, "He... would mock me. He spoke to Azula like that, with love, and meant it. But to me..." Zuko's voice trailed off and he buried his face into Sokka's shoulder, suddenly ashamed.

Sokka didn't say anything at first, running his fingers through Zuko's hair, then tilting his chin up so they were looking into each other's eyes.

"Zuko. That's really fucked up and I know you hate it when I say it, but I'm sorry that happened to you because you didn't deserve it, him twisting up love and hate like that for you."

"I know." A tear rolled down his cheek. Over time, it was getting easier to hear and accept those words- and believe them- but the embarrassment never quite went away.

"I won't talk to you like that during sex anymore, okay? Thank you so much for telling me. But um..." Now it was Sokka's turn to blush. Zuko waited curiously for him to continue, "Do you think... you could try... talking to me like that?"

Zuko blinked, surprised. He thought about it and nodded slightly. It... might actually be good to take control of a situation like that, take the words back... But all he said was, "Oh."

Because he was a little surprised Sokka wanted that.

"I just-" Sokka was blushing now, like he sometimes did when he was trying to talk about something serious and personal, "I've always liked to feel useful you know, and nobody's talked to me like that since my mom-"

Ah.

"Okay, yeah, I get it. You... want me to call you a good boy? Stuff like that?"

Sokka nodded, face as red as the sheets they lay together on.

"Thanks for telling me, babe."

Zuko kissed his forehead. This was going to be kind of cute, in a sexy sort of way.

#quesTian #drabble #zukka #atla

[furiousgoldfish]

I have a question: So like uh... how can you be sure if you are traumatized? My mind keeps swapping between thinking I'm traumatized and thinking I just had a slightly weird childhood and I'm simply over-reacting like I always do. Also second question that is more optional and you might not know: If your parents are unable to save you from an unfortunate circumstance like say... a sister that is violent loud and angry to both you and the parents.... and you often were in distress from say... a sister that would scream hit and punch and took all the parent attention to them and left you alone and hiding in your room... then could that lead to you growing up with the same effect of neglect? I'm guessing you would want a more clear picture of what happened to answer either one of these question so here it is: My sister was and is (but way more stable) mentally ill. I spent most of my years in elementary from 2nd and up living in a house with somebody who can harass, mock, and sometimes hurt me at any moment. She did mostly calm stuff like only say "retard" to me for a stretch of time that feels infinite because I was autistic, and almost punch me but stop and make fun of me getting scared. Very rarely she would go above and beyond by trying to drown me over a dipute and locking me in her room and refusing to let me out because I couldn't fix her computer. I adapted though, I pretty much avoided my sister as much as I can until recently when she calmed down. One thing I could never escape though was the yelling, the screaming, the crying. Every time my sister would have a mental breakdown, which was a whole, whole, whole lot, she was loud and sometimes violent about it. I was hardly ever in the middle of it, I usually just hid in my room while being forced to hear my sister's screams and my parents trying to get her to stop with as little force as possible. It's hard to describe the emotions, and I can try all I want to make you understand what this was like but I won't ever succeed so I'll stop. My sister also tried to kill herself a lot and been in and out of the mental hospital a whole lot so there is that too. Also my parents were amazing, don't worry. The worst thing about my parents is that my dad is a bit emotional but he usually didn't engage with my sister when he could get angry so it hardly came up in a bad way but he did escalate a lot of situations. My Mom was understanding and calm and didn't really fight back against my sister but like... in a good way, it's hard to describe without you knowing my sister. Sorry for the slop of words, I was thinking about like 2 other things at once while typing this and I don't have the energy to correct anything.

You can be sure you're traumatized if you have trauma symptoms. Trauma symptoms can range from feeling low self worth, fear and anxiety around people or specific circumstances and events, struggling with feeling normal around people, struggling with thoughts of self doubt, self hate, severe guilt and shame for everything that was done to you, or what happened, to the more recognizable ones: flashbacks, nightmares, emotional flashbacks, panic and anxiety attacks, losing control over emotions, not being able to regulate emotions at all, feeling unstable, desperate and terrified of the past and feeling low feelings or even complete despair about the future. It's also visible in struggling to have close relationships, feeling like you have to keep secrets, like nobody would love you if they truly knew you, feeling uncomfortable with people being near you or touching you (non-threateningly), running into isolation to keep yourself safe, or finding safety in substances, obsessions, addictions. Trauma can also manifest in development of disorders like eating disorders, anxiety disorder, panic disorder, ocd, depression. There's a lot of more subtle symptoms, you can check this list to see if any of this applies to you: Link.

