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asterias-record-shop · 11 months

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BINGO: Mommy kink, Ethan Landry. Prompt 14. Reader is just having their way with Ethan who keeps cumming and keeps getting hard

—𓆩[the perfect virgin]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Sub! Ethan Landry x Dom! Mommy! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 3.9K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You were originally attracted to Ethan because he looked like a boy who had never been touched by a woman - ever. Your corruption kink was going haywire, and it was the main reason why you pursued him before you got way too attached to his stupid nerdy personality and his utter obliviousness to anything that has to do with sex, so you decide to put him to a… test of sorts.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - kind of mean/teasing reader || mommy kink || cursing & foul language || tit worship || reader wears revealing clothing & makeup || reader could be described as a nympho? || vibrators || virginity loss (Ethan) || attempt at lactation || breast milk production without being pregnant (it can happen, hormones are a thing and can be caused by constant nipple and breast stimulation) || in turn, lactation kink || oral || grinding || riding || breeding kink || multiple orgasms || unprotected sex || multiple positions || maybe slight corruption kink?? || everything is consensual || public teasing ||

Study hall. That’s how everything started.

There were no empty tables, every one being full of a person, so you decided to move deeper — just in case there was one someone missed.

Of course, though, they were all full. All of your friends were either in other classes or working, so there was no point in texting them to come and join you so you wouldn’t be alone at a table with someone who could very well be Ghostface.

Slowly, you walked around the library to find a table you could sit at before you saw the same book for the Psychology course you were taking. You paused, looking from the book to who had it, his brown curls immediately letting you know it was that quiet boy who sat a few rows back from you.

It didn’t take you long to walk towards him, his eyes flickering up for a quick second before looking back down. It made Ethan panic; were you walking towards him?

He inhaled deeply as his eyes flickered down to the heels that stood a few inches from his chair, inhaling deeply when he felt a soft pat to his shoulder. “You’re Ethan, right?”

He tried not to let it be too obvious that his eyes started to trail up your body; your beautiful legs that were on show, your skirt black and to your midthigh and your shirt just perfectly tight around your body. “Uhm… yeah,” he whispers, nodding as you smile down at him. “Yeah, I’m Ethan.”

“I’m Y/N,” you respond, smiling. “Do you mind if I sit down with you?”

“U-Uhm no… no, not at all,” he said, quickly looking around to see if he could grab a seat for you until you grabbed one yourself and put it right next to him. “I-I’m just studying econ right now.”

“Oh, I did econ last year!” You say, smiling as you tapped the book. “I could help if you help me with psych?”

He nodded immediately, staring up at you before you sat down next to him, holding his hand tightly with a smile. “Y-Yeah, I would like that.”

After helping him out like you wanted to, it was onto psychology. You were learning about Sigmund Freud, a sick bastard who had to relate everything to sex, and two of the theories were the Oedipus and Electra Complex.

“Maybe that’s where the daddy and mommy kinks come in,” you joke, giggling. “Playing. Kind of. I think those stem from not the loving of one’s literal birth parent, but the attraction to someone who fulfills the role of sorts.” “What do you mean?” Ethan asked, leaning over to peer at your textbook and to stare at the diagram comparing the two complexes.

“Well, for those kinks, with those who have daddy kinks - whether male or female - they often have some sort of issue with their true parental figure, but not always, or a strong attachment to their father, or the love that they showed. Same with men who have mommy kinks.” You shrugged, fixing your bra strap as you looked over at him. “I don’t think I’d mind a man calling me mommy.”

Ethan could feel his cheeks get hot, looking away as you giggled. “Wh-What do you mean?”

“Well, I think I would make a good mother,” you shrug, but hum. “I just don’t like the thought of having children - now at least - still got my whole life ahead of me! I definitely do like the thought of the… process though.”

He stuttered out the same question, swallowing. He stared at you, mouth going dry as you giggled.

“Are you a virgin, Ethan?”

He clenched his fists, looking away before you held his wrist. “Y-Yeah, I am.”

“Well, I mean someone cumming inside,” you tapped his chin, getting him to look at you as you smiled at him, giggling. “Like… anywhere. I’m not the biggest fan of anal, but it depends on who’s giving it, you know? But I definitely like how it looks when cum like floods out of my cunt, you know what I mean?” You asked him, biting your lip as his cheeks get redder and his eyes try to avoid yours as much as he could. “You don’t, do you? Kind of forgot,” you hummed, letting your hand place on his and draw lines across his veins with your nail. “You don’t look like you’d be a virgin, Ethan.”

He quickly looked at you, confused. “I-I don’t?”

“No,” you say, smiling as your fingers intertwined with his. “You’re too cute to be a virgin, but you seem to be one of those types who don’t realize how much they make a girl’s pussy wet.”

He shivered as your nail slowly dragged up his forearm, a hum leaving your mouth. “D-Do I make your pussy wet?”

You smiled, shifting slightly to move the wet patch of your underwear. “You do. Can I touch you, Ethan?”

“H-Here?” He basically squeaked, but your hand placing on his thigh made him gasp.

“Not like that, silly,” you laughed, but your nail trailed down his inner thigh. “I mean… unless you want me to.”

“Y-You would do that in a library?” He whispered, watching as you tilt your head slightly.

“Why not?” He inhaled sharply as your finger trailed down his growing bulge, a satisfied hum leaving your mouth. “You should take me out.”

“Y-Yes, yes ma’am.”

That was the beginning of your relationship. Four months in, Ethan had a habit of getting way too comfortable laying against your body with your nipple in his mouth as he sucked and groped the other, a vibrator shoved into your cunt that he had licked and prepped all perfectly.

It had basically become a routine ever since you figured out that he actually did have a mommy kink, coming home from school and his nimble hands stripping you after slipping off your jacket and shoes, kissing your ankles and wrists before leading you to your room. If your feet were sore, he would give you a foot rub, and if your back hurt, a massage. He was so, so good for you, how could you not repay him?

You stroked his curls as his hand pulled your tit deeper into his mouth, sucking and biting against your areola making you hiss. “Hey, don’t be too rough, baby. Be nice.”

He hummed, nodding as he pulled away. “S-Sorry… you just taste so good.”

You laughed, stroking his hair with a smile. “Taste, hm? What tastes? There’s nothing with flavor-”

“You,” he interrupts, his tongue flattening against your sensitive but hard bud. “You taste so good.”

You hummed as you pushed your hand down to push the vibrator into the next setting, the second one being something you were basically ignorant to. You inhale sharply as you hold the end, pushing it deeper into you to feel the soft pink silicone vibrate against the perfect spot inside of you, your hips bucking as he groans against your tit.

One of his hands tries to push down your stomach, attempting to touch your pretty clit before you slapped his hand, a whine against your nipple making you groan. “You already had your time with my pussy, baby, pay attention to my tits.”

He whined, pulling away from your swollen nipple, his hands squeezing at your full breasts. “But mommy-”

“Ah,” you interrupted, raising a brow. “What did mommy say, hm? You’re going to be a bad boy and not listen to your mommy, just to get a taste of my pussy? If you’re good, you won’t have to beg for it.”

“O-Okay,” he mumbled, moving onto your other tit as his thumb flicked against the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth, a pleasure filled sigh leaving your lips.

One of your hands stayed in his hair, your head tilted back as the other guided the vibrator deeper into your cunt, hips rolling to try and get the tip against that perfect spot deeper inside of you. His mouth was nice against your tits, but not something that completely gained your attention, desperate to get that spot inside of you abused by the perfect silicone pink vibrator that always fucked you so good.

You felt a jolt go up your back as he groaned against your tit, biting against your nipple, a scream leaving your mouth as his teeth dug into your areola. “E-Ethan!”

He pulled away with the strong tug of your hand, whining loudly. “W-Wait, wait Y/N! Pl-Please, please you taste so good!”

You didn’t notice the pearly white liquid dripping down the side of his mouth, only registering the now discomforting vibrations inside of you. “No, you want to take advantage of what I give you? Hm? I be nice and let you suck on my tits as much as you want and you fucking bite me?!”

He whined, shaking his head as you pulled the vibrator out of your cunt, turning it off. “No! No, you don’t understand-!”

He choked as you pushed the vibrator into his open mouth, watching the creamy white ring envelope his lips as you pushed it down his throat, watching as he obediently sucked on it like you wanted him to. “You just like sucking on shit with me on it, don’t you? If I had another man fuck me, would you be desperate to suck his cock baby?”

He whined, shaking his head around the vibrator had been inside of you, soaked and covered in your arousal and cum. You pulled it out of his mouth to hear him whine even louder, his head shaking. “No, no! Mommy, mommy you promised that if I was good I’d be able to fuck you!”

“But you weren’t good, were you?” You hissed, squeezing his chin as you threw the vibrator to the side, forcing him onto his back. “I wanted to be nice and feel your mouth on my tits, but you wanted to bite me?”

“Pl-Please, you had milk coming out!” He basically begged, his hands cupping your tits and fingers squeezing at your nipples. The sensation makes you scream out, gasping as he rolls the hard, sensitive buds between his fingers, gasping as he pulls them slightly and the white liquid slowly starts to drip out. He groaned, staring up at you in desperation. “Can I please… please suck them, mommy?”

You paused, staring down at the liquid dribbling from your nipples. How the fuck were you lactating right now? There was absolutely no way you were pregnant, there was no other symptoms, you were on birth control-

“Y/N?”

Your eyes meet his as he smiles, sitting up.

“Just because you're lactating, doesn’t mean you’re pregnant. It can be caused by constant stimulation to the nipple and breast.”

You paused, holding his shoulders as he slowly ducked down to delicately lick the translucent, white tinted liquid. “Did you... look that up?”

“Well, yeah,” he laughed, shrugging. “I could tell that it kind of bothered you whenever I stopped, and they were getting heavier and you said that they were sore, so I looked it up to see if me sucking on them was doing anything. That’s why I just gave them massages for a while.”

You stared down at him, confused. “I thought you just liked squeezing my tits.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “As much as I do like that, I care about your well-being more.”

You could feel your heart swell, a smile on your lips as you leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to his mouth. “You’ve been doing so good, baby, I think you deserve a treat for looking out for your mommy.”

He groaned as you leaned down, pressing another kiss to his lips, his mouth desperately following yours as you pulled away. “Wh-What do you mean by a treat?”

“Anything you want, baby,” you say, giggling. “You just tell me and I’ll do it.”

“Can… can I fuck you?” He whispered desperately, inhaling sharply as you hummed, nodding.

“How do you want me, honey?”

“L-Lay back for me,” he whispered, nodding. “Please.”

You smiled as you slowly got off, laying on your back with a languid stretch as he quickly straddled your waist after slipping off his clothes. He lifted himself up, pumping his cock as you tilted your head slightly, desperate to look at his way too pretty cock. It wasn’t the thickest in girth, but his length and the slight upwards curve from how fucking hard he was with the picturesque dribble of cum sliding out of his tip.

He groaned as he slowly slid his tip up and down your slit, jaw falling as he tilted his head back with even the slightest push into you. His fist nightly to the thought of you had nothing on the warmth of your cunt, how fucking soaked you were, and fuck you couldn’t have been tighter. He had to hold himself back from cumming just from this, a shaky groan falling from his mouth as your hands slowly trail up his chest, his perfect milky skin making you groan.

He cursed, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your lips, a whine falling from his mouth as you rolled your hips into his. “You ever going to start moving?”

He groaned, head tilting back as he desperately tried to control the sporadic bucks of his hips. “Y-You feel… you feel too good. F-Fuck, fuck, I can’t move without cumming,” he whispered, his voice breathy as you tried to hold back from moving your hips on your own. “Pl-Please, just let me… let me stay here for a minute, n-need to feel you.”

You held back a pout, nodding reluctantly. “Not too long, baby, before I give myself pleasure.”

Ethan groaned as he leaned down, desperately kissing at your neck as his hands groped your tits, his thumbs finding your nipples and sliding over them firmly. “N-No, no, I’ll still… I’ll still give you pleasure, mommy, that’s what I’m here for. To give you pleasure.”

“Well, don’t just give it to me on my tits, my love.”

As much as you did love him sucking and licking at your nipples, desperately drinking at the milk that was a production of constant stimulation, a sigh leaving your mouth at the same feeling filled your body like it had the past few weeks. It felt good, a weight of some sort being lifted from your swollen tits at the milk being sucked out, but with his cock this deep inside of you, how could you not want it?

You shifted your hips, smiling when you heard the whine fall from his lips, purposely clenching your cunt around his cock. He gasped against your tit, groaning loudly as you pushed your hips off the bed, rolling your hips against his to get his cock deeper inside of you, his hips bucking against yours seemingly on accident.

You gasped as his teeth dug into your nipple once again, whining loudly as his hips started to move faster, more collected. You certainly didn’t expect him to be this good at fucking right off the bat, his shaft rubbing along your walls as one of his hands push down between the two of you, smearing your wetness along your slit and rubbing at your clit.

