#• . special clu tag !! . •

[jadeoru]

we were so far away we had to rely on one of the big screens to see their faces clearly 💀 we also couldn’t see visuals all that much until dema showed up

gonna cry I miss these boys already 😞

CLUUUU IM GLAD YOU HAD FUN!!! these pics are so sick what the eff !! im so glad you got to see your band<333

running at top speeds to our dms🏃‍♀️

[lilflowerpot]

🎶🍯: Hi there! I’m not sure if this has been asked about before, but how does Galra society regard neurodivergence? Do you plan on having any of the characters in Little Blade be neurodivergent?

I've not spoken about neurodivergence in particular but I have spoken about mental health in the broader sense, and I think what I said then is still somewhat applicable.

So in imperial circles, mental health—and, in this case, neurodivergence—is almost entirely destigmatised. As with everything, there are always exceptions to the rule, but broadly speaking the galra don’t think of neurodivergence as a bad thing, it's just indicative of a different way of perceiving and interacting with the world; ultimately, as a collectivist culture, supporting fellow members of the community (irrespective of whether they're neurotypical or not) is a time-honoured duty that no true galra would so much as //consider// shirking, as by virtue of being galra, any given individual would be considered a beloved child of Sa, and there is an inherent and entirely unmatched value in that.

I'm not going to lie and claim that I specifically set out to write any of LB's characters as neurodivergent, because I didn't, just as I never specifically set out to write any of them as neurotypical—honestly, I was mostly focused on keeping their personalities true to canon, while still painting them with the depth and complexity that I felt said canon deprived them of. That being said, some years ago now I received an ask from someone who is autistic, and was very complimentary with regard to how I was going about exploring galra body language. At the time, I spoke about an autistic family member of mine, and how their manner of interacting with the world had probably bled into my understanding and interpretation of Keith’s character; now, in the near-four years since, it's quite funny to look back at that knowing,,, that I am, myself, almost certainly also autistic lmao ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[httpsserene]

I LOVED daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x reader!! could you write a part 2?

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞: 𝐊.𝐎. !

summary: Okay, Daniel may have won the first round. He cleared her dry spell with no problem and used Max to do it, too. That’s completely fine, she will never complain about experiencing some of the best orgasms of her life. But, Max (the man unable to not have the last word) coerces her into giving Daniel a taste of his own medicine.  As soon as they can manage to walk on two feet, without a wobble. Mark their fucking words.  pairing: daniel ricciardo x max verstappen x fem!black!reader content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. author recommends reading part one before this. polyamory. threesome. massages. overstimulation. multiple orgasms. safe, sane, and consensual. bondage. safeword mention. unprotected sex. ruined orgasm. handjob. oral sex (male receiving). edging. crying during sex. praise kink. nipple play. dom/sub ig? joking during sex. dom!max verstappen. switch!daniel ricciardo. sub!reader. vaginal sex. anal sex (male). sex toys (butt plug). frottage. don’t like don’t read. no beta we die like men. edited by the author, though. this is a fictional depiction of real-life people, and this is not an accurate representation of them. word count: 4.3k words

author’s notes: to all the lovely readers who begged for a part two of my f1 kinktober special | overstimulation kink w danny & max. these tags may look crazy...okay, they are but the fic is reasonably crazy i would say. this was humbling to write, you have been warned. my 2k followers special comes to its end with this final installment and there will be no part three of this fic < 3. i may repost this on ao3 in a week or so, for ease of reading as i know long fics on tumblr are kind of annoying :)

(i'm going to take a little pause from writing daniel ricciardo fics but those of you that have requested things for him i will get to them in due time xxx)

prev part 1 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents↻

Your body feels like it’s been wrung out: legs wobbly, thighs bruised, hips aching, back broken, and numb with heat between your legs. You refuse to wear pants as the friction is too paralyzing to take more than a few steps. Loose dresses are your best friend–for the first couple of days, you even went commando around the ranch—thank god neither one of your boyfriends clued into that. 

However, it’s not like you disliked the oversensitivity and aching muscles that came after sex. You loved the feeling even more as it was the first time you’d been properly fucked in a few months. Having that unending thirst for Max and Daniel quenched; it’s heightened how you experience life. You swear that your vision feels sharper, your melanated skin softer, anything you eat tastes better than delicious, the homemade lemonade is sweeter, and most importantly, your desperation has calmed. While you love life on the farm, where living has become succulent under your senses—Max’s attitude has done a complete 180°.

His energy is completely subdued. It’s like Daniel drained the cum and brat out of him. Max is all stuttered words when he makes eye contact with either of you, blushing fully at the lightest tease or brush of skin, voice soft when he speaks, usual bluntness replaced with shyness, and he’s even clingier than normal. If he hasn’t glued himself underneath Daniel’s arm, he’ll be plastered against your back.

You wonder if he’s embarrassed that Daniel changed their “plan” on him at the last minute, or if it’s because Daniel used him as a tool to get you off—but, asking Max would only scare him away or cause the brat to resurface…so you don’t verbalize your theories. You find Max in this state more adorable than usual, and you won’t complain if it means a surplus of Max-cuddles.

Yet, the figurative rug is pulled from beneath your feet when the three of you go Christmas shopping. Daniel had separated from the two of you to go pick up a gift for his nephew, leaving you and Max alone to browse through knickknacks that decorate the shelves. Your eyes were caught by cat ornaments that looked exactly like Jimmy and Sassy but before you could reach out to grab, them Max grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to hide in the next aisle over.

“I want to break Daniel with so many orgasms that he won’t be able to speak by the time we’re done with him,” Max states bluntly. The brat is back.