It's often that traumatized people feel like they might be over-reacting, which is caused by the low self worth mentioned above; people who have normal self worth and are not self-conscious about how their emotions might inconvenience others, thus they don't stop to think if they're over-reacting, and take their feelings at face value. If a feeling is there, it's there for a reason, and the reason is unlikely to be something you made up. Sometimes what people will see as over-reacting is simply reacting to a trigger; even if you feel like your reaction was exaggerated, it's because something in your brain reacted to prior trauma and felt the need to evoke strong reaction so you would protect yourself against this event repeating, as it traumatized you in the past.

For example, if someone reacts with terror to a dog, we'd call it an over-reaction, but if you then find out they were bitten as a child and almost died, then terror is completely appropriate. It's like that with emotional trauma too, if something damaged you so badly as a kid you felt like you would never recover, your brain will react with terror or very strong emotions, to make sure you stay away and keep yourself protected. So it's really just a logical reaction, if you consider the past event and what it did to your life.

The circumstances you lived in as a child definitely warrant a lot of trauma. You describe your sister's presence as an 'unfortunate circumstance', but I don't see even one hint that your parents put actual effort in protecting you. Two adults are absolutely able to pay attention to more than one child at the time, and it sounds like you got completely neglected, and left to make your own conclusions to why that is. And you decided that parents cannot be at fault, because they couldn't do any better. I believe they could, because no child has deserved to be ignored and left to endure insults, slurs, screaming, yelling, punching, mocking, harassment and hurt at any moment, without any protection or care. Your parents were responsible for protecting you, and caring for you at any moment that you might have gotten hurt. It doesn't matter if they had 'a lot on their plate', because you are a human being they were responsible for protecting, and they failed you.

I can think of many things that could have been done differently to protect you, your sister could have been put in a place where she couldn't reach you, you could have been in a presence of a parent or a caretaker at all times to make sure nobody can hurt you, you could have been put in someone else's care as soon as it was obvious that your sister was hurting you, you could have been asked about it and comforted and a different solution could have been reached in order to make sure you live your childhood protected from all this.

Having one child that is a lot to manage does not mean you can now ignore all your other children and leave them to be hurt consistently because 'you cannot be bothered to pay attention to all of your kids' Also it sounds like instead of handling the child that was causing violence, they were escalating the situation and making it worse for you. Leaving one child to lash out at another is unacceptable, and it is both neglect and abuse. Protection from abuse is a part of what your parents are responsible for, and they failed you. And I can see you care so much for their good image, you're protecting them even as you're trying to talk about how they left you to fend for yourself in a world where you were harmed. Imagine if they felt that kind of compassion for you, and ran to protect you whenever you were alone with someone who was hurting you. You're showing more care for them in here, than they did for you in your childhood.

This had to be really hard for you to read, and I'm sorry for being so blunt. I'm not trying to tell you how you should see them, I'm just angry that you were put thru so much, and it didn't have to be like that. You know your situation better than I do, and if I'm completely wrong about everything, that's completely possible and you do not have to accept my opinion, your own is more important. I hope you're never left to fend for yourself in a world where others are likely to hurt you, that's not okay for a child to go thru, and it's painful and traumatic to an adult as well.

#abusive siblings #child abuse #abusive parents #sibling abuse #neglect #child neglect #failure to protect child from abuse #traumatic childhood #ask #furiousgoldfish

[meowzfordayz]

underneath

Author’s Note: vaguely inspired by​ should’ve known better by @somelattes​.❤️‍🔥

underneath

Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000

CW: alcoholism, traumatic references

Song Inspo: Underneath by Adam Lambert

Emergency Request Fulfilled: could you maybe do a Kyojuro x reader where they meet his father for the first time but also suffers from these triggers? If x readers were real it would be the hardest challenge for me. I figure it would be a tough situation since he loves his dad, but he also has to figure out a way to help them either leave to a safe place and explain later or find a way to help them until they are alone. I just want his comfort knowing he was in a similar situation.

~faqs~

You know about Shinjuro. Of course you know. Kyojuro’s always been upfront, wearing his heart on his sleeve, and disclosing the pain—trauma—anchored into his family’s psyche was no different.

“I’d love to meet your father and brother,” you’d nervously announced after a couple months of dating, fingers anxiously hugging your warm mug, eyes fixated on your glistening pool of houjicha.

He’d reached across the kitchen table, gentle heat wrapping reassuringly around your wrist, voice loud and certain, “I am not ashamed of you. Not in the slightest. I apologize if my delay in introducing you created feelings of doubt or insecurity. I am simply… concerned. Senjuro would be well receiving of you. But Shinjuro… I… I am embarrassed to admit that you might not be well receiving of him. And as Senjuro is not yet eighteen, it would be difficult to avoid Shinjuro.”

You’d nodded slowly, glancing upward, breath hitching at the fear dwelling beneath the adoration in his gaze — not quite grasping his implication.