You moaned loudly, gasping as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, his back arched as he attempted to continue thrusting into you as he sucked on your tits, his thrusts getting rougher as your nails dragged down his back. He pulled away from your tit with a deep inhale, a shaky moan leaving your mouth as the white liquid dribbled down his chin.

“A-Am I doing good, mommy?” The name makes your walls clamp down on his cock, a whine leaving your mouth as his hips stutter, your cunt used to the steady and rough pace of his thrusts being affected by the slight falter. “I-Is that a yes? Y-You clench when I call you mommy, you really like it, don’t you?”

“Y-Yes!” You yelled out, gasping as his tip kissed your cervix, grazing that one spot that made your eyes roll back. Your mouth fell open, moaning wantonly as his hands held your tits to keep some sort of steadiness to his actions.

His mind was cloudy and hazy, body hot in desperation to just fuck you. He had been waiting desperately until he got to this point, thinking of you every time he pumped his cock, hating your teasing when you forced him to watch you get yourself off with that pretty pink vibrator that you shoved down his throat earlier. Fuck, he was jealous of a fucking sex toy.

“Do you like it when I fuck you like this, mommy? Do you want me to be rougher, softer? J-Just tell me, fu-fuck, just tell me what to do.” Ethan whined, his face moving to press against your neck to get into more of a comfortable position, your cunt clenching around him once again making him groan. “J-Just tell me!”

“D-Don’t stop,” you cover your mouth, whimpering as your cheeks turned red in embarrassment; a fucking virgin has you this fucked out? A virgin is making you feel this good? “J-Just don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop!”

He groaned loudly, slamming into you as his fingers squeezed your clit firmly, taking pleasure in the way your hips bucked and your walls convulsed around his length, his vision going white as he came inside of you. You gasped, just the feeling of those hot ropes of cum squirting into you making you scream out, desperately trying to get that perfect thrust to hit your g-spot, the sharp thrust of his hips successfully making you come undone and cum all over his cock.

You could feel his cock twitching, still not softening. You had never been with a virgin before, so you assumed that he probably just needed a few more thrusts to successfully go soft, but with the lazy rolls of his hips, he was still fucking hard.

Slowly, you patted his chest, inhaling deeply. “Can I ride you, baby?”

He inhaled sharply, nodding as you pushed against his chest, inhaling sharply as you sat on his cock. You whined, his length still incredibly hard as he shifted himself, slipping a pillow underneath his hips to help push his cock into you at a new angle. You could feel every bulging vein on his shaft, his perfect arched cock pushing into you, desperately bouncing on his cock to get it as deep inside of you as you could.

Your nails dug into his chest, your head lulling back when you felt his tip hit that perfect spot inside of you, the knot inside of your stomach weak from your first orgasm. You could feel it being teased by his tip, each bounce making his head hit that perfect spot inside of you, loud groans falling from your mouth as he held your hips.

“Yes, yes, fuck!” He groaned, head tilting back as he accidentally bucked his hips, your nails digging into his chest as your eyes rolled back, supporting yourself to stay sitting up as you screamed out. “F-Fuck, fuck, don’t stop mommy, please.”

You could feel his cock continue to twitch inside of your cunt, groaning loudly as more cum flooded into you, your thighs shaking as you lifted yourself up, keeping his tip inside of you before releasing your weight again and sinking down onto his cock. He groaned loudly, tears pricking his eyes as he squeezed your hips. You were not going to let a fucking virgin outlast you.

“Y-You sure you’re a virgin, Ethan?” You whimper, a laugh falling from his mouth as you reach toward his face to wipe the tears falling from his cheeks. “Fucking hell, Ethan! We've been at it for hours, how are you still hard?!"

He was definitely a virgin if he was crying after two releases, but he definitely couldn’t be a virgin if he was still hard.

He laughed as he rolled his hips upward, groaning without holding back from his thrusts upward into you, your hands on his shoulders and your nails digging into his shoulders to stabilize yourself. You weren’t going to let yourself fly forward like you were tired, because as much as you were tired, you weren’t going to let him see that.

“Y-Yes, yes mommy, am I doing good for you? F-Fuck, I love it when you use me, mommy, I love it when you fucking use me for your own pleasure!” He groaned out, your walls tight around his shaft as he slammed his hips upward, desperately trying to chase his next release.

As much as you wanted to stay sitting up, put on that strong front, you couldn’t. You flew forward, groaning as your tried to hold yourself up above him, his mouth ducking to suck on your tits once again. The added stimulation made you scream out, eyes rolling back as another mind blurring orgasm resonated in your body, tummy convulsing as your walls clamped down on his cock.

Your nails dug into the sheets, gripping the silk fabric between your fingers as his teeth teasingly dragged against your nipple, his hands holding your hips as he thrusted into your abused cunt just a few more times, another orgasm rippling through his body as he came again, whimpering against your shoulder as you panted above him.

“You can’t be a virgin.”

He laughed as he pushed you onto your back, humming. “Can I keep going?”

You inhaled sharply, pausing when his cock continued to stay hard inside of you, but you nodded. You wanted someone who could keep up with you, who cared if it was a virgin? “Yes baby, you can.”

He groaned, leaning down for a firm kiss to your lips. “Thank you mommy, thank you so much. I love you, I’ll make you feel so fucking good, I promise.”

You groaned as he slowly flipped you onto your side, his hands pushing against your tits as he kneeled in front of your cunt and over one of your thighs, pulling your other leg over his shoulder.

Fuck, he truly was the perfect virgin.

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enavstars · 7 months

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Cyberpunk au

RGB designs for a new au

Important things:

The inspiration for this was the game Stray (that I finally played).

This is a hyperfixation that I don't know when it's going to end. I'll probably draw things from it as much as my motivation lets me but don't expect it to be a constant thing like Eclipse or On the road.

I love worldbuilding so there is a lot of details of this au already, feel free to ask questions.

The world is dark and very corrupted but the tone of the au is chill because the sibs dgaf about the world.

Worldbuilding details (my friend wrote this because this is complicated and I suck at writing) [very long text under the cut]:

The key element of this AU’s worldbuilding is a new biohazardous artificial plant which was originally genetically engineered by the scientist of the RGB’s city-state to fight the air pollution that plagued the region by attempting to reduce the amount of CO2 from the atmosphere (yes this is a biopunk universe :)). However, because they are an ugly reddish colour, have a bitter taste and are extremely nutrient-deficient and unhealthy, they have no natural predators and can spread like wildfire across both fertile plots and forests like weeds. On top of that, due to that nutrient deficiency, which stems from the slow absorption ability of their roots (not nearly enough to keep the heavy rate of photosynthesis), they evolved on their own to attach themselves to other living beings as parasites and basically invaded the entire area around the metropolis. With them being potentially lethal, this caused a massive problem that made the city panic; although they have plenty of weak points (like fire and a vulnerable immune system) and it takes them very long to get their roots to the rest of the body, their grip is so deep and strong that the only option is to remove the infected body part. So their special ability became a critical issue when the plants unexpectedly ended up liking animals better, and with them humans themselves, because they could carry them to other places and infest those too while still sucking the life out of them until they die (oopsie). Ultimately, with the lack of proper information on the parasites, and because the situation was handled very poorly overall, they ended up taking many people’s lives and made the most vulnerable species of the area (like cattle) go endangered or extinct, which in turn altered the balance of the ecosystem and the working class’ means of living :).

Sorry this chunk was so technical, we (@kaigoesbrr and I) are biology nerds, but basically the plants were so good at making more oxygen and so ass at getting what they needed to do so that they became parasites, and now they get what they need from plants and animals (and they like animals better, like humans, because they have more stuff and help them spread further). Then society collapsed :).

All of this caused a deep economic crisis that brought about high rates of poverty, and with it, a deep fear of the infested world outside the city walls. So this whole conundrum led to the city closing off to the lands around it, implementing absurd levels of security like a tight border control and a slower, more strict business traffic, and making a huge dark translucent dome that encapsulates the whole city to keep any potential smuggled plants from ever growing by blocking the natural sunlight. They even made a ditch around their walls (kind of like a moat) and burnt and bombed the fields and suburbs around them to make them extremely infertile. So yeah, this city-state is a terrible place to live, a gloomy prison where not even the sun and stars can be seen, but most the inhabitants never leave out of that paranoid terror and the heavy bureaucracy needed to just go outside and touch grass.

(haha with poor funding corrupt scientists who didn’t know what they were doing made a mess, shocker how that would backfire horribly).

However, the outside isn’t as bad as they make it out to be. In the end, the plants did clean the air as they were supposed to, and, as nature does, it did somewhat recover from the disaster to where human life is now sustainable again.

Taking advantage of their thick crust, trees were the least affected by the plague, and the other plants in the forest developed new natural defences against the parasites, which was yet another reason why they in turn became best at infecting animals. And many of the fungi, abundant in the now more humid forest (haha cooler air equals more rain), took advantage of their weak immune system (due to their fucking incompetent creators making a mess of the original plant’s DNA) and infected them (haha scammer get scammed). So basically, the fields and farmlands were lost to the people, but the forests are still intact. Also, even though one of the rivers around the city, the one which makes its ways under it and is therefore connected to the water supply and sewer systems, is trashed, the other, which is further away, is now perfectly healthy due to the city closing off and therefore leaving it alone for enough time. The real issue here lies within the actual government, which obviously does not want to expose how corrupt and lazy they are when dealing with problems and so they keep fueling the paranoia of their most vulnerable citizens since they are kids :). One way they do so is by manipulating the information their people get, claiming bullshit like “the current ecosystem is wild and polluted, it cannot offer our economy anything anymore!” and “the plants are dangerous and will kill you if you ever come into contact with them, and they have infected virtually every living thing around!”. Another is by not educating their population about “the Outside”, treating it like a sort of taboo. Therefore, they refuse to explain, or hush those who try to, the actual danger of the plants and how to deal with them (they do have many weaknesses, after all).

But the people in this world have yet another nasty problem. In this AU there are beings believed to be anthropomorphic demons due to their pointy ears, fangs, and sometimes strange behaviour. But in fact, these people are descendants of the dragons that once lived in these nations, but their origins were forgotten as the world gradually lost touch with its spirituality and ancestry, and now those who were once revered for their “godlike attributes” (yes, they kinda worshipped dragons, I mean, who wouldn’t) are today facing discrimination. However, even though they aren’t considered exactly “people”, the pure humans are still kind of afraid of them, so they usually choose the subtler kind of racism. In most governments, “Demons” get less job opportunities and are denied high positions, can be freely banned from any establishment, and face unmatched prejudice just for existing, especially those with a stronger blood relation with their ancestry. In the city, they are treated as less than even the robots (nindroids of all kinds), who are treated like any other respected social group by now because they have grown so advanced that most of them are just like humans in metal armour. In fact, many of them are mechanics, who are held in high esteem for making the many bionic implants for the humans.

And all of that combined made the RGB siblings (who are obviously demons, especially Lloyd), decide never to leave the Outside, where they grew up, to go live in the city.

When they were younger, Kai and Nya adopted Lloyd when they found him asleep in a box in the middle of nowhere, after having been abandoned themselves a few years earlier. This time, though, their dynamic in this AU is more of a team than Kai being a mom to them both like he always is, so even if Kai feels the most responsible for being the eldest sibling, they rely on each other almost equally. They fend off the plants that threaten them with fire (no they do not have powers, but Kai uses a fucking flamethrower because it’s Kai), and usually live on whatever they can find in the wild: mostly by making traps for game, fishing in the cleaner river and occasionally foraging edible plats (that’s more risky and they are more carnivorous anyway). Also, Nya routinely strolls through the ruins of the suburbs to collect scrap junk to turn as much of it as she can into useful trinkets, the rest of which she sells to Ed and Edna’s junkyard and their son, who is an amateur mechanic (wink wink but no shipping actually). Apart from that though, they usually sneak into the metropolis to cause a bit of mayhem here and there, which over time and on top of the fear over their species has earned them a reputation of People You Don't Wanna Mess With (or "Demons", more like). More than once they’ve even messed with a few of the gangs around town, which started sprouting up after the disaster, so overall their presence in the city is tolerated, but frowned upon. They manage to bypass the annoying border control thanks to the faulty assistant robot who raised them, named Echo (wink wink), who cannot perform any other social job (what he was made for) than to be the ferryman for those few people who decide to cross the wide moat and venture out into the Outside. They usually take a secret tunnel that a few smugglers managed to make, and the Guard do nothing because they do not give a fuck about demons anyway (in fact, only a few people know that their actual names aren’t Red, Blue and Green because nobody gives a fuck indeed). They do actually know a few people there, some of whom are also demons (like Mistake and Ronin), but especially as kids (which is when the story starts) they spend most of their time in the wild chilling and going on adventures :³.