“Regulate your volume,” you whisper-yell at him, hand moving to cover his mouth as you look around to see if anybody heard your Dutch boyfriend, “We are in public and you decided now is the time to bring this up?!”

He pulls your hand off his face, looking at you with wide eyes, “But, liefje–c’mon! Daniel’s been way too smug recently. Whenever I’m around him he doesn’t miss the chance to mention how he made me cry—made you cry, too!”

“Inside voice, Max,” you bite out, continuing to look at the Christmas decorations in this aisle.

“Fine,” Max whispers, rolling his eyes, “Technically, it’s another Christmas present for him if you think about it.”

“I’m trying not to think about it if you haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t you want to even the board? Imagine it: Daniel underneath the two of us, and we’re overwhelming him with pleasure. Doesn’t that sound like a good time?”

You stop walking abruptly and Max runs into your back. You spin around and stare at him with narrowed eyes and a flared nose.

“You seriously thought the best time to discuss this is in the middle of a family-friendly store, where our boyfriend is picking up a gift for his nephew?”

“Yes.”

“If you stop talking about it for the entire time we’re shopping today, I’ll consider it. We can discuss this when the phantom feeling of his cum on my skin goes away.”

That evening, you and the Dutchman watch Daniel fix a motorbike out in the driveway from the garage. He’s shirtless, sweat dripping down his face and back, you can see every muscle engage and relax as he moves. He’s silhouetted by the Australian sunset and you hear Max choke on his breath when Daniel’s loose jeans slip down his hips, exposing the waistband of his briefs—twin sighs of disappointment leave you both when he catches and drags them back up. With shaky hands, you grab the pitcher of lemonade you prepared to pour a glass for each of you. Ignoring how you missed the glass on your first few attempts, you two bring the drinks to your lips and dry the cups embarrassingly quickly to satiate your desperation—the lemonade doesn’t help. 

Daniel finishes with the bike and wipes his hands on a towel he had tucked into his back pocket, looking your guys’ way. He smiles brightly—shamefully, you wave in response and Max tucks a nonexistent strand of hair behind his ear; the two of you are acting like school girls with a crush. 

The Australian stands and in a few relaxed strides, he comes to a stop in front of you two. 

“Can you pour me a glass, sweetheart?” his request rumbles out velvety.

Stuttering, you scramble to do as he asked and find that Max has reached for the pitcher as well when your hands bump into each other. The two of you freeze and stare at each other with wide eyes; Max’s blush blooms red across his face and yours warms the brown skin of your cheeks. Daniel’s chuckle of amusement snaps you out of it; Max pours the drink, and you hand it off to the Australian, avoiding eye contact. He brings the glass to his lips and drains it dry. You and the Dutchman stare with gaped mouths, watching the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, whimpering and pressing your thighs together at his ah in satisfaction when finished. 

He leans down to place the glass back on the tray and smirks at you and Max, “Absolutely delicious. It almost tastes as sweet as either of you is acting right now.”

Both of you stay silent, squirming in your lawn chairs. Daniel takes a second to slowly press both of your mouths closed with a nudge of his fingers before straightening up and clearing his throat.

“Thank you for the drink, sweetheart,” Daniel cocks his head to the side in question, before winking, his smug aura radiating off of him, “Or should I say, ‘sweethearts?’ As both of you seemed so eager to help me quench my thirst.”

Your mouth pops open again and Max audibly whimpers next to you. Daniel laughs and walks to enter the house, “Don’t feel afraid to join me in the shower.”

The plan is set before Daniel’s out of the shower. You’ve changed into a black mini slip dress, curls loosely cascading down your back as you’ve draped yourself on top of the bed sideways, face-down on your tummy, not caring how the back of your dress has ridden up a couple of inches. Max laid himself on his side next to you, dressed in a navy Enchanté shirt and a pair of Daniel’s briefs that hug at his thighs a little too tightly, and plays with the bottom hem of your dress, letting his fingers drift underneath to press at bruises that haven’t healed from that night. 

At the sound of the shower shutting off, the two of you glance at each other; Max checking in with you one last time before you guys follow through with the plan. At your nod, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips and goes back to fiddling with your dress. You rest your head on your folded arms and as your eyes flutter shut, the bathroom door opens.

You hear Daniel humming some country song and he gets about three steps into the room before he stops abruptly.

“Well, if I had known this would be waiting for me out here, I wouldn’t have spent a lifetime in the shower waiting for you guys to take me up on my offer.”

Max makes a noise of confusion, his hand pausing at your hemline, “What are you talking about? We just thought it would be nice to give you a massage—you know, prevent any muscle tightness from when you were hunched over the bike.”

“Is that so, pretty girl?” Daniel questions you, looking past Max. He’s dried off from his shower already, skin gleaming thanks to your cocoa butter lotion he probably stole, hair still damp but not dripping, and a towel wrapped around his waist. You’re sure he’s trying to sniff out any weakness; to see if he can bend you into revealing Max’s agenda for tonight. Little does he know that you’re not an accomplice, you’ve put a good amount of work into this plan too.

In response, you offer a small smile and hold up a bottle of massage oil that was previously tucked into your side. Daniel’s narrowed eyes flit between the two of you, and then he relaxes, shrugging loftily as he motions for the two of you to move so he can lie down. 

“Okay, sure,” Daniel laughs, falling into the bed as soon as the space is available, lying flat on his stomach, face planting into the pillows and his next words are muffled but loud enough to understand, “You don’t have to use ‘giving me a massage’ as an excuse to feel me up, but I’m not going to turn it down if you’re so willing to do so.”

