#“ill try to keep this short” <- me when i fucking lie

[zellk]

My question is about Qalaa! She’s got an amazing design in every iteration so I wanted to ask what were your main inspirations for her? Also could you tell us a bit more about her story?

Hi there ! Thank you so much for your kind words about my babygirl ;A; !!! Everything started circa 2014 when I started to play Wakfu again with @shuuzaar and decided to make a red-skinned osamodas. She also now exists in multiple universes (a minotaur or tiefling in DnD, a demon/oni, a dragon, etc etc).

It wasn't a very conscious & willed thing but since I put a lot of 'myself' into her (more than all my other OCs, who have more... handpicked bits) so her build started to grow towards the larger / bigger side naturally. I'm definitely not as big, nor tall as her though (I am short and she's like, 209cm tall or sth).

Her general themes / traits are : A kind, soft & gentle soul in a body that is 'made' for killing / hurting easily because of it's size and strength. Feeling inadequate / dysphoria / struggling to accept her body because it doesn't fit what she likes (petite and feminine girls). Struggle to control flares of emotions & physical strength. And being very, oh so very gay about girls and feminine people (this is a very important part ok).

In time I've been slowly collecting pictures of athletes and people that make me think of her and trying to refine how she looks in my head ! Though, like many of my characters, the specifics tends to change depending on how I feel on the moment... sometimes I want her nose a bit more like this or like that... don't be surprised if her gallery isn't the most consistent in terms of facial features :,^)

One thing that definitely DID inspire me for her though are the marks on her body ! They are inspired from scarifications of the Chambri tribe in Papua New Guinea https://bodyartforms.com/blog/sepik-river-scarification.asp)

As for her story, well, my current DnD group where I play her has given me a lot of opportunities to flesh it out a little more >:^D I'll try to keep it short.

Qalaari was born from an unplanned pregnancy. Her mother, Aamira Molandine, was someone with a very weak health due to a blood curse running in her family (more on that later) ; but despite her health she decided to keep the child and see the pregnancy through. Her father, Temhos Croquelune, is a member of a tribe of "beast folk" (this is tweaked and adapted to fit in various universes when I can) and, while enamoured with Aamira, was really not ready to have a child, and to potentially have to raise it alone should Aamira die while giving birth. After yet another argument with her about getting an abortion for her sake and the sake of them both, Temhos ran away during the night and never came back.

~6 month pregnant Aamira found refuge in the Croquelune tribe under Temhos' sister roof, Olgha (who also had a crush on Aamira & both her and her brother tried to court her). The travel took a heavy toll on Aamira's already weak health and yet she somehow miraculously survived the delivery of her (very) big and healthy baby girl Qalaari. Qalaari was raised in a very loving home by Aamira and Olgha, but developped a big resentment towards her blood father, especially since after giving birth, Aamira remained a very sickly person with a broken heart. Aamira died when Qalaari was 13, which kind of forever scared her and worsened her struggles to control her emotions.

Remember the Cursed Blood thing ? Well basically, it's a curse that either 1) eats you alive if your body is too weak to handle it (Aamira's case, which is why she had a weak health from the beginning) OR 2) enhances the physical potential of your body, but tends to make you lose control and become little more than a beast (Qalaari's case). So yeah... she's trying to get better but she has a lot of healing to do with her inner child and that's not easy... especially with the layers of self hatred the cycles of her life are bringing in :^) !

EDIT : I FORGOT TO ADD that Qalaari is currently exiled from the Croquelune tribe. The circle scar on her clavicle is the mark of the exiled, who are sent away from the tribe for 3 years before they can come back. The practice exists to try and get people to grow 'outside of the community' before coming back in it as a slightly different person. The once-exiled people are reintegrated in the tribe when they return if possible. Olgha, Qalaari's aunt-in-law and adoptive parent, has a mark like this! This exile is definitely not the best solution ever but it's been done for so long in the tribe that it's hard to yknow... challenge the system of it.

Anyway if you've read to this point, thank you for listening to me fail miserably to keep this short... Qalaari is one of my dearest OC, so it's really hard not to gush about her in a 3 hours TED Talk everytime...

Thank you for this kind ask ! Hope you'll have a good day :> !

[rafeandonlyrafe]

captive

words: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dark!rafe but he has soft moments hes trying, drugged!reader, kidnapping, DUB/NONCON, male receiving oral, female receiving oral, biting, nipple play, p in v sex, unprotected sex, anal sex, forced drug intake, snorting cocaine, smoking weed, poppers, mentions of pregnancy

“nooo.” you moan out, eyelids blinking heavily as you stare at the white powder along rafes finger. “im already-”

“no.” rafe says harshly, cutting off your protests. “i saw the way you were looking at the door. are you trying to leave me?”

“rafe-” you plead, but then his hand clamps harshly over your mouth, so tight no air could possibly get in. his finger presses against your nose, furious eyes watching yours as he waits for you to give up and inhale.

you feel dizzy, dizzy from the drugs already in your system and the lack of oxygen as you finally inhale, taking in the sweet air along with the drugs.

“that's it.” rafe pulls his hand away as you take in deep gulps of oxygen, scooping you up effortlessly as you recover and placing you down on the bed.

rafe keeps one eye on you as he prepares the room for nighttime, shutting the curtains and switching on lamps to bathe the room in soft light. he grabs your pajamas from the dresser, knowing he's just going to tear them off you later.

rafes foot falls are soft against the lush rug as he heads back over to the bed. “baby.” he says harshly when he sees your eyes are closed, tapping your cheek with increased hardness until your eyes open.

“im so tired.” you complain. “took too much.”

rafe just sighs. it's no more than he's given you on other days. the drugs keep you pliable, harmless, unable to escape. 

rafe can't let you leave him. he knows it's wrong, but he just needs to keep you fucked up enough until you forget that you want to leave in the first place. forget that your sweet boyfriend quickly turned evil when you told him you were leaving for college.

“stay awake, bunny.” rafe says. “it's what you get for trying to leave me.”

“the door is locked anyways.” you mumble. “even if i was looking at it i couldn't have left.”

you managed one time to twist the doorknob. to hear and feel the lock stop you. all your drugged up mind could manage was to turn back and lie in bed.

“do you want a little bedtime snack?” rafe asks, watching as you perk up, nodding enthusiastically.

rafe moves your body, manipulates it to the position he wants as you're laid sideways on the bed, head tipped back over the edge.

“dick first then ill get you a different snack.” rafe says, watching your eyes flutter in attempt to stay open as he tugs at his zipper, undoing his shorts and pushing them down along with his underwear in one quick movement.

“i can't.” you reach out and grip rafes thighs, head barely able to hold up as you look in his eyes with pleading in yours. “ill choke. im too-”

rafes hips plunge forward, pressing the length of his cock all down your face as your head falls, the next thrust sinking into your mouth as you resign to your task.

you focus on breathing through your nose as his cock repeatedly enters your mouth, somehow able to find enough compassion in himself to slowly build up his thrusts so he's not immediately down your throat.

“that's a good girl.” rafe coos, the praise making your head spin as you keep your hands gripped on his thighs.

rafes hands reach for your cheeks, pressing them together as he presses fully in now with every thrust, watching his cock bulge against your throat.

rafe lets out loud moans, unashamed of his vocality. it's not like you have enough mentality to judge him for it, especially not with the wet and choking sounds coming from you.

rafe does keep one eye on your chest. watching your heartbeat through the low cut shirt he put you in this morning. just in case. you mean far too much to rafe to let anything truly happen to you, even if it means him keeping you high as kite and locked away in his bedroom.

“close baby.” rafe tells you. he's never able to hold himself back for long when he gets you in a position like this. “so tight for me.”

rafe is fucking your mouth with as much furosity as he does your pussy, not worried about your teeth possibly scraping, knowing he's taught you well enough that they're covered with your tongue and lips. even though you've been his captive for almost a month now, that doesn't change the fact that you'd never want to hurt rafe.

rafe lets out a string of harsh curses and the feel of his cock swelling in your mouth is all you need to know he's about to cum.

you move one hand that's on his muscular thigh to his balls, fondling them the best you can. it's the final touch rafe needs as he shouts out your name, hips pressing forward as he cums deep down your throat, watching the way his cock twitches and pours out semen under the thin layer of your skin.

“shit!” rafe curses loudly, hand moving to squeeze your throat, giving the extra tightness he needs for one last pump of cum inside of you before he pulls out.

you quickly turn over, flipping onto your stomach as you cough and sputter, deep wheezing breaths filling your lungs fully.

“oh, my good girl.” rafe helps you to lay back properly on the bed, giving you soft kisses along your cheeks and forehead as you recover.

his soft side is always a surprise, in so much contrast to how he normally treats you. he just wants you to stay good and pliable all the time, tired of when you act out or defy him.

“now time for that snack, yeah?” rafe says. 

he leaves the room, and you listen for that telltale sound of him locking the door behind him, but it doesn't come. you blink harshly, trying to force yourself to stand, to let your legs carry you out, but your stomach growls, knowing rafe will keep you well fed, and your pussy clenches, knowing rafe will fill it later, and you stay laid on the bed.

rafe enters moments later with a pleased look on his face. it may have been only minutes, and you may have been strung out, but he was just able to leave the door unlocked and came back to find you in the exact same position he left you in.

“crackers?” rafe offers you, helping you sit up and schooch back to lean against the headboard.

you take the bowl as rafe checks your water bottle is still full before standing up and locking the door, slipping the key into his pocket. he made sure to get double side locks, reinforced to keep you secured.

“im going to take a quick shower.” rafe says, leaving you to finish the snack on your own. you eat quickly, munching down the food to satisfy your drug addled mind.

you set the bowl down on your nightstand when you're done, eyes turning to the pajamas laid against the bench at the end of the bed, knowing rafe intends to dress you himself when he gets back. 

he's never able to control himself when he sees you naked. it's why every time after he's finished putting your clothes on that he has to rip them right back off. why every time he helps you bathe or shower that he ends up fucking you all wet. every time your shirt slips up your stomach or shorts ride too short and you're unable to fix it in your state, that rafe ends up getting you naked and worshiping your body.

“y/n.” rafe calls your attention up to him as your eyes refocus, having drifted off at some point. rafe is standing in just a towel, wrapped snuggly across his waist.

“do you need another hit?” he questions, not wanting you to fall asleep, he likes when you're awake while he takes you, so he can see the fire behind your eyes. “or a joint?”

“yeah.” you nod. “a joint.”

you hope rafe will smoke it with you. you like when rafe gets high. his feral movements slow down, his thrusts become softer and kisses tamer.

rafe heads over to the locked cabinet, putting in the code before opening it up and grabbing a few things out. you watch with half horror and half fascination as rafes long slender fingers roll the joint before lighting it, the lighter briefly brightening the room in orange haze.

“here ya go.” rafe sticks one end between your lips, allowing you to inhale deeply. rafe is pleased, already such a quick turn around from having to force you less than an hour ago to snort.

“you're getting so obedient.” rafe says softly, wishing he could get you to be obedient at all times and not just when you're fucked up. then maybe he can let you out of the room, slowly expand your privileges.

“mhm.” you hum, closing your eyes as you lean forward and inhale deeply again. you turn your head to the side to blow out the smoke, pushing it away from rafe.

you keep huffing and exhaling until the room smells like weed. you're not sure what the combination of drugs in your system does to you, but it has you looking at rafe with softer eyes, forgetting that he's the one forcing you to snort various powders and pop pulls, just thinking about him as the one who brings you snacks and cuddles you.

“pajamas?” you ask rafe once the joint it almost gone, watching him head to the bathroom to damp it out in some water and toss it.