“Your mother,” he’d paused, hesitant to approach such a heavy truth, “Shinjuro is… similar,” exhaling lowly as your eyes narrowed, “He is an alcoholic, and I do not wish to expose you to anything uncomfortable or unsafe.”

Swallowing wordlessly, you’d closed your eyes Alcoholic, thickness clogging your throat as an angry whimper clung to the roof of your mouth.

Kyojuro knew about your mother. Of course he knew. Like knowing someone’s favorite color, knowing her impact on your personality, habits—on your being—came up sooner rather than later. She was practically impossible to omit from your existence; just as alcohol appeared in most social situations; just as your averse reaction (to alcohol) never changed.

“I am more than happy to arrange a lunch or dinner with them,” he’d reaffirmed, “But I am uneasy at the potential of hurting you.”

“And what about you?” you’d muttered harshly, blinking quickly to restrain the teardrops threatening to slide off your eyelashes, “What about the potential of hurting yourself?”

He’d shrugged, faint smile curving his lips, “Senjuro is my brother. Shinjuro is my father. We are family.”

“And you’re proud of them?” you’d snapped, jolting as unfairness clawed through your limbs, tea sloshing violently, “You protect Senjuro. Who protects you?”

Rubbing a small circle into the base of your thumb, he’d declared with a steady openness, “I do not need protecting. I get to take care of Senjuro, look after my father. I get to love you. For me, that is plenty.”

Bullshit you’d hissed inwardly, chest heaving with a familiar melancholy—a too sweet hopelessness—your teardrops inevitably escaping, shiny and mocking as they darkened the tablecloth. The scraping of a moving chair echoed dimly, the embrace of home surrounding you in a split second, bones giving in to their dread and disappointment.

“How can you say that?” you’d wailed quietly, fists beating harmlessly at his biceps as he held you.

“I ache,” he’d whispered, confession numb in the gap between your sleeve and his heart, “I ache and I ponder and I fall apart knowing I have to somehow present myself whole.”

His heart pinned to your soul, promised to only you.

“Let us ache together,” as you’d clung tighter Let us hold the shards of our innocence so delicately, undeniably, sharply.

Knowing about Shinjuro, however, is not the same as meeting the man — a realization you expected intellectually, but couldn’t fully prepare for emotionally, because: how does one brace themselves against a gradual lifetime of grief and regret? How does one shed their layers of trained panic, terror, and anticipation? How does one approach the deep, infinite smears of I miss you and You should’ve been there for me for us and I hate you even though all I want is to be able to love you pressed into the crevices of your heart?

“I’m glad to finally meet you,” your pleasantry sticks to your tongue, hand visibly wavering as Shinjuro’s scent envelops you.

Shinjuro’s sick your gut screams, thrashing frantically—trapped—despite your seemingly calm—frozen—exterior. Like mom, exactly like mom, sick sicksick sicksicksick Shinjuro’s distant, unreadable pupils reflecting a nauseating scene. Identical to the glint in your MomMomMomMomMom’s fractured stare.

“Father,” firm palm nestling into your spine, tugging, coaxing, reminding you, “This is my partner, [y/n],” swiftly guiding you off the front porch, “Please pardon our rudeness,” away from the lingering grip of Shinjuro’s addiction.

“We can tell him I’m feeling poorly,” Kyojuro says immediately, tone hushed, attention darting from your clenched jaw to your uneven inhalations, “My father reeks,” chuckling shakily, “I under-”

“I want to do this,” you mumble, “I want to meet Shinjuro,” flexing your fingers, testing their fragility, “And Senjuro! Where is Senjuro?”

“Probably preparing snacks,” he smiles easily at the mention of Senjuro, Shinjuro momentarily forgotten, “He enjoys maintaining the house,” brow furrowing almost indecipherably Staying out of father’s way.

“If Shinjuro is too much,” affection—You are everything, my everything—hardening his resolve, “Then we can leave,” tapping your scrunched nose, “Then I want to leave.”

“I don’t-” you shudder, flashes of disjointed yelling and throwing and shattering interrupting your tunneling sight, “I don’t want Shinjuro to blame you.”

“Wait,” he cups your cheek, briefly, decidedly, “For me?”

You wait, surreal stillness rooting you in place. You wait, watching as his feet walk the hundred miles from home is where the heart is to home is no longer here. You wait, hyper focused, entirely ignoring, the exchange of impatient utterances — of dismissal and betrayal. You wait, wait for his feet to return to you. To return home.

“Ready?” Kyojuro nudges your shoulder before gesturing toward your car, his brave grin prying at your solemn expression, “We can visit another time.”

We can try again.

“Are you sure?” you lift your hand tentatively, vaguely.