You and Max are kneeling on opposite sides of Daniel’s body on the bed, resting on the heels of your feet, and you muffle a giggle at Max rolling his eyes at your boyfriend’s words. The younger man slaps his hand on Daniel’s back, grinning at the stifled yelp that sounds from near the headboard, and coos sarcastically, “Do you think you can handle that level of pain? Considering this is a deep-tissue massage?”

You drizzle a nice amount of oil on the middle of his back, letting your laughter escape as Daniel pleads, “Woah—hear me out, what about a regular massage? I would like to end this massage without crying from soreness, please.”

Slowly the two of you turn to look at each other, smiles spreading across your lips, and Max murmurs, “Oh. You’ll be crying by the end of this.”

You ignore Daniel begging for mercy underneath you and beginning massaging. For all of the Dutchman’s ribbing, the two of you are gentle. Your hands soothingly rub any tension out of his back; the two of you are only doing this to melt Daniel into the bed. He protests and grumbles through the both of you digging into his shoulders, but quiets as you make your way down his back, practically moaning when you push a knot out from behind his shoulder blade. Max manages to wrangle out a whimper when he presses his thumb into the dimple of his lower back. Neither of you gets close to the towel resting low on his hips; you want to keep him as calm and unaware as possible, but getting close to that towel would do the opposite. When Daniel’s breathing slows and his sounds of relief start to lessen, Max gently coaxes Daniel into rolling on his back with ease.

The brunette’s eyes flutter open, but you tut disapprovingly when his gaze meets yours. With a kiss on his forehead, Daniel closes his eyes at your word, not fighting you for a second. And from that point, you and Max begin conditioning the older man to get used to only having one pair of hands on him at a time. Max massages his chest, you take a break, you massage his chest, Max takes a break; and as Daniel starts to relax at the rhythm, you guys slowly increase the length of your breaks. 

Until the breaks get long enough to slip the ties that you guys fastened to the headboard out.

Daniel was so entranced at the sight of you and Max sprawled on his bed that he forgot to examine his surroundings. They’re silk ties, with pre-made straps for you to tighten as soon as his hands are inside them. The two of you take it to the next step; you each begin to massage his arms (still employing your regular breaks), raising them upwards to “get a better angle.” Daniel doesn’t even shift at the change, he just hums under his breath when either of you soothes across a good spot. And with little effort, you and Max raise both of his arms and smoothly slip his tattooed hands into the ties, tightening the straps in the blink of an eye.

The older man startles, eyes flying open as he tries to yank his wrists free of the binds, “Uhhhh, what the fuck?”

Both of you watch as Daniel tries to free himself without any luck, enjoying the show as the silk ties prove they won’t give out. Chills shudder down your spine as your older boyfriend tries to order the two of you to release him, but he must see the feral glint shine in your eyes because he switches to asking when neither of you moves.

“You know what to say if you really want us to let you go, Daniel,” Max states bluntly, pulling off his Enchanté shirt easily. 

You hum in agreement, straddling the Australian’s hips and simultaneously tugging your slip dress over your head and tossing it to the side, exposing your bare body before seating yourself on the bulge showing through the towel. Daniel chokes out a curse, his eyes dancing between yours and Max’s bodies being dangled in front of his face without being able to touch.

He tests the binds for any give half-heartedly before sniffing dismissively, jaw tightening as he challenges Max, “Do your worst, baby.”

Max scoffs out a laugh, “That is the plan.”

From there you and Max turn into savages. Both of you bypass kissing Daniel, pressing lips and biting bruises along his neck and torso instead. The man can only cry out as Max terrorizes his nipples with teeth and pinching fingers while you paint marks on his hipbones and navel. The older man isn’t convinced that the night will end without the two of you seriously attempting cannibalism but the thought is pushed away when the towel is tugged off his hips.

Max laughs mockingly and flicks Daniel’s already-hardened length, “Well, this will be even easier than we thought, liefje.”

“I was half-hard from the minute you guys put your hands on me,” Daniel snipes, “Don’t let this go to your head.”

You raise an eyebrow in question, tilting your head to the side innocently which contrasts the strong grasp of your hand around the head of Daniel’s cock, “Isn’t that a compliment, though? Anyways, it clearly went to your head.”

Daniel groans in pleasure as you start to rapidly stroke along his quickly reddening length, “That was a terrible pun–fuck–but, I’m only letting it slide because your hand is on my cock.”

He bucks up into your fist and you release him immediately, smiling as you see him choke down a whimper of disappointment. The older man isn’t left alone for long, as Max drags the tip of his index finger along the slit of Daniel’s cock before flattening his palm across the head and roughly circling it to overwhelm him with an alarming amount of pleasure-coated friction. 

The brunette can’t stifle his cries this time nor can he buck his hips, thanks to the Dutchman pinning him down with his free forearm. Max pulls both of his hands away quickly, delighting in Daniel’s sounds of displeasure, the two of you watching as he attempts to chase a hand that isn’t there anymore. His length is throbbing, pulsing angrily, redder than the blush that stains his tanned chest. You swallow wantingly. Both of you thought that you would be able to get a few more rounds out of a handjob, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Max gets his hand around the base and yours circles the tip. Simultaneously, the two of you start rubbing him off in time, keeping your fists just tight enough and your motions just quick enough to hurtle Daniel to the edge. He throws his head back into the pillows, hips freely bucking as neither one of you attempts to stop him, his hands pulling against the ties all the while,

“You can cum whenever you want, Daniel,” Max states.

The older man lets out several pants of desperation, calling both of your names as he nears his climax. And when you both see the telltale sign of Daniel’s chest rising and falling heavily, you release his cock.