“yeah.” rafe grabs your pajamas, a very immodest and revealing matching set of shorts and a tank top.

you stay slack against the bed, letting rafe pull off your t-shirt and undo your bra, his eyes staying on your tits as he tosses your clothes into the hamper. he doesn't touch them yet, despite his fingers twitching with need.

he moves onto your pants yet, tugging your yoga pants off and discarding them so you're in just your underwear.

“my favorite pair.” rafe says softly, though really any of your thongs are his favorite. his hands push your thighs open and you don't resist when his finger presses against your core and swipes up, putting pressure right on your clit.

you let out a moan as your back arches, but as quickly as rafe began touching you, he stops, and then pulls your shorts up your legs.

“thank you.” you reach your arms up, body calling out to rafe, craving him. rafe scoops you up into his lap, snuggling his nose into your neck.

“just relax.” rafe says, hands petting over your body until one inevitably slips between your thighs. he keeps his hands away from your core, teasing you with soft strokes.

rafes thumb and pointer finger suddenly pinch together with your flesh caught inside, but you barely even react to the sudden burst of pain. it's how rafe can tell you're truly ready for him.

“gonna lay you back.” rafe narrates as he places you on the bed, standing over you while you stare up at him, waiting for what the first strike is going to be. what area of your body he's going to pounce on first.

it starts with tearing your shorts down, bearing your pussy to him yet again. a pleased smile stretches across rafes features when he sees you're already wet from his teasing.

“wanna taste you.” rafe lays himself down on the bed, still only covered in the towel, hair slightly damp that you'd want to run your fingers through if your arms weren't noodles.

rafe doesn't often eat you out. in a way, it feels like a reward as he leans in, mouth covering your clit. his tongue pokes out, tapping at your clit as you let out soft moans and mewls.

“so yummy.” rafe praises you, mouth sinking to your entrance, slurping at the juices built up there.

his little fuck kitten, his baby, his captive and his girlfriend, even if you did attempt to break up with him. he's never let you truly lose the title.

rafe doesn't stay laid on his stomach for long. while his incessantly licking through your folds feels good, it doesn't suit him anymore once your taste has already coated his tongue.

rafes kisses lead up your stomach, mouth pressing against your skin as his head pushes up your shirt until it's barely covering your chest. his hands push the loose tank top the rest of the way off your body.

rafe presses kisses to each of your nipples, watching them bloom and perk up right before his eyes. his smile grows as he widens his teeth and sinks them around your nipple, biting down before giving a hearty tug that has you crying out the most you can, a strangled mix between a moan and a cry.

rafe repeats the same bite and pull on the other side, then back and forth, then back and forth again, until your high dulls it out and you don't even react.

once your eyebrow doesn't even twitch in pain, rafe moves on, his hands pushing your thighs apart again as he kneels between them on the bed, tugging at the white towel as it falls away to reveal his hard cock.

“you're being so docile for me today.” rafe says like it's supposed to be praise, even though a sick feeling twists in your gut. “how about i try out your other hole today?”

your eyes widen and you try to sit up slightly. “i-”

“yeah, i think i will try it.” rafe says with a grin, reaching over to the bedside table and scrounging through the drawer until he finds the little bottle he's looking for.

rafe considers strapping you down to help you keep your legs open, but he likes the idea of you being unrestricted by bonds and rather too blissed out to move.

“turn over for me.” rafe commands, helping you flip onto your stomach. rafe grips your ass in his hands, massaging your plump flesh and watching it jiggle before he tugs your hips upward into the air.

he manages to get you to balance somewhat as he spreads your cheeks apart, looking at your little puckered hole just waiting to squeeze around his cock.

rafe takes the bottle of poppers and unwinds them, pressing them towards your face as he waits for you to inhale. you don't try to resist this time, knowing the drugs will only relax your muscles more and make things more pleasurable, even if the smell is so strong it causes your entire body to jolt.

rafe grunts out some praise that you barely hear or take in as he screws the bottle closed and lines up his cock with your entrance.

he's able to push in easily, knowing the drugs will only keep you open and relaxed for a few minutes. 

rafe presses his hips right into your bum, lodging himself as deep as he can inside of you. “knew your ass would feel great.” he says, tapping your bum in spankings that you barely register.

rafe begins to move, his strokes deep and slow as he fucks you. his hands grip your hips tightly, keeping you held up just how he wants you.

you let out a strangled noise as the muscle relaxers wear off, your previous untouched hole clenching tightly around rafes length.

rafe curses harshly as you tighten around him, almost squeezing so intensely that its not pleasurable, but he's determined to work you through it.

he slowly increases the rhythm of his hips fucking into you, building up until he's fucking you with the furosity that he does your pussy on a nightly basis.

“jesus.” rafe grunts out, listening to your tiny whimpers and moans that you can't help releasing. “do you like this baby?”

you try to open your mouth to answer, but all you do is allow drool to slide down your chin, no words actually coming out. you're not sure if you like it, or it the drugs are just dulling out the pain and leaving the pleasure.

“where do you want me to cum though bunny?” rafe asks, bending down to speak into your ear. “surely you want me to fuck your pussy, yeah? get you pregnant?”

there's no way a pregnancy would ever last with the amount of drugs consistently flooding your system, but rafe likes to think about it. another way to get you to stay, another reason to never leave him.

you manage to shake your head in some way that forms a nod. rafe quickly switches holes like it's nothing, pushing into your pussy and keeping the exact same pace in your cunt that he did your ass.

“too much?” rafe asks, hoping you say yes, his smile stretching when you give the vague halfish nod again. you're so beyond overwhelmed that you still haven't shut your mouth, a wet spot of drool forming on the bedsheets to add to the wet spot from your dripping pussy.

rafe takes the bottle of poppers again, holding it to your nose. you don't even realize that he's done it until the smell hits your nose and your body jolts.

rafe chuckles at your reaction, forcing two fingers into your asshole, pumping them in contrast to the timing of his hips pushing forward, causing even more stimulation to flood your senses.

“i bet if i just tap your clit you'd cum, huh?” rafe questions.

it's a juggle to overstimulate you from every angle, but rafe manages to reach down with his other hand, but instead of tapping it like he said, he pinches your bud, holding it tightly between your fingertips as you let out a squeal.

“knew it.” rafe chuckles as he feels you pussy pulsate around him, squeezing and fluttering as your orgasm suddenly hits, juices flooding and soaking rafe and the bedsheets below you as your pussy gushes.

rafe regrets pulling out of your other hole as it clenches down on his fingers, but he's satisfied with shoving deep inside of you and pumping you full of his cum.

rafe let's out a moan that sounds almost like your name, but the sudden force of your orgasm has caused your ears to stop working along with seemingly every other part of your body.

rafe pulls out and lets you slump onto your side. he gives you a quick check to make sure you're still breathing before heading back to the bathroom to clean himself off. 

he doesn't bother with you, knowing you'll sleep off your high and walk up after noon to clean yourself and restart the cycle all over again.

“can't wait to do that again tomorrow baby.” rafe says, pressing a kiss your lips despite them still being slackened apart.

rafe pulls you into him as he lays under the covers, feeling your naked bodies touching, skin to skin.

“goodnight.” rafe whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you try to stay awake. maybe you can get away when he goes to sleep, maybe, maybe, maybe, but your head spins and eyes droop closed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[viridescentelf]

In your debt - Part 2

Young druid Halsin x Reader

Art belongs to @ozumii-fucking-wizard (i love your style UGH you have bewitched me with baby Halsin goodness 💜🖤💜)

Read Part 1 here :)

This is very short, sfw, fluffy goodness. I will def continue, I need some time to think of the next few beats.

Part 3

-----

Halsin carried you through the brush. You were too weak to do anything other than lie limp in his thick arms, trying your hardest not to continuously stare at his carved face.

He had closed your wound with his incantations, but your insides were still badly damaged from your encounter with the goblin. The druid told you that he could attend to you further in his village. That’s where you were heading now.

“U-uhm…”, you stuttered meekly, as he pushed you a bit closer to his chest to avoid dense branches. Your face was the shade of a beet.

He looked down at you, while he kept his stride.

“Isn’t your village …”, you swallowed. How were you supposed to phrase this? “…under attack?”

Halsin nodded, understanding your confusion.

“It was. The goblins surrounded us and took us by surprise. Those two you ran into used the chaos to kidnap the little ones.” He ducked down a bit. He was too tall for this area. You would’ve never been able to reach the branches he was dodging.

“But they were extremely ill prepared. Fools, really. It was merely to divert our attention. We quickly defeated them. They did cause some damage to our crops and huts. So… you’ll see that once we arrive.”

You processed what he just told you. The goal of the goblins was to get those children. You remembered the goblins’ gross conversation before you got involved. You shuddered at the memory.

“They said they were bringing them to drows. That they wanted slaves…”, you replied, your voice tired.

You felt his grip around you get slightly tighter. It was brief, but you noticed his jaw clench as well.

“Filth…”, he growled under his breath. His eyes flickered down to you and he composed himself with a low grunt.

“I daren’t imagine what would have happened to them…had you not come along,” he concluded.

You said nothing. The dull pain in your abdomen protested that statement. A part of you wished you hadn’t intervened for your own sake. You felt awful at this moment, despite Halsin’s first aid.

There was a pause in the conversation. You didn’t know each other and yet he was holding you so intimately. You looked, smelled and felt like shit. It was awkward.

He walked swiftly, but you didn’t really feel the motion. His hold on you was steady and careful. You weighed almost nothing to him.

You cleared your throat, wanting to brook the quiet somehow. But you were so exhausted. Speaking was difficult. Halsin noticed your attempt and smiled to himself.

“Close your eyes. I’ll keep you safe,” he cooed.

He didn’t have to say it twice. Almost immediately, your eyes fell shut, as you leaned your head against his chest for comfort, having nowhere else to rest it. Halsin didn’t protest, observing you sinking deep into his hold. Sleep took you quickly. His eyes mellowed, gazing at your slumbering form, while he walked towards your destination.

You were cute. The children failed to mention that when they spoke about you.

[haroldthehuckleberry]

Pregnant boy-toy 3/3

CW- mpreg, birth denial, punishment, degrading

it is now months ago since i came to tell him about the pregnancy, i still hadnt given birth… daddy didnt let me. i am unbelievably massive all i do is lie legs and arms spread on my bed my planet of a stomach weighing me down, my daddy comes in whenever he pleases uses my cunt and cock to keep me dick-drunk and it works, i dont think about my ever-stretching skin on my belly, i dont think about the milk leaking out my massive pecs all i think abiut is when i can next please my daddy

he brought another slut home today. hes being punished, hes not as obedient as me hes in another room begging to be let out until our daddy stuffs him with his super-cum i can only imagine how long hell be here, my daddy promises ill be here for ever, he says it threateningly but every-time he does say it my cunt throbs and cock twitches, anything he says gets me hot and bothered, he sees this and uses it to his advantage teasing me whenever he wants knowing i wont cum until he makes me knowing i wont cum until hes cum in me as much as he wants, and to think only months ago this idea freaked me out all i want know is to be used as his slut all i want now is his approval all i want know is his spawn filling me.

i rub my tight tummy as his spawn moves around while i day dream about daddy coming into my room after punishing the other slut loudly and fucking my boy-cunt deeply and aggressively its all i can think about then suddenly i get a deep contraction i let out a short scream before cutting myself off because i know daddy hates it when i make too much noise, on queue he storms in angrily.