(no the city and the plants are not named, we’re lazy :))

Anyway this is what I'll say for now. There's a lot more info, and hopefully drawings, coming. Hope you like this au because I love it for now ^^

(Btw let me know if you want me to make a post/reblog explaining the designs for the Rgb siblings and some info behind them)

#Idk how I come up with these things but I love them #I hope you enjoy them too #ninjago #art #ninjago au #ninjago cyberpunk au #ninjago kai #kai smith #ninjago nya #nya smith #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #rgb siblings

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xstarlightxstarbrightx · 2 months

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Lumi headcanons

i have dragged myself outta the hell that's been my weekend and have FINALLY cobbled together all of my thoughts abt Lumine,,, it's a lot so bear w/ me bc i love her so so so much. the big list of h/c's: - extroverted lumi,,, - tired older sister / mom of Paimon. Paimon may know more about Teyvat than Lumine does, but Lumine's the one who takes care of Paimon and guides her through the harder things in life; definitely gives the vibes of Paimon being a kid sister and Lumine being very protective of her. somewhat mother but also not??? definitely the adult between the two smh - incredibly smart. very perceptive with a lotta intuition. i mean, you need to be able to be quick on the draw if you're going to be traveling nonstop, y'know?? - paragon Lumi is my roman empire. - frugal as SHIT, penny pincher extraordinaire. Paimon has yet to find all the emergency funds, and Lumine is adamant on KEEPING it that way. - abandonment issues. listen,,, listen she's got em, we all know she does, and i feel like she gets very attached to people but doesn't really let them know. - stemming from abandonment issues, I feel like she's got this issue of putting the weight of the world on her shoulders? like she cannot let herself feel negative emotions and bottles up a lot of the bad shit she deals with. her belief is that if she's not being a positive force, she's failing everyone around her and they'll one day leave her behind. - adding onto that bit, it definitely shows through the fact that she's not quick to actually anger. like her anger is VERY VERY rare, and usually she's very relaxed and tries to work through things as calmly as possible. - despite lumi being slow to anger, she's def violent in a mischievous gremlin way. definitely gives the vibe of 'u called me short, i am consuming ur knee caps'. But this is more of a bit and something to do as an intimidation tactic for ppl who don't know her, and it feels very accurate tbh - Lumi is bilingual, nothing more needs to be said. - she has scars. like a few of em, too. Mostly from her adventures in Teyvat, since she's less durable than she's used to being??? She has some scars from her fight against Dvalin, a scar or two from fighting Childe, a LOT of scars from Inazuma, as well as scars from using the elements!! - on the topic of scars, i DO believe she has scars from losing her wings in the fight with the Unknown God. and like, this hurts her. she feels such intense guilt over what happened and how she failed to protect her brother. she would gladly boast to you about any of her scars, but if you mention the ones on her back, she gets,,, quiet,,,, - i have done a deep dive dissection of the differences between the twin's elemental animations, and one day i will post that i swear; but for now all imma say is that Lumi struggles w/ Geo element the most. - fear of failure! i mentioned it before, but I personally feel like this has such a huge affect on her? - speaking of fears; CLAUSTROPHOBIA! listen, lumi definitely feels like she'd be claustrophobic, can't handle tight spaces. she also is terrified of the Abyss specifically, but tight spaces? unable to move? feeling trapped???? yeah, she's got that besties. - she feels like such a mom sometimes i s2g. like some of these characters feels like characters she would call her kids teasingly. personally believe Bennett called her "mom" once and he hasn't been able to live it down since b/c she refuses to answer to anything else from him now. - protective Lumi is my favorite, nothing more to add. - Lumine is very dancer-like in a lot of her animations, so me personally i think she would be a good dancer ong. - GOD tiered Cook, she's so fuckin good at that shit, like girl can crack just about any damn recipe she gets.

OKAY,,, I THINK,,,,,,,,,,,, I THINK I GOT THEM ALL DOWN,,,,,,,,,,

this went way longer than i meant, the brain worms ate through my skull and i got very carried away. but also it feels good to have the general gist of it all down,,, my beloved lumine i adore u so so much,,,,

anyway these were my h/c's for Lumi, i'll work on Kaeya next i think b/c i have Many Thoughts (tm) on him. :)c

#genshin impact #lumine #genshin headcanons #female traveler #genshin traveler #headcanon #brain worms #the brainrot is real #i have a problem #send help #i cannot stop thinking about her #she is my everything i think i would die for her #if u have questions i dont know if i have answers #a lot of these come from the voice lines u can find in her profile #like genuinely #i love the travelers as characters #obsessed with it #lumine my beloved

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holyvirgilscriptures · 4 months

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whats your opinion abt byler nsfw content?I'm genuinely asking because most ppl in this fandom are literal prudes, and homophobic if not that cause they were totally ok seeing Nancy and Steve ON SCREEN and they act like it's the worst thing in the world when it comes to mike and will, just say you're homophobic and don't wanna see gay ppl doing stuff and go, I know it's not about the age cause byler are literally almost the same age Nancy and Steve now

do you mean in terms of it being displayed in the show itself? it's a literal nothing burger, and it's so mind-blowing how people fuss so much about it. it's like the people who are against a possible byler intimate scene are legitimately expecting their dicks to whip out lmaoooo. or for them to be butt-ass naked. that's not happening. like honestly if they were to pursue creating an intimate scene i don't even think they're going to show byler taking their pants off. i mean, if they do that's still fine, but yeah. basically my main point is that it's an overblown issue.

dichotomizing queer relationships or queer characters (or irl queer people) as either "innocent too good for this world" or "nasty sex demon" is incredibly unhelpful and dehumanizing. i know a lot of it stemmed from the idea of lgbt/young relationships being "fetishized", but like most things, people swung too hard in the opposite direction and are acting like sex is some immoral act and witnessing it or discussing it or wanting it means you're being a weirdo. nope, i think it's more weird that people are against a natural thing happening.

aaaand people have way too much of an attachment to how they "used to be/look like", specifically their actors. finn and noah aren't the baby-faced kids they once were. they're 21 and 19. ofc that's still super young, but physically and legally, they've both grown up. iirc natalia dyer was 20 when season 1 was filmed. basically will/noah and mike/finn do not look like their s1, s2, s3, or even s4 selves. and people need to stop treating them as such.

#alsooooo let's not talk about how accusing people of “fetishizing” lgbt content can unintentionally have some verrrryyyy anti-asian bigotry #virgil.ask #anonymous

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kassandras-one-braincell · 1 year

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Dark!Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader - Inescapable Narcosis

Summary: You were hers - not officially, but Abby knew that you knew you belonged together. She was addicted. She still is addicted, even though you ended that harmony. Twenty-three days ago, and yes, she counted. But you'll come around. Any day now. [explicit]

In which Abby is mildly obsessive with a control complex and dubious morals. (She let the trauma win.) But there was a time where you looked past that in favour of sweet nothings beneath the bedsheets.

Warnings: unreliable narration, dubious morality and mild gaslighting.

Word count: 5250

AO3 link here.

Minors, men and ageless blogs DNI. You will be blocked immediately upon interaction.

You’re wearing her shirt. It hangs a little loosely on your frame, tucked neatly into your cargos. A couple of tiny moth holes are dotted about the neckline. It’s not a particularly nice shirt – standard issue, bottle green, a little threadbare by the shoulder seams – but it’s her shirt. The same shirt she lent you three-ish weeks ago after your last night together. She never asked for it back; you just had to sigh, snuggle into the fabric and murmur that it was so soft before settling down in her arms, and fuck it, it was yours.

Things are different now, though. You had terminated your sweet, sweet situationship, and Abby respected that. Sure, she mused in her head back then that she gave it a month, tops, before you would come crawling back to her. Begging, maybe, although that might have been wishful thinking. Until then, Abby will revert back to being your friend, no benefits attached.

But you’re wearing her shirt now, not even a month later, which means one thing: she’s in your head.

Abby has to bite her tongue to prevent herself from smirking at the notion. Hard. She can taste a hint of iron. The idea of still lingering in your thoughts…it’s a worm crawling under her skin. It has her hairs standing on end, a maddening tingle washing over her flesh, identical to the shivers she got from your fingertips ghosting over her skin— Fuck, she always had it bad for you.

The sheer fucking aphrodisiac that is you wearing her shirt is almost enough to distract Abby from your knitted brow, pouty lips and the inferno blazing behind those pretty eyes of yours. Almost – the fact is, she cares, and something is evidently pissing you off.

You approached her in the hall, short of breath, as if you tracked her down through the labyrinth of the stadium you considered home. Now, after a couple of moments’ pause, her ex something-or-other stares at her with a mixture of rage and incredulity.

“Seriously, Abby?” you breathe out, exasperated.

For a second, Abby mentally winces, wondering if her efforts to suppress her smirk failed her. She can’t recall doing anything to intentionally antagonise you. It isn’t often she finds herself taken aback.

“Did I do something?” she tries, a touch of sardonicism peppered-in out of habit, to her immediate regret. Grimacing, Abby watches expectantly as you close your eyes, inhaling slowly to compose yourself.

Through gritted teeth, you mimic her words. “‘Did I do something?’ Yeah, you fucking did something, Abby.” She can place the irritation in your tone, but it lacks any raw venom. Abby knows you – that from your intonation, you mulled this conversation over in your head before seeking her out.

If you were anybody else, Abby would not be holding back on the expletives and sarcasm at the cryptic reply. Her reputation doesn’t stem from her unequivocal patience, that’s for certain. For you, though, she’ll wait as you dance around the issue rather than spitting it out.

Sighing, she rubs the back of her neck. The magnetism between your eyes and the tendons of her forearm does not go amiss. “Enlighten me,” she exhales, gesticulating with her unoccupied hand for you to continue chewing her out.

Your posture slumps. Your arms fold in on themselves as you glance over your shoulder, sweeping the hall for eavesdroppers. As your nail digs into your elbow, Abby frowns, a needle slowly working its way into her heart. She’s anxious, she thinks. And she isn’t able to do a damn thing to alleviate it.

“You took me off my patrol route again,” you respond, hushed, eyes still honed-in on the end of the hall. “Don’t deny it.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Abby mutters under her breath. “I thought I did something wrong.”

Nostrils flaring, your attention fully snaps to her. “Abigail,” you warn.

“Is there something wrong with keeping my friends safe?” Lying doesn’t feel good, even if it’s just a white lie. Actually, it’s a combination of both shitty and stupid, because you can see right through her. She spent years keeping her book closed, adding padlock after padlock to the cover, only for you to have all the keys.

Huffing, you shake your head. “You know what, I’m not gonna insult you by listing the friends who you patrol with on the regular—” As you grip your – her – shirt for comfort, Abby’s heart sinks. “You’re getting me special treatment. And people are starting to resent me for it.”

That brief flash of guilt erupts into anger. “Who?” A promise of broken bones is left unspoken. The image of anyone giving you shit gnaws at her every nerve. You pull double your weight when it comes to your duties as a soldier and citizen, yet people have the audacity, the fucking audacity—

“Does it matter who?” comes your voice, a hell of a lot softer than before. Like aloe vera, it soothes the infuriated spiral burning into her brain. Abby breathes out what she can of the red mist, grounding herself with your…everything, really.

Besides a few tell-tale signs of stress, you haven’t changed one bit since you last spoke. There was a time when Abby didn’t believe beauty could come in a living form, that cordyceps and its aftermath had stolen that away from humanity. Then you waltzed (limped would be more accurate in hindsight – you met in the med bay) into her life, and that cynical belief vanished. Even now, with dark circles under your eyes and a frown plastered on your lips, you’re the epitome of beauty to her. Every scar, every blemish, every mole adorning your body makes you a work of art. She misses the feel of your perfectly imperfect skin beneath her lips, the finest silk on the planet, always so soft from the moisturiser you like to make. She misses the delicate giggles she would elicit from you as she pressed a roadmap of kisses over all those little things.

She misses you.

You weakened her resolve to the point where Abby sometimes ponders if she’d be better off if that first night never took place. If, perhaps, you had been assigned different temporary lodgings in that converted FEDRA outpost after your mission. Hell, if she had been thrown on a different mission entirely to the prettiest damn person she had ever laid eyes on. Maybe if the weather wasn’t so fucking cold, you wouldn’t have had to rely on body heat for warmth. Your lips – the first dose – would have never found hers. She would have never discovered the blissful escapism from a shitty world that was you.

The delusion of no-strings-attached was a persuasive one, but Abby knows that your liaisons were never purely sexual. Prurient intentions were the basis of things, absolutely. Then emotions began to bleed into every kiss, vulnerabilities seeped into every hushed word against one another’s skin, every breathless “don’t stop” held an unspoken “don’t leave” beneath the surface, and she found herself addicted to you.

