#what if i... wrote on my writing blog.....

[ohsuguru]

hi li shen i’m so late forgive me pls 👴🏽: can i request edging with gojo? making her describe in detail what she wants even tho he knows bc he’s a bastard like that

satoru who gets his girlfriend to voice her wants in bed, even if it meant edging it out of her ⁀ ❣︎

˚ʚ minors, ageless and blank blogs dni! ɞ˚

cw: p in v, unprotected sex (pls wrap before you tap), edging, thigh job, dirty talk, spanking, squirting, mean satoru

an: omg omg hihi ❣︎ thanks so much for requesting naomi (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟi hope i did your request justice hehe i had so much fun writing it !! i kept getting inspired the more i wrote so thank you again for sending it ~

"use your words, princess," that sultry, sweet coo of your boyfriend's voice flits to your ears as his large hands guide your hips against his length. "i've taught you well, haven't i?"

your back is pressed against his toned chest, sweat pooling at the bottom of your spine, head thrown back against his broad shoulder. all the motor neurons in your body twitch with arousal and frustration when you feel satoru's cockhead catch against your aching hole before it slips past once again, his mushroom tip peek-a-booing between your thighs.

"uhm– uh–" your mind tries to formulate your instructions to satoru, but it feels like your brain is smothered in cotton, fluffy and dampening your senses - so much so that the only thing you can think of is the way your lover's fingers grip your hips slightly harder to drag you back to reality.

"i jus'- jus' need youu," you hiccup, your voice pitchy and cloying all for satoru's ears.

he couldn't help but think that this was all your fault, really. who asked you to sound so fucked out and lewd, like a siren beckoning him to the depths of your flesh, goading him to sink his throbbing cock into your soft and warm core. who asked you to sound so needy that he can't help but want to edge you and edge you and edge you?

"i know that, baby girl," satoru hums, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he slows down his movements, the drop in friction making you push your hips down against his length, trying to get him to pick his speed back up. "but i need you to tell me exactly what you want. i don't know what goes on in that pretty head of yours."

you can't help but dig your nails into the pale skin of his arms, a frustrated whine leaving your drool-slicked, kiss-bitten lips.

"i- i want you in me," you try again, making your instructions clearer for the cheeky white-haired sorcerer. "wan' you to fill me up."

"yes, but what do you want in you, princess?" he giggles - the audacity of this man to giggle - his large hand dragging up your body to tilt your head to face him as his other one disappears down between your thighs. 

"do you want my fingers?" he continues, his thick digits swirling against your swollen clit, your boyfriend humming when he feels that pearly nub twitch and harden under his touch. he swirls it, and circles it before he parts your lower lips, index and middle finger spreading your sensitive flesh.

the spreading of your labia slots his thick length against you more, coating his cock in more your sweetened juices as he bucks his hips, the sudden action jolting that squeak he loves so much.

"or do you want my cock?" satoru grins lecherously, his twinkling blue eyes taking in your lewd expression. the fingers on your face push your maw apart, forcing you to speak.

"your cock! satoru, please," you immediately plead, voice cracking, eyebrows pinching into the middle of your forehead, sweat pricking at your hairline. "pretty please."

"see? that wasn't so hard now, was it?"

of course, satoru wouldn't praise you for voicing your wants, not when he knew exactly what you needed. your boyfriend knew your body better than you did, where to push your buttons, how to bend and mold your body to his needs and desires.

but what he never said in words, he always made up with his actions.

satoru pushes his aching length into your warm pussy, the sensation dragging out a satisfied moan from the two of you. but what you don't realise through your lust-filled haze is that satoru had also been edging himself as much as he has been edging you. the self-restraint this man has is unwavering, especially when it came to you. 

satoru was long, veiny, and had the most wicked curve to his cock, pressing against that sweet spot within your cunt without him even needing to try.

carved by the gods, just for you.

but just when you thought his edging marathon was over, he completely stills in you, dick buried to the hilt in your gummy walls.

"what do you want now, princess?" satoru asks, head tilting to the side like a cat who's cornered a mouse. "and i need you to tell me in painful detail, okay, baby?"

you swallow thickly, core stretched out around him as you try to take charge instead, pushing your hips down. the veins on his cock drags against your gummy walls, pulling out a relieved whine from your lips as you ride his dick slightly, a reprieve, a shining light at the end of the tunnel.

until satoru completely snuffs it out by gripping your hips strongly, completely stilling your movement. 

"nuh-uh, baby," he tsks through a mischievous giggle. "you gotta listen to me. so i'm going to ask you again, whaddya want?"

"ugh– i want– i want you t'fuck me," you groan out, eyes fluttering as your mind plays out first what you wanted before your pretty voice tells satoru. "i want you to– to use me, roughly..."

"and then?" he probes, a shiver travelling down his spine when you finally give in to what your lover wants. hearing you talk so dirtily always made him harder than a rock. his fingers travel down to your pussy, using your body almost as a fidget toy, tapping your clit idly, a tacky sound echoing through the room.

"i wanna feel your– your cock drag through my cunt. tip fucking my cervix and your fingers playing with my clit, and– and– and then i want you t'fill me up with your cum–"

"woah, princess," he cuts you off, head dropping to your neck as he drags his tongue up the expanse of your throat, committing the taste of your skin to his mind as if he could never get enough of it. "aren't you a lewd thing? who knew you had such a dirty mouth on ya? you've been hiding that from–"

"satoru, just fuck me!"

and to get your point across even more, you clench around him tightly, trying to get him to move along. your boyfriend did always talk too much sometimes.

"jeez, okay," satoru relents with a roll of his eyes, his hand leaving your hips briefly to run it through his dampened hair. "but just so you know, you asked for this."

satoru immediately flips you onto your front, smushing your face into his pillow as he pistons his hips into yours. it's salacious, the sounds that he's dragging out from your body, squelch after squelch, your moans muffled by his pillow as you bite down into it, drool pooling from the sides of your mouth.

he fucked you like a rabid dog, leg propped up beside your perked-up ass, using that leverage to do exactly what you wanted. his bulbous tip drags through your cunt, stretching it out for the rest of his length, veiny skin adding to the friction of it all. his fingers move to your clit, bullying the swollen nub, pinching and circling it, pooling arousal from your body which creates a white ring at the base of his cock, the sight sinful and arousing for your boyfriend.

"toru– hahh– thank you, s'ank you!" your words melt into an almost incoherent babble as your orgasm flares up quickly after being edged for so long. satoru pushes your back down more, arching your body up as he gives your ass a spank, getting you to keep that position. the zing of pain jolts your body, sending your pussy clenching around him more, sucking him into your cervix.

the curve in his dick smushes against your g-spot, sloppily making out with it until you momentarily pass out with a loud cry of his name, bed rocking with the pure force of your orgasm, body going completely limp if it wasn't for the way satoru was holding your hips up.

your squirt completely sends him over the edge as he finishes soon after, painting your wet insides with white-hot cum, filling you up to the brim just like you asked. so much so, it seeps out of your sopping cunt despite his dick still buried inside, his gaze trained on the mix of your essences dripping out.

satoru pulls out his softening cock, the plug of his length no longer keeping everything inside as it bubbles out of your twitching hole which causes him to tch unhappily. 

"i thought you said you wanted me to fill you up with my cum, princess. i guess i better stuff my fingers in you to keep it there, huh?"

#li shen writes - ˚ʚ❣︎ɞ˚ #jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x you smut #satoru x reader #satoru x reader smut #satoru x you #satoru x you smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #gojo x you #gojo x you smut #anime smut

[143-iloveu]

Credit for all photos goes to the original owners. I do not own these images.

MDNI - Not all of my works are NSFW, but I do not want minors interacting with my blog just to be safe. All NSFW content will carry a Mature Community Label. Ageless and empty blogs will promptly be blocked.

Constellations

Idol!Felix X GN!Reader

Tooth-rotting Fluff

Content Warnings - None

Word Count - 548

When your exhausted boyfriend comes home from dance practice and falls asleep in record time... you can't help but admire him.