“s-s-sorry d-daddy but i think i-its time” i stammer pathetically at him, he walks over in the nude allowing his perfect body to breathe he looks at my cunt and says “its definitely crowning” before placing his massive hand on the head and sliding it into my as my belly expands a bit more and my cock twitches and my nipples leak milk i let out a shallow moan “only when i say will you let my spawn out, understood slut?” i nod in agreement waiting for him to fuck me but he doesnt he just keeps making sure his baby doesn’t come out as i try my hardest to defy biology for him i clench my cunt tightly and hold the bottom of my belly (as bottom as i can reach which isnt very close) trying anything i can to not allow his spawn to leave my womb, after what was possibly hours he leaves me trusting me to not let his spawn out.

and i dont. ive been here for god knows how long and never given birth im so pregnant my skin is all but see through my pecs are breasts at this point and… i love it. i live to serve my daddy when he pleases ill allow his children out, by this point the other sluts hes brought back all behave too there is no more begging for freedom or birth we all live to be his breathing cum-buckets, theres about 7 of us and at various stages of pregnancies i can assume ive only seen one when daddy first brought him in and forgot to close my door he looked already about 7 months along so i can only dream of his size now.

truth is i didnt want to be pregnant but now its all i love for, if daddy let me birth then released me the first thing id do is get knocked up again, its the most amazing thing to have happened to me that fait-full night.

[shingekinomyfeelings]

Reiner wouldn’t do this, probably, but what would it look like if he took reader back to Marley after the battle of shiganshina? What would his mentality be, especially after loosing Bertholdt? Would Zeke even allow it? How would his family react? How would reader react?

👀 oooh I've definitely thought about this, and wrote this short blurb about it some time back

Basically, I can see him considering it but ultimately realizing it would be incredibly cruel to do to you, because he's not dumb.

He knows the view his family would have of you, having come to the island with the same one. Realizing that the people on Paradis were truly just people almost destroyed him with guilt, and that was after seeing their suffering and living alongside them. He wouldn't be able to bear seeing you treated that way, and that's assuming the Marleyans didn't torture you for information or kill you.

Logistically, I don't think he could even get you back to Marley alive 😞 I suspect Zeke would be ruthless about it, and we know that in titan form Reiner doesn't stand a chance against him. He can't exactly sneak you back.

If he somehow managed to bring you to Marley safely, I think it would hinge on him pretending he has zero emotional attachment to you - remember how freaked out his family was when he told them that all the people he met on Paradis were different from each other? If that sounds treasonous to them, imagine if he tried to defend you as someone special to him. And that's just his own family. The Marleyans would be far crueler, esspecially if you're actually from the Survey Corps that Zeke told them all about.

So, having spent too much time wondering how this could work, I've only come up with one way I think this could realistically happen where he's able to both keep you alive and not get himself (and probably by extension his family) executed for treason, and it's this miserable scenario that I choose not to contemplate because I end up using my own dumb imagination to trigger myself:

He just lies out his ass and claims that you were nothing more than some kind of whore he picked up to comfort himself while he was there and that unfortunately you're carrying his child, and BEG you to go along with it.

Assuming you cooperated with this lie, you'd have to either actually get pregnant by him - but genuinely thinking about this at all makes me ill and I do NOT think he would ever do this to you unless you were 1000% on board with it - or pretend to miscarry or something, and live in that depressing place under the pretext of being a prisoner.

Your life there would suck, his family would hate you and he'd have to pretend to as well anytime anyone else is around.

And fuck, this is only if you didn't murder him for trying to abduct you at Shiganshina anyway! I know I'd be ready to cut his fucking dick off.

BUT!!!!! I think Reiner would realize, if he actually sat and thought about it, that this would be your reality if he took you with him and absolutely not ever put you in that position. Anyway yeah, bad times, man 😂

EDIT

yo I realized I absolutely answered this with the assumption of reader being female and I'm sorry I see every single person on tumblr as a woman by default for some reason 😭

I genuinely have no idea what he'd do with a male partner. Put you in a wig and make you live out a very fucked up sitcom existence? Mannnn I might need to ponder this (a real answer not the wig thing)

[willsimpforanyone]

haiii!! i get kinda nervous asking for stuff but ill try my best :3 could you do Nico x Clovis x Child of Gaia (who has some kind of connection to the underworld)? it can be smut or fluff, i dont really mind i just really like the ship

also… if it’s okay im gonna use the 🌀 emoji

(p.s, take care of yourself! you don’t owe us any apologies, your health is the number one priority) -anon 🌀

i had to remember who clovis was, he’s certainly a unique character to ask for but i will do my best! also u can absolutely use 🌀, welcome!

It’s after Nico yawns for the fourth time that Clovis has had enough.

“It’s not even my fault,” he mumbles, shuffling over to where Nico is curled up on the bed of the Hades Cabin. I laugh, covering my smile with my hands as Nico glares at me wildly ineffectively due to the way his eyelids droop.

“‘S your fault,” Nico definitely doesn’t pout, but he doesn’t resist as Clovis removes the book from his hands. “Go away, sleep inducing bitch.”

Clovis rolls his eyes and bodily moves Nico into laying down. Admittedly not without issue; Nico isn’t big, but Clovis does, like, zero exercise. A snap of fingers catches my attention, and I focus back on the boys in the bed.

“You come here too,” Clovis sighs, muffling a yawn into Nico’s hair. “Nap time.”

Raising an eyebrow, I drag myself off the floor and shuffle over. “I’m not the tired one, why do I have to sleep?”

“It’s about comraderie.” Four hands reach out and pull me into the small bed that for sure should not fit all three of us. “You’re the grounding presence.”

Nico nods sagely. “Exactly. Napping with a child of Hypnos and a child of Hades is dangerous, you need to help or we’ll have nightmares.”

“Will you now?” I roll my eyes, but I tuck myself behind Nico, squishing him between myself and Clovis. “Can’t have that, my poor hopeless loves.”

Proximity to Clovis is like being wrapped in a blanket that had been put in the dryer on a cold night, and Nico can have this almost soporific effect when he’s tired. Really, I had no hope once I agreed to lie down with them, my eyes fluttering closed of his own accord.

“Who wasn’t tired?” Clovis teases, reaching over to poke my cheek.

“Oh, fuck off, you two really are dangerous,” I mumble, swatting at his hand and nuzzling into the back of Nico’s head.

Nico is already mostly asleep, heart rate slowing and breathing deepening. “Shut up, both of you.”

Clovis and I glance at each other with fond exasperation, rolling our eyes at each other. “Sorry, Neeks,” he whispers, reaching a hand up to tap the end of Nico’s nose. “Go to sleep, we’ll keep you safe.”

At the tap on his nose, Nico is lulled properly into sleep, exhaling softly as he drifts off into dreamland.

“Your turn,” Clovis murmurs, hovering the same finger over my nose with a small smile. “Let’s keep our boy safe and grounded, yeah?”

I nod, reaching down with a sort of invisible tether, pushing through the floor of the cabin and into the earth below, securing a connection to my mother’s domain. Clovis gently taps my nose, and within a few seconds, I’m fast asleep.

The child of Hypnos looks over the two others in the bed, affection settling warm and heavy in his chest. “My turn,” he murmurs to himself, and closes his eyes. “I’ll come find you, I promise, like always.”

this was quite short but i hope you enjoyed, thank you for requesting!

[turcott3]

off the table

charles leclerc x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, angst, kissing and fluff! (this is not edited apologies for any mistakes)

positions fics masterlist

~but i just wanna know is love completely off the table?~

-

your eyes fluttered open as the sun filled the las vegas hotel room. you roll to face away from the window and you’re met by a familiar sleeping face. the relationship you and charles had created was special but complex. you weren’t together. you’re primary relationship is sex and nights out together but it never extended beyond that. occasionally you received a grand prix invite, las vegas being one of them. he messed with your feelings often. one second it seems like he wants you and the other he’s leaning on a bar counter talking to another woman. you just let it happen because you wanted him, even if it does hurt you not knowing.

“good morning char.” you say quietly as the brunette stretches out and looks at you.

“good morning amour.” he smiles before getting up out of bed. you wanted to reach out and grab for him but you didn’t wanna push your limits. you yearned for him. all you wanted was to be his and his only, but it was starting to feel like too much to ask for. every day you’ve spent together, a bubble of anxiety grew in your chest.

“what time do we need to leave?” you call out.

“we have a few more hours no worries.” he smiles walking back into the bedroom and climbing back into bed, quickly nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

“how many is a few more?” you giggle, scratching his scalp lightly.

“like four or something.” he says, his breath on your neck was hot and sent goosebumps all over your body.

“i need to get a shower okay?” you say and he pulls away after pressing a short kiss to your neck.

“okay, ill be here.” he smirks laying back on his side, scrolling on instagram. you enter the bathroom, grateful for the escape you just made. he made your mind spin. when he cuddles to you and kisses you, yet doesn’t care to want you is the mode confusing experience you’ve had. you let the warm water soak your body as you stood in your thoughts, tears pricking your eyelids. eventually you lost the fight and let the sobs wrack your body. all you wanted was answers. tearfully, you finished the shower and dried off, staring at your puffy face in the mirror.

“am i just not good enough?” you whisper to yourself. you walk out into the bedroom to grab clothes from your suitcase, avoiding looking in charles’ direction.

“y/n?”

“i’ll be out in a second.” you say shutting the door behind you. quickly, you slip on your clothes and hang your damp towels.

“y/n?” he asks again as you walk out.

“what?” you say, eyes still red and face still puffy.

“come sit, what is wrong?”

“i don’t know.” you lie sitting down next to him, not wanting to possibly ruin this trip.

“yes you do. tell me.” he pushes clearly wanting an answer.

“you confuse me charles. you confuse me so much and you’ve made me catch undeniably strong feelings for you but you confuse the fuck out of me. one second i think you may want me and then the next you’re talking to another woman. i’m just confused on why you wanted me here.” you express as lightly as possible.

“i do have feelings for you. i truly do y/n, i don’t want you to think that i don’t.”

“then why don’t you want me charles?”

“i do i just- im just so busy and stressed with the season i don’t want to have more things to keep up with. not that you don’t deserve the absolute best, i just don’t think i can give you what you deserve.”

“well i’m here right now aren’t i? i’ll come to every race, every event, everything. i am here for you and you only. i don’t want to get in your way so im trying my best to stay out of the way and id say ive done pretty well.” you add, tears falling once more and he nods.

“is love just not something you’re looking for right now? tell me baby.” you say as he pulls you into his lap, wiping your tears.

“it is. i don’t know why ive been pushing you away. you’re too good to me and i feel like if i can’t be 100% here then it won’t work and you deserve 100%.”

“i’m willing to try, only for you.” you say and he kisses you on the cheek.

“mon amour. you’re incredible.”

“so does this mean?”

“yes, it means you’re my girlfriend, i’m not even gonna ask i’m declaring it now.” he giggles and hugs you closely to his chest.

“look at us, newest couple on the grid.” you laugh.

“and arguably the best, sorry everyone else.” he says placing a light hand on your lower back.

“definitely the best.”

-

“carlos, this is my girlfriend y/n. you’ve met before but i figured i should re-introduce with the proper title.” charles giggles at his teammate.

“hello y/n, it’s great to re-meet you.” he smiles sticking his hand out to you which you gladly shake.

“it’s great to re-meet you too.”

“alright well baby, we got to get to it so, ill see you in a bit alright?”

“alright, good luck out there char.”

“thank you.” he smiles kissing you sweetly on the lips before walking off with his teammate.

“i was waiting for this day to come.” one of the staff says nudging you.

“really?” you giggle.

“yes, last race you weren’t there and he was like ‘i wish y/n was here, she makes me calm.’”

“how sweet.” you smile at the woman before she follows behind them.

guess love was never off the table.

-

sorry this is so short😭

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: INFP, 25. Feeling pretty lost in life. After a long battle with mental illness (runs in the family, I'm surrounded by people that as of now don't want to go to therapy and keep reliving the same patterns, hurting everyone who hasn't gone through the process I've - THANK GOODNESS - gone through thanks to therapy and medication), I find myself unemployed, without friends, without money, still studying for my degree (I'm almost finished though) and for the first time seeing things so, so clearly.