And it was…it is an addiction, by nature of the word. You eat away at her thoughts. The memory of your taste haunts her tongue. She could cope back then, counting the hours until you next fell into her bed and arms. Now, though? Nothing. You torment her, day-in, day-out, but ultimately, Abby is left with nothing except the pain of withdrawal.

She should have seen it coming, too. You never stuck a label on things; there was no illusion of permanence.

Abby came to terms with the fact that she isn’t a good person long ago. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to reach, either. A minute of remembrance, a well-illustrated reel of the Scars she killed, the abhorrent shit she did for Isaac without so much as questioning his decisions, committing her entire body and livelihood to avenging her dad, that was enough. In this regard, you are her very antithesis. Your concept of stress relief consisted of tending to the dogs in the kennels; hers was beating prisoners and traitors. She shielded you from as much of this as possible. It wasn’t enough.

“I can’t let myself be with someone who hurts people, Abby. I’ll always care about you, but I can’t— I can’t settle down with someone who enjoys killing Scars. I don’t want to watch someone lose themselves to that. It’s not healthy. So…this, whatever you want to call it, this needs to end. I’m sorry.”

There were tears in your eyes as you spoke. Shrapnel; jagged, rusty shrapnel to her veins, because comforting you would have overstepped a newly enforced boundary. She had to retract her hand as it instinctively reached out, thumb poised to wipe away those pained droplets. No word of a lie spilled from your lips. The truth was a fucking bitter pill to swallow – it’s still stuck in her throat, clinging for dear life, undigestible – but she cared. And because she cared, she respected every syllable.

In this moment, however, as Abby’s blood cools, she speculates if she might care too much. Cutting the last string keeping you tethered to her would destroy her.

Thus she swallows her pride, silencing the warped voice screaming at her to demand the names of the people giving you grief. She folds her arms, only to give her something to dig her fingertips into, to suppress the incessant pulsing under the callouses from the rage-induced cortisol plaguing her bloodstream.

Calm, Abby.

Forcing herself to soften her frown, Abby wrestles with your question. Does it matter who?

“Yeah, actually, it does matter,” she breathes out, voice lacking any aggrieved tremor to her immediate relief. “Because some people can take that resentment too far. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Every muscle in her body freezes awaiting your response. The torture of watching you close your eyes at her words, as if you anticipated them in their entirety, and they disappointed you, made any physical pain she had endured over the years feel like child’s play. She hates it.

With a conflicted exhale, you bring the neckline of her shirt to your lips. Seeing that she can still offer you comfort, even if via the medium of her old shirt, rids her of some of the tension.

Your grip on the fabric pales your knuckles, persisting as you move it away from your mouth to speak with clarity. “If I have to compromise my safety or my happiness, then fuck safety,” you lament. “So I’m asking you to stop interfering.”

“You shouldn’t have to compromise,” Abby mutters. Because you shouldn’t - you deserve both. She wants to give you both.

“But I do, Abby, it—”

A jolt surges through her at a realisation. “Wait, I’ve been keeping you off active duty for months,” Abby interjects, shaking her head. “Have people always given you shit for this?”

“No. They’ve only made it clear this past week that they’re not happy,” you reply, pinching the bridge of your nose. A tacit fact hangs thick in the air: while you were seen with Abby, anyone who gave you grief might as well have had a death wish. With her out of the picture, some cowardly morons clearly saw an opportunity to strike.

Abby rakes a hand through her hair in frustration, offsetting some of the tension in her scalp. She welcomes the bout of relief as her braid loosens. “If I had names, this would stop. You know that, right?”

An exhausted string of ‘no’s leaves you as you shake your head. Massaging your temple, you scan the corridor for something. “Fuck, you don’t underst— I’m not having this conversation with you where someone can hear,” you mumble. She watches as your gaze fixates on something behind her, a glint of an emotion flickering in your irises.

You set off towards the object of your gaze, grabbing her wrist to lead her along. Abby’s heart skips at the contact; your hand is as warm as she remembered, fingers too small to fully encircle her. If she wasn’t as sturdily built, she would have stumbled as you half drag her to what appears to be a supply cupboard.

After fiddling with the door for a moment, you slip inside of the dark room, taking her with you, letting it slam shut behind you both. She winces at the sounds of a thud and a subtle grunt of pain, reaching behind her to trigger the light-switch by the doorframe.

A singular halogen bulb flickers on the ceiling, pulsing a few times before engulfing the closet in a faint surgical glow. With most of the room occupied by boxes of powdered bleach and cleaning rags, you aren’t permitted the luxury of separation. You stand no more than two feet apart, backs against ice-cold grey concrete, isolated from the world around you.

Abby can pick up on your shampoo from here. Raspberry.

She breaks the silence. “Well?”

“I can’t escape you,” you groan, massaging your temple. She cocks her brow, hoping you would elaborate. Your tired eyes meet hers. “It’s impossible. You’re getting me special exemptions. You’re offering to play bodyguard. You’re still affecting every single day of my life,” you laugh in exasperation. “People are starting to talk now that, and I fucking quote, ‘She’s not Abby’s girl anymore.’”

“Then tell them that we were never together to begin with,” Abby puts as bluntly as she could, her words a betrayal and then some. Hearing herself say them makes her knuckles want to clench.

“We both know that’s a fucking lie—”

Rolling her eyes, Abby rests her weight against the concrete wall, folding her arms. “I’m offering you solutions here, sunshine.”

“Don’t ‘sunshine’ me.”

“Then we’re gonna have to compromise, because there’s no fucking way I’m putting you back on the draft register. Scars are getting smarter, and they’re using more of our tech. It’s dangerous.”

“Okay, okay,” you concede, sighing deeply with chagrin. “I’m not gonna waste my time getting you to change your mind.”

“Good.” Pensively, Abby taps her finger against her bicep, waiting for a sign of resolution to wash over your expression. But there’s nothing of the sort; your lips are still curved into the same frown, your eyelids heavy and your eyes bloodshot, either from fatigue or an earlier episode of tears. The former definitely, the latter possibly. “This goes deeper than me taking you off patrol, right? I can tell you haven’t been sleeping,” she comments.

“Please don’t psychoanalyse me, Abby,” you whisper, intriguingly void of anger.

“Tough shit. I’m worried,” she states honestly.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” you scoff. “You care. You still care, even after what I said to you. And you shouldn’t, because it was hurtful—”

Abby shakes her head. “It was fair—”

“—That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hurtful.” When her gaze meets yours, there’s a silent apology in your eyes. An unwarranted apology by anyone’s standards but your own. Regret. “I just… I can’t move on from you knowing that you still fucking care.”

Abby’s face is steeled as she dissects your words in her head, delving deep into the emotion laced in every syllable. That glimmer of regret distracted you from your point, she ponders, so the hint of aggression must have been forced. The exhaustion, well, that isn’t purely a residual effect of poor sleep – there’s mental exhaustion, too. You’re thinking about your words, if the hesitation meant anything at all, but your feelings are slipping through the cracks. Damn…she really is in your head, isn’t she?

It's terrible. Half a second of deliberation told her this is far from the right thing to say in this moment, but she has to pry further. She wants to strip you – not just metaphorically, but that can wait – of any avenue to escape her presence in your mind.

So she asks, none too gently, “Is that why you got me alone, wearing my shirt? Because you want to move on?”

Your jaw clenches. The cupboard is silent, so silent that Abby can hear the grinding of your molars. She shouldn’t have said that. She should not have said that. Fuck, if she had handled this with a shred more delicacy, and a lot less sarcasm, you wouldn’t be—

“No, I don’t.”

It takes her a moment to register the words, to dismiss the intrusive thought that they aren’t truthful. But they are, aren’t they? You can’t lie for shit.

There it is. The cusp of nirvana.

You open your mouth to continue, and Abby is latched onto every word. “Pathetic, right? Not even a week after I ended things, I wished I hadn’t.” Her heart skips a beat. She unfolds her arms – she can’t appear guarded and closed-off, not right now. “I thought it was for the best, okay? But it wasn’t, and now we’re here in this closet that reeks of fucking peroxide because I miss you.

“Things have been so hard without you, Abby. And I can’t – I can’t talk to people about this, because I brought it on myself, and frankly I could do without the humiliation. So all I have to comfort me is your shirt, alright?” Poor thing, you sound so disappointed in yourself. Defeated. A hairline fracture away from shattering like glass. The trace of belligerence in your tone thinly masks a fear of rejection that Abby finds rather delicious, but she won’t push you further. Not when you’re so close to being hers once again.

Panic flickers in your eyes. “I’ve been talking too much, fuck—”

Quickly, Abby, before she backtracks. “You still have me,” she assures you. “You can always come back to me.”

I want to be the only one to make you happy.

You tense with caution. “Do you really want that?” you manage, half-choked in your throat.

A dozen replies cycle through Abby’s thoughts, all of them too wordy, too convoluted and emotional to risk you slipping away. Every neurone crackles with a lightning impulse to spill her guts, to confess her visceral need for you. A yearning to see you smile. To bring laughter to those soft, petallike lips. In unabridged, unadulterated truth, part of her wants this apocalyptic nightmare to never end, just for the privilege of being your only sanctuary.

Do you really want that?

‘Want’ barely begins to encapsulate it. But she doesn’t have time to deliberate a better turn of phrase. If another second ticks by, you may take her silence for dismissal, and that would kill her.

“What I want…” She has you gripped onto every word, if your statuesque stillness is indicative of anything. “…is for you to figure out what you need. Whatever it is, you can come to me with it.” Okay, that’s something. It sufficiently cleaved through the silence, anyway. A modicum of tension relinquishes itself from your shoulders, and some of the apprehension dissipates from your eyes. You both let out a steady breath in synchronicity. Still, Abby flinches with the lingering fear that her words weren’t enough. You always craved that little bit of additional reassurance. So she offers, as a hidden plea more than anything else, “Even if you haven’t got it all figured out, I’ll still be here, okay?”

The harsh halogen glow seems to soften as you nod slowly, faintly miming something with your lips, mulling over her words. With the olive branch on the table, the stench of peroxide from the boxes of powdered bleach is no longer overwhelming. The cramped closet, a hostile environment just minutes ago, doesn’t feel like a battleground anymore.

“As long as you think that’s fair to you,” you say, the corners of your lips ever so slightly upturned into a shred of a smile.

“I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise,” she returns, concealing the delight thrumming through her veins. “You know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Abby. Really.”

She planted the seed, and already it has taken root in your mind. The tendrils may be infinitesimal, but they have sprouted, the notion of comfort sinking into your brain. Very soon, the flower will blossom: you’ll be back in her embrace, back where you belong. And while the wait would feel like an eternity, and the withdrawal would continue to gnaw away at whatever sanity remains, Abby knows you won’t be able to stay away for much longer.

It takes some mighty force of nature to keep a smirk from unfurling across her lips at the prospect of your imminent desperation. Instead, she smiles warmly, keeping things casual.

“No sweat.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

After you parted ways from the grimy supply cupboard, Abby hazarded a rather cocky guess: you would come crawling into her bed by the end of the week.

Six hours later, your thighs are splayed across her shoulders. Her lips are slick with your honey as your clit throbs under the relentless pressure of her tongue. And she can’t even think about the pathetically short period of time when right now, you taste so fucking sweet.

The human brain is a miraculous organ. Just how hers reinvented its entire perception of beauty the first time she laid eyes on you, it decided the nectar between your thighs would be her favourite meal. You are crisp strawberries on a summer’s day, sugary and sharp all at once, melting against her tongue. The psychology of it all had always fascinated her. Perhaps your addictive taste is influenced by those pitchy little moans falling from your lips – or the hand fisted in her hair, tugging at the roots just how she likes it, is having some kind of wonderful physiological effect. Whatever it is, she’s thankful for it, humming unabashedly as she sloppily makes out with your cunt, devouring everything you have to give her. Twenty-three days she spent locked out of heaven. Abby is going to take her damn time in her indulgence.

Oxygen is nothing more than an inconvenience, the faint burning in her lungs a tinnitus she can never fully suppress. With a savouring lick, she pulls away momentarily for breath, allowing her eyes to wash over your reclined body on her bed. Your chest rises and falls gently in tandem with the breathy sounds escaping you. The exposed skin where her shirt rides up your abdomen is decorated with a few faint imprints of her teeth. The possessive marks aren’t necessary. They aren’t the best indication of a healthy mind, either, but the way your hips bucked as she raked her teeth downwards, followed by a kiss just above the hem of your underwear…wasn’t that a pretty sight.

Panting, Abby presses her lips to your inner thigh, suckling gently on the skin. “I missed this,” she avows in earnest, muffled by your warm flesh. “I can tell you missed this, too,” she chuckles lowly. Her eyes flutter shut as your nails emblazon crescents into her scalp. Abby hisses at the delightful sting when you tighten your grip, dragging her tongue over the bud peeking through your dripping syrupy folds, wanting you to feel the effect you have on her.