©️ Please don't repost or translate my works on other platforms.

Fifty-five seconds.

That’s all the time it took for Felix to fall asleep once his head hit the pillow - a new record. You decided to count purely out of curiosity. He’s been heading to dance practice before dawn for the last four days, and Lord knows the boys don’t wrap things up until they are beyond exhausted. He hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep this whole week.

As he drifts farther into dreamland, his tense muscles are finally given a chance to relax. His lips are forming a sleepy little pout, and a trail of drool is forming at the corner of his mouth - his signature face whenever he’s burnt out. He looks so peaceful lost in his dream. Your heart flutters at the sight. You could swear that you found your heaven within Felix. What selfless deed had you performed in your past life to be given the chance to be with such a sweetheart?

You’re quick to take advantage of the opportunity to admire the beautiful man who’s lying before you. His blonde locks are fanned across his forehead, some falling in his eyes. His breathing is slow, chest rising and falling in time. But the thing that always pulls at your heartstrings is seeing the freckles on Felix’s angelic face. It’s as if God painted constellations across his cheeks just for you to cherish.

You lay in bed next to him, attempting to count how many individual freckles you can see.

‘One hundred forty-three,’ you think to yourself.

That’s the farthest you’ve ever gotten.

Suddenly, Felix rolls further into you, burying his face in your chest and wrapping a strong arm around your waist. He holds you tight against him, and you can feel a small smile spreading across his lips. He must have felt you staring and rolled over to hide his face. He’s always such a shy baby whenever he catches you staring at him with hearts in your eyes.

He’s trapped you within his grasp, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You have only a single complaint; you weren’t finished counting. You sigh, accepting that your mission has failed. There’s always tomorrow. Although, you’re certain his freckles are infinite, just like the number of reasons to love him.

“Sweet dreams, my freckled prince,” you whisper.

He hums in response.

“I love you, Yongbokie,” you say gently against his temple before pressing a kiss to it.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he mumbles against your chest.

It feels as if you see God every time he says your name, intoxicated by the sound of it falling from his pouty lips. If his love were a religion, you’d be a devout worshipper. You’ve got him, and he’s got you; until the end of time.

He gives your waist a small squeeze before looking up at you with the cutest sleepy eyes. His lips are puckered, silently asking for another goodnight kiss. You happily oblige. A smile crawls onto his face, and he shifts to get comfortable again. He quickly falls back asleep, a light snore escaping his lips. You lay there truly appreciating the fact that you can call this man yours. Without him, you’d be completely lost. Soon, your exhaustion drags you off to join Felix in dreamland.

A/N: I am so freaking soft for Lixie. I wrote this one-shot in a couple of hours but went back over it hundreds of times since writing it. It has sat in my finished works folder for over a year, and I'm finally ready to let it see the light of day. I hope you love this as much as I do!

-Ashe 🦊🐺

©️ Please don't repost or translate my works on other platforms.

#Spotify #lee felix #bf!felix skz #lee yongbok #bf!lee felix #skz felix #boyfriend!lee felix #bf!skz #bf!stray kids #boyfriend!felix skz #skz #stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #fluff #skz fic #skz fluff #fluffy fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #felix x reader #stray kids felix #boyfriend!stray kids #boyfriend!skz #Lixie Doodle SKZ #lee yongbok felix #tooth-rotting fluff #tooth rotting fluff

[octarinecat]

"His Weakness" collaboration that I made with wonderful and amazingly creative @dark-and-kawaii which wrote for us the story! Don't forget to look at her blog! 💜💚 Soft Raphael | Tender | Comfort | You are his little mouse Who could have fathomed that the devil’s weakness would be so quaint, so profoundly human? Raphael, no matter the mindset of his mood, became so tame with just a tender caress, your fingers dancing lightly across his skin. The flutter of his long lashes, as they closed in a quiet surrender, would always steal your breath away. There lay an unspeakable beauty in his eyes, in his lashes, you swore they were like invisible chains keeping you here at his side.

Your cherished moments were those when he would sit at his desk, writing up some new contract frustratingly, his temperament almost irate. Clad in your silk robe, draped loosely around you, you would approach the devil- your devil, wrapping him in the warmth of an embrace from behind. Your fingers always tracing the hidden strength of his muscles, clothed yet palpable. The way he would abandon his quill, freeing his hand to secure yours against him, a gesture so simple yet so profoundly intimate. Raphael would recline, a soft sigh parting his lips, yielding to the serenity of your touch, the gentle graze of your nails ever so soothing.

As sleep beckoned him, Raphael found himself seeking you out, a secret desperation for your presence whispering through him. Whether you lounged on his plush couch, lay amidst opulent pillows on the floor near his bath, or awaited him in the shared sanctuary of his bed, each time he’d find solace in your embrace. “You know what I enjoy, little mouse,” a quiet command to which you were only too willing to oblige. With his shirt cast aside, your nails sketched visions and dreams upon his back, his head nestled within the warmth of your lap as you continued your gentle ministrations. Each bite into his skin drew forth a deeper shiver of pleasure, painting a genuine smile upon your face. The delight of having such a formidable fiend so exposed, so vulnerable beneath your touch… My how it elicited a soft chuckle from your lips.

And each time you chuckled, the roles would reverse and you found yourself beneath him, the devil straddling your hips, his smirk devilishly charming. "Something amusing, pet?" he would challenge, striving to wield control, to maintain his powerful facade around you. Yet, when you slipped your hand from his grasp and traced your nails delicately along his cheek, he would find himself leaning into your touch, surrendering once more before pressing a kiss into your palm, his sharp teeth nipping at your skin, “My little mouse.”

#raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanart #raphael #raphael x tav #dark and kawaii #art collaboration #art collab #tav #bg3 x reader #𝓚𝓲𝔀𝓲 & 𝓞𝓬𝓽 𝔁𝓸𝔁𝓸

[russellsppttemplates]

Hiii girl 🪻💐! First, nice to meet you xx ! I really love your vibe. Love purple pp 💜! Can I request a small os, please? I saw you wrote monegasque reader and all cute os. Can I ask you (you choose) Lando/Charles/Oscar with inked!reader (like full arms tattoos and stuff) it’s always wag so ✨perfect clean✨, I’m tired to see the clean vibe, I want to be delulu with rockie vibe, feminine tattooed wag, normal wag 😬. Topic could be : new tattoo with driver reaction or handle with people opinion. Thanks 💜🪻 if you’re not feeling to write it, it’s okay too. Have a nice day xx

Note: hiiii! Welcome to this little corner of the Internet I made along with everyone who follows this blog! Thank you - this is supposed to be as much a safe pace for you as it is for me 🫶 I hope you had a good day, too! 🫶

"Someone spotted you when you left the tattoo studio", Oscar said as he stepped inside the apartment after having spent the day in the Center, noticing you were wearing a cardigan even though it was a warm day out, "they posted a picture online".

"So it's not a surprise, is it?", you slumped your shoulders slightly, shrugging the cardigan off.

"I don't know what you got, so it's still a surprise, sweetheart", he smiled, hugging you and being mindful of the wrap around your arm.

Oscar sat on the sofa and allowed you to model the new tattoos for him. Your right arm didn't seem to have any new ink to it, the same three tattoos you had in there still looking beautiful after two years. You like the idea of having one arm slightly more bare than the other so your right arm only had those three on the inner side of it, peeking through whenever you were sleeveless tops. Your left arm was the one where the tattoos were the most noticeable, the ink pieces scattered along the extension of the limb.

"I got this one, it's a bee", you pointed to the inner part of your arm, "it represents my safe hive, the people who are always there for me even if I'm not there in person", you explained. You had moved in with Oscar a couple of months ago and, more than ever, you spent long periods of time away from your family since you travelled to see your boyfriend race as much as you could, "I know I can fly away, but no matter how far and how hard times can be, I'll always be able to come back".