I wasted most of my teenage years trying to understand what the fuck was going on in my head, battling anorexia, depression and social anxiety - and the latter still has a big impact on the way I speak to people since words don't come to my head, plus depression really wrecked my memory and it can take a whole 20 minutes for me to remember a specific name that I wanted to bring up in a conversation. I feel like I'm cooked.

I don't hate myself nor I feel like I have low self-esteem; actually, I really like who I am when given the time and emotional space to make my true self and inner creativity shine. I think I could give a lot to people but because of a general lack of understanding of common references cause I was detached from everything most of my life and I've missed them all, I tend to be perceived as cringe/weird/naive/childish and none of my conversations are surviving past the first week.

I'm really trying hard to develop my vocabulary, catching up with tv shows characters or even basic history references, but it feels like a huge toll of notions that I can't possibly internalize in such a short amount of time. These people dedicated years (consciously or not) to common knowledge, their family members had culture and raised them to be curious about the world - I'm only now waking up and looking at the world for the first time, with the intention of developing my social and verbal skills.

Basically I need to step up my life and I don't feel like it's working cause everyone can tell I'm so behind and I'm not up their standards - especially in my age range, and considering my economic state. Whenever they ask "what's your job" or "what's your favorite music genre" and I can't really give them an answer to either, I feel ashamed. I know it's not my fault, I had to survive violence and ignorance growing up and I was never given the time to discover who I am or to become a functioning member of society or even feel "safe" enough to try ANYTHING, so yeah, I do have self-compassion, I guess - but others seem like they don't, and I'm so slow when I speak, I'm so slow when I wanna come up with a joke and in a social setting everyone looks at each other like they think I'm stupid.

Is there any advice you can give me? I know I can make it. I am exactly like everyone else, I can develop the same abilities and have a good future. Am I right? Or is this just some lie I'm telling myself? Am I deluded? Will people always look down on me and avoid me altogether?

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

I'm not in a position to tell you that you're lying to yourself; it's something you need to determine through honest self-reflection. There's nothing wrong with talking yourself up in order to motivate yourself to do better. It's also a good thing to try to focus more on the positive aspects of life, especially when you have a history of getting stuck in negativity or narrow-mindedness. This would certainly help you with Ne development, which should be an ongoing project.

As far as I can tell, the root of the problem you're describing isn't psychological but social. Not everything in life is under our control. In fact, studies have consistently revealed that people are far more influenced by their social environment than they care to admit. You don't get to choose which family you're born into. As a child, you have no say in which neighborhood, city, or country you live in. Yet, upbringing, community, and culture are three major factors that influence the trajectory of your life, everyone's life.

If you're unlucky, you grow up experiencing a painful mismatch of personality and environment. And it is down to luck. You shouldn't fault yourself for accidents of birth. And you also can't really fault the "environment" because it's not really a conscious entity that intentionally sets out to harm people. Although the social environment is created by the people comprising it, it's not within any given individual's power to change or control it. This is why, historically, you see people migrate far from home, in search of better environments with better opportunities.

You're young and, because of your upbringing, you didn't really get a chance to participate properly in the world. This means you haven't really experienced firsthand just how big the world can be. There is such a diversity of people, places, and culture in the world, which I take to mean that there's a place for every person. Somewhere in the world, there's a place that will allow you to be your true self. Somewhere in the world, there's a place that will help bring out the best in you and allow you to contribute the best of yourself.

However, that place may or may not be where you were born and raised. When you feel like you don't fit in despite all your best efforts, it might help to ask whether this is really the place you're meant to be and the people you're meant to be associated with...

I've known a lot of immigrants in my lifetime, so I have taken part in many complicated discussions about how to fit in, culturally. Some people find it easier to pick up mainstream culture as they go, looking up references and remembering them as necessary. Some people like to be more prepared and put effort into studying cultural history. I've had a lot of people ask me for help getting to know western culture's most important artists, writers, books, musicians, songs, movies, and tv shows by decade.

It used to be easier to learn cultural knowledge when media was more centralized. Nowadays, people are more siloed, ironically because of social media. Subcultures abound, appearing and disappearing with short-lived social media trends. In today's chaotic media landscape, trying to keep up with the latest cultural trends isn't really worth the energy anymore because collective memory has become so short. What's the point of remembering a meme or viral event when most people will have forgotten it a month later?

What is one to do when faced with this kind of information overload? There are two helpful strategies that go together:

(1) Narrow Your Focus

One reason people are so interested in cultural knowledge is because culture is an important avenue of self-discovery. Have you ever noticed that when they put together a boy/girl band, they find four or five guys/gals with very different and distinct personalities? They're hoping to ensure that teenage listeners will find at least one band member to relate to on a deeper level. It's a way to cover all the bases and maximize the chances of turning someone into a fan. While it sounds like a cynical and calculated ploy, it's actually an important way for teenagers to learn more about their own likes/dislikes, in contrast to others.

One could argue that the reason we have so many genres in music, movies, tv shows, and literature is because of the diversity of human beings. We're all born with a personality that we express in our own unique way, which means we all have a propensity to like and dislike certain things. As much as I've tried to get into death metal, I just can't seem to resonate with it. And there's nothing wrong with that, as long as I'm not out there trying to stop other people from appreciating it. We are all entitled to our personal tastes.

You're hoping that by learning more cultural knowledge, some of those factoids will eventually pay off during a social interaction. But what are the odds that they will? Pretty low because it's too random. Is it really worth the energy spent in remembering all that information only for a small portion of it to come in handy at some random time in the future? Sure, there are people who have a head for remembering trivia, but if you're not one of them, it quickly becomes a waste of energy that could be better spent elsewhere.

But wastefulness aside, cramming yourself full of factoids isn't a good strategy for two reasons. Firstly, when learning is motivated solely by a desire to obtain external rewards (e.g. approval or money), people don't tend to achieve true mastery or genuine appreciation of the subject matter. In other words, it's a shallow way of learning that doesn't help memory retention, as you're finding out. Secondly, doing something just to impress others is basically contorting yourself to conform with other people's expectations. This doesn't help you learn about yourself, quite the opposite, it takes you farther and farther away from yourself, which is why it doesn't feel right.

While we often associate identity formation with adolescence, the fact is that learning about who you really are is a lifelong task. Thus, the question isn't about when you started (early or late), it's more about whether you're using a good approach that actually gets you incrementally closer to the truth of who you really are.

If participation in culture is an important pathway for learning about oneself, what you should be doing is exploring different aspects of culture to learn about potential likes, dislikes, interests, and hobbies. For example, you're not going to know whether you like horror movies until you watch a few. But once you've watched a representative sample of the genre and realize you don't like it, let it go and move onto something else.

It's almost as though you believe you have to know everything so that you can relate to anyone. I don't think this is a good or efficient socializing strategy, unless you love researching and have a great memory. You need to accept the fact that you're not going to be friends with everyone. It's okay that you're more compatible with some people more than others.

To improve your chances of social success, you have to know what you're looking for and how to find it. When you go fishing, you don't just throw a hook in the water and hope for the best, right? You have to use the right kind of bait. In the context of relationships, "bait" refers to the things that attract people to each other. One of the best and fastest ways of connecting with people is through common interests. However, this pathway won't be available to you as long as your interests aren't genuine or you haven't developed them properly.

(2) Prioritize Quality (Over Quantity)

One reason people feel easily inundated with too much information is lack of critical thinking skills. Critical thinking helps you sort through information and evaluate its quality. It's like learning how to quickly spot the rare diamonds amongst the pile of cheap shiny jewels. This also helps with the first point of narrowing your focus.

When you have a better idea of what you like or find intriguing, you open up opportunities to dig deeper and nurture a more sophisticated appreciation of the subject, to refine your tastes. A like/interest (feeling) can be transformed into an edifying intellectual pursuit (skill). But this can only happen if you value learning for its growth potential and not just for the social approval it might bring.

You seem a bit too concerned with how people judge you as a "weirdo". It could be the case that you've met some nasty people. But it could also be the case that you're projecting because you low-key feel ashamed of being "behind" in your development.

There's nothing wrong with being ignorant when it happens through no fault of your own. Nobody comes out of the womb knowing everything and we don't all have equal opportunity to learn what we need to know. It's pointless and illogical to compare yourself to others when you didn't begin life at the same starting line. And being human means having blind spots. Ignorance only becomes problematic when it is willful, that is, a person denies their ignorance and refuses to remedy it with proper learning. Given your motivation to learn, it's clear that you're not stuck in a state of willful ignorance, so there is nothing to feel ashamed about.

On occasion, people come to me asking about a psychology book they've read, only for me to break the bad news to them that it's a terrible book, full of misinformation. Should they then walk away and give up out of embarrassment? I sure hope not. I hope that they would learn to choose their learning resources more carefully.

The trouble with being a newbie is that you don't yet know enough to separate out the good stuff from the junk. To counter this, instead of becoming too reliant on one resource, communicate with a wide variety of people who seem to exhibit more knowledge than you. Eventually, you'll get a better feel for the quality of the knowledge. For example, if most experts are in general agreement, then you've probably stumbled upon trustworthy information. But when nobody can seem to agree on what the "truth" is, then be more careful.

Following from that, instead of slinking away in shame when you're caught not knowing something that seemingly "everybody should know", why not just be honest about not having had the chance to learn and welcome the person to enlighten you? Allow yourself to be humbly schooled. I can't tell you the amount of useful information I've picked up by simply letting people go on and on about their passions and interests.

Doing this could also take a lot of pressure off you, in terms of having the opportunity to: 1) sit back, relax, and listen, 2) learn and absorb information in a more natural setting, and 3) get some valuable tips about which direction to take your learning and where to find quality sources of information to speed up your learning. You might even get inspired to pursue something new and interesting.

The concept of "quality" also applies to people. Every person is a mixture of positive and negative qualities, but some people exhibit more of their negative qualities. When you meet people like that, it is fine to feel repelled and get away from them. But don't then overreact and overgeneralize and believe that everyone is bad.

If the people you're interacting with are truly judgmental jerks, it's better to find out sooner so that you don't end up in a toxic relationship. You truly like yourself? Then wear it proudly. Be open, authentic, and transparent about who you are and the struggles you've been through. Observe how willing people are to accept all of you. This should help you quickly separate out the good from the bad eggs. A good person should be:

empathetic and compassionate

willing to give you the benefit of the doubt

inclined to see and acknowledge the good in you

curious rather than judgmental

sensitive and accommodating, within reason

Every place has its good and bad people, and meeting new people is luck of the draw. When you meet bad people, there's no need to waste time with blame or anger. It's their problem, not yours. Simply walk away and keep looking for good people. And if your social environment isn't overflowing with your kind of people, you might have to migrate to a new and better environment.

Generally speaking, the process of improving yourself and your life goes a lot more smoothly when you know how to tune out noise and keep focused on your main goals.

[cosmicanamnesis]

little self-indulgent fic that I'm posting without proofreading, enjoy

steddie, modern AU, idiots to lovers | read on ao3

"It's not a big deal!"

Eddie's crush on Steve was a secret both short-lived and ill-kept. His first mistake was telling the band. Well, no, his first mistake was forgetting that Gareth and Will were dating and that Gareth had the physical inability to keep his fucking mouth shut. But Eddie telling his closest, most trusted friends about the guy he liked was definitely Up There on the list of mistakes.

Which was how Eddie found himself mildly hungover drinking black coffee in his living room while Dustin paced up and down the length of the trailer, berating him for not confessing his doomed love to his alleged "favorite child" sooner.

"HOW is it not a big deal, Eddie?" Dustin said, just a few notches too loud for Eddie's looming headache.

"Because it's not! He doesn't like me! He's never gonna like me! I'm an adult, dude, I have critical thinking skills. I know how to pick my battles."

"It's not- Eddie," Dustin suddenly went stone faced. "It's not about your chances with him. You're moving in with him. He deserves to know."