Something strangled breaks free from your throat as she closes her lips around your clit and sucks softly, keeping your hips effortlessly pinned to the mattress with one hand as the other kneads your thigh. A breathless curse leaves you in a whine. She smiles against you, high on the dopamine injected straight into her bloodstream by your hips gyrating under her palm.

The saccharine river trickling from your heat is ceaseless, threatening to drown her, not that she would object. Suffocating against your sweetness would be a blissful death. Abby would welcome demise if it was delivered by your trembling thighs, even though you are always so worried about hurting her, like you ever could.

“Have you ever been this wet before, baby?” she laughs, unable to help herself. Those meaner tendencies make a habit of slipping through whenever she has you caged beneath her. She knows the answer to her question, but she wants to hear it from your lips in a moan: a pretty confession wrapped in an even prettier sound. An avaricious inferno burns in her heart, craving your acknowledgement that your body debauches itself for her of its own accord.

Without allowing you a moment to collect a coherent thought together, she resumes her onslaught, suckling on your sensitive clit, laving her tongue over the nerves that her lips can’t caress.

“It’s – fuck – been so long, Abby,” you mewl, those darling sounds heightening in volume and pitch as she gets a little rougher.

And it has. Not by normal standards; one might attribute such mutual desperation after three-ish weeks to nymphomania. Abby came to terms with her addiction long ago.

“I knew you wouldn’t last a month,” she muses out loud, pulling back for air.

If you were anyone else, you might have taken offense. But you are as drunk on pleasure as she is on pussy. The chains to your body’s chemistry reside firmly in her grasp. Who is she kidding? You both know Abby is the only person with a hope in hell of satisfying you.

There isn’t a trace of apprehension when she growls, heated and arrogant, “Nobody else could fuck you like I do.”

Arousal rips through her at the breathless agreement you relent like a sawblade: that blissed-out admission has fucked her up for life. You are hers. You see yourself as hers. It was implicit, she knows it. She wonders how many sleepless nights you spent needing some stress relief, a hand wedged between your pretty thighs, fervently trying to alleviate that tempestuous ache to no avail, because Abby ruined you for anyone else, even yourself.

You’re mine.

You’ve always been fucking mine.

Wantonly, your velvet heat pulses under her tongue, and she decides enough words have been spoken for now. In voracious earnest, both hands moving to grip your thighs, she doubles down.

Pain ripples through her scalp, a pestering ache sets into her jaw, yet Abby wouldn’t have it any other way because your sweet cunt is undulating against her lips, toes curling against her back. Your moans are music to her fucking ears, muted only by your thighs pressing against them. Crush her, she doesn’t care. She’ll make you come if it kills her.

“Abby,” you wail, all drawn-out and pitchy in about four different keys. Every morsel of your self-control has been gifted to her to handle how she knows best. That’s it, sweetpea. Fuck my face just how you need it.

It’s all worth it when your orgasm seizes you like a maelstrom, jolting with lightning as ecstasy washes over you. She may not believe in any god, but watching you succumb to pleasure is something of a divine transcendence; it makes her worship all the more worthwhile. Abby hums, pulling away from your clit so as to not overstimulate you – she can afford a little patience – leisurely lapping up your nectareous spend. She sighs as your hand unknits itself from her hair, ignoring the soreness at the roots.

Trembling, you shudder as she ghosts kisses along the tops of your thighs, trailing up until her face hovers above yours, lips still dewy with your essence. Warmth blankets her heart as your eyes flutter open, still heavy and half-lidded in a haze, long lashes framing the kaleidoscopic irises staring up at her.

“Beautiful,” she whispers beside herself.

A gentle smile settles onto your lips, but only briefly, faltering almost as swiftly as it appeared. A pang of fear strikes her heart. “What’s wrong, babe?” Abby frowns, the fragility of her concern steeled by her tone, the name rolling off her tongue out of normalcy.

Your brow knits with apprehension. “Are you sure you’re not…” you trail off, reaching up to touch her cheek. The delicate pads of your fingertips dance over her freckles, sunlight against her skin. “…mad at me?” She offers you a sympathetic look. You sigh, troubled, adding, “I would be mad at me.”

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, leaning into your touch, caressing your hair. “How can I be mad at you?”

There it is again: that incessant buzzing. The unshakeable tinnitus of the possibility of you slipping away rings through her ears, needle-sharp. Shrill, distracting…she needs to get rid of it before it seeps through the cracks of her visage.

You need convincing. A little encouragement, a little persuasion, a guiding light or a serpent to whisper in your ear…anything. Whatever works, as long as those doubts leave your mind. Fuck, you’re not afraid of her, are you? Well, come on, Abby, who wouldn’t be? But you shouldn’t be.

Stay grounded. Let’s be…tactical about this.

Perhaps the suggestion that you should figure out your own needs was ill-advised. There is far too much risk involved. Her heart would shatter if you concluded that the thing you needed was, after all, space. Abby needs to be gentle with her words, else you’ll end up thinking too hard.

A clause comes to mind. The words will not leave her guiltlessly. They are, morally, wrong. Objectively manipulative. But after this ambrosial dose of you, Abby doesn’t think she could survive another withdrawal period. What’s the harm in playing into psychology when you will both be happier with the result?

Reassurance, that’s what you need. It’s your crutch. Always has been.

“You were a little confused, that’s all,” she coos without a trace of judgement. Her hand drifts from your silken hair to cradle the smaller hand caressing her cheek. She moves your hand to her lips, dusting a kiss across your knuckles, closing her eyes, praying it’ll suffice to mask her dishonesty.

When she allows them to flutter open again, her eyes are met with a look of gentle perplexion, but no hostility. “Confused?” you frown. She scours those pretty irises for a change in emotion as her pulse quickens. But instead of recoiling, your unoccupied hand moves to her back, sweeping soothing arcs across her skin. Some of her anxieties are immediately quelled, clearing her head enough to formulate her next words with appropriate caution.

“You were stressed, overworked, and I wasn’t around as much because of patrols,” she says softly, delicately squeezing your hand. Gradually, to her delight, your brows begin to unfurrow. “And since I wasn’t there for you, you started to think I cared more about killing Scars than taking care of you. You forgot how much you mean to me,” she whispers, the manipulation of the truth sounding more believable with every word. “But that’s okay. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

You nod, your bottom lip subtly quivering. Just like that, the marionette strings are back in her palm. “I just—” you hesitate, eyes beginning to glisten, “I can’t believe I even started to think like…you were some sort of monster, when you’ve always been so good to me.”

“No matter what I do on the field, you will always come first, okay?” she smiles, sighing with relief when you return it, blinking away the tell-tale signs of tears.

“God, I missed you so much, Abs,” you laugh softly, arching your neck to seal the gap between your lips. Abby wants to laugh too, motivated by something entirely less sweet.

It worked.

It fucking worked.

Any residual guilt from her sugar-coated, twisted truth dissipates as your lips collide. No harm, no foul, right? Because body and soul, you are hers once more. This is normalcy.

This is home.

#excuse the dumb title it is 2.28am #oh yeah i decided to write again lmao. it's cheaper than therapy #can you tell i would abandon all morality if a sinister buff woman wanted to rail me or should i keep writing this kind of thing #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson #smut

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noemitenshi · 5 months

Text

@marrecarandgi

ok so, the mommy issues: he does have them though i don't think they are sexual in nature (which is also why i don't like to call them 'mommy issues'--- theres always a certain… connotation attached (and on top of that it sounds, to me, like blaming the victim. not saying you're doing it! not at all! Just describing my aversion to that particular phrase as best as i can)).

So what that whole thing boils down to is that he never experienced the love of his parents, that's where it stems from. That's part of why he fixates on Madison so hard. BC already in the first ep of s3, moments after he greets madison, he watches her declare her love for her kids and for travis. "do you love him more than your life?" he asks her and the way he looks at her… like that's such a strange thing to him and at the same time he'd wished someone would love him that much. or like even half as much. hell, he'd take a quarter! It's kinda heartbreaking. He's drawn to such a love and jealous too. Of course he is, he never got it. And then he finds out who her son is she got in such danger for and… is angry at him. Angry that he has such love in his life and just--- treats it with such disrespect (=bc he's a junkie and also bc he clearly ran away from his mom). I think it reminds him of the relationship with his own mom, how HE had such love for her and how she had only disdain for him and for his love. And while he can't hate his mom - i mean i think he does. but he also loves her. feelings for his mom are complicated… but with NICK it's not complicated. He can just hate him. So yeah there's a lot of projecting going on. None of it sexual though, I don't believe so. Explains part of his fixation though. AND THEN on top of her apparent love, she immediately turns around and tries to manipulate him. "My, my son, he's out there, somewhere. Alone. I'm sure if you were lost in the wasteland, your mother would do anything to find you" Definitely he loves the way Madison could play his games (the way she did even as she was disadvantaged, even as she was scared), the way she tried to manipulate him AND also the way she loved, those two things drew him to her. Personally I think he was most taken in by the 'she keeps at it even while she's afraid what he'll do' thing she had going on. Pushing onwards despite. Does it remind him of himself? Most certainly. He loves to draw that out of her, that bravery, that opposition. After all, he likes people pushing back it's attention, it's caring enough to engage with him, not just dismissing him… And I think a third aspect in their relationship is that he also wants her to.. teach him, in a way. Because they're pretty similar - both manipulative and clever, wanting to control all others around them and not afraid to do what needs to be done (in their eyes) - but then! She's got a family that loves her. If she could just teach him how she did that… he could have a shot at that too. At long last he could have that, too! If only she could teach him her secret.

So yes, his family did fuck with his head badly, he's certainly got issues. And it comes out as desperate to make connections, as soaking up attention and affection wherever he gets it, no matter how dangerous it is. He knows full well Madison is playing him but he just can't NOT engage, at least in s3. I'm so fucking happy for him he got over that in s8. How heartbreaking would that have been otherwise… And I think the reason he got over it is because he finally got what he was craving - someone that loves him. Not wanting to use him or someone who merely tolerates him, but honestly, truly loves him. First Serena (I assume) and then definitely Tracy.

Now about the 180 he did wrt killing Madison - honestly that's just bad writing in my opinion and having everything rushed because they wanted to do too much for 12 eps. That's how it felt while watching haha. (Same btw for Tracy suddenly saving Madison what the fuck come on get out of here with this shit omg). Anyway, what I could imagine is going on here: he knows he's fucked (chances of surviving this and actually getting tracy to safety pretty low) so he does what he thinks will most likely ensure Tracy's safety. Getting on the good side of these people (by saving Madison).

It's still a stretch, I know, but makes more sense than 'he saw into her eyes and realized bla bla bla' come on! Orrrr maybe he realized her dying now, without anything she believes in is no punishment for her. She *needs* to believe in the same shit Serena did so it really hurts her when she dies. She'll feel like she's losing out on something, or whatever. Now it seems like she welcomes death. She even said it to him didnt she. Something along the lines that padre will be safe without ppl like them around. She wants to die. So. He saves her. (Just like she didn't kill him when he begged her back in s3. she just sent him into exile). I kinda see this one as the most likely explanation. Also makes sense he wasn't paying attention to Madison, just worried about Tracy. Because that's his number 1 prioority.

---

Now naming Tracy Tracy still has me scratching my head and calling bullshit. Sorry, no in-universe explanation for it, writers were being stupid. Probably thought 'oh this will show he really really cares about family bc he named her after his mom' or whatever.

#troy otto #madison clark #tracy otto #ftwd #ramblings #fear the walking dead

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ladyathenawisdom · 8 months

Text

Gangster'sWife / Pt. 2

Warnings: Language, Mature Themes, Violence, Spicy.

Part 3

..............

Hero hummed quietly, trying to distract her thoughts from Superhero's deadly mission. She let out a sigh as hot water washed over her, she closed her eyes in relaxation.

Fear ate at her, filling her entire being. Had Superhero gone crazy? She supposed he did. Many heroes did go crazy with all the attention on them and their awful mental health issues. It wouldn't be a far fetched idea that he had gone insane too.

The misson he gave her team was hard, no, it wasn't hard. It was impossible. Nobody had ever caught him.

He never got caught. He was clever, tactical, cunning, intelligent, smart, strong, alluring, charming, handsome, beautiful, funny, sweet....

Hero paused, she shook her head at her stupid thoughts as memories filled her. She sighs, closing the water and stepping out of the shower. She grabs a towel, walking out of the bathroom.

Her heart lurched.

She stared at the bouquet of black roses, and the letter attached to it, that wasn't there before.

Her eyes hurriedly scanned her apartment, wild and in a frenzy. She swallows hard, her grip on the towel tightening as she squirmed.