"It looks so pretty, the detail on the wings is so precise", Oscar pointed out.

"I chose the artist at that studio because she is great at doing the fine line tatoos with red ink", you began again, smoothing out through wrap so Oscar could see, "it's a heart with some flowers blooming from it", you pointed to the anatomical drawing, "whenever I set myself to do something, I pour my heart and soul into it, and my intuition hasn't failed me, so it's a little symbol to that".

"The red is somehow both subtle against your skin and so eye catching as well, I think it's the contrast with this one here", Oscar lightly touched an older tattoo you had next to the new one.

"Then I got this one, which I am quite nervous to show you, actually", you admitted, looking at your right wrist and covering it for the mean time, "I know people are really fussy with having a relationship tattooed on you because things can change so fast, but I don't like to think like that - my tattoos represent times of my life and things that happened - and if anything happens and I can't absolutely tolerate it, I can always remove it", you shrugged your shoulders before uncovering it.

Oscar held your hand and inspected it gently - the thin knot was both black and red, symbolising you and Oscar with the different colours but tied together seamlessly.

"I had to get it on my right one because I wear my watch on the left", you mumbled and a little twinge of nervousness could be spotted in your tone given that he hadn't said anything, "do you like it?", you bit the bullet.

"I love it, it's so beautiful, delicate and feminine too", he smiled, kissing around it.

"I also got a lightning bolt here", you twisted your wrist, "this one is just black and it's quite tiny, but it's about all the times I insisted and persisted - my stubbornness too - and how much I value that in people", you smiled.

"You're stubborn? Never would have guessed it", your boyfriend teased, earning your giggles and an eyeroll from you, "the line is so beautiful, she did an amazing job!", he complimented.

"I also got my first neck tattoo", you mumbled, "well, it's the first time I do it there, not sure if that means I'll do another because it hurt a bit more than I expected", you blushed, letting Oscar pull your hair back so he could see it.

The red inked word was aligned with your ear, "I chose the word rare because it's a devotion to myself, my self-love - accepting that I'm not perfect and that that is okay - I love myself the way I am and it's also a lot thanks to you", you tried to keep the tears pooling on your eyes from falling, "you loved me for me, all of me, no matter how many times people liked to point out any of my tattoos or how I don't fit the 'wag role', and I want a reminder of it everyday", you smiled.

Oscar cupped your jaw gently, careful of the sore area as he kissed your lips in a hard, long, searing kiss, joining your foreheads afterwards, "I love you, Y/N, all of you", he whispered.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#oscar piastri blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

[oh-biwan]

[rattling cage] Do you have any Obikin fics that you've enjoyed? Your beautiful art made me slip right down the ship rabbit hole and now I need recs, any rating/theme.

-blushes, clears throat- Hi!

I like a lot of different flavors but, to keep it simple, I'll try to match my recommendations to the theme I'm cultivating on this blog so far.

First of all, I have to mention skyl_tales, they wrote some of the absolute Obikin classics and I love their work, it's very dear to me. If you haven't read anything from them yet, I strongly recommend taking a look at their works and going for anything that captures your attention!

Alright, now my conscience is clear and we can move on:

Armageddon Game by posthumous_vigor

One of my more recent obsessions. Basically, padawan Obi-Wan gets captured by Sith Anakin and then groomed to the Dark Side. What I enjoy about this one is how, even despite the unfavorable cards that Obi-Wan has been dealt, he cleverly chases down his goals... but not without twisting himself in the pursuit as well. He is an active actor in this play and ultimately it is not Anakin who Obi-Wan plays against. And by recommending this I'm recommending the whole series :).

Untouched by objectlesson

This fic has one the most predatory padawan Anakin I've ever seen. This child is just so deliciously fucked up in the head. I... I think I'll just let the author's summary speak for itself: In his darkest moments, Anakin began to think of it as his right. To control Obi-Wan’s sleeping mind, force it into a box, shut it up so he could take what he deserved. Warm skin, slack face, soft snores. And then—then—more.

pleasure, little treasure by objectlesson

A guilty pleasure of mine. And probably a very hard pill to swallow, so careful there. In this one, Vader goes back in time, kidnaps Jedi initiate Obi-Wan, and makes him his apprentice. Yes, it's very dark, a psychological horror, but this author writes with such skill and poetry that I trusted they could make me enjoy reading stuff I'd normally avoid... And I was right. The beauty in the abominable. That's why I love this author, the things they write are so refreshingly daring and so deeply fucked up on so many levels, but served in a way that makes me swallow it all up without question. (oh, I should probably mention that as of now this fic is unfinished, I seldomly pick up unfinished works, but with this one, I have no regrets :))

hold my heart more gently than you do my throat by tennessoui

This is a role reversal omegaverse AU. Master Skywalker has been captured by the Separatists, and behind the Council's back, his omega Padawan sets out to save the master in distress. It is debatable if the master in question needs the saving -noises of massacre in the background- (he did need the saving, in my opinion :)). What I really love about this fic are the horror vibes of little Padawan getting chased down the hallways of the enemy base full of dead bodies, and an unknown monster breathing down his neck, but the only thing on his mind is how to find his master and rescue him. Also, I enjoyed the final twist and how the story unfolded in the end. Satisfying. If omegaverse is your thing I definitely recommend this one.

game plan by treescape

Out of all the recommendations, I consider this to be the tame one. If all of the above made you hesitant to try, this is the one to go with. The summary: Vader keeps capturing Obi-Wan during the Wars. Obi-Wan keeps escaping. It's kind of a thing. I'm recommending this one for the banter. Some of it is just next level. Very amusing to read. Chef's kiss.

#I wanted to answer this one as soon as possible but I was too excited about getting an ask and then started overthinking a little bit :)) #thank you for the ask! #I hope at least one of the recommendations will sound interesting to you but if not... oh well. I'm aware that most of it is... a lot. #to put it mildly XD. So it's obvious but for my peace of mind I have to put down the warning - please read the tags carefully :) #fic rec #obikin #vaderwan #oh.asks #oh.talk

[bruhstation]

Curious question, what exactly is Spencer's (more lore-y/important) role within CSTM besides from (most likely) being the "storywise a well-written villain, irl just a cocky idiot"

Like I mean he did try to scrap/cause harm to Hiro, but any other crimes he's done to affect other characters' arcs or/and big plots?

( -🧀non)

spencer's most notable influence was in the HOTR arc. story-wise, he is supposed to challenge hiro's values and give the older man a metaphorical slap to the face (funnily enough, spencer chasing hiro around the island reminded hiro that he still wanted to live and gave him a reason to carry on despite losing his family and being a patron of the gold dust). spencer's biggest crime is trying to hunt down hiro. he doesn't get any more worse than that, luckily. I've mentioned his other disrespectful as hell actions multiple times in this blog too but atp it's more annoying than insensitive or offensive to gordon and scott

writing sense I wanted to make spencer gordon's antithesis. the basis is that "spencer is what gordon could've turned out had it not been for his loved ones" and I just wrote what I wanted to write! they represent both sides of the gresley family -- gordon grew up with a loving family, spencer grew up in an environment where his relatives would rip each other apart for land and inheritance. gordon lost his family members bit by bit while spencer's still standing (with a few loses). gordon and spencer both heavily struggled with maintaining long-term friendships in their youths, but while gordon eventually hardened his heart and let his short lived connections come and go, spencer messed with people just to feel some sort of relief in his heart. both gordon and spencer are old pompous showoffs, but while gordon strived to become a better person because he realizes that he doesn't want to lose the people important to him anymore, spencer gave up on correcting himself because he thinks he's way too far gone (and being mean is way easier). then hiro came to view

spencer's a fun character. he makes me a bit sad. then I remember that he visits his cousin's funerals for the food and it makes me stifle my laughter like that one ish*wspeed gif