“No! Wait–shit,” he tries to gasp, but it’s too late. His cock starts leaking, jerking pathetically as cum drips down his length in ribbons—his orgasm ruined. Dry sobs escape his lungs as he humps the air, looking for friction that isn’t there, continuing to beg for a hand even as he struggles to breathe as a result of the unsatisfying release.

You let him come down hard, offering support in a quick squeeze of the meat of his thigh over his tattoo. When he catches his breath, his eyes flutter open. Max sees the wetness gathered in the waterlines and moves in the blink of an eye, enveloping Daniel’s still-hard cock in his mouth. 

The Australian’s back arches off the bed, hips racing forward then backward as he cries out, unsure if the feeling of Max’s mouth is good. Both pairs of your hands fly forward to still Daniel, forcing him to feel every crevice of Max’s tongue and throat, trying to bring him to another orgasm as quickly as possible. It works, Daniel stops fighting and starts obeying, rolling upward into Max’s mouth, whimpering out depravedly as he struggles against his binds again. You see his abs start to undulate in waves, a second orgasm trying to form and you slip your hand underneath Max’s chin, lightly squeezing at Daniel’s balls—and the tears fall as his release slams into him like a semi-truck.

The younger man swallows around Daniel, humming as he does it, yet the bobbing motion of his head doesn’t stop—Max is going to try his hardness to prevent Daniel from going soft, even as the older man tries to fight and twist away from the wet grasp of his throat. The Australian’s tears paint his cheek as he sobs messily, and you’re quick to check in with him as Max’s mouth is occupied.

“Daniel, color?” you manage to make your voice sound steady, but your thighs are trembling, your cunt pulsing with wetness and need. 

The man whimpers, eyes unseeingly looking down at you and Max as he cries messily, “Green.”

You moan breathily, finally giving in to your urges and rushing forward to messily kiss Daniel. You let him cry into your mouth, nipping at his lips and tasting his tears before pulling away. Max pulls off Daniel’s cock with a reedy gasp and moves backward quickly so you can slip in between them, seating your cunt atop the half-hard length and beginning to grind along him. The brunette makes a sound as if he’s been punched in the gut, arms pausing in their fight against the ties before they resume with renewed strength. Daniel scrambles to get his feet underneath him, trying to buck off the hot, wet drag of your cunt against his cock. It’s pulsing so violently that he swears he can feel it in his throat. 

Max knocks his feet down, and tugs Daniel’s chin to look at him with a hardened grasp, with his voice rough and croaky he commands, “Can you give us one more, Daniel?”

Daniel's glossy, brown eyes stare at Max without answer, mouth parted as drool slips from the corners of his lips. The Dutchman’s brow tightens with worry and he releases his chin to pull you off. But, before he can stop you, Daniel gasps out desperately.

“M�� green—please, please, Max,” Daniel nods viciously, “Green, green—one more.”

The younger man soothes Daniel with sweet words, praising and comforting him as he leans forward to pepper his lips and neck with kisses and kitten licks, pausing to motion you to continue. 

You line up Daniel’s cock easily and murmur out a ‘thank you’, before sinking down and not stopping until your ass meets his pelvis, uncaring of how he attempts to shake you off. His body is reacting in too much, but Max and you both see and hear how his brain interprets it as too good. 

You keen in pleasure but your noises are deafened by Daniel’s cries and begs for relief. Well aware that you have to get yourself off so Max can have a turn, you find that toe-curling angle with the help of Max directing your hips, holding yourself steady with one hand behind you on the bed and the other drawing rapid circles on your clit. Max moves to let you rest your back along his chest, your frizzed curls a mess as they bounce with your movements. 

The visual stimulation of Daniel in front of you moaning and heaving for more, the frantic twitching of his length inside of you, the sound of your skin slapping against his, and Max’s voice ghosting right by your ear, the ‘good girl’ that left his lips taking a second to process; all of it pushes you into the abyss. You don’t know if it’s you or Daniel that screams, your blood rushing in your ears and your vision flashing white clouds your mind as the explosion of pleasure burns your nerve endings. 

With a choked ‘fuck,’ you slump over, slipping off his twitching cock and slinking down next to Daniel as you shiver and shake through the last dregs of pleasure. Max flutters over both of you, unsure if he should keep pushing the limit, but both you and Daniel yell confirmations of “Green!” that have Max ripping off his briefs, reaching between his legs and whimpering as he carefully tugs out the plug he’s had in for the entire time.

Daniel’s eyes roll in disbelief, his brain exhausted to the point where he can’t string together any words to communicate his confusion.

Max huffs out a hysterical giggle, one hand stroking along his cock as he tosses the plug off the side of the bed. “Fuck–you were in the shower forever, Daniel. I’ve had that in for too long.”

The younger man shakes as he lowers himself on Daniel’s cock, bottoming out with a whimper as he mouths down at Daniel, “Just one more, baby, okay? Make me come, yeah?”

The older man’s moan is curdled with overstimulation, but he finds the will to get his feet underneath him and shakily thrust upwards into Max, hoping somehow that that’s enough. Max lets his head fall back in pleasure, thankful for the moving pressure of Daniel’s cock inside of him rather than the consistent annoyance of the plug holding him open. Coupled with the stretch of his rim and his hand furiously twisting along his length, Max reaches his peak quickly.

Before taking the plunge, he chokes out words of praise at Daniel and you rush to do the same, understanding that Max is attempting to push Daniel over the edge as well. You see tears of frustration build in Daniel’s eyes as he struggles to fully give in, and you fall forward to tug at his nipples with your teeth, reinvigorating Daniel’s attempts at slipping from the silk ties. At the sight, Max shouts, body tightening and then relaxing as he strokes out ribbons of cum. Daniel’s hips stutter when the first drop of cum lands on his skin and you feel his lungs halt as the strongest orgasm—most likely dry, at that—wreaks havoc upon his body.