She shakes her head, walking over to quickly grab the card. Her eyes fill with confusion, seeing that it was the invitation to the heroes and villains gala. She frowns, she already had a invitation, why would someone give her another one?

She shakes her head, her eyes going to the black roses. She swallows hard, suspecting who this someone was. The gala was in a week, she hadn't thought that it was important because every year she went, it turned out to be boring.

Hero turns and flips the card, her lips parting when she sees the note at the back of the invite.

Hope to see you soon, Mi Amor. ♥︎

Hero clenches her jaw, tightening her fingers around the delicate but intricate paper. It wrinkled immediately, she scowls. She grunts, ripping it into pieces as her anger flared. She shakes her head, glaring hard at the torn up pieces of paper. She looks at the bouquet.

She swallows hard when she notices the thorns on them. She scowls, grabbing the stems of the flowers and heading towards her kitchen, throwing them in the trash. She sighs, putting her hands on her hips as her wet hair flung.

She needs to control her emotions.

..............

"Your being an idiot,"

"No, your being a idiot."

"No, your a fucking idiot. Why would he be there?"

"Because it's where the most crimes are."

"That's stupid. It's always been a high crime rate country, you buffoon."

"Atleast I'm actually trying to work!"

Hero sighs, watching as Teammate and Sidekick went back and forth in their argument.

Hero 2 only rolled her eyes, working on her laptop while Teammate 2 didn't seem to care.

Leader did care as he glared at the two. "Shut up, both of you. This is serious. Superhero gave us a mission, we need to fulfill it."

"Yeah, an impossible one." Teammate 2 snorts.

Leader turns his glare to her. "Enough with the snark. It's not impossible if we work hard and actually do something!" He snaps, annoyed.

"We are working hard!" Teammate 2 snaps all or a sudden, her eyes fiery. "We can't find him. It's fucking impossible. We can't even track him because we have no idea where he is or who he is."

Hero 2 nods. "And it's impossible because no one knows nothing about him. He literally lurks in the shadows, never revealing himself. What are we even supposed to track?"

Leader clenches his jaw, not caring whether they would work themselves to death. "We need to fucking find him somehow!" He growls.

Sidekick grunts. "I'm gonna take a break, I have a headache." He turns and walks out, muttering curses under his breath.

Hero spoke up. "Me too. I'm tired," she pulls all the files off her lap. "I'll be back in a moment." She gets off, ignoring Leader's glare on her back.

It was no secret he envied her. She had been working for centuries for their organization, being one of the best and most powerful heroes. But even if he was number 1, he always felt threatened by her. She may not look old, but her mind technically was.

She had years of experience.

Hero sighs, stepping out of the building. She takes a deep breath, smiling at the fresh air. She looks around the large vast area of the parking lot.

Looking around, she pulls out a pack of cigarettes. She lights one up, taking a slow drag. She had picked up the habit 2 months ago, needing a way to relax.

She found a way, a bad one, but still a way.

She closes her eyes, taking a long inhale before blowing out. She sighs, staring at it with a deep frown. She shouldn't have picked up the habit, but it's not like anyone would notice or care.

One person did, used too.

She shakes her head, taking another inhale. She hated this. Why did Superhero have to act all macho? It's not like anyone could catch him, it was freaking impossible.

Hero looks down, thinking everything over. Why did everything have to be so complicated. She stomps her cigarette on the floor with her shoe before heading inside, scowling.

When she had taken hee seat again, Sidekick had returned a few minutes later, fixing his clothes.

Teammate had glanced at him and roller her eyes.

Hero 2 had grabbed a board and had started drawing and writing on it with a marker while Teammate 2 watched.

Leader glanced up every once in a while as he typed on his laptop.

Hero sighs, continuing with her work.

It was a few minutes later when Leader shot up in his seat, his eyes wide. "Fuck!'

Hero 2 yelps. "What's wrong!" She turns to him, watching as he stared at his laptop.

Sidekick, Teammate, Hero 2 and Teammate 2 all hover around him. Hero frowns, but stands up to join him.

Her heart drops when she sees what it is.

"Someone sent an anyomous note, saying that Supervillain will be at the heroes and villains gala on Saturday." Leader spoke.

Hero 2 stared at the screen eagerly as Hero's heart dropped with fear and anticipation.

"Woah, it says they'll be planning to steal the documents that Mentor has." Teammate 2 frowns.

Sidekick smirks. "Well, atleast we finally got a clue."

"Pfft," Teammate scoffs. "We don't even know if it's real. What if someone is tricking us? What if they're lying?"

Hero 2 scoffs. "How could someone trick us? The laptop belongs to the industry, which has a very tight security wall. As if someone could hack us. This might be legit as someone clearly worked hard to send us this information."

"Yeah," Teammate 2 nods. "They might have even given their life for it. Any person who is even close to finding Supervillain, is found dead later on. He gets rid of them so easily."

Teammate frowns, but knows they have a point.

Hero stays silent, staring at the laptop. Was this true? How was this possible? Why? Why though?

"We neen to keep the documents and harddrive safe," Leader spkke sternly, his eyes narrowed.

"Agreed," Hero finally spoke up, nodding slowly.

"Me too," Hero 2 nods, Teammate 2 also nods.

Teammate rolls her eyes but nods. "Fine, fine. But if it's a scam....."

"Yeah, yeah." Sidekick scoffs. "I told you so and shit. So yeah, we need to keep them safe. We need to be prepared,"

Hero bites her lower lip.

"Good," Leader smiles, looking absolutely happy. "I'll go and inform and Superhero. He'll be so happy we finally found a lead."

Hero watched him as he left, feeling her heart start to sink.

"Oh, now we need to discuss what we'll wear." Hero 2 sqeals.

Sidekick only rolls his eyes.

..........

A few days went by, with that gala right around the corner.

Hero stayed silent as the team worked, analyzing everything and overthinking.

They debated how he would be there and how he came to be, seeing as the gala was invite only. But that shouldn't have been problem, seeing as who he was.

"But who sent it?" Teammate frowns.

"Probably someone now dead," Sidekick snorts.

Hero pursues her lips, looking down towards her laptop.

"Okay, everyone settle down." Leader called out, looking at his team. "We need to assign our positions."

"Oh, goody." Teammate 2 sighs.

"Alright," Hero says, putting her laptop down and turning her whole attention to him.

"Good." Leader nods. "Okay. So, we need lookouts, so Teammate and Teammate 2 will lookout for any suspicious activity."

The two nod obediently.

"Hero 2, you'll keep an eye of the documents, along with Sidekick."

Hero 2 frowns. "Seriously?"

"Do I have to work with her?" Sidekick scowls.

"Yes." Leader states sternly. "Both of you need to keep an eye on the documents. Stay near the office, take turns watching Superhero's office."

"Fine," Sidekick grumbled.

"Hero, you'll keep an eye on the hard-drive." Leader orders. "And I'll keep an update on you guys and keep Superhero informed, got it?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, Leader."

.........

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triviareads · 6 months

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have you seen this article? Figures netflix and shondaland wouldn't care when Ruby was going through mental health issues.

https://deadline.com/2023/10/bridgerton-ruby-barker-calls-out-netflix-shondaland-psychotic-breaks-1235587834/

I've attached the link below for anyone who wants to read. I had not seen this; obviously I'd been following along when Ruby talked about her mental health issues stemming from the show and not being on season 3 but I feel like this confirms a lot of what I was wondering, namely, Ruby connects the circumstances her character Marina goes through (she says Marina is "very alienated, very ostracized, on her own under these horrible circumstances" which.... yeah, who the hell thought this was a good idea in terms of plot or sensitivity?) to her own mental health struggles and says she was deteriorating as a result. I think it's horrific that despite this, no one from Shondaland or Netflix reached out and checked in on her when she suffered two psychotic breaks, and Ruby was put in the shitty position of having to keep quiet about the entire situation to avoid losing out on future jobs or interfere with Bridgerton promotion.

Honestly... between what we know of the people in charge of this show and this fandom which heaped loads of abuse on Ruby and other people of color (the number of blithe posts I STILL see on this website about waiting for Marina to kill herself... is insane, and the comments sections in the couple articles I read about this were similarly brutal; like, just because a workplace isn't "legally obligated" to reach out to someone struggling with mental health issues, it doesn't mean they shouldn't, and instead of people going "if I didn't get support, neither should you", we should be all be asking for better support), I'm not surprised in the least, and that just feels disappointing because three years ago there was so much hope for this show being the "new frontier" in racially diverse casting and bringing historical romances on television but all that's basically shot to pieces now.

#bridgerton #ruby barker

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alchemocha · 9 months

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You think robotnik has a soft spot for all animals in general? Like he said that he hates all humans and wants them to die, but never said anything bout creatures other than humans. You think when he was an orphan, he hung out with animals because he was lonely? So much so that he's now a sorta animal whisperer? Would he get really pissed off at humans and emotional because he saw a post on social media saying that there are under 10,000 red pandas left because of habitat loss?

A thought that just popped up when looking at animal videos

I think so, yeah!

I like the idea that when Robotnik was a kid, he befriended a stray once and named him Gizmo. Pets weren’t allowed at the orphanage and he was never with any foster family long enough to have a pet of his own, so he more or less claimed Gizmo as his buddy. He tried making friends, originally, but no one cared to stick around him long, and they all thought his intelligence and bluntness were him being smug and arrogant.

That really wasn’t the case though, not when he was still a kid, he was just a very gifted autistic kid with a passion for robots, which stemmed into building and creating technology. He got in trouble a lot for taking things apart and rebuilding stuff in the orphanage and foster homes, but he’d just wanted to show off things he was proud of and be told he did a good job! Never happened though. Eventually kids got meaner and would take things that he thought were his and in trying to defend the items he was attached to, would get scolded by adults and still have them taken from him. So eventually he began keeping more to himself unless directly approached, though even that rarely went in his favour.

Gizmo was the only real connection he’d felt in a long time, so whenever he was able, he would hang around outside with him, feed him scraps, and give him all the best belly rubs he could! As he got older though, Robotnik would see his only friend less and less and eventually had to attend school too far to keep him nearby.

His love for animals in general remained into his adult years, but much more… locked away tight in the private vault of his feelings.

Having grown jaded and bitter towards the world and humans as he aged due the neglect and cruelty he’d so often faced, Robotnik threw away any joyful piece of himself, or he liked to think. He’d actually just tucked them so deep within his being that he believed they were gone, but they were there, still burning with passion, with the hopeful, excited child from his past. It’s where all his vulnerability was stored, and very little did anything slip past his mental firewall.

Until Stone was in the picture, that is. Things slipped through the cracks far more often when Stone was there, and Robotnik felt like he was flailing in the dark trying to keep water in a broken bowl, more or less. He was passionate about issues one might not expect of such a seemingly cold hearted man, things like endangered animals and species, world health, anything that wasn’t directly human. It wasn’t that he inherently thought humans deserved to die, but up until that point he’d never met anyone who was deserving of the planet they lived on, of the things they all took for granted. They were deceitful, selfish, and liars. They could all burn for all he cared. The world had turned a blind eye to him, so he would do the same to it.

Except for… Stone. Of course. Stone was the only person in his eyes worth anything, the only one he could trust, who wouldn’t lie, who wouldn’t neglect, who wouldn’t scold and belittle for things that he couldn’t control. Even if the man caused him distress and frustration in ways he never expected, ways that made him have to face feelings he’d thought he’d tossed aside.

Stone brought up the idea of a cat in the lab, of course, under careful regulation so it didn’t interfere with any of the doctor’s work. He’d found a stray he’d been taking care of on his ways too and from work, and at first, Robotnik refused, absolutely forbid such a nonsensical thing. But truth be told he missed Gizmo. It aches, recalling how they shouted and told him no, how he’d never gotten to say goodbye to the stray he related so much to.

Eventually he gave in. He always did with Stone, as much as it went against his own virtues. The smile on the mans face, he decided though, was worth every bit of dilemma. Robotnik was finding that there was a lot of things he deemed ‘worth it’, if it meant he could see Stone’s smile. All he could really bring himself to do is roll his eyes at how soft he felt he was getting around the man. And the cat.

#dr robotnik #ivo robotnik #stobotnik #agent stone #jimbotnik #mocha answers #mocha writes #oops got a little carried away with this train of thought whdkdjh #I just !!! think he would love animals even if he wouldn’t admit to it anymore #I think he’d love a lot of things he simply wouldn’t let himself #animals also just love him so much and he has no idea how to handle it anymore but #if you catch him at the right time you’ll see him laugh and smile about it #talk to me about stobotnik and jimbotnik I have so many feelings

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beevean · 5 months

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"You can't convince me Rough & Tumble, Jewel, Clutch or Mimic have any fans. You can't."

Hi, a whole one fan of R&T here and.... yeah even I have to admit that most people's enjoyment of characters like these (mine included) stems mostly from the "I just think they look neat" factor. Granted I will say that I actually like the (very small) bro moments between the two because they remind me of how the comic sent that aspect of Sonic and Tails' relationship down the drain.