#asks #cheese anon #casa tidmouth #ttte spencer #its funny how hiro is like so unbothered by spencer by the time the hotr arc is over #even thinks of him as a friend and wanted to study him while spencer's like GET AWAY FROM MEEEE (I do like the attention though.) #hiro: I'm so depressed. I lost my family. my house. I don't know anyone and nobody knows me. if only I joined my family #spencer: you should’ve joined your family #hiro in n*co r*bin's voice: I WANT TO LIVE! I WANT TO LIIIIIVEEEE!!!!!! #spencer also warmed up to gordon in act 2 and started to cut out the hater behavior. still a hater though but he's doing sliiiightly better #also he has npd and aspd just like me which is why hes my utmost beloathed character

[lottieurl]

fundamentally i disagree with the notion that Jeff Knows Everything because he read shauna's journals. that implies not only that shauna wrote in detail about Everything that happened during those nineteen months but most crucially it implies shauna wouldn't be an unreliable narrator

#unless i see him say out loud what things he knows shauna did specifically and how she felt about it i just do not believe he Knows #his reaction when shauna took that gun last ep? his dumbass idea that shauna just wants an adventurous husband? #that man is entirely unaware #idk what and HOW shauna wrote in her diary but she's like ten hundred layers of repression and fucked up urges #just imagining her trying to write her lil fucked up diary out there is breaking my brain #yellowjackets spoilers #i guess for the gun thing mention in the tags #i'll eat my words if i'm wrong but i do not think Jeff Knows Everything. jeff has some idea #based on whatever distorted version of events he reads abt in shauna's diary #but yeah no i do not think this man Knows there i said it #yellowjackets blogging

[puppyeared]

Thinking about my old pkmn ask blog

#I’m not really active in the community anymore but more because I grew away from it #I think about coming back a lot but Im not really sure what id do lol. I mean I think my storytelling and writing #skills have somewhat improved. but i still really really suck at making endings #although maybe I could make it like something that resolves the main problem and then just open for any interactions.. #….fuck. I’m actually considering it now. I love impulsiveness 🧍 #ugh but the other problem was that I would slowly stop updating as the dopamine slowed down and then just abandoned it altogether #multiple times in fact. since I’m the one making the content and not consuming it eeeuuhhgggghuhuhhhhhhh #this lil guy was supposed to have a story around his estranged family and his own problem with identity. I think I could still pick it up #i suck at writing edgy aloof dialogue so it always felt a little stilted or off when I wrote his dialogue. but I love him #myart #my art #oc #pokemon ask blog #pokeask #moss eevee #pokemon

[realbeefman]

some of y’all clearly don't understand what it's like to avert your eyes when your friend starts changing in front of you and your heart starts pounding in your chest and you could say something, SHOULD say something, tell her to change her clothes in a different room and admit to this freakish attraction that you know she doesn't feel, ruin the friendship by coloring every moment of casual intimacy with the knowledge that you are a pervert who wants more, that you are a threat. you don’t say anything. and you look up and watch the pale expanse of her lower back from the corner of your eye as she pulls on a white blouse, and something lurches in your stomach and you laugh at the joke she just told even though you weren’t really listening to the set-up. later on you will feel sick and guilty and cry alone in a bed that feels empty, but for just a moment, you are laughing with a beautiful girl who loves you, and it doesn’t matter if it’s wrong

#this is an old work i posted this on tik tok ages ago and got flamed for being creepy. which i am but still #this is practically peachbeck fanfiction based on my own experiences as a tiny baby lesbian. #not a lesbian anymore due to being a “man” and metrosexual in a city boy way but still relevant context. #as in i wrote this at a point when i identified as a woman and was very intentionally writing about being a woman feeling like this. yk? #peach salinger #peachbeck #you #you tv series #you tv #you 2018 #you netflix #feel like this needs a cw but im not sure what… #cw creepery??? cw pervy behavior??? no clue #desire feels poisonous etc etc #hilson #tagging as hilson bc this is very hilson-core to me…. i think they change in the lockers together tooo frequently #them getting they dicks out in the urinals together energy #mostly hilson for me filing caninet of a blog purposes though apologies for cluttering the tag with unrelateds #personal #the gay experience

[mattodore]

found out while putting together matthias's oc page that his name has the exact same etymology and meaning as theo's name...

i’m sure this is information matthias is very normal about…

#theo is in fact a gift from god so jot that down ! #river dipping #i've been throwing myself into oc stuff bc i'm not doing hot mentally which is... tbh when i do my best writing 😭 #none of this is new tho i wrote the bios and 'at a glance' intros months and months ago when i first made an oc page #which is why i do plan on rewriting them but for now i'm leaving them like this... so i guess the echthroi page is done? #obviously echthroi has more characters than this but i haven't taken new screenshots of everyone yet... #i put the gray cas bg back in my game a few days ago only to completely forget i wanted to take new headshots for the oc page 😭 #like these are just placeholders... i want the backgrounds to match the oc page. oh... or maybe i could just do transparent pics? #i think i remember vyx made a post abt how to do that... will look into that when i open the game again. rn i'm at my keyboard 🧑‍💻 #like i am writing new things! started a google doc for theo yesterday and have been writing on it here and there since then #i've already cried in there... lmaooo. i like oc pages for sure but i think a huge google doc is what i really need to keep track of things #i drop so much lore in tags on here and it's like! river write that down somewhere else or you'll lose it 😭 #like i fr have never actually written down any of the info i've shared on here. i've just had all this oc knowledge stored in my brain. #so i went through and copied over a tonnn of tags and posts i've made into google docs but i just know i'm missing things i've probably #said in the tags of their core tagged posts... 🧍 if my blog didn't have so many posts i'd have an easier time going through it but 🤷 #and on top of that i've been making a bunch of posts about theo and matthias on my main acc. which is like 🧍 well great now there's more #i'm gonna lose track of...... i fr have gottt to get into the habit of actually putting things down in theo's google doc!!! #i'm just trying to figure out the best way to format it all but i've downloaded a few templates that i've been messing with. #...anyway. if it isn't obvious i'm trying to get back to posting on here. i'm opening my inbox now with the intent to just. #sit here in my inbox until i can get myself to reply. lads... avpd is actually so torturous i'm not kidding. #i feel like i'm dying trying to get myself to interact with people sometimes even despite how badly i want!!!! to interact!!! #theo and me and our avoidant trauma responses holding hands and skipping around together

[hum--hallelujah]

like a sledgehammer to a disco ball - 3.9k words, Fun Ghoul angst and protective Kobra Kid

Kobra jerks awake at the first creak of the floor. The only person who has any right to be in his room at night knows better than to step where the floor creaks. Instinct takes over and he's holding his blaster at body height by the time his brain and eyes are awake enough to see through the dark.

"It's me, it's me, it's me," Ghoul stammers, holding his hands defensively in the air. Only, it sounds more like "'smee," because of the way Ghoul is slurring. And he's bleeding.

Kobra drops the blaster as soon as he realizes that the dark smear across Ghoul's face is blood. "What the hell, man," he hisses, groping in the dark for a light with one hand and trying to pat Ghoul down to make sure he's not like, actively dying, with the other. He could be blackout drunk or he could have gone out alone like he does sometimes and any number of things could have happened. The cold metal of an old flashlight meets his fingers and he flicks it on, shining the dim light over Ghoul.

"I did something stupid," Ghoul says. Only, it comes out as "Uh did su'hn stooid," wavering slightly, because the entire right side of Ghoul's face, from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone, is sliced open. There's a horrific flap of flesh hanging loose that's supposed to be connected to the rest of his face. That's where the blood staining his face and clothes and hands is coming from, and why when he speaks, it sounds wrong.

"Holy shit," Kobra whispers, feeling cold Zone night air sting his eyes because they're open so wide. "Okay. Okay, what happened?" He holds Ghoul carefully by one arm, feels the way he's shaking. He's always shaking, except when he's got his hands in a bomb. This is worse than normal though. This is so much worse than anything Kobra's ever seen.