Oh yeah. There was that. Robin was starting college and there was no way she wasn't taking her Emotional Support Pretty Boy with her. The only place they could find was a 2-bed just slightly out of their budget, and had asked Eddie if he wanted to join them, finally striking out on their own in the city. The agreement was that Steve and Robin would share the bigger bedroom, and Eddie would get the smaller room to himself. Their move-in date was less than a week out when Eddie made his inebriated love confession at his quote-unquote Going-Away-Party.

"It's not about what he deserves, man!" Eddie said, sinking back into the couch. He rubbed his eyes hard to try and relieve some of the pressure building in his head and sighed. "If I don't say anything to him, nothing changes. If I tell him, everything changes!"

"Oh, please. Steve's an adult too, dude, if we tell him you like him but you're well aware that he doesn't like you, he won't make it weird!"

"Wait wait wait, hold up. Rewind. We? Who is we?"

"You and me!" The boys stared at each other in bewilderment for a moment. "Oh come on, Eddie, we both know that if I don't sit here and watch you do it, you're just gonna lie and say you told him when you actually just hid under a blanket listening to Metallica and wishing you had the balls to-"

"OKAY!" Eddie yelled, loud enough for the very shock of his volume to trigger his headache in full force. "Jesus H., kid, you don't need to call me out like that. Fuck. Fine. I'll do it right now, how about that?"

Eddie pulled his phone out and Dustin dropped down hard on the couch next to him, arms already crossed, smug satisfaction already settled on his face.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Dustin scoffed. "Here's what you should say-"

Eddie held up a hand to cut him off. "I'm not listening to you anymore. You had one long distance girlfriend ONCE, you're not some kind of Cassanova here… oh, son of a bitch."

"Son of a bitch what?" Dustin asked, scooting closer to read over Eddie's shoulder.

"I can't do this right now… The last thing I sent him was asking his opinion on the D&D movie and he hasn't responded yet."

"What the absolute fuck does that have to do with any of this?"

"Well I can't be like hey what's your opinion on this movie you know I love because I'm the one who told you to watch it, also I'm in love with you but it's no big deal. Like, what the fuck is that?"

"Oh… Yeah, you have a point." Dustin shifted back away from Eddie, covering his mouth with one hand in concentration.

"I mean… It can wait-"

"It can, but it shouldn't, dude! Shit… I mean, I could tell him, if you want."

Dustin had expected an outright "no" and was shocked when Eddie paused, apparently seriously considering the option.

"Actually… Yeah, could you?"

"Sure, but I'm not letting you see what I say until after I send it."

"You drive a hard bargain…" Eddie said, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Fine. Go for it."

Eddie stood and grabbed his coffee off the table, wandering slowly towards the kitchen, both to find some ibuprofen and to quell his temptation to watch Dustin quickly type a message to Steve.

"Okay. Sent. Now you can look," Dustin announced, beckoning Eddie back over as he downed the medicine. Eddie felt like he'd never moved so fast in his life. The message read,

Eddie wants you to know, before you move in together, he has a crush on you. he won't make it weird if you dont

As Eddie read, the three dots that meant Steve was typing popped up. Suddenly Eddie regretted ever agreeing to this, and pushed Dustin's hand and phone away so he wouldn't have to see Steve's rejection first-hand.

"He responded… Do you wanna know what he said?" Dustin said. Eddie was leaning hard against the armrest of the couch, staring into nothing, imagination running wild.

"Yeah, hit me," he said.

"Oh, alright. Thank you for telling me," Dustin read. "I don't feel the same way about him. I assume you talked to him about telling me."

"So he gets back to you right away but he won't tell me- oh. Never mind. He just responded to my text." Eddie was doing his best to not feel completely devastated by Steve's frankly predictable response to Dustin's text.

"So… What did he think of the movie?"

—

"Uh… Rob?"

"Yeah?"

"Um… Come here and… Just read this."

Steve and Robin were taking a break from packing up Steve's childhood bedroom in preparation for the move when Dustin's text came through. She quickly chugged the last of her soda and came around to Steve's side to see what he was seeing.

"Oh," she said, not bothering to conceal her surprise. "I mean… We knew this was a possibility."

"Yeah, I guess, but… What do I say? I don't like him like that."

"Then say you don't like him like that, dingus. He's probably breathing down Dustin's neck right now waiting to see what you say."

"Yeah, you're probably right…" Steve said. He typed and backspaced and typed something else until Robin got sick of watching and grabbed the phone out of his hand to answer Dustin's text for him.

"Just trust me!" Robin said, actively walking away from Steve as he sputtered indignances, chasing after her halfheartedly. As soon as she sent the text, she turned and shoved the phone roughly back to Steve's chest.

"Oh… Yeah, okay, that makes more sense than anything I was trying to say…" Steve conceded, reading the text Robin sent on his behalf.

—

Steve, Robin, and Eddie saw each other next when they were loading up the U-Haul. No one said anything, and Steve tried as hard as he could to act like nothing was different. It put Eddie's mind at ease while simultaneously driving Robin nuts.

Since Dustin sent the secondhand confession, the only thing Steve had on his mind was Eddie, and how he definitely didn't reciprocate Eddie's feelings, how he was definitely bisexual but Eddie… Eddie wasn't his type. He was pretty, sure, but he was so… Himself. He was loud and unapologetic and into things Steve had never even heard of. They had nothing in common besides their love for the kids.

But Robin saw it coming a mile away.

"It" finally came to fruition a month after they had all moved in together.

It turned out, Steve and Eddie were practically the same person. Same sense of humor, same taste in TV, they even took their coffee the same way. They really only differed in their music tastes, fashion, and theater snack preferences. 

Robin got the text in the middle of her French class.

shmuck: i think i have a crush on eddie

bobbin: FINALLY. please just kiss him and put me out of my misery

Steve came out of the kitchen, bag of chips in hand, to see Eddie just as he'd left him: cross-legged on the couch, demolishing a bag of Sour Patch Kids to the tune of the Criminal Minds theme music. He tucked his phone into his back pocket and rejoined his maybe-crush to watch trash TV until Robin came home.

He didn't know why he was so nervous. He knew Eddie liked him. There wasn't a chase here, he didn't have to flirt or try to win Eddie over… He just had to say yes and Eddie was his. It was different from any other relationship he'd ever been in. Maybe that was why it was so scary. Because it was new.

They watched the episode and bantered back and forth about it, same as always. But before the next episode could start, Steve hit pause.

"Bathroom break?" Eddie asked, hugging a throw pillow to his chest.

"No, uh…" Steve started, unable to even look Eddie in the face. "No… Can I… Can I kiss you?"

Eddie didn't answer right away, which finally inspired Steve to really look at him. His expression was completely unreadable.

"Uh… Yeah, I mean. Yes, absolutely. Um. But what happened to you don't like me like that?" It was such an Eddie response, Steve could almost laugh.

"I, um… I guess I spoke too soon," Steve laughed, trying to be cool and suave and everything else people thought he was in high school. Eddie brought the pillow up to hide his expression.

"Really?" he asked, muffled behind the pillow so that Steve almost couldn't hear him.

"Yeah, really. Just… Since you told me-"

"Dustin told you," Eddie corrected.

"Whatever… I dunno, I guess it put the idea in my head and now… I haven't been able to stop thinking about it… About you- what?"

Eddie was giggling quietly behind the throw pillow, gently rocking himself back and forth as Steve talked. 

"Nothing," Eddie mumbled into the pillow. "Go on."

"You're such a pain in the ass, y'know that?" Steve laughed again. "Can I kiss you or not?"

Eddie slowly moved the pillow away from his face to set it aside, revealing himself to be smiling like an idiot as he turned slightly to face Steve better.

"You understand I've been uselessly pining after you for like, two months now, right? Please kiss me, oh my god."

—

Dustin's phone lit up with a Snapchat notification; a message from Eddie to the D&D group chat. He expected a meme, or for Eddie to ask Jeff for a ride somewhere because his van broke down again.

Instead, it was a picture of Eddie looking smug, leaning against Steve's chest. Steve, apparently unaware he was having his picture taken, had his fingers tangled up in Eddie's curls. The text overlay simply read "hey guys guess what."

The first reply came from Gareth, a picture of him leaning against Will in the exact same position as Eddie was with Steve. "Gross," it said.

Dustin rolled his eyes. Eddie was about to get so much more insufferable.

[lizzieislife94x]

Mafia Boss (e.o)

Requested<3

Lizzie x G!P Reader

Y/ns POV:

"Just get it done keep it clean and call me when it's done!" I spit out at the idiots I call employees they can't do anything right, I hang up slamming my phone on the table "baby is everything ok" my beautiful girlfriend Elizabeth says walking over rubbing her hand up and down my arm "yeah everything's ok baby just work hey I got you this dress for the party tonight" I say softly handing her the dress I bought I won't lie it's short and tight and I know its gonna hug her ass and tits perfectly "babyyyy thank you so much" she exclaimed excitedly jumping up and down as I pull her into a passionate kiss after a minute of her soft lips working against mine I break away and slap her ass "go get ready sexy we leave in 2 hours" I say as she turns and walks away.

Finally she's ready I look at her as my eyes almost pop out there head "fuck me lizzie you look wow" I say flirting with my sexy ass girlfriend "by the way you take forever to get ready" I giggle as she slaps my arm "and you wouldn't have it any other way by the way you look sexy y/n I don't know why but seeing you in suits does things to me it really does" she bites her lip as she runs her hand over my crotch knowing exactly what she doing "ah ahah I don't think so lizzie not right now behave we need to get to this party I have a little business to take care of" she pouts and walks out to the car as I shake my head and laugh at her "someone's pouty" I tease as I get in to drive it takes almost 40 mins to arrive as i hand my keys to a valet "my lady shall we" I smile offering my hand to my frustrated girlfriend "boss they're here and waiting we've checked no weapons so all clear to go in" my right hand man whispers as I nod to let him know I understand "hey princess I need to take care of business go have a drink ill be done in 5 minutes" I say as I kiss my girlfriend on the head.

Lizzies POV: 

Fuck she's so sexy walking away no lizzie don't think about how sexy y/n is she's in the bad books she left you wet and needy and she didn't even know it, I honestly have no reason to be annoyed but i just am she knows it turns me on, I strut over to the bar and order a drink as I patiently wait for my girlfriend I hate when she's dealing with business I don't want her to get hurt, I let out a sigh as I drink my drink "well what's a beauty like you doing alone care to dance" a charming 6 foot blonde man asks trying to hit on me I should tell him who my girlfriend is but decided against it i think its time to really annoy y/n "omg yes thank you I'd love to dance" I say as I take his hand and follow him to the dance floor we continue to dance for a while until I spot y/n glaring at me I decided to push a little further and really play with fire so slowly start to grind on him smirking as I do. 