Anyway I brought this up because I can confidently say something that only gets worse with every issue: the stans don't actually like the OCs the way they claim they do. They like the aesthetic, the ideas around the characters, the vibes. The comic simply gives you a minimally cared for but still very much empty field with just enough promise of something of value growing there eventually, that you just end up growing a whole plantation of your own with just your headcannons. And that's the thing. The vibes, the ideas, the headcannons. Those are a constant. The moment they get imprinted onto a character, they are always there. That's why the new issue screenshots can only procur a reaction like "omg them". Because the character in the comic as is doesn't matter in the long run. In their minds, said characters already went through a fanfic's worth of screentime with all the study attached, they are already "complete" basically. Appearances in the comic are just visual stimuli to clap, point fingers and go wooooooo and any changes in the actual plot will only incur cosmetic changes on the character's image. At most, that's just an additional tag to the vibes list.

lmao, well I appreciate the honesty 😂 Rough and Tumble being more of an evil Unbreakable Duo than Surge & Kit is wild, man.

But yeah, what you said. And look, listen. After I got into the CV fandom, I saw so many people adopt the most minor of characters and turn them into their beloved blorbo - characters that are lucky if they have any sort of personality detailed in the manual, let alone on screen. So I get it, I get the appeal of taking a character that is nothing more than unexpressed potential and unraveling it, because hey that concept really really appeals to you. Look, I am intrigued by Surge and Kit's concept as well, and Whisper started out well as a quiet, introverted girl in a mostly extroverted cast, so yes I understand.

It's the pretentiousness I can't stand. It's people celebrating IDW as being well written and so much better than the games, when their appreciation boils down to basically gushing about ship teases or funny faces, or memefying their personalities to make them fit better into the prepackaged blorbo molds. The story wants to take itself seriously, so I take it seriously, and it's so obvious that characters are bent down in function of the plot.

Plant all the headcanons you want! But always keep in mind what is your headcanon and what is actually on paper.

#fans don't look

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stormbxrnbaby · 1 year

Text

The more I think of Rhaena, the more attached I become to her (and Baela’s) character.

Her quiet, somewhat sensitive and compliant nature existing because of daemons neglect (in the show) and Laena’s suicide so she has people pleasing tendencies. She probably just doesn’t want to be left (I think Baela’s abandonment issues bc of laena manifest more in her anger).

She seems like she lives a lot of her life in her head like yeah the show didn’t give her lines and shit but with the way Bethany played Baela it’s like she’s constantly holding her tongue. While Phoebe played rhaena like it was natural like she keeps her thoughts to herself. She even holds Baela back at one point, like you can see how much Baela restrains herself in most of her limited scenes. While Rhaena has a more subdued presence, quick to obey and listen but she doesn’t seem like she’s one for confrontation unlike the rest of her family.

Mind you, everyone of the kids except she and Helaena were ready to fight but while Helaena kinda just sat back Rhaena stands up to stop her sister from lashing out in a way that could get her hurt. I think Baela’s desire to protect manifests physically while Rhaena’s is seemingly more of a verbal, mental kind of manifestation like she’d rather prevent the problem so there’s no need to solve it whereas Baela would face the problem head on once it’s present. I just really love the way Phoebe and Bethany played their characters.

This isn’t like me saying I prefer one sister over the other but I just wanted to like show how their duality is almost always present despite the limited material given in the subtle micro expressions each actress showcases.

The feast showed that Rhaena and Baela are both protective but like while Baela is offense rhaena is defense. I also kind of think their differing nature stems from Rhaena’s upbringing on dragonstone after Laena’s death must’ve been one where she took a backseat. Whether or not it was intentional, she was overlooked because of Jace and Luke who needed more guidance as future leaders then Joffrey was born and then came Aegon and Viserys. I feel like she got used to the lack of attention, used to the neglect and in a way shrunk into herself.

I think she wasn’t completely neglected and I think she and Luke found comfort in one another as the second born children meant for greatness but not as much greatness as their older counterparts. anyway, baela was raised on driftmark after Laena died so she was the only focus of her grandmother. She’s used to being heard and speaking her mind because of that attention provided by rhaenys who took pride in raising her. It’s why baela is the one who speaks up against vaemond at driftmark like she’s very bold and vocal bc she’s always been allowed to be.

This isn’t a slight against her it’s just the truth, like even in show canon you can see how Rhaena and Baela are quite similar when they’re younger bc they both recieved an equal amount of attention. Even though Rhaena talks about daemons neglect, her mother is there to validate her so she feels seen and significant up until her death. Rhaena was equally as bold as Baela if not more so, she was the first one who was quick to run at Aemond after he insulted her after all. Lemme stop the dissertation but yeah I just like them a lot.

#rhaena targaryen #baela targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #lucerys x rhaena #laena targaryen #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #show analysis #hotd #team black

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bookofmirth · 11 months

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If Gwyn and Azriel do end up together how do you think their relationship will be built up? I definitely see them going from friends to lovers. In ACOSF, there here has not been any interactions between Az & Elain (that we know of) since solstice. Bryce falls into Prythian and I’m sure that took place a few months after ACOSF. In the upcoming CC book, I hope/think we get small (nothing too big since this is about Bryce) glimpses of Gwynriel, like his shadows wrapping around her wrist or trailing after her. I think Gwyn will try to help Bryce go back to her world since she works with Merrill who is researching other worlds. I’m worried/nervous how Gwynriel will play out and be built. If they do get together, I just hope Azriel sorts out his issues first. He doesn’t have to be completely healed, it’s fine, but he needs to work on his self worth issues and needs to acknowledge that he self sabotages. No one can fix that except for himself. Also, how do you think the whole situation with Elain/Azriel will be played out? I believe after CC3, we will have Az’s book and I’m thinking maybe he’ll acknowledge that it was a mistake and he only did it out of jealousy (since his brothers have mates) and not because he has genuine romantic feelings for her. I like that even though Azriel did save/rescue Gwyn, he didn’t immediately develop a possessive/romantic attachment to her. I’m sorry for the long ask! (Ps, do you think Azriel has a hero complex? That he needs to save everybody? This could stem from his childhood with his mother.)

For sure friends to lovers. They already know one another and regularly interact. In this post I mentioned how I think they will continue to work together, and I see it leading to some competitiveness and tension between them, because I think they will have the same goals (IE stop the bad guys) but the Valkyries will have newer, perhaps more progressive ways of doing so, while the Illyrians have an established way of working. I don't ship it 100% because broody sad boys are not my thing (anymore lol) but I can totally see Az and Gwyn having this teasing, challenging camaraderie with one another!

Definitely agree that I hope he gets his issues sorted first! I think talking to Mor will be a much bigger necessity than talking to Elain. Like you pointed out, he and Elain haven't interacted since Solstice (that we know of) so I honestly don't think it will be a big deal that he needs to address. But he has been holding out some sort of unrealistic hope for Mor for his whole life. So yes, I agree that he will admit with Elain he acted out of jealousy (for mating bonds, for what Rhys and Cassian have, not because he wants her in particular), but that will be it. With Mor, it's a much longer, more important conversation.

And yeah, I do think he needs to save women, because of his mom! I know I've talked about it before but I can't be bothered to search for it, so-

Examples are in acofas where he gets upset at dinner and Rhys explains to Feyre that it's because of the way that his mother was treated, the fact that he holds onto this anger about what happened to Mor, he has rescued Feyre, Gwyn, Elain, Briar... Who knows how many other women. I think that's partly why he rushes into danger, but I think it's combined with the fact that he feels deeply insecure about his place in the IC - he was tortured by his brothers, in what world is it okay or sane for him to torture other people as part of his job??? That's where his insecurity comes in, IMO. He does that because he feels like he doesn't have anything else to give, and he needs to earn his place. That's how I interpret it, at least. I mean, there really isn't any other reason for him to put that burden on himself, unless he feels like he deserves it. People have pointed out that Rhys could easily break into people's minds for information, so Az torturing people doesn't make sense.

This is also why I think he gets so angry at being told he can't/shouldn't do things that he thinks will be helpful to the IC (e.g. when Rhys and Feyre tell him he can't spy on Briallyn, when Nesta tells him he'll die if he tries to get Elain back from Hybern). If he doesn't have these things - the rescuing and the torturing for the greater good - then how else is he proving that he belongs?

#azriel #acotar #acosf #gwynriel #ask #anon

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sleekervae · 6 months

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Yoü & I [2.4]

Masterlist

A/N: Happy Nov 1st everyone! Spooky season is over, my cold is gone and I have a renewed energy to push out some more overdue content while on my reading break. Hope you all enjoy and don't forget to like, comment and reblog ;)

Warnings: mentions of depression, abandonment, attachment issues, family drama

"You see all the world to believe

That there's a lot inside of me But it's time that I'll come clean I'm not what I seem, no Some would say I'm possessed, yeah But I'll confess, I've just been obsessed With life and death and emptiness, I guess Can't you see all of the change in me?You took these starving limbs, try to see Try to see what they could be I thought it would be something I thought you'd complete me That you'd erase all the pain that I felt in my brain If you fill my heart with love Then you'd fill my voids above

And now you see I didn't change a thing"

Maria listened to the recording word-for-word, her heart breaking with every sorrowful note Charlotte sang. She knew Charlotte was a little fragile, but hearing this made her fret beyond words.

Charlotte meanwhile sat on Maria's bed, clutching her velvet body pillow as she patiently awaited Maria's critiques. Maria pulled the headset off and pushed away from her desk, staring at Charlotte with overwhelming concern.

"That's really fucking deep," she gasped, "When did you write this?"

"Last night," Charlotte admitted, "I got a little drunk and... then I got creative,"

It was evident she was changing, using her complex emotions to weave lyrical mastery. Maria was beyond impressed, she was also scared for her.

Maria got up from the desk chair and came to sit with her friend on the bed, holding her tightly. She was spooked, Charlotte had a side to her that was much darker and heavier than any of the girls had witnessed during their first EP and album. Maria wanted desperately to take all complexities away, yearning for the days when they'd tease Charlotte about her and Luke's friendship and when Charlotte would tell them all to buzz off. She remembered Charlotte being happier, lighter a year and a half ago.

But she also wasn't happy then, either.

God knew how many mountains it would take before Charlotte would finally find the happiness and peace she wanted. And it was clear that what was once a cute and platonic friendship had stemmed into something that was twisting Maria's best friend inside out and back again.

"Charlotte," she spoke quietly, "What happened yesterday?"

Charlotte wiped her nose on her sweater sleeve, she was ironically chilled since it was the dead of summer now.

"Luke was supposed to come by. We're working on the song I showed you last week, thinking maybe we'd perform it at a couple shows," she huffed quietly, "He stood me up. He called me hours later to apologize but -- I don't know. Maybe I'm just making mountains out of mole hills?"

"What is it?" Maria asked, "Talk to me babe, I don't like seeing you like this,"

Charlotte shrugged, "I just got this idea that he was afraid to be talking to me. He was almost whispering, like he'd be in trouble if..."

"... If Melody knew he was talking to you?" Maria asked. Charlotte scoffed.

"I mean -- you're whispering into the phone while your girlfriend is in the next room? I'm not your damn mistress! I'm your friend! I've been there for him longer than Melody ever has!"

Maria grabbed her by the shoulders, smoothing out the ripples in her cardigan, "I know Lottie, I know," she nodded, "Do you think maybe that's the problem, though? Melody maybe feels threatened by you?"

Guilt wormed its way back into Charlotte's gut, her chest tightening. She was selfish, jealous, and yeah, she was definitely needy.

"I want what's best for Luke, and she thinks she also knows what's best for him but -- I mean, every time they have a fight I'm the one he comes to. I'm the one he escapes with. I --"

"He uses you," Maria stated calmly, "And it's not fair to you. Not with the way you're feeling,"

Charlotte was taken aback, but a little relieved, seeing that someone else could see it to, "Maria..."

Maria shook her head, "You used him just as much as he uses you. It's not his fault, or yours. You're not bad people. But Luke is naive; and so were you for a little while. Melody still has her hooks in Luke and winds him tighter than a bobbin, so the poor kid doesn't know what do to,"

Charlotte sighed heavily, "I mean -- she must be phenomenal in bed or something. I just -- I can't figure it out. Why does he stay with her?"

"For the same reason you stay with Luke," Maria replied. Charlotte found it odd how she spoke in present tense.

"Stay?"