Ghoul shrugs, waves his hands vaguely and wildly. Kobra hisses a sharp breath through his teeth, frantically runs a hand through his hair. "Okay," He says again. "I'm gonna get-" He needs Jet, de facto medic, he needs Party, needs his brother-

"No," Ghoul says sharply, and that at least is completely clear. His eyes are wild from what Kobra can see in the dark. If human eyes could glow, his would. He grips Kobra's arms. "Please don't," he mumbles around the gruesome injury. His voice is high and frantic, and it has to hurt to talk. "Just you."

Kobra freezes. There's a slowly building feeling of dread, growing stronger by the moment. He pulls Ghoul off him, holds him by the wrists. "Okay. Just me," he promises, and feels sick about it. "Just me."

Ghoul noticeably relaxes, though he's still trembling head to toe, and lets Kobra drag him across the diner in near-silence aside from the occasional seemingly involuntary whimper on Ghoul's part, into the single-stall bathroom with a barely working lightbulb. Somehow, they make it past the front room where Party sleeps without waking him, much as Kobra wants to let his brother take care of this. He's practically trembling at how badly he wants Pois right now.

There's a medical kit in the cabinet that Kobra pulls out immediately. He knows how to handle this, physically speaking. It's whatever else, the shit he doesn't know and is scared to find out, like how this freaking happened, that makes him nervous. Ghoul stands in the flickering light like he doesn't know what to do.

"Sit the fuck down," Kobra snaps nervously, gesturing to the toilet lid. Ghoul does. Kobra pulls a dubiously clean rag from the cabinet and eyes it. It scares him to see Ghoul like this. Usually if he's scared, he fights. He hisses and spits and claws at whoever comes near him. More often than not, that's Kobra. But this, the wide-eyed jittering, is a whole other animal.

"This whole thing is gonna suck," he says stiffly. Ghoul nods. With a little more light, Kobra can see the thick, shiny blood streaming from the wound through his cheek. It isn't enough that Kobra's afraid Ghoul will bleed out, but the cut is so long and clear through and absolutely grotesque. He crouches down in front of where Ghoul is sitting, sideways on the toilet, and he can't tell if Ghoul is looking at him or through him, almost as if he's the ghost.

In a quick motion that startles both of them, probably, Kobra grabs the back of Ghoul's head with one hand and presses the rag to the seeping wound with the other. Ghoul's eyes go even wider and even greener, and what starts out as a shout of pain from him turns into a choked keening sound. Hearing it feels like being stabbed.

"What happened?" Asks Kobra again, when he's convinced that the bleeding has slowed enough to try and actually deal with this thing. He twists the handle on the faucet on and off, on and off, enough times that the ancient water pump starts up and clean water gurgles into the sink. He cleans the rag that way, then wets it and wrings it out before shutting the water off.

Ghoul's shoulders rise and fall in short, panicky breaths. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm sorry. I'm- I didn't think, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he continues babbling like that before going silent again aside from the sharp sounds of his breathing.

In a testament to Kobra's selfishness, his biggest worry is that Ghoul took his motorbike out for a spin and crashed it. He can't think of what could have caused something like this. He has visions of his bike sliding out on a turn, crumbled metal and Ghoul's body flying through the air. But if that had happened he'd be hurt other than this. If that had happened he might be dead.

"Yo," he says quietly. "Chill. Just tell me what happened." He presses the now-damp rag to Ghoul's face, trying to ignore just how grotesque the wound really is. Maybe because it's fresh, maybe because of the fear, but somehow it's worse than the space where Jet's other eye used to be. Kobra never wanted to see an injury of that level on another person again in his life, let alone someone he cares about.

Ghoul flinches away, but Kobra shoots him a look and it must process somehow, because he stills and lets Kobra clean the already drying blood away from the edges of the wound with barely a whine. "It was stupid," he repeats, his voice shaking as much as it's slurring. "I don't know why I did it, Kid."

Something about the way he says that, voice small and wavering, sends a chill down Kobra's throat. Sudden understanding dawns on him. The blood on Ghoul's hands. He's not injured anywhere else. "You did that to yourself?" Kobra asks hoarsely.

Ghoul's eyes snap onto his and the rest of the color drains from his face. Kobra thinks he's going to pass out for a second, but he doesn't. He pulls as far away as he can, scrabbling awkwardly against the cold tiles and porcelain of the bathroom. "I don't know what I though, I was stupid, I don't- Kobra," he whines, with enough animalistic despair that Kobra wants suddenly to burst into tears, if he weren't so utterly stunned.

"Ghoul, calm down, I've gotta stitch it still," he says on autopilot. "Cool your engine, man."

Maybe it's the practicality of the thing that makes Ghoul momentarily stop panicking. "I'm sorry," he says again, tears welling in his eyes that he then blinks away half-frantically. Kobra's never heard him apologize for anything before tonight. He never wants to hear it again.

"It's okay, man. I've got you." He replies. If his own voice is shaking now, too, no the hell it isn't. "Come on, you have to let me..." he trails off, eyes wide. "Ghoul, why..." Then he shakes his head. He can't think about that now. He needs to disinfect the wound and stitch it up. And it's going to hurt Ghoul really, really badly.

He reaches behind him, grabs at the bottle of alcohol. This stuff is rare out in the Zones. They try to use it as little as possible. Only in emergencies. This is enough of an emergency, though. This is a fucking crisis.

He pours the bare minimum of the alcohol onto another piece of cloth, feels the cold soak in. Ghoul watches every move with jerking, stilted intensity. Kobra looks up at him from where he's now kneeling on the cold tile. He puts a hand behind Ghoul's head again. "This is going to hurt," he warns. They've nearly gouged each other's eyes out before, yet suddenly Kobra feels like he's going to be sick at the thought of causing Ghoul any more pain. Ghoul shuts his eyes in preparation.

Ghoul still nearly screams when Kobra dabs the alcohol over his wound. Kobra can see it in the way he holds his breath, the spring-tight tension in Ghoul's entire body. The only noise he makes is a quiet, drawn out whine, though. When a tear streaks down his cheekbone, Kobra catches it before a drop of salt can enter the wound.

"'Kay," he says in a ragged whisper. "That's done. Now I have to-" he gestures like he's sewing. Ghoul's eyes pop open to see what he's saying and he visibly forces himself to breathe again.

"'Kay," Ghoul says back in an equally torn up voice.

It only takes Kobra three tries to thread a needle. Medical supplies of any type are hard to come by, a whole new kind of commodity, but this stash has been here for as long as he can remember, just in case. Blaster burns, the most common injuries amongst 'Joys, come pre-cauterized. He's rarely had to sew sutures before.

Ghoul flinches back when the tip of the needle first touches the edge of his torn skin, and Kobra pauses. "Hold still," he grumbles, more out of familiar sniping than any real frustration at this point. He keeps his hand in Ghoul's hair the entire time he sews.

The feeling of a needle piercing flesh is horrible. The fact that it's his friend, someone he'd give his life for before seeing them hurt, is even worse. Kobra wants to fucking throatpunch whoever did this to Ghoul, or better, do the same thing to them, before he remembers with a sinking feeling in his stomach that Ghoul did this to himself.

He ties off the suture just barely keeping his hands from shaking. He doesn't know how Ghoul does this with bombs. Ghoul flinches again, violently, when Kobra cuts the excess line, and Kobra has to jerk back to keep from catching a flailing, uncoordinated fist in the face.

"Hey," he snaps. "Ghoul!"

Ghoul slips off the toilet lid and onto the floor almost as if he intended it but halfway as an accident and immediately curls in on himself. He pulls his knees to his chest and curls his arms around his head and Kobra can hear him hyperventilating. Kobra fucking freezes. He's used to fighting and wrestling and knee-jerk reactions that wind up with someone sporting a black eye. He is terrified right now. And there's still Ghoul's blood on his hands, too.