Y/ns POV:

We walk out and shake hands with the leader of the opposite gang as we just finished laying some ground rules as soon as I turn my head I see lizzie with some guy all over her dancing what the fuck is she doing is she trying to end this guy, as soon as she locks eyes with me she starts grinding on this idiot "find out who that is that's all over her before I start fucking hurting people" I spit out as the jealousy bursts out of me "umm ahh actually y/n that's my son" the man I just finished the meeting with chimes in "well if you don't get him away from my fucking girlfriend right now I will make sure he sleeps with the fishes and ill do it personally you have 10 seconds 9..8..7" i start to count anger spilling from my lips as his 2 of his people run over to pull him away from lizzie i take a second to calm down before I walk over to her with a smile "now princess what was that all about I think we better get going because your in trouble "

I see her visibly gulp and take her hand leading her out to the car as we wait for them to bring it round lizzie whisper just loud enough for me to hear "baby I uh..I.. nothing happened I just wanted to push your buttons you left me all needy" awh she's trying to seem like butter wouldn't melt "and you think rubbing your ass against some dude is nothing oh honey you need to be taught a lesson you need to remember who you belong to" I say loud enough for people around to hear and I see her face turn red as I open the door for her to get into the car and climb into the drivers seat "what's wrong princess " I taunt resting my hand on her thigh as I drive home slipping it higher every so often "baby I'm yours no one elses" she says out of the blue making me giggle "and I'm yours but you need to learn that no one gets to touch what's mine your lucky that dude was 5 seconds away from taking a nap in the Hudson " I say as she bites her lip when I'm in full business mode she loves it she loves the power I hold "fuck baby I wouldn't have been dancing with him if you didn't leave me wet and needy before we left" I look at her shocked and laugh "what are you talking about I didn't tease you before we left you tried to grab my dick princess " she huffs and folds her arms "you know what you in suits does to me you could have fucked me before we left "I squeeze her thigh and smirk "princess I had business to attend to but trust me your getting fucked as soon as we get home" I say sweetly giving her a smile after 10 minutes of driving we arrive home and lizzie rushes out and runs outside as I giggle following her so needy I head straight upstairs knowing she'll be in the bedroom and stop in my tracks "how did you get naked so quick" I say as I bite my lip walking over to her "I have my ways" she smirks pulling me down into a Firey kiss as she works on getting my clothes off after a minute I stand up to remove my boxers I slowly rub my dick as I look into her eyes and grab her ankles pulling her to the edge of the bed "mhh good girls get lots of foreplay bad girls get pounded till they can't take it anymore " I husk out into her ear as I feel her full body shiver I bite my lips as I tease her entrance with the tip of my cock fuck she wasn't lying about being wet "please y/n please fuck me I've been a naughty girl" as soon as the words leave her mouth I sink deep inside my girlfriend bottoming out in one thrust "yesssssssss y/n fuckkkk aaaah" she screams as she arches her back "is this what you wanted you naughty girl my cock deep inside you?" She nods with her eyes closed as I thrust hard and deep "words Elizabeth words is this what you wanted" I continue my relentless pace pounding into lizzie the sounds ofher wet cunt as my dick slams in and out is music to my ears her moans make me so fucking hard "yes yes yes this is...what..I.. wanted baby fuck don't stop I'm cumingggg " I moan as I feel her walls hug my cock tighter "fuck lizzie this pussy is mine" I moan as I fuck her faster not giving her time to recover I feel the knot in my stomach getting stronger "fuck baby I'm so close I'm gonna fill your little cunt is that ok" I moan out as I lift her leg over my shoulder getting deeper "uhh...fu...oh god yes baby cum inside me please I want to feel you" i look down and notice lizzie cumming again as she creams over my cock I feel my thrusts getting sloppy as my orgasm approaches fast after a few more thrusts I slam deep inside her filling her with my seed as I lean my forehead against hers breathing fast "fuck princess" she moans and I smirk "yeah it was amazing but remember your mine if anyone touches you again ill make them disappear " I say with a smile as I lay next to her pulling her close "so protective I love it y/n I love you" she whispers against my ear making me smile.

AN: if you have any requests let me know, hope this was OK word count 1.5k 

[strawberryamanita]

Okay, so... hoo boy.

I try to acknowledge every time I make a political post that I cannot tell anyone what to do. I'm one irrelevant person, I'm not a political spearhead nor do I want to be one, I haven't been able to sway anyone about anything, yadda yadda blah blah blah. If this post gets completely overlooked, so be it. If I get verbally trampled-on by people who don't agree with me, so be it.

But while everyone else is causing a flood of coins on the floor, I'll throw my own 2 cents in.

I think what would be helpful right now -- just in this moment, for the short-term -- is getting through these feelings of worry and despair and panic that I see many posts on my feed announcing. The facts are in front of us: there was an assassination attempt, it failed, and that's worrying because it's gonna embolden the Right even further than they've already been lately. That's completely reasonable to be upset about, it's not irrational to see the danger this will put us in on the streets on the days leading up to the election.

At the same time, there ARE, believe it or not, some positive facts that are having an impact on your life right now. Trump had to go the hospital. He could possibly have a heart-attack. He could possibly go septic. He could possibly be assigned a medical professional that is brave enough to kill him. There was a person brave enough earlier today to show him and his following that enough people in the world hate him to want him dead. Social media being flooded with cheers that he was injured and laments that it didn't kill him is further proof to said willfully ignorant following that they are in the minority. Even if more US voters are enthusiastic about Trump as I type this, most of the world wants him obliterated, and that should be something to hang onto. So much of this is about ego and confidence of the Right. It's not in our best interest to let them think they have a leg up on us.

And the biggest piece of good news is, the US presidential election didn't happen yet! That wasn't the last stand right there, that wasn't the ballot count or the televised verdict. "Surviving" a non-lethal shot that didn't hit any important organs or arteries doesn't mean you automatically win an election. That didn't push an Eject button on Biden's seat to launch him out of the White House or anything like that.

Trump is not invincible. He is not immortal. He is not unkillable. And just because his cult of followers want to canonize him (though they wanted to do that before he was even elected the first time), that doesn't mean WE are obligated to throw in the towel and hang our heads and lick their heels. If it's cathartic or it's helping you de-stress, then by all means cry all you need to -- but we unfortunately can't afford to let this sink us into a collective depression.

He didn't win an election that hasn't happened yet. I promise you this. Look on ecosia.org if you need proof of who is in-office, since they don't use AI(currently).

And no, none of this is to downplay anything. I'm not living in a lie. I promise you, I've been making myself physically ill from the horrors of the world I've been exposed to, day after day, non-stop, on this fucking website. If exposing myself to the bottomless abyss of human evil actually desensitized me and helped me be less fearful, it would've worked by now, but all it does is exhaust me.

It honestly oftentimes makes me actively suicidal -- and I know for a fact I'm not the only one, especially after today, or when Trump was granted legal immunity, or any of these other awful past days. But if I killed myself before I did everything I could to keep this sinking ship of a country afloat just a little longer, that wouldn't be responsible of me.

So, if you're still reading, and not already typing out some response accusing me of things I already tried to tell you I'm not doing before you even finish reading...

Now is the time to practice being brave.

Look at the facts. Don't let yourself spiral from doomscrolling. Cry when you need to, and then keep going. Vote in every local election you can, attend protests and rallies, spread information from trustworthy sources to every social media handle you have -- and for God's sake, find something to keep you hopeful. Escapism is a survival tool: as long as you aren't using it to avoid reality, it doesn't have to be eliminated from your life. You will feel stronger if you let yourself recharge with moments of happiness, I guarantee this.

If you're too suicidal to keep going for yourself, keep going for someone else. It can be someone in your immediate life, it can be a stranger suffering overseas, it can be a child who hasn't been born yet that will see a future built on top of our present. Whatever it takes to keep you from giving up, put it to the front of your mind. Link arms with your Leftist siblings, and then make a habit of it. We cannot keep collapsing from the inside from the smallest of inconveniences, it helps literally none of us.

It's not over until they ring that bell. We have 3 and a half months, don't lose speed now.

I believe in you.

[ashes-writing-corner]

Hey guys! I've been sick lately so I'm back with a short part for Ghosts that We Knew. Reader gets sick and attempts to make tea. Ghost encourages reader to do it right lol

No warnings, tried to make this one a little funnier, more light hearted.

Taglist: @stargatenovus

Ghosts that We Knew 7- tea...you're doing it wrong...

You loved your little girl. You lived for her, quite literally. She was your world, your reason to keep going. And when the poor girl was sick, you made it your whole life to make sure she got better. 

Even at the cost of your own health. 

Kids were kids, and someone was always gonna wind up going to school sick, spreading it to everyone. But sickness travels, and just as Ellie was getting much better after a bad cold, you were knocked on your ass. Coughing, sore throat, the whole thing, you got it. Thankfully it wasn't as life threatening as it was after you had your transplant. You were paranoid about illness and the like for a year after the surgery. Thankfully you had a strong immune system and took precautions as much as you could. Nowadays you were a lot less paranoid, with the possibility of organ rejection (mostly) eliminated. 

Regardless, you felt like crap now. You had the whole package, and now couldn't safely work on orders, which royally sucked. Ghost was thankful those days were behind him, the one benefit to being dead. The one thing he didn't miss. 

He watched as you entered the kitchen, blanket wrapped around your shoulders and in your most comfortable pajamas. He observed only a moment as you struggled to open a nearby cabinet to grab a mug and he knew exactly what you were about to do. 

And you were about to do it wrong. 

Again. 

You grabbed out a box of fruity tea bags, clearing your throat a bit to try and ease the scratchy feeling in it. You grabbed out a peach bag and set it in the mug. Absent-minded, you filled the cup with water most of the way and, to Ghost's dismay, put it in the microwave. 

Again. 

No, no, no! He was NOT going to stand for this! He understood you were sick but there was no need to ruin tea like that. The microwave stopped suddenly and you looked around. 

"Ghost…I swear to God if that's you" you tried to reset the microwave but a cold blast grabbed your hand, "Dude! Seriously?! Of all things, you're gonna have a stick up your ectoplasmic ass about this?!". 

No response. Then you remembered that he had used a lot of energy to interact with you a short time ago. You sighed and rolled your eyes. 

"Hold on, let me go grab my phone…" you peeled off into the bedroom to go get it so you two could properly communicate. 

Ghost waited for you, keeping close to the accursed microwave. You were making your tea wrong and he needed to make you see the error of your ways. Sick or not, there was no excuse in his eyes. 

"Alright…what's got you in a tizzy now?". 

Tea. Wrong. 

"What?"

Make. 

"Seriously? There's no right or wrong way to make tea! Dude cmon my throat is killing me and the heat would help". 

Kettle. 

"Ghost…I'm not playing this game. Stop disabling my microwave and just let me do this-"

The lights began to flicker, electronics going a bit haywire. Frustrated, you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

"Alright! I'll do it in the damn kettle…fucking Brits I swear…"

Soap. 

Well that was random. It took you by surprise as you turned to your phone. 

"Soap? Dude, it's clean, I promise. Or are you saying I need soap? Eh…not gonna lie a shower might actually do me some good. I'll think about that". 

He still wondered about his old teammates. Did they still think of him? He hadn't seen Johnny in years, about three…maybe four at this point. He wondered how the sergeant had changed. Was he still the fun loving, carefree friend that he somewhat envied? Did he still have a heart for others? Ghost always thought that was a rare thing. He shook his head, no point in dwelling on the past or what could be. You and Ellie were his priority now. And it wasn't like anyone had made him one before everything went to hell…

"I am not about to put milk in this. It comes out clumpy if I do" your voice pulled him back like an alarm. 

Cream.

"I can't add anything but sugar to this. It'll get clumpy and gross. Don't want that" you argued, "if it was a different tea then yeah definitely". 

Kind?

"What kind am I making? Peach. Peach and raspberry are my favorites" you told him. 

Lavender. 

"Lavender tea? Are you kidding? That stuff tastes like soap…" you stuck your tongue out in disgust. 

Smell.

"Eh…I guess the smell is okay. I like the smell of actual Lavender rather than the artificial crap they put out". 

He couldn't argue that. In life he thought the smell of lavender was too strong. It was even worse now as a ghost, with his advanced smell and all. 

You had gotten out a new cup and tea bag and waited with the blanket still wrapped around yourself as the kettle finally went off. You rolled your eyes. 

"Another reason I hate doing that" you moved it to the other side of the stove, "hate loud high pitched noises". 

Nonetheless, you put some sugar in the cup. Ghost counted at least five, a bit much in his opinion, but he wasn't about to judge. He had made your life difficult enough already. 

"Did it your way. Are you happy now?" You asked with a hint of sarcasm. 

Yes. 

"Good, cause I'm never doing that again". 

We'll see…

This totally means he intends to "train" you on making your tea right. This was based on a conversation I had with my sister the other day and she thought it was hysterical. Anyway, being sick sucks and I hope yall are okay.