His body goes limp underneath the two of you, and his hands droop in their binds. You speedily untie Daniel’s arms as Max slowly slips off the man’s rapidly softening length, trying to lessen any unwanted stimulation for the unaware Australian. You catch his arms before they fall against the bed, rubbing your hands against them to coax proper blood flow in them. Spent, Max stumbles to Daniel’s side, taking one arm out of your hands and matching your movements.

“Good job, liefje,” Max breathes out, smiling up at you with an exhausted smile, his hair drenched with sweat and falling in front of his eyes. You blush and kiss him sweetly, “It was your idea!”

Max shakes his head, pausing his hands to reach down and brush Daniel’s curls off his forehead, “No; you made half of the plan. So, it was our idea.”

The Australian groans, eyes fluttering open but they’re still clouded enough that you both know he’s going to need more than enough TLC tonight, “ —idea made me think i w‘sgonna die.”

Max laughs, rubbing circles around the man’s temple, “I guess we forgot to factor in your old age as a variable, didn’t we, liefje?”

Daniel’s face flutters in displeasure at being referred to as “old,” even when he’s not quite come down, “Mean, Maxy.”

You giggle, “That’s what he calls mean out of this entire experience?”

The Dutchman presses kisses to both of your foreheads before he stumbles out of bed, “I’m going to grab some fruit and cream for Daniel’s wrists. Should I grab anything else?” He directs the question to you.

Of course, the Australian jumps in before you have the chance to respond, “Lemonade, please.”

© httpsserene2024

[solarmorrigan]

You've Got Me

For the @steddie-spooktober day 16 prompt: "Would you please stop trying to scare them?" Rated: T | Words: 1430 | CW: references to PTSD, nightmares | Tags: established relationship, protective Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson being an asshole, just for a little bit though he didn't know any better, Eddie Munson is a sweetheart Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

The ringing of the phone in the hall jolts Eddie from what had otherwise been a peaceful sleep.

He lies there a moment, attempting to parse out what the hell he’s supposed to do to make the ringing stop, when someone pats him vaguely on the chest and rolls out of the other side of the bed, telling him, “I’ve got it.”

Steve, Eddie’s brain supplies. Steve’s always been faster to wake, moving from dead sleep to motion in a way Eddie only manages after nightmares.

The ringing stops, followed by the sound of Steve’s voice, faint but audible through the cracked bedroom door. Eddie blinks at the ceiling, trying to kick his brain into gear. What time is it? What day is it? Who the hell is calling in the middle of the night?

Eddie turns to squint at the clock in the dark. It’s just gone three in the morning. It’s… October 30th? Something like that. It’s almost Halloween, Eddie knows that for sure – which is when it hits him.

Almost Halloween. Almost an anniversary.

He’d bet money it’s either Dustin or Lucas on the phone. Slight chance it’s Max, if she’s been shaken up enough. Doubtful that it’s Mike – he wouldn’t stoop to admitting he needs to talk to Steve in the middle of the night; he usually waits until morning to call, if he’s going to at all.

Eddie’s heard the full story of Upside Down Event Number Two, everything that took place around Halloween of 1984, and he understands the phone calls now. He understands the tension that threads through their little group around this time of year, even as they all try to enjoy Halloween. Even though he’d had no way of knowing at the time, he regrets it a little that he hadn’t taken it more seriously – how shaken up the kids had been that first year he’d known Dustin, Mike, and Lucas.

Eddie’s always loved Halloween; loves the aesthetic, loves the candy, loves the premise of running around and causing chaos in the night, loves everything about it, really. Most of Hellfire Club had been in agreement with him: it’s a holiday for misfits. He hadn’t been able to understand, then, what had gotten into his snarky, spitfire little freshmen – for a few guys who’d seemed like they’d be really into the holiday, they mostly seemed edgy about the whole thing.

And so Eddie had tried to get them into the spirit.

He’d done so by running a special campaign all through October, something filled with darkness and monsters to set the mood. He also may have done so by occasionally sneaking up on them and spooking them; he doesn’t really have an excuse for that one, they’d just been such easy pickings. He hadn’t understood at the time why.

He may have done this one evening after Hellfire, when Steve had come by to pick the boys up.

And instead of waiting in his car and occasionally beeping the horn impatiently, like usual, Steve had parked, gotten out, and marched right up to the drama room doors where everyone had been waiting.

“Go wait in the car,” Steve had told the boys, his tone harder than Eddie had ever heard it when they were in school together. “I’m gonna take a minute to catch up with Munson.”

The fact that no one had argued with him should have clued Eddie into how serious the whole thing was, but he’d mostly been distracted by what the hell Steve Harrington could have wanted to talk to him about.

“So, what have I done to earn an audience with the king?” Eddie had asked once the boys had gone.

Steve hadn’t taken the bait, only crossed his arms over his chest and answered, “Would you please stop trying to scare them?”

Eddie had blinked at him, surprised. “What?”

“Look, I know what you’ve been doing.” Steve had said, expression as stony as his tone. “Henderson’s been telling me all about your horror adventure or whatever it is, and he’s mentioned your little jump scares, too, and I’m telling you: you need to knock it off.”

At the time, Eddie had only bristled; people didn’t tell him what to do – especially not people like Harrington.

“They’re big boys, Harrington, I think they can speak for themselves if they object to a few jokes.”

“They shouldn’t have to,” Steve had snapped. “Just– those kids have been through some shit, okay? So maybe take that into consideration before you go jumping out of closets or whatever the fuck you’ve been doing.”