"Ghoul..." He cautiously reaches out, puts a hand on Ghoul's leg. Ghoul twitches, lets out a hiccupy sound that takes a moment to register in Kobra's mind as a sob. Ghoul, chaos loving, cackling Ghoul, is crying. And not just a single tear, now, his whole body is shuddering with the force of how hard he's crying. Kobra's heart is pounding with how hard he does not know what's happening, but he grips Ghoul's arm and lightly shakes him. "Hey, I'm still here, man."

Ghoul makes that keening whine again and Kobra thinks at first that he's going to pull away at best, or throw a real punch at worst. They fight enough, for any and no reason at all, that he expects it now. That's their normal. This isn't.

Ghoul scrambles to his knees, his hands finding the front of Kobra's shirt. This restroom is small, they're already in close quarters. But maybe unintentionally, maybe just scrabbling for a little purchase on anything, Ghoul winds up grabbing onto Kobra. And Kobra has always had a hard time letting anything go.

Ghoul's forehead crashes into his shoulder and Kobra instinctively puts his hands up, grabs back onto Ghoul in return. Ghoul's usual shaking is familiar to him, but the repressed wracking sobs aren't. Kobra clutches desperately around Ghoul's back, like he could hold together what he's just sewn up, like if he keeps Ghoul close enough he can't shake into pieces. No one should be able to break Ghoul. Not even Ghoul himself.

The edges of the cabinet dig into Kobra's back, but he ignores it. Ghoul is folding in on himself, making himself as small as he can against Kobra, and Kobra doesn't fucking know what to do. He's never seen Ghoul cry like this. He's never seen anyone cry like this.

"It hurts," cries Ghoul suddenly.

"I know," Kobra says, before he realizes that crying like this is probably making everything worse, that he'd worried about salt in the wound a minute before for this exact reason. He can't imagine the pain Ghoul is probably in.

"It didn't hurt at first," Ghoul mumbles, then chokes on a sob. "It didn't hurt when I started. And then it did."

Kobra wants to ask again, why? But he won't get anything intelligible. There's a part of him that doesn't want to know. He's terrified of knowing the truth. Instead, he threads his fingers through Ghoul's hair again and just repeats, "I know. I know."

A few minutes pass in speedy, spiraling silence. The only sound between them is their shared too-fast breathing.

"I can't," stammers Ghoul finally, after his cries have tapered out into raspy gasps. "I can't turn it on or off."

"Huh?" Is all Kobra can think to say. "Ghoul, you're not making sense, nothing about this makes sense," he snips, too quick and too tense. He's so beyond his depth. He wants Jet or Party to come help but he can't have it his way because he promised. He promised Ghoul. He wants to hit something. A wall, just to feel the impact. To imagine he's hitting whatever it is that hurt his friend so badly he hurt himself.

Ghoul sniffs. All Kobra can see of him is the top of his head and the cheek with the stitches. The wound is swollen and red and is going to leave a horrific scar. Kobra clenches his fist tighter behind Ghoul's back. "When I'm having fun or not," Ghoul says. "I can't. I am or I'm not. But."

"But what?" For fuck's sake, Kobra just wants to understand. He can read Ghoul like a book from cover to cover most times, and it scares him that he's so lost right now.

"It isn't good enough," he mumbles. "It's... It's in my fuckin' name, Kid, if I can't live up to that what am I?"

Kobra stares, wide-eyed, at the wall across from him. Something clicks. The clean cut through Ghoul's face, clearly from a recently sharpened knife, clearly intentional, reached from the corner of his lips almost to his ear. "Oh fuck no," he whispers. "Hell no. What the fuck. You're not-" He feels himself shaking suddenly, with restrained searing hot anger. Ghoul cut his head open, mutilated himself, to make himself permanently grin. "You're not fucking beholden to your fucking name," Kobra says. He never swears this much, only in his own mind. He's running out of words. "Fuck," he says, with feeling.

Ghoul shudders again. "I'm fuckin insane, aren't I?" He asks with sudden clarity.

It's exactly what Kobra had been thinking, for once completely unable to figure out Ghoul's mind, but he can't just say that. He can't just say that he's terrified because nothing makes sense and he's never going to freaking leave Ghoul alone again because this is all completely unhinged on so many levels that he can't even begin to sort through it. He can't say anything. He hopes Ghoul is sane enough to understand that, at least.

He just holds his friend tighter. He wants his brother more than anything right now, wants Party to come and take this weight out of his hands, but a part of him knows that even if he did, he wouldn't be able to let go of Ghoul. Why didn't Ghoul want anyone else but him? Why, after pretty much imprinting on Party like a feral kitten when they'd first met, to the point that sometimes Kobra thinks bitterly than Ghoul might know Party better than his own brother does, did he come to him? Why did he do any of this?

If a few tears of his own drip down Kobra's nose and land in Ghoul's tangled hair, no the hell they don't. He's never seen anyone go to pieces like this and he's struck dumb at the fact that it's literal. Very, very literally, Ghoul has gone to pieces. Taken a knife, that's probably still lying on the floor of his abandoned-office bedroom, and cut a line through his own cheek just so others might see a smile there.

There's crazy in his veins. Acid, maybe. And Kobra's always known that even if Party recognized it first. Watching your whole family die, failing to save your baby sibling, doesn't leave a person without any scars. Only, now, the scar is far too visible. Kobra's always known that Ghoul is more wild than any of them. Feral, unpredictable. He was raised by a pair of Killjoys who named themselves Hoot and Holler, and the thing is, a ghoul is just a ghost, and ghosts wail too. He should have known.

"I should've known," he says out loud, the first words in a while. He knows Ghoul so well. Better than he knows himself. He should have known something was wrong. He should never have left him alone. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He can't even blink. He stares hard at the opposite wall and tries not to scream.

Ghoul shakes his head against Kobra's shoulder and winces. "Nuh-uh," he mumbles. "I'm crazy, man. I'm insane." The fuzzy way it sounds around the stitches and the swelling just seems like proof. Just last night Ghoul's cheek was smooth and soft as he grinned across a table in triumph after winning a card game. How is it that that was just a few hours ago? He shudders again. "I'm scared," he says more quietly.

"Me too," Kobra says. As soon as the sun comes up he thinks he's going to storm out into the desert and find something, anything to beat up. Even a freakin cactus would do at this point. He doesn't know how he's going to explain this to Pois or Jet but he knows that much. He's gonna shake so hard he blows up, like a can of soda, unless he hits something. "I fucking hate you," he snaps suddenly.

Ghoul starts to flinch away, but Kobra doesn't let him. In fact, he curls tighter around him without even knowing why. "What the hell," Ghoul rasps.

Kobra hisses through his teeth. Speaking of living up to names. He fucking hates anyone who hurts his friends. But he can't say it. Hard as he tries, in the one moment of clarity about his own mind that he has, he can't speak.

"I fucking hate me, too," Ghoul says finally. The single dusty lightbulb above them flickers. If it goes out, they'll be in total darkness. Kobra thinks one or both of them might have a wicked eyeshine by now. The desert makes you wild. For some people, they're born that way.

"I think you're my best friend," Kobra finally manages to whisper. It isn't exactly what he was going for. It's not something he would ever say if he had thought of it before it popped out of his mouth. But Ghoul gets the point. Of course he does. Ghoul always gets his sharp edges, snakebite teeth and misspoken definitions and all.

"I think you're mine," Ghoul says back. "I'm-"

Kobra smacks the back of his head, like this is in any way normal, like they aren't collapsed on a dim bathroom floor in the middle of the night or the early hours of the morning and like one of them isn't mutilated for life by his own hand. Like this isn't the worst thing they've ever gone through together. "If you say you're sorry again, I'll cut you myself."

It's rough, and it's torn up and pained and choked, but Ghoul laughs. Just a short bark of laughter, hardly like the dry, rasping cackle that Kobra knows so well. It sounds like agony but it also sounds like the sun coming up. Kobra makes a noise in the back of his throat, more whine than laugh, but he's so close to blowing up that it's as good as it gets. He wants to freaking die if that would keep Ghoul in one piece.