If you like my stuff please consider following, liking, commenting, and most importantly reblogging. Thanks friends and followers ^.^

-Ash

[infinite-riches]

My Sweet Johnny Boy

Summary: “You’re gonna pull your hair out, mate,” The voice was soft, slightly deep, dripping in a thick Manchester accent.

“So? Everyone hates it anyways…”

Or: Johnny gets bullied and Simon fixes it (High School AU)

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 1131

Warnings: mentions of terminal illness, child abuse

A/N: This lovely one-shot was inspired by the ficlet 'What Makes Soap Soap' written by DovaBunny on Ao3!

Shout out to ebi_lal on Ao3 for beta reading this for me! <3

And as always feel free to leave feedback/constructive criticism <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): My Sweet Johnny Boy

Trying to adjust to a new school in the middle of the year had been torture. Not to mention the heartbreak of having to leave Scotland behind. All his friends, four hours away. All because his family had to move to Manchester. 

His saving grace had been the phys ed class, being able to dump all his pent-up emotions into football, maybe even with a chance to get scouted for the county team. Football allowed him to tune it out. He could cast everything aside and have a moment of peace in his mind.

As always, the other boys had something smart to say to Johnny after class. Most of the time it was about his accent or his worn-out shoes (the MacTavish family not having enough money to splurge on a new pair when his still wore well). Today though… today was different.

It was relentless in the locker room, most of the other Year 12 boys chiming in with something or another about his hair. 

Though he maintained his composure for the most part he couldn’t deny just how deep it cut. His Ma had been diagnosed with cancer 2 years ago, chemo hitting her hard- she had just recently relented and shaved the rest of her hair off. When Johnny said he wanted to do the same, she helped. She made a game out of it, trying to see how many different funny hairstyles she could give her boy- just to see him laugh and smile. Then she gave him the mohawk and they both stopped.

“So handsome… my sweet Johnny boy with a mohawk!” A light laugh left her lips, a sound Johnny would never let himself forget. 

“Think I’m gonna keep it, Ma…” And he had, learned how to take care of it, always made time to see his Ma- let her trim it up for him, made her smile bright every time he visited her in hospital. 

The water poured over him till it ran cold and even then he didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he sat on the cold tile, knees to his chest as he ran his hands through his hair over and over again, anxiously tugging at the short strands.

The door to the locker room opened and closed, footsteps milling about accompanied by the sound of someone rummaging through their locker. 

Johnny couldn’t be bothered to move, too lost in his own thoughts.

“You’re gonna pull your hair out, mate,” The voice was soft, slightly deep, dripping in a thick Manchester accent.

“So? Everyone hates it anyways…” Johnny bit back another wave of tears, trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t hate it…” The voice is softer now, kind words prompting Johnny to look up, greeted by a stunning set of honey eyes. “I actually think it's pretty fucking dope…”

Simon kneeled before him, a hand outstretched towards the kneeling Scot, the other holding a towel. There was a black medical mask over his face, just like always. The year 13 student had been a bit of an enigma to Johnny. Most of the students called him Ghost, something about how quiet he could be, creeping up on everyone. Simon fit him better in Johnny’s mind– warm, honey eyes, soft blonde hair, the faintest hint of curl to the strands, always slightly tousled, the boy couldn’t possibly be a ghost– maybe an angel instead. 

“You dinnae have to lie-”

“I’m not lying to you…” Simon’s voice faded off, pushing his outstretched hand towards Johnny.

“You must want something then, eh?” Johnny kept himself small, trying to figure out what game– if any– Simon was playing. “Wanna take the piss like the rest of ‘em?”

An abrupt laugh left Simon’s lips. “Be like them? You wound me Scotsman. C’mon mate, get out of the shower, you’re gonna freeze your balls off.” This time Simon stepped over the tile lip, grabbing Johnny and helping him to his feet, gladly handing over the towel if it meant the poor kid would stop shivering. 

Johnny couldn’t shrug off the kindness anymore, caving to the soft hand and gentle eyes before him. After a few minutes, his limbs didn’t feel nearly as numb anymore and he managed to change into his clothes.

“So what’s the deal, with your hair?” Simon was sitting on the opposite end of the bench, fiddling with the straps of his backpack as he listened.

“It’s for my Ma… she’s got cancer… she thought it looked good on me so I’ve kept it… she helps me trim it up every few weeks… even when she’s in hospital…” tears threatened to spill again, desperately clinging to Johnny’s waterline. 

“Fuck mate…” Simon was by his side in a flash. “I’m so sorry man…”

“No need… it’s been this way for a while, dinnae know when she’ll get better…” Johnny’s voice tapered off, lost in thought again.

“I’m sure she’ll get better soon…” Simon paused for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air. “Listen… I’ve seen you around, you’re good at that shit you do in your sketchbook and even better out on the pitch… if those fucks bother you again come find me, yeah?”

“You don’t ha-”

“None of that, I’ll see you around Johnny…” In a flash Simon was gone, living up to his nickname and leaving Johnny reeling. 

The next day Johnny was sitting on one of the benches out front sketching, waiting for school to start when everyone started to speak in hushed tones. His eyes flicked up, pencil dropping on the page as he met Simon’s eyes. His blonde locks were almost completely gone, trimmed into a neat mohawk that closely mirrored Johnny’s save for the slight curl to the strands.

Simon caught his gaze, softly nodding his chin towards the Scot, eyes crinkling as if he was smiling beneath the mask. Simon, being a year 13 had sent a clear message to the rest of the school, leave Johnny alone. 

From then on, Simon was practically Johnny’s shadow. No one gave him shit about his hair or his accent or his shoes anymore. 

Simon watched over Johnny and Johnny brought some much-needed softness into Simon’s life, eventually coaxing the Brit into taking the mask off when they were alone. Broke Johnny’s heart when he saw the scar– Simon’s dad had thrown a bottle at him, leaving behind a deep gash on his cheek– the reason for the mask. 

The boys were inseparable. Over time the distance between them lessened, from opposite ends of the bench to being pressed together, Simon’s lips leaving a soft kiss on Johnny’s.

And Simon was there three weeks later, mohawk freshly trimmed, for Mrs. MacTavish’s funeral, holding Johnny’s hand tight and doing his best to stay strong for his boy. 

[narrators-journal]

Wherefore art you outside my window, Romeo

So, you can read this a number of ways, I won’t tag it as a ship overtly, but I recalled a similar scene from an rp I did, and I figured this would be some entertaining tomfoolery to explore Ryuji and Yusuke a bit. I don’t write them a whole lot, and I want to stretch the writing muscles a bit ehe. Hope ya’ll enjoy the result!

How did I draw the short straw here? We’re phantom thieves, not legit criminals, why am I having to stalk this bastard? Ryuji Sakamoto gently fumed as he leaned back against the tree outside of the patchwork shack of a house that Madarame had claimed was his home on the news. Which, the blonde track star figured was a big fat lie, as the only person he saw enter the home at any point that Sunday was the tall, blue-haired artist that he had been voted to babysit.

A blue-haired artist who paced back and forth in front of his open bedroom window, the messy floorboards creaking beneath each of his footsteps as his nose was buried in the same book of collected literature that Ryuji’s teacher had passed out in his own class not too long ago. Does he just have that for his own entertainment, or does he have to read it for class like I do? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the former, honestly. Ryuji mused as he watched the artist go back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth out of his line of sight.

But, in the brief moments that he did pass the window, the phantom thief could see that Yusuke Kitagawa was still dressed in his school uniform, with a headband on to keep his shaggy bangs out of his face as he read Romeo and Juliet aloud to himself at a volume that allowed Ryuji to hear snippets even from his spot in the dark trees. “-That birds would sing and think it were not night-” And, he had to admit that the artist definitely knew how to perform well, and while Ryuji had no interest in theater, he could still tell that Yusuke’s voice had a smooth confidence to it that reminded the blonde that the tall senior was a student in an art school. The same way that his gestures and small movements to try and sell the lines he read aloud seemed to confirm his love for creative expression in any form. Which, was an impressive shift from the odd creature that the phantom thieves had met back on the streets.

Back in the subway, when he and Joker had confronted Yusuke for following Ann, the artist had been a weirdo, a creep, and painfully awkward. Granted, he hadn’t done it with ill intention, just a social ineptitude that he lacked whenever he came back into Ryuji’s line of sight. “-That I might touch that cheek…” he read out, before he glared down at the next line before he muttered, “What type of exclamation is ‘Ay me!’ though? Is she excited, scared, or annoyed?” before he jumped at the new voice from outside. “She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious as this night, being o’er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white upturned wond’ring eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him when he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds and stails upon the bosom of the air.” Fuck, I should not have done that.

Sadly, though, that rationale had hit a heartbeat too late to stop the impulse. Yusuke was already at the window to scan the night’s shadows. Which, gave Ryuji a chance to see the interest and excitement mixed with the fear and anxiety in the artist’s steely eyes as they scanned the flora and silver-lit darkness. “O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I will no longer be a Capulet.” He eventually recited out into the night’s cool air with the dramatic yearning of a melodramatic fourteen-year-old before he paused for the expected aside. Well, now I know you’re either a freaky dude, or you know it's just me out here. “Sorry dude, I don’t know the next line.” He admitted, those polished disks of silver metal quick to lock onto where the blonde sat on his branch. Yet, even that didn’t spark the expected wrath. “Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this. If you’re going to play Romeo, you’d best learn your lines.” He said, his weight now rested on his elbows as he spoke to the blonde with a near-smug amount of amusement, “You should also work on your emoting. You sound as interested as a board.” And that got the track star to scowl and put his hands up in sarcastic surrender, “Well damn, I wouldn’t have even humored you if I knew you’d be so critical.” “Stalkers don’t usually humor their victims regardless.” The artist pointed out, “Says the stalker??” Ryuji snapped, but he was quickly countered with, “I wasn’t really stalking Miss Takamaki, I just tried to awkwardly approach the few times I saw her out in public. I never learned where she lived, her schedule, or where she worked. You’re sat outside of my home after I’ve already told you to fuck off once, and you and your friends have inappropriately dug up information on my living situation and mentor.”

Ryuji admittedly had no argument for that point, the artist’s logic was pretty sound on some level. The silence was enough to earn him a triumphant smirk from Yusuke as the artistic oddball straightened. “Now, if you’re done helping me with my homework, leave before I call the police.” He ordered, then shut the window before the blonde could argue. I’m gonna fist-fight this bastard.

[andi-is-bored]

ok wait ignore the last ask bc i fucked smth up here ANDIII HII 💌 i just wanted to say i have so many things to say about you but not enough time so ill try to keep it short (me when i lie) FIRST OF ALL, youre the most awesome person ive ever met thank you so much for always laughing with me and talking to me and being nice to me. i am SOO insanely lucky to know you its insane!! youre so funny and we could argue for hours about who loves the other more (its me btw :)) thank you for always listening to my semi dumb rants and for always being nice and tolerant with me and for always being sweet and caring and kind and arghhhh i could go on honestly (and i will hehe)!! i dont think i could ever be happy without you atp youre the sweetest person ive ever known and youre pretty neat aksjdlkasj i love you so much for always making my day with your sweet silly asks and for always being the most awesome and one of the most excited people to see me <3 you always make me blush and a giggle a little and youre so sweet and cute and for always making me feel appreciated <3 you are one of the best wives one could ask for and i am so glad to know you <3 lots of love, lucy <3

JisjcjdbssndjsndndbBhjjJjjjKCKFKRJRNDNDNDDNGFIFKCKDKDMDM

i can’t i’m, lucy you can do this to me you can’t just say these things cause i will fall in love with you and it PAINS ME that we can’t talk everyday already and you’re making it worse!! (you’re not you make everything better omg)

“i don’t think i could ever be happy without you atp” BABE HONEY OMG?!? CAUSE SAME?!? oh my jesus i LOVE YOU!! <333 THANK YOU SOSO SO MUCH! this put such a smile on my face omgggg

(also so sorry i didn’t respond till now i have not had the mental energy to respond to anything) <3

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 1 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Carlos Martinez    

The behemoth looms over me, I lie on my back, knees drawn up as my eyes roam a body built for hard work and showing the signs of it. 