Maria listed off her fingers, "You recognize you're in a complicated situation. You have complicated feelings. You think Luke will give you everything you want. But you won't point out the trouble -- stir the pot, so the speak -- because you're afraid he's going to leave you. Just like Ben did,"

"I'm in a cycle," Charlotte finally admitted, "And I don't know how to stop it,"

"You need to find a way to break it," Maria nodded, looking down despondently, "And maybe that means taking some time off from Luke,"

Charlotte's eyes went wide, "Dude, we're back on the road in days,"

"I know," Maria nodded, "But you don't need to spend so much time with him. Not if it's going to cause you all this grief,"

"I don't have grief when I'm with him --"

"You have grief when he lets you down," Maria acknowledged, "Believe me, you're not the only girl in the world to be fucked over by men -- and their sadistic girlfriends,"

Maria loved Luke like a brother, but even she had to admit that he could be a little asshole at times. What, with the way that he used Charlotte: hiding at her place, confiding in her over and over and still letting her down. He was a good guy, yeah, but he wasn't her priority. Maria would step onto a third rail for Charlotte before Luke any day.

And as for Melody, Maria would gladly clock her over the head with a Yellow Pages. Who the hell did she think she was? Dictating who Luke could and couldn't speak to? Making Charlotte feel so unwelcome when she was here first! She was the one who kept Luke's head together -- and maybe that was how the cycle could break?

Charlotte needed to stop being so available.

"Men are a plague on all logical reason and thought," Charlotte huffed, lying back onto the duvet. Maria laid back with her.

"And no matter what, we're cursed to want to love them," she said, grasping Charlotte's cold hand, "... But we also need to protect ourselves from them,"

♛♛♛

This time around, Charlotte dreaded having to go back on tour. She believed Maria was right in that she needed some time apart from Luke. And yet, they'd be stuck together for three straight months, confined in tiny buses and green rooms.

At least they were starting close to home -- New York State. On their way to Uncasville, Charlotte stopped back in Brooklyn for a couple days; knowing Troy wouldn't care so much but Penelope would give her the classic 'Greek Guilt' for not visiting.

The Antonakis family sat at the dinner table, silently albeit. Troy was picking at his peas and carrots while Charlotte craved a cold beer as opposed to the glass of water her mom stuck to her. Penelope was noisily and obnoxiously cutting into her chicken breast, annoyed that her kids were being so quiet.

"So, Charlotte," she finally said, "How was Europe?"

Charlotte glanced at Penelope, perplexed that she only asked after three dragging hours, "Beautiful," she answered truthfully, "We went to Vienna, Berlin, Rome..."

"Did you see Hitler's bunker?" Troy asked, now more engaged than before.

"Yeah," Charlotte nodded, "It's a parking lot. No memorials or nothing. Just a dirty, greasy lot,"

"How fitting," Penelope nodded, "And the girls are okay?"

"They're great," she replied, "We're working on some new music,"

"You know what you're doing now?" Troy asked smugly.

Charlotte glowered at him, "Yes, Mr. Smartass,"

"And those boys you're traveling with?" Penelope finally asked, "Where are they from, England?"

"Australia," both Charlotte and Troy replied.

"Oh, that's right," Penelope grinned, "A bunch of koala huggers,"

Troy glanced listlessly at his mom, "I want to hold a koala someday,"

"They all carry diseases, darling. That's the last thing you want," Penelope warned.

"You can hang out with koalas at the zoo," Troy pointed out.

"That's the Central Park Zoo. They've all been sterilized," she replied promptly.

Charlotte shook her head, "I feel like I'm in a zoo, sometimes," she muttered quietly.

"And you excited for school, Troy?" Penelope asked, "Still floundering away in... what am I paying for, again?"

"Communications," Troy glared at his mom, "And I'm footing half the bill now,"

"Oh of course, that's right," Penelope turned to Charlotte, less than impressed, "Our baby boy has a job now,"

"Really?" Charlotte was surprised, if not a little relieved. He had to start paying back his student loans somehow and it was about time he pulled up his socks, "Where?"

"The pizza shop down the road. You make great tips," Troy grinned.

"He's the delivery boy," Penelope said, "Finally has an excuse to get that rusty old bike out of the yard,"

"That's great, Troy," Charlotte smiled.

"Thank you,"

"Now if only we could change his taste in loose women, then I'd be happy," Penelope said.

Troy dropped his fork, the utensil clattered loudly against the porcelain, "I told you, I stopped seeing her," he sang sarcastically.

"And you still don't tell me where you go at night," Penelope mocked back.

Charlotte glared between the both of them, "You just told me he's a delivery boy for a pizza shop," she said.

Penelope scoffed, "Oh, no. He has the day shifts. At night he's out at all hours and comes back early in the morning. Doesn't say where he's been but I always smell sex on him," she glowered at her son.

Troy rolled his eyes and turned to his sister, "Can I please come on tour with you?" Charlotte shook her head.

"I'll stop getting after you when you tell me where you go at night," Penelope said.

"Why don't you stop trying to insert yourself into my life? You're like a stalker, mom!" Troy bit back, "You're a creep!"

"Troy!" Charlotte scolded.

"I told you, if you weren't going to be truthful with me, then I'll find out for myself," Penelope told him.

"That's bullshit!"

"Oh my God, you guys!"

"No swearing in my house!" Penelope scolded, "If you don't like my rules, then you can go live somewhere else,"

Troy, now red in the face, pushed himself away from the table and stood, "Fine, I will. Psycho!" he then stormed out. Two seconds later he stormed back in and grabbed his dinner plate, then stormed out again.

Charlotte put her face in her hands; her crackhead family was the last thing she needed to deal with right now. Penelope shook her head and kept on eating.

"He'll be back," she sighed, "He left his phone on the chair," she also had a rule about having no phones at the table.

Charlotte shook her head, "I don't get why you're so hard on him," she said, "He's nineteen for God sakes,"

Penelope scoffed back, "And he's a boy. And I trust the opposite sex about as far as I can throw them,"

"Mom, that's ridiculous," she sighed, "Men are -- dumb, yeah -- but they're not all out to hurt you,"

"Oh no? How do you explain your father?" she glowered, "Up and left when you were seven years old! Totting off with a little Russian floozy at the Meat Packing District --"

"I know, mom! I know what happened, and we haven't seen Dad in years," Charlotte nodded, now getting irritated. It was the same story over and over whenever one her kids acted out; she'd guilt them into remembering how their father left and how they had to swear never to turn out to be deadbeats like him.

Penelope snorted, "Old fool. Didn't even come crawling back when his baby scratched the skies of success -- and making us some actual money,"

Charlotte was unsure where her mom was veering off now, "... Is this some misguided attempt to get me to pay for Troy's tuition?"

"No," Penelope shook her head, "I have they money to pay for all of it. Let him think he's being a man, though. That boy has no idea what the world's gonna' do to him,"

Charlotte pressed her lips together, "Well, maybe he would if you would... I don't know... loosen the leash a little,"

Penelope glared at her with shock, "Loosen the leash? You give 'em an inch, they take a mile. You can't trust men, Charlotte,"

"Well, Troy's not going to trust you if you don't let him breath a little," Charlotte argued, "What is it with you? You sound like you don't like men at all!"

"Charlotte, I love your brother!" she hissed back, her posture softening a little, "He's my baby. He's all I got left of your father -- and you. You're gone a lot, especially this year. And the more successful you get, the longer you'll be gone. Is it so bad for me to not want to be alone as I get older?"

Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat. In her mom she could recognize the very issues she was dealing with: abandonment. Maybe this was where all her issues stemmed from, but like Penelope she wanted to keep the people she cherished so much as close to her as possible, even if they didn't reciprocate her feelings. She didn't smother Troy because she was a control freak, but because she didn't want to be alone. Her husband had disappeared off the grid and her daughter was touring from continent to continent, of course she would be a little lonely.

"Mom, you're not alone," Charlotte finally said, "You'll always have Troy and I -- even if we are half-way across the world. But -- smothering your kids is just bound to drive them away, and then you'll definitely be alone. We love you, but you make it really hard for us to like you. And when you get all crazy on us, we don't want to be around you, so of course you're going to feel alone,"

Penelope stared despondently at her chicken and veggies, letting her daughter's words slowly sink in, "I've been driving you all away?" she said quietly.

"I wouldn't necessarily say 'driving us away', but you need to calm down. Let Troy be a nineteen-year-old kid. Men are naive, yeah, but they're not all out to hurt us. We are all trying to navigate the world for ourselves so we do what we think is right for us. And in Troy's mind, the further he get away from you, the happier he'll be," Charlotte said, "Give him some to breathe, and he'll come back,"

Penelope nodded slowly, "Maybe you're right, honey," she sighed, then she reached over and grabbed Troy's phone from the empty chair, "Besides, he has to come back anyway. That boy's life revolves on this thing,"

♛♛♛

Charlotte sat on the rooftop, smoking a joint and looking out over Brooklyn by night. The bridge was illuminated in bright blue lamps that casted diamond-esque reflections over the rippling water. Cars buzzed through the dark like fire flies, and someone had their wood-burning stove running, the comforting scent of a camp fire was floating through the air. It was cooler now than it had been earlier, summers in New York were exceptionally hot and the night was the only refuge you could get if you didn't have an AC.

Penelope had been quiet most of the night, when Charlotte went up she was still sitting on the couch and watching Jeopardy, waiting for Troy to come home and apologize. On the one hand, Charlotte was relieved she could talk some sense into her overzealous mother, on the other hand, she couldn't wait to get back on the road and away from her family. There was too much drama she just didn't want to cope with at the time.

Speaking of drama, she jumped when her phone rang beside her. Her heart sank when she saw Luke was calling her -- again. He had been trying to get in contact with her since they landed in New York, but Charlotte was taking Maria's advice and staving off her friend. Maybe he'd think she was mean, maybe that she was a bitch for ignoring him? Fine.

She was upset, and she had every right to be. Her brain was doing somersaults, trying to weed out ways in which she could just turn her emotions for him off. She wanted to go back to way things were before, when Luke was nothing more to her than a goofball who liked penguins and sending ridiculous snapchats her way. When her stomach didn't sink every time he was near her.

Charlotte ignored the call and continued to smoke, but the joint didn't seem to want to do its job tonight. If anything, it only made her think about Luke more. What was she going to say to him when they finally would have to meet up? Sorry, your girlfriend is a cunt and she's not going to dictate whether or not we can friends. By the way, I also happen to be in love with you and could treat you way better than she ever could.

No, Charlotte shook her head, it's safer for you if you just keep your mouth shut.

Inexplicably, her phone rang again. Luke was relentless this time, and Charlotte's patience was running thin. She reluctantly picked up the call.

"Hi," she greeted quietly.

She heard exhale on the other side, "You are mad with me, aren't you?" it hurt to hear because his voice was smooth velvet, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"... I'm not happy," Charlotte admitted.

"I should've called you earlier, I know," he said, "I didn't mean to stand you up, Char, honestly,"

"I know," Charlotte nodded, "Luke, it's not just that, though,"

"What is it, then?" he seemed a little impatient now, "Charlotte, you've been ignoring me for days,"

"I know,"

"Did I do something?" that was a rhetorical question. So many things, and yet nothing at all. She just wanted to scream that it wasn't him that was the problem.

"Luke... I got some shit I'm just trying to deal with," she kept it as vague as possible, "My family is stressing me out, I'm scrambling to get a song produced by November, I have to live out of a suitcase for the next three months, I just --" she trailed off quietly, unsure of what it was she wanted to say.

"Talk to me," Luke begged, "What's going on, Charlotte? You can always talk to me,"

Oh, how I wish that were true, now.

"I need to figure some things out, is all. So, maybe for the next little while... you wouldn't mind giving me some space?" Charlotte whimpered out meekly.

The line was quiet, but she could still hear him breathing. She figured his mind was racing, trying to piece together what Charlotte was trying to say but she doubted he would know.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked again, "'Cause I never want to hurt you,"

"This isn't about you, Luke," Charlotte lied again, "It has more to do with me,"

"Okay," he finally relented, "If I did anything, then I'm really sorry, Charlotte,"

How is it always about him?

"I know, Luke," she swallowed nervously, "I'll see on Friday?"

"See you Friday, I --" she hung up before he could finish, knowing that the next three words to leave his lips would have her agonizing the rest of the week.

Little did Charlotte know however, across the street from her townhouse, Luke was hiding behind a corner at the end of the block. He was going crazy in his hotel room in Manhattan, trying and failing to reach her, so he flagged down a cab and went straight for Brooklyn.

He could see Charlotte's silhouette on the roof, the wisps of smoke floating from her joint. There was a cloud of gloom around her, he could see it from a mile away. He wanted to stop her pain, relieve her but he didn't know why she was upset. Not that she wouldn't dare tell him.

He was trapped in a cycle with her, trying to get her to confide in him just as he did when she was with Ben. Eventually she would open up about what was happening, the key was to let her wait it out until she was ready to talk, she would come to him when she wanted. And no matter what, no matter what was happening, Luke would swear to drop it all and listen. He hadn't been a good friend to Charlotte, and he was determined to make it up to her now.

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