Ghoul shifts in Kobra's arms and pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye. He clumsily wipes at the tears and snot all over his face and Kobra has to snap a hand out to catch his wrist before he unthinkingly swipes at the fresh wound and stitches. "Kobra," Ghoul says, shivering in the dark. The sun won't take long to come up once it starts but until it does, the Zones are freezing. "Kobra."

"Yeah, man, I'm still right here." Kobra forces himself to look Ghoul in the eyes and not the stitches. The wound takes up so much of his face. It's all Kobra can see when he looks at Ghoul, his best friend's mutilated mouth, sliced open by his own hand. Kobra flinches just imagining it. He focuses instead on Ghoul's green eyes, boring holes into his head with the desperate pleading in them. "I'm still right here," Kobra repeats, quieter. Reminding himself, too.

Ghoul doesn't blink. Kobra doesn't blink. Their eyes reflect the dim light back at each other. This is what wild animals must feel for each other. Terror. Uncertainty. Just themselves, each other, and whatever comes. Ghoul licks his lips, tongue flicking briefly, visibly, to the corner of his mouth that he cut open. "Don't let me-" Ghoul starts and then falters. "You gotta make sure," he says. "Don't let me- do stupid shit like this, don't let me go crazy again, Kobra, please."

Kobra stares back at him, matching Ghoul's trembling desperation. He's known Ghoul since the day their crew found him, shell shocked between the shelves of an empty gas station with the bodies of his parents and previous crew around him. Perpetually shaking hands and feral bared teeth, animal eyeshine. No one can match Ghoul for determination, and no one knows Kobra as well as he does. Even if Ghoul does know his brother better than him, the same is true in reverse.

Kobra Kid has a hard fucking time ever letting go of anything once he's got it. Fun Ghoul holds on too loosely. They're both terrified. What a pair they make. But when Kobra Kid makes a promise, he means it. He grabs the ends of Ghoul's hair and pulls, not too hard, but hard enough. That's their normal. Play fighting and hair pulling, and they both know it's a kind of language for when they can't speak. "Okay," he says, and because it's a promise, he repeats it. "Okay."

#uhhhh anyway. come to killjoys world with me #I keep calling these two my mongoose and snake #they take out their worst on each other but at the same time it's like they were *made* for each other #also a few notes in the tags: kobra repeats himself a lot. that's intentional. it's because I do it irl #quite honestly at this point I might almost have a stutter?? #anyway also there's a TON of super vague song references in here. I almost called this ''a scar away from falling apart'' #but I couldn't stop thinking about that one boygenius song while I wrote this. would you still love me if it turns out I'm insane? #also the two(2) minor refs to famous last words!!!! #and very very loosely the ''what a pair they make'' line is bc what a catch donnie came up on my playlist right then #also this is WAY more swearing than I would usually write but... it just felt right? like it helped the flow?? and fit the characters? idk #ANYWHOMST. random danger days precanon fic. the girl isn't here yet. #she speaks! #HMMM do I need a writing tag for this blog? #she writes! #danger days #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #kobra kid #fun ghoul #K I think I've got it covered #wait trigger tags #self-harm tw #self mutilation tw

[oldmanenjoyer]

Gimmi something angsty like I’ve been digging for that pt wise and I can’t find SQUAT

It started off somewhat normal, if you could call it that.

Stress over debt and bills and such had led to a bit of an episode for Peppino. You did your best to sit through it with him, giving him water and rubbing his back as you tried to get him to breathe with you. But then it wasn't so normal.

Suddenly, he was gripping his chest, dizzy and hardly able to sit up straight, much less stand. It scared you, so bad. You practically dragged the man onto his feet, rushing out to your car to drive him to the hospital (an ambulance bill would only send him into a worse fit, you were sure).

As you drive, Peppino did his best to reassure you through the pain in his chest and the breathlessness in his lungs. Sure, he was scared too, shitless even! But he saw you struggling not to cry while you were driving and suddenly he wanted to push all his worries aside to tend to you.

It wasn't possible, but he did squeeze your hand and smile at you, if strained. And it kinda helped. A little.

You weren't straight up sobbing when you both arrived at the hospital, at least.

The nurses didn't let you follow him into the examination rooms. You had to wait in the lobby with everyone else, other anxious people awaiting news of their loved ones. They watched you pace a hole into the tiles, a few even joined you, if only to help ease their own stress.

Did it help? Not for you, but the others, maybe.

When a nurse finally called your name, you raced after her. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest and also not beating at all. Worst case scenarios flew through your head, horror stories of heart attacks and the suffering left in their wake.

You fretted, hardly able to feel the hand of the nurse on your shoulder, and wondered how Peppino was going to continue if this was well and truly something dangerous. It made you feel dizzy to think about. He didn’t deserve that! Not after everything! And-

“Hey,” the nurse called, and you snapped back into reality, “it’s okay. It wasn’t a heart attack.”

It took a moment for the words to process. But once they did, a tidal wave of relief flooded your body. Tears streaked down your cheeks, and you sobbed to her, so grateful to her as though she was the one who saved Peppino from a nonexistent heart attack.

She chuckled, patting your shoulder as she led you along. “It’s alright. It was just a pretty severe panic attack. He was hyperventilating, and that’s what cause all the symptoms. You did right bringing him here, though. He could’ve fainted and hurt himself pretty bad if he was alone.”

You nodded along. “How is he?”

“He’s recovered. We’ve given him some meds to help him relax, but I’d look into professional help for the future.” She passed you a card with various names scribbled on it. “It could help prevent panic attacks like these, or at least make them less severe.”

You nodded again and pocketed the note. That would be dealt with later. For now, all you wanted to do was see Peppino and smother him in kisses.

The room he was in was dimly lit. Peppino himself was laid out on a bed, eyes closed and breathing slow. A heart monitor next to him beeped quietly not to disturb the tranquil atmosphere.

“He’s been asking for you a bunch.” The nurse whispered to you, as you stood and just took in the sight of him alive and well. “The whole time, really. He wanted you to be there very badly, but sadly he can’t really hold your hand while we’re doing tests.”

You walked forward, another vague nod of your head all you replied with. Your heart ached to think he wanted you there as much as you wanted to be there for him, but such wasn’t the thing to dwell on. Instead, you sat in the chair already pulled up to his bedside and picked up the hand connected to an IV.

“Peppino.” You called, voice hushed and low. He sighed, but turned towards you, brows furrowing. “You asleep, hon?”

It took a moment, but Peppino blinked his eyes open. He focused on you, and you smiled. He smiled too, big and goofy and no doubt pleased to see you.

“Hey,” you said, squeezing his hand, “welcome back.”

He murmured some stuff in Italian from deep in his chest. It was hard to hear, so you just leaned in and peppered the side of his face in kisses. He practically purred.

“Ti amo.” He sighed, and that you understood.

“I love you.” You whispered back.

And you continued to kiss on him until the nurse finally told you it was time to go.