Eddie had not been jumping out of closets, for the record, but Steve’s words had given him pause. “What kind of shit?”

Steve had shifted, almost uncomfortably, but stood his ground. “You remember the whole mess with Will Byers?”

Who didn’t? That whole thing had been a trip and a half; kid goes missing, is found dead in the quarry, gets buried, and then somehow turns up miraculously alive and (mostly) well? It stuck out as an event to just about everyone in town. Eddie had nodded at Steve.

“Well they’re his best friends,” Steve had jerked his head back towards the car. “And we’re coming up on that time of year, so I think you’d be a little jumpy, too.”

It had been all the information Steve had been allowed to share at the time—stories of demodogs and junkyards and tunnels and Hargrove wouldn’t come for another few months—but it had been enough to make Eddie feel a little guilty.

This had only served to make him pricklier, and Steve had taken his sudden, stubborn silence as his cue to make an exit.

“Just think about it, Munson,” he’d said, before turning and heading back to his car.

Eddie had thought about it, and to his credit, he’d stopped with the jump scares and had mildly scaled back some of the gory details in his Halloween campaign, and the kids had come back around to themselves.

Now– now Eddie gets it.

He manages to shuffle himself up and out of bed with a sigh, willing some coordination back into his limbs as he struggles into a pair of sweatpants and stumbles out into the hall. It’s still dark, illuminated only by the kitchen light, but he can see Steve leaning against the wall next to the phone, the handset cradled against his ear with his arms crossed tight over his chest.

He must be cold. The hallway is chilly, and Steve hadn’t even paused to find pants before answering the phone; he’s standing there in just his boxers, but he’s talking calmly to whoever’s on the other end of the line.

“No, you guys did a shit job patching me up,” he’s saying, though he sounds nothing but fond as he does so, “but I’m tough, so I pulled through, anyway.” There’s a moment of silence as he listens to the person on the other end of the line. “You want me to come over there and prove it?” Steve finally offers in response – he sounds flippant, but Eddie knows it’s sincere, and he’s pretty sure whoever is talking to him will know it, too.

After another few moments, Steve asks, “You sure?” Then, “Okay. You have our number if you change your mind… Yeah. See you then, bud.”

“Everything good?” Eddie asks, holding out a hand as Steve levers himself away from the wall.

“Fine,” Steve answers, taking Eddie’s hand and trailing him back to the bedroom. “Henderson. Just a nightmare.”

Must’ve been some nightmare if he’d felt the need to call and make sure Steve was still alive at three in the morning, but Eddie keeps that assessment to himself. He hums in sympathy instead, leading Steve back to bed.

They settle in, Eddie on his back and Steve cuddled up against his chest, leeching whatever warmth he has to offer as Eddie strokes a hand down his back.

“You gonna be able to get back to sleep?” Eddie asks quietly.

The kids aren’t the only ones who have trouble this time of year.

“’m fine,” Steve answers, already sounding like he’s partway to sleep. “Got you, don’t I?”

Eddie smiles into the darkness, slowing the motion of his hand until he can cinch his arm around Steve’s waist and tug him closer. Maybe he hadn’t fully understood what they’d all been going through in the beginning, but he’s there now, and it seems like that must count for something.

“Whenever you need me, baby,” Eddie promises. “You’ve always got me.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Put it in your mouth

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 1

Prompts: Make-Up Sex & Pillow Princess

Words: 1,191

Tags: Friends to lovers; Idiots to lovers; Anal Fingering; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Power Bottom Steve; Service Top Eddie

Notes: Eddie "Foot in Mouth" Munson strikes again. He's putting so many things in his mouth in this one. Get it? (God, I'm hilarious.) 🤭

The sky is turning bright when Eddie crunches to a brake in Steve's driveway. He swings open his door and is halfway up the front porch when he stops.

He shouldn't be here, the nagging voice at the back of his mind says. Between the jitters before the tv gig and interview and everything that happened after, he hasn't slept in close to forty-eight hours. He can't exactly be trusted to make rational decisions, and even if he could, who's saying Steve wants to see him?

Eddie curses, replaying the memory that has been plaguing him the entire way here. He called Steve the second he returned to the hotel, grinning from ear to ear like the idiot that he is.

“Did you watch it?” he blurted the moment the call connected. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. The curt answer could've clued Eddie in, but he was still high on adrenaline and applause, so it didn't. 

“I dunno about you,” he sing-songed, flopping down on the bed and twirling the phone cord. “But I'd say that went pretty fucking fantastic.” 

“Fantastic?” Steve repeated dryly. “Yeah, right. Glad you think so, you fucking asshole.” 

Eddie stopped playing with the cord. 

“Stevie?” he croaked. “What's wrong?” 

Steve laughed. “If you don't know that, you're dumber than I thought.” 

Then he hung up. Eddie was left in his hotel room, staring dumbly at the receiver. When he tried to call back, Steve didn't pick up. 

Eddie wasted the better part of an hour lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Why was Steve mad at him? Ever since the beginnings of their unlikely, Upside Down forged friendship, he'd been fervently supportive of Eddie’s music. Showing up to his gigs, listening until late into the night while Eddie worked on new songs. Hell, he'd probably been more nervous about this whole thing than Eddie, seeing him off with a lingering hug and a promise to talk to him later. 

It must’ve been something he said at the interview, but what? Eddie scowled as he rehashed every single question and answer.

Where did he get the inspiration for his songs? He’d spouted some bullshit about ostracization and alienation and smalltown conventions, because the truth would’ve meant breaking about a million NDAs. 

Was he excited about the upcoming tour and album? Yes, obviously, he couldn’t wait to see all those different places, play in front of all sorts of people. 