Hard, dirty, strong and big, just the way I like it, I spot what I'm really after and adjust my position a little.

"Oh, yeah. There you are. Now, come to Papi."

I bite back a groan as I reach for the thick, well-oiled shaft and slide

my hand along its length.

It's larger than I anticipated.

"Fuck. Hang on baby. I gotta grab a bigger..."

With a pop and a screech of metal, the gigantic pickup truck I'm working on slips off the jack and drops a foot, bouncing on its tires. 

The axle I'd been feeling up for damage comes to rest a finger's width above the bridge of my nose.

I stare at it without breathing for what feels like a tiny eternity and then, discovering that I'm still alive, I scramble from beneath the vehicle and let loose.

"Puta Madre. Mother-fuck. Kyle. I thought I told you to check the fucking jacks, you dumb-fuck shit-head."

My hapless assistant comes flying in from the work yard, his pale face shiny with sweat and his blue eyes wide and stares at the slipped jack as if it's the most horrific thing he's ever seen.

"Holy shit. Oh, shit, Mr. Martinez. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, no thanks to you."

"I swear I checked them, Mr. Martinez. Just like you showed me. I swear I did." 

He twists his hands in the dirty rag he holds and shifts from side to side, miserable with anxiety and my anger fades.

I rake a hand through my long hair, then remember my hands are covered in axle grease and swear. 

"Chinga..."

"What?"

"Fuck," I say.

"Chinga means fuck."

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Martinez."

"How many times I gotta tell you? It's Carlos, Kyle. Carlos. Señor Martinez was my grandpa."

"Sorry, Mr. Martinez," Kyle whispers, eyes on the floor.

"I'll try harder. I swear. Please don't tell my aunt."

I cast my own eyes heaven-ward and pray for patience. 

"Why would I tell your aunt?"

"'Cause she made you hire me. I mean, that's the only reason I'm here, right?"

I rub the back of my neck and sigh. 

Kyle isn't wrong. 

His aunt, Lucille, is my landlady and neighbor and she asked me to give him a job. 

Kyle is, as my own aunt would say, a sandwich short of a picnic and a magnet for trouble. 

A foster kid raised by his aunt, he dropped out of high school, fell in with the wrong crowd, spent some time in juvie, got out, got in trouble again, got out again and now he's twenty two and his prospects are dim. 

Life handed Kyle lemons and he can't afford the sugar to make lemonade.

I sympathize, I really do, I had my own troubles growing up, different troubles but no less damaging and I want to give Kyle every chance I can. 

The problem is, I can barely afford the sugar myself, much less Kyle's meager pay.

His aunt isn't even asking for much. 

In exchange for reduced rent, Lucille proposed I hire him as my assistant, teach him the mechanic's trade and keep him on the payroll for at least a year. 

She just wants him to have a chance; to have something, anything, legitimate to put on a resume.

I wouldn't complain if not for the fact he's almost killed me three times already and he's only been working here two weeks.

"Kyle," I say, rubbing my brow.

"Look. Why don't you go get us some lunch, okay? Rexi's burgers, down the street. Here..." 

I pull out my wallet, remove a twenty I can ill-afford to spend and hand it over. 

"I'll have the classic with fries. Get yourself what you want."

He takes the bill, stuffs it in his pocket and leaves, shoulders hunched and shoes scuffing the concrete floor.

When he's gone, I crack my neck and take a closer look at the truck.

"Fuck," I hiss. 

There's a small dent and scrape in the paint I'll have to fix. 

Fortunately, the truck's owner is a friend.

When I moved to Spring Lakes and opened my own garage, it felt like the world was my oyster. 

I had new friends, a new home and thanks to a certain demon, I was finally free of the possessions that had plagued me since childhood.

That's right, I got possessed, a lot, ghosts, demons, I don't even know what, sometimes. 

All I know is my aunt, Toni, was the only person who could keep me safe. 

She raised me, fed me, clothed me, gave me a home and taught me everything I know about cars. 

She happened to be an exorcist, too, one of a long line in our family and she used me as a tool of her trade. 

I didn't mind, usually but I also didn't have a choice. 

How do you say 'no' to your only caregiver, when they're the only person in the world who gives a shit about you?

Then I met a man who can turn into a bear and a boy who's part demon and in a moment of pure desperation I got in the back of this very truck and left my old life in the dust.

I haven't looked back but the truth is, my aunt did a good job. 

She sheltered me from a lot of shit but in the process she left me a little unprepared for 'real life.'

On the one hand, things are good, I've got my own business and my own place, I got friends and I'll be twenty-seven in two weeks.

On the other hand, there are things that cost me sleep. 

My business is struggling and my place is a rental held together with duct tape and prayers. 

My friends are amazing but they got their own lives and I'm still single, not for lack of trying, unfortunately.

Rising, I catch sight of myself in the cab window's reflection and sigh.

I used to think I was hot stuff, dark eyes under expressive brows, olive-toned skin and a mouth that drew the eye. 

I had young Johnny Depp or Antonio Banderas vibes or so I imagined and I wore my chestnut brown hair long and lush. 

I wasn't just pretty, I was masculine, too, trim and toned from real, hard work, with grease under my nails and dirt on my skin. 

Who wouldn't wanna call that his own?

Everyone, apparently.

Before I left Toni and my old life behind, I blamed it on the possessions. 

Can't fault a date for dipping after some hell-spawn takes you for spin but once I was free of that, I thought things would change. 

I thought, finally, I'd have them all swiping right, calling me back or better yet, asking for my number, no such luck.

I run my hand along the side of the truck. 

The weeks I spent on the road with Ian and Sam were, while harrowing, the best of my life. 

I guess I thought if I followed them here, the good times would roll, they haven't and now I can't help wondering, if the possessions weren't the problem, then maybe the problem is me or maybe, if I can't find what I'm looking for, then what I'm looking for isn't here.

I've decided I'll give it my all, throw my heart and soul into my business but if it fails, then I'm out. 

I'll be like Jack, hit the road and never come back no more.

~ ★ ~

By seven o'clock, I'm pissed. 

Kyle seems to have done a Jack, too and used my twenty to buy a ticket to fuck-knows-where. 

He never came back with my lunch, anyway and I figured he got distracted by something and decided to fuck off for the rest of the day. 

He plays the innocent card well but he's not as dumb as he pretends to be, he knows I can't fire him.

Hell, for all I know he set the jack up wrong on purpose to play a prank on me. 

A potentially murderous prank that could have crushed my skull but a prank, nonetheless.

At any rate, I'm in a foul mood by the time Ian Foley comes to pick up his truck at the end of the day.

"I'm sorry," I say, indicating the dent and scratch.

"I won't charge you for the repairs and I'll do the body work free, too."

Ian rubs his short red beard and blows a breath through his nose. 

"I'm not worried for the truck," he says.

"I'm more concerned you're still using this crap equipment, Carlos. You know old shit like this is a hazard."

I bite back a rude reply, of course I know it, I was raised to know it. 

I grew up in a fucking garage for fuck's sake.

"I'm still saving for the upgrade," I say.

"It was my mistake. As the mechanic, it's my responsibility to do the safety check. I shouldn't have relied on Kyle."

“Hmm.”

Ian's noncommittal grunt says more than he knows, that if I need an assistant, I should hire one I can trust and if I can't trust Kyle, then he shouldn't be working here.

"What do you I owe you?" he asks and I frown. 

"I told you. Nothing."

He shakes his head. 

"Nah. You musta spent eight hours on this. Parts an' labor... I'm guessing four hundred."

He pulls out his wallet, counts the bills,and holds them out to me.

I shake my head. 

"I can't. I damaged your vehicle and took twice as long as promised. The Martinez Motors guarantee is 'on time or no charge.' So it's no charge."

Rather than argue, Ian grabs my hand and presses the wad of bills into my palm.

"Take it, Carlos. You earned it. My business is doing well right now and I can spare it. Someday, that might not be the case. Someday I might be the one who needs help. That's what friends are for. This isn't charity. It's support. And you can put yourself first sometimes. You're worth it. Understand?"

I nod and accept the money.

"Thanks, Ian. You let me know if you're not satisfied, though, right?"

I hand him his keys and he winks. 

"You bet your ass. My truck is my baby. Well, other than Sam."

He gets in his truck and leaves and I let my shoulders slump as I fall into one of the stained waiting area chairs and bury my face in my hands.

I remember the first time I saw Ian Foley, in a little pub where I was waiting tables. 

He was just my type, big and rough, with red hair and a pair of startlingly blue eyes. 

He had one eye now but he was no less handsome for the loss. 

Sometimes, I wondered what might have happened if he'd met me first, instead of Sam but the reality was he'd never shown a hint of interest.

I was lucky he considered me a friend, still someday I want someone to put me first.

My phone buzzes and I pull it from my pocket. 

It's a text and my heart leaps at the name attached to it. 

Alejo, a guy I hooked up with the week before at a bar. 

He'd seemed pretty into me, at least until he got what he wanted. 

Then he'd basically told me to fuck off but maybe I'd misinterpreted things. 

I'd had a few drinks and my head wasn't totally clear at the time.

Alejo: Hey I'm. bored Wanna hang out? 

I start to type and then my head catches up to my eager heart 'and hormones' and I read the text again.

He's bored and too lazy for punctuation and I'm a distraction.

One of many, no doubt. Still...

I bite my bottom lip, finger hovering above the screen. 

Then, with an exhalation, I silence my phone and pocket it again.

‘Not tonight, Alejo. Not ever again, actually.’

Ian's right, maybe if I stop acting so desperate, something better than guys who prey on desperate guys will come my way, maybe.

Exhausted, I drag myself up to the little apartment above the garage, take a shower and flop into bed. 

Kyle's going to get an earful tomorrow and I'm taking that twenty out of his pay.

~ ★ ~

Bright and early, I'm roused by a persistent and obnoxious sound. 

Not my alarm but the buzz of the bell on the shop door below. 

Blearily, I roll into a sitting position and rub my hands over my face before jolting unsteadily to my feet. 

Dressed in my boxers and sleeveless nightshirt, I lean on the wall for support as I descend the stairs to the floor below, my brain struggling to catch up to my body and understand who would be at the door this early and why.

It must be a customer with a scheduled drop off, which Kyle must have forgotten to put in my calendar.

When I open the door, however, I discover not a customer, but a pair of officers in uniform. 

I blink at them and they stare at me, one is male and one is female, the female officer speaks first.

"Mr... Martinez?"

I nod, suddenly much more awake and much more conscious of my attire or lack thereof. 

"Yeah. Um... I mean, Yes, that's me. Carlos Martinez. How can I help you, officers?"

"We'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind."

"What about?"

"You know a Kyle Peters?"

"Yeah. Yes. He's my... he's my assistant," I clear my throat.

The male officer speaks. 

"In what capacity?"

I turn towards him and frown. 

He has short brown hair and green eyes and he looks about ten years older, eight inches taller and fifty pounds more muscular than me.

He's also hot and straight, definitely straight.

"In the garage," I say.

"I'm a... I'm a mechanic."

"So I gathered," the officer's tone is dry and I flush, embarrassed.

"Um... So what's this about Kyle?" I ask, running a hand through my hair.

"What's the little shit gone and done now?"

"That's what we're here to find out," the female officer says and I groan. 

"Don't tell me. He stole some shit, again."

"No, Mr. Martinez," the male officer drawls, drawing my attention back to him.

"He's dead."