#don't tempt me pal i am an angst fiend you should see my other writing blog #i'll write practically anything angsty sans cheating #peppino spaghetti x reader #peppino x reader #pizza tower x reader #be aware this probably isn’t proper hospital procedure I just wrote what felt right

[felizusnavidad]

Hi so i only recently got into hamilton and really liked lmm in it but ive been seeing a lot of pjo fans talking about not wanting him as hermes and you are a lmm expert so i wondered if you knew why people are hating on him for being casted in pjo?

first of all, i am actually flattered that you called me an expert (i am literally not but i do know a lot, i observe, i go through lmm tag every day, i get mad when i see people talk shit about him, basically i'm super loud about my love for this guy so there's that some call it dedication, i call it obsession lol).

there are a lot of reasons actually but all of them are just so silly to me. for example, some people say he is a bad actor (if hamilton is not enough for you, please go watch his dark materials, he is excellent and i will fight). others say he can't sing (he can, he may not have the most incredible vocals ever, not like most broadway stars and i know a lot of people compare him with the best singers out there, but it doesn't mean he can't sing, also, he is much better now than he used to be years ago, for example i'd recommend listening to vivo soundtrack, especially keep the beat or one more song, i mean EXCUSE ME BUT MY MAN CAN SING). another reason: some people say he is annoying because he puts raps everywhere. ok, and? he is a great rapper, i'll say more: he is also a freestyle rapper, very talented indeed (i recommend checking literally any freestyle love supreme video on youtube or you can just go through my fls tag here. making up rhymes on the spot? pretty insane if you ask me). there is also a group of people who think he is cringe, his rhymes are cringe, some of his songs are not good, etc etc (i bet those people can write better songs). i think he is one of the greatest composers of our generation and i will, of course, fight (haters, please shut the fuck up about the scuttlebutt, this song was supposed to be annoying, you just don't get it apparently? same with my own drum actually. can we just stop pretending that he is talentless because of those songs you guys literally have no taste and you hate fun and also shut tf up). oh, and also, people these days very often say he is everywhere and it's annoying (this is literally his job but whatever). and my all-time favourite: some people are mad that he was playing hamilton because they think he didn't deserve it (he literally wrote the whole thing but ok). one more thing: i have never read pjo, i literally just started reading it only because of lin, so i know nothing about hermes, but personally i really hope he will sing/rap, just because i want to see them all suffer.

there were also other controversial stuff (with in the heights, hamilton and puerto rico) but we are not going to discuss it on my blog, sorry (mostly because i have my own opinion about it and i know i will get a lot of hate for speaking my mind). one thing i can say is that nobody's perfect, we all make mistakes sometimes and i will always fight for him, no matter what.

#thank you for this ask #i really love talking about him and it always makes me super happy to know there are others who love him like i do #please feel free to visit my blog whenever you want to #it's a safe space for lin's fans #will i get hate for it? idk maybe #still i'm gonna tag it so others can find it #lin manuel miranda #lmm #anon #i saved every letter you wrote me* #(i am literally drunk and writing essays about lmm on christmas eve what tf is wrong with me)

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Random Miles and Wiles headcanon-

Our Miles from Earth-1610 is a tender head, meaning he refuses to do anything with his head (Aside for maintenance because with his distaste for having his hair being yanked, you better believe he is making sure his hair isn't dirty or knotted.)

He doesn't like people he isn't familiar doing anything to his hair, Rio had a big battle when he was a child and trying to get a hairdresser Miles wouldn't try to run away from.

On the other hand Miles from Earth-42 doesn't have this problem, and since he doesn't he experiments more with his hair and do more things with it.

And 42! Miles will be annoying 1610! Miles for this, "Are you telling me you can handle being thrown into a wall, but a couple of braids are too much to you? Seriously?" and "Fine, you are a baby, whatever- but not even a satin pillowcase? Aren't you from the dimension without money problems?"

(Keep in mind my ideal relationship between these two is bickering siblings, with 42! Miles liking to be a little shit because he thinks 1610! Miles is a goody two shoes and likes to annoy him over anything and everything.)

#atsv #across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles g morales #prowler! miles #earth 42 #also if anything I wrote about this post is inaccurate or offensive please tell me so #I am not black and my hair is pretty flat so this is what I learned after seeing a lot of black creators on tiktok #and some blogs and posts I read while writing for my fics

[inflammatory]

#From last year Juneish I think If you ask me not good but I cant say shit about my past self CAUSE #I HAVENT WRITTEN ANYTHINGGGG IN MONTHS AND MONTHS AND MONTHS #Certainly like nothing of note in 2024 #in general something in my brain has shifted since the last time I wrote #every word feels perfectly ordinary and combinations only feel clever and not like a living thing so I can’t write anything I like #I feel journalistic #I feel like I’m way more comfortable in my personal prose/article style from spamming letterboxd reviews #and blogging LOLLLLL #plus songwriting which requires a lot of compromise for meter and rhyme and rhythm for me to like it #but the poetry muscle isn’t there anymore #where before there were pictures the veil has torn and I see them for what they are #which is #words and words only

[willowser]

the storm has picked up, by the time you see him.

early summer is torn by lightning, thunder that rattles the bones in your chest until you're wide awake with dread settling in your belly. you know the feeling intimately, can place it as soon as your eyes open; you're not sure what you're afraid of or why it's made you clammy — but it has.

through the slats of your wooden blinds, you watch the sky as it brightens and dies: in the dark, it's an open void, big and menacing and spitting out a downpour that seems unending, and then you're granted a flash of light, thin and tall and painful to witness.

you think you'll never understand gojo satoru. maybe once you thought you did, but he's always been five steps out of reach. on a separate plane entirely. if anyone could explain the mystery of him, it would be—

lightning strikes; out in the courtyard, contrasted against the night. the silence left behind is overwhelming.

you don't bother with shoes, because you don't want to train with damp socks in the morning and you're sure they'll still be soaked, after a storm like this. instead, you hurry out in a robe too expensive for this occasion; maybe that will elevate you somehow, you think, enough to be worthy of whatever he hides behind that blindfold.

you suspect he can hear you coming, especially after you nearly slip on the wet stone and then again on the slick grass, but he's without a teasing remark, this time. the dread returns, given a weight that matches your grief and his.

it's hard to blink up at him, into the rain. he's so blinding, even now: a flash across the sky, piercing through the night. gojo is without his mask and his hair is sopping, stuck to his forehead and down to his cheeks, and even his eyelashes are heavy from the storm. this is clearest you've ever seen him, with his sharp, smooth face, his defined brows and the straight line of his usually wide and open mouth.

you don't recognize him, like this. but how could you?

there's a cigarette between his lips, unlit and folding against the rain. plastic crinkles between you, and you see it there, crushed beneath the expanse of his big hand: a half-empty carton, the brand shoko smokes. the ones she shared with—

"satoru?" you ask, though the robe doesn't help. you feel like a beggar, then, as he keeps his monsoon eyes on the bare night ahead of him. "you're going to get sick, you should come inside."

it's a pathetic thing to say, to the immortal. he's too smart for this, to fall for your feeble bait; in response, you get nothing but another rattle beneath your skull. your teeth chatter and your cheeks grow wet, hot with tears you thought you'd drained dry.

stupidly, you think, if only suguru were here. you could ask how to ascend to the level they're both on, how to slip past the defenses of a god. you are still five steps behind, but now satoru stands ahead, facing the void. alone.

you squeeze your eyes shut against a tidal wave of sorrow, salty with guilt at the very feeling. suguru was your friend, you think, drowning, he was your friend and you loved him, too. whatever you're mourning isn't him anymore and you know that, you do, but—

"satoru, please," you rest your forehead gently against his arm, as if you could soak up his own storm. "please come inside before—"

"if you wanted me in your room so badly," when he turns to look down at you, he is softened, rasping; striking in silence, in the distance, clouds receding. "all you had to do was ask."

the cigarette is gone and both his hands are in his pockets. his eyes are hollow and clear, the curve of his smile a realm away from them. when you say nothing, only gape up at him in surprise, he turns out of your reach, and it's the absence of him that draws attention to the sudden breeze against your forehead. no longer warm, from the heat of his skin beneath his drenched shirt.

"c'mon," he calls over his shoulder, grinning in a way that has only ever infuriated you, though now it turns your stomach. rattles your bones. stutters the beat of your heart. "before you get all sick and full of snot, gross."

behind you, the rain slows, the sky darkening, uninterrupted. quiet, finally.

and gojo is still five steps out of reach.

#i am handing you this quietly underneath the table #on a little square of paper that had been folded very very carefully #and if you ask me about it i will deny ever writing it or knowing anything about what you're talking about #i'd rather eat ROCKS than tag this appropriately but 💀 i just spent so long organizing my blog RIP 💀 #gojo x reader #IF YOU ASK ME ABOUT THIS !!!!! I WILL NOT SPEAK !!!!!! #nikuniku this is for you btw #i wrote this like a mad woman idk if it makes sense WHOOPS !!!! #oh well !!!!! good thing it never really happened !!!! #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: gojo