If you want me to, then I can do this you think, determination grinding at the stone in your stomach I can face Shinjuro.

His hand catches yours, large and encompassing, tender and steadfast, “I am sure.”

I could not, would not, will not, ask that of you.

Neither of you spare Shinjuro a second glance, melting into the frayed softness of each other.

#kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #flame hashira #one shot #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

[oneforthemunny]

Hey queen! I’m obsessed like everyone else with nepobaby and rockstar!eddie, but I wonder how we got from their tumultuous first meeting to the sweet daddy with 6 daughters? Could you give us a fic about their second meeting maybe?

I'm working on a wip about their first date, but pretty much, it just kinda started happening.

I mean they 'hate' each other at the beginning, and they're one upping each other and doing mean shit to get the other pissed, but there's like only so much you can do with that type of thing before it levels out.

it started to turn more flirty after a while if that makes sense???

idk if you guys have ever seen princess diaries 2 but nicholas and mia??? that vibe. specifically the scene in the pond like that is them. totally that kind of vibe.

it really starts after pillow talk one night. talking about how they grew up differently. she's just kinda laying next to them, they're sharing a cigarette, and she sees a scar on his forehead.

"dad threw a bottle at my mom and I got in front of her." he mutters casually. "tried to stop it, ya know? because she was always doing that for me."

she gets really quiet before pulling her arms out of his hold, turning it over to the inside of her elbow. "I was trying to help my mom up to her bedroom. had friends over and she passed out and I couldn't find my dad. she pushed me off her and I went into the coffee table- well, went through it." she whispered. "we were scared. I mean, me and farrah were thirteen, we didn't know what to do. so we called her parents. her dad's a doctor, well, plastic surgeon but... he stitched me up. told my dad. they never said anything else about it."

and in that moment, it's like she was humanized. not this perfect, spoiled, rich bitch, princess he always thought she was, mocked her for being. eddie kinda realized then that they trauma bonded. he shared something very private with her and she did back with him, vulnerable and emotional.

then it just kinda started to form more and more and more <3

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #rockstar!eddie munson

[dothwrites]

as far as season premieres go, this one is... okay? i thought we were getting zombie apocalypse and i got weird boring daytime ghosts. bloody mary is THEE scariest episode of spn but man, spn forgot how to make stuff scary somewhere along the way because the ghosts in this episode just look... like cosplayers who got lost

but that being said the PATHOS in this episode gives me some good fucking food. the way that cas is SO very careful with jack's body. like. that's his KID. and he had to watch him die. and he couldn't do anything. and it was his dad that killed him. and this is cas losing the very last bit of his faith. and cas smiting things will never cease to be amazing. but we're concentrating on the SAD here.

cas' "well i wouldn't starve" is SO VERY BITCHY. and he has every right to be at this point.

dean is doing an AWFUL lot of hindsight declarations. first he always knew that jack would go bad and then he always knew that chuck would go bad. he is very conveniently rewriting his own history and it is a very interesting choice for him to make.

cas lifts that giant slab of stone above his head and all i can do is have a dean winchester "SO STRONG" moment. (so STRONG!)

cas having to watch a demon parade around wearing the corpse of his kid is... he is literally going through one of the worst experiences of his life. and sam and dean are pretty much completely ignoring it and telling him to suck it up and get over it. and then he's ORDERED to give up his blood. cas is no longer "always happy to bleed for the winchesters" and you know what? HE'S RIGHT!

this is why the divorce arc is SO necessary (in my opinion). cas has reached a point where he has NO autonomy with the winchesters. dean, and to an extent sam, are treating him like a soldier--like how john treated them. they're giving him orders and expecting him to obey them. cas has lost EVERYTHING--his son, his family, his faith--and sam and dean don't acknowledge his loss or his pain. they expect him to get over it and do his job--follow their orders. and that is why it is so VITAL that cas leave.

cas' pain being so much that he can't even stand to be in the car with dean and belphagor... he is HURTING! he is in TRAUMA! (and i guess everyone else is too but cas is the only one who is visibly showing it, other than dean making a "whoopsie" statement in the crypt)

good to know that cas doesn't need to touch people to heal them. he just does that for dean because dean is ✨special✨. and when it comes time to fix sam cas is like "ew yucky" and makes sure to keep a good five inches between his hand and sam's body

these broad daylight ghosts are stupid

though cas being pissy because sam shot him is fun. see, that's why cas doesn't touch you when he heals you, sam. all i can think about in this scene watching cas run is misha running on his shitty old man hips and his brand new shiny titanium hips

and then belphagor mocking cas over dean's treatment over him... dean not being able to keep himself from coming to cas but immediately forcing himself away... AH IT'S SO PAINFUL. i love it.

#doth watches spn