Was there somebody at home rooting for him? A special girl maybe? Nope, nobody, he was happily single and planning on staying that- … wait. 

Eddie shot up from the bed so suddenly he gave himself vertigo, letting out a very loud and very colorful string of swear words. In the room next to his, someone banged on the wall, asking if he had any clue what time it was. Eddie didn't. He also didn't pause to find out. 

Now, a hasty check-out and one speed-limit-defying drive later, he’s staring at Steve’s front door, all previous courage slowly seeping out of him. 

Maybe he got this all wrong. Maybe he's imagining this. He has experience with imagining things - has spent countless nights fantasizing about what it would feel like, touching Steve as more than a friend. The feel of Steve’s lips, the taste of Steve’s skin. Maybe he should leave, come back with a clear head tomorrow, so that they can talk this over like the sensible adults they-

“Shit, Eddie?” 

The door is open, spilling light onto the porch. At the center of it, nail bat in one hand, disheveled hair back-lit in caramel and gold, is Steve. He's in his sleep clothes - checkered boxers and one of Eddie’s old band shirts that he stole months ago. Those pretty eyes are large with surprise, but when Eddie takes a hesitant step towards him, Steve’s expression closes off. 

“I don't believe you,” he mutters, and makes to close the door. Eddie acts on impulse alone, bridging the distance and wedging his foot into the crack. Steve glowers at him. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“You,” Eddie breathes , and closes the gap. 

From one second to the next, all of his doubts evaporate, because this right here? This is all he's ever wanted. They crash into the wall of the foyer, nail bat clattering to the floor, and Eddie spends a glorious few minutes reveling in the heady rush of Steve’s lips on his, Steve's mouth opening for his tongue, Steve’s nails clawing into his back. 

When they part, Steve is deliciously flushed, lips shiny and slightly parted, ragged puffs of breath tickling Eddie’s skin. 

“Want you,” Eddie repeats. “Fuck, Stevie, I've wanted you for so long. I'm such an idiot, I never-” 

“Prove it then,” Steve says. His arms loop around Eddie’s neck, slotting them further together, and Eddie gasps as his cock presses against his thigh - a long, hard weight through the thin fabric of his shorts. “If you want me so much, show me just how desperate you are.” 

*

“More. Deeper. C'mon, or are you tired already?” 

Eddie moans around an aching jaw. He isn't tired, he's in heaven. There's drool running down his chin, his tongue and neck and shoulders are on fire, but Steve is here with him, sprawled against the headboard like a king, spread out for him like a feast. 

Steve fists one hand into the curls at the back of his head, shoving him back down on his cock, and Eddie swallows him down in one greedy gulp, eager to show his devotion. Looking up at Steve through tear-clouded eyes, he pushes his fingers deeper inside, curling them to hit that sweet spot. Steve gasps and clenches around him, eyes fluttering shut, head tipping back to reveal that long neck. The taste of precum floods Eddie’s tongue, salty and delicious, and he moans around the cock lodged in his throat. Lust coils painfully in his stomach, shooting up his spine like red-hot sparks, and his naked cock throbs with it. 

“Please,” he says, pulling off with an obscene, wet sound. Steve looks down at him, brows raised, eyes bright and glassy with arousal. “Please, Stevie, I need-” 

“Huh,” Steve says, and Eddie can tell he's trying to sound unimpressed, even with the way it comes out around a shaky moan. “You think you've earned it?” 

Eddie smiles. 

“Me?” he says. He swirls his tongue around Steve’s leaking tip, reveling in the whine he gets when he pulls his fingers out. “Oh, honey, this isn't about me. This is all about you.” 

He licks and bites his way up Steve's hip bones, his stomach, that glorious chest and neck, drinking in every little gasp, every shuddering breath. 

“All that time you spent waiting for me to finally get it? I think you've earned it. You deserve to be spoiled rotten. You deserve to feel so good. Please, baby, let me make you feel good.”

“Asshole,” Steve says, but this time, it's full of fondness. “You always know what to say, huh?” 

“Not always,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth, greedily swallowing Steve’s moan as he pushes in. “Only when it matters most.” 

More smutty September

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Ñuha jorrāelagon (modern!Siren!Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

synopsis: When you planned your vacation to the Iron islands you thought you would get to see a new place. Instead you get to know a whole new world.

warnings: smut with some plot, p in v, afab reader

word count: 2.6k

general hotd taglist: @urmomsgirlfriend1

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom/series or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

When you told your friends where this years big vacation would lead you, you got the same reaction from every single one of them. With out fail every one of their wide smiles became crooked and the unspoken question if you were crazy entered their eyes. But you were still just as exited for the trip as you were when you booked the flight and everything. Not only because you had just survived your messiest breakup to date, but also, because you loved seeing new places. And the Iron Islands where a place you had never been. If you had asked them, which you didn´t, if you wanted to be near water you should have just chosen to stay near Seagard. But in the end that wasn´t too far from your destination anyway and it wouldn´t be quite the same. Plus, thanks to that asshole that you used to call boyfriend, you couldn´t get away far enough. It was gonna be perfect. You had booked a room in an in at one of the little fisher villages. Meaning no internet for the whole week of your stay, but all the exploring and living in the moment. Another fact that was met with worry, though this time you understood them on that point. How many horror stories began with that premise after all, but in the week leading up to the fight none of that mattered anymore.

The closer the flight came, the more vivid your dreams became. It was always the same as well. You were standing at a cliff, surrounded by fog. At first you could only hear someone singing in the distance. Too far away for you to identify them. The voice was deep, smooth and downright enchanting. Begging you closer with a magical pull. Yet no matter how hard you tried to walk towards it, something kept you clued to the spot you were standing in. The night after you were able to make out their silhouette. The night after that the most beautiful man you have ever seen is revealed to you. Long, silver hair that cascades down his shoulders like a waterfall, framing his long face with sharp facial features. His one seeing eye rests on you, tirelessly. But he doesn´t speak to you. Not until the night before your flight.

Everything  is the same as always, the cliffs, the fog, the hauntingly beautiful, yet mysterious stranger in front of you. Holding you to his strong chest. And then, when his song falls silent, it gives way to an even smoother and more enchanting voice. `I will wait for you…´

His words bounce off the walls in your head like an echo. So much so that you almost miss your alarm clock to get to the airport in time. However, even as you run through the massive halls to still catch your flight the words won´t let go of you. Pushing you to run faster for some reason. The feeling or rather knowledge that there would be something special waiting for you in that small fisher village. Something that would change you.

The whole flight you buzz with a weird, new kind of energy, that you can´t place yet. It´s quite exhausting if you are honest with yourself, or maybe that’s just the lack of sleep from the previous nights. So it is no wonder that even though it is still early in the afternoon you fall asleep almost immediately after checking into your room at the inn.

Again you see that man in your dreams. This time there is no fog though. As far as you can see there are the cliffs and see near the village you are staying in. `You are so close. I can feel you already, ñuha jorrāelagon.´

You try to speak, but no words come out. His eye and really everything about him is so intense and ethereal, you couldn´t put it into words if you tried. Then again. `I´ll wait for you.´

Your eyes snap open. Heart beating so fast it threatens to break out of your chest in time with your labored breaths. A sheen of sweat covers your face and neck, making you shiver as you open up a window to let some fresh air in. Deciding it would be a smart idea to freshen up before you go to search some dinner, you make your way into the small bathroom, washing your face with a wet cloth and changing into something more presentable than the joggers from the flight.

Grabbing your bag and a phew essentials you make your way into the village. It´s more lively than you would have imagined. All the books and articles you have read about the Ironborn, you would have expected them to be a whole lot more cold, or at least a lot less chatty. Settling down in one of the bars, you quickly get roped into a conversation with two local women not much older than you are. Together the three of you drink, eat and they tell you about the people and surroundings. It´s truly interesting and you can´t get enough. They also tell you about the local legends and superstitions. It surprises you to see even the younger people believe in them so much. At home those tales where only believed in by the elderly.

One of your companions just opens her mouth to say something when everyone falls silent all at the same time. A shiver runs down your back from the open doors. Heavy steps sound through the room, coming to a stand behind you. The hairs at the back of your neck stand up as a breath hits the back of your neck. That very song from the nights before starts being hummed behind you.

“Won´t you even acknowledge me now that we have found each other, ñuha jorrāelagon.” The familiar voice addresses you.

Recognizing him instantly, you stand and turn around. “Who are you? How did you find me?”

“You already know who I am. I know you do.” He chuckles darkly, which makes goosebumps erupt all up your arms.

“Okay, still. How did you find me?” You cross your arms in front of your chest. Unwilling to give in to the pull this man has on you.

“I will answer you every question. Just as soon as we get to a more private and safe place.”

You sigh, outing some money down on the table and then start to leave. Him close behind you, ignoring the knowing eyes that burn into your back. Neither of you say a word until you reach a small part of beach. Only then you turn to him with expectantly raised eyebrows.

“How did you find me?” You ask again.

“We are meant to be. I didn´t find you as much as you found me. Everything in our lives has brought us to this point. To each other.” He takes a tentative step towards you, but you take one back. What he says sounds unbelievable, surreal.

“Why did everyone look at you this way? Why did they all go silent as you entered the bar?” You ask quietly. Crossing your arms once more, to shield yourself from the cold night air.

“Those people aren´t the most trusting. Though I suppose humanity is prone to be suspicious of anything they don´t entirely understand. Especially when they are prone to superstition in the first place.” He answers in such a way that makes this whole situation entirely normal and plausible, when in reality this was anything but.

“You speak of them as if you aren´t human…” A nervous chuckle leaves your lungs. It was meant as a joke to relief the tension between the two of you that began to grow suffocating.

“Even if I wasn´t… That would change nothing about the fact that we are meant to be with each other.” He takes another step towards you as you take another step back.

“Let me show you that I am telling you the truth.” He holds out his hands for you to take.

At first you are unsure about the whole thing. Yes, he is literally the man from your dreams, but at the same time hadn´t really answered none of your questions so far. Still, something in your subconscious leads you to join your hands with his. When he moves closer, the world around you disappears. It is only you and him left in a bubble far away from everything else. Then your lips touch his and a surge of energy passes through your body. Pictures of the two of you beyond the ones from your dream flash in front of your inner eye. Pulling a gasp from you with their intensity as his tongue presses against your lips to silently ask for entrance, which they are promptly granted. The warm muscle explores your mouth before entering a passionate dance with yours. Your lips pressing against each other hungrily. You pull him closer by the hands, which you let go off soon after to fist your fingers into his shirt. The stranger lays the two of you down on the beach. His weight pressing you down into the ground deliciously.

Pulling away from him for a second, you gasp for air. “You never even told me your name.”

“You already know it. Just listen inside yourself. I have told it to you before.” He is right. He had, the night before your journey.

“Aemond…” The way his name rolls off your tongue makes everything snap into place. It just feels right.

“Ñuha jorrāelagon…”

“You keep calling me that. What does it mean?” You lay your forehead against his unable to stay too far away from him.

“It means my love.” He whispers against your lips before joining them again.

Just like that you are transported back into the bubble. You don´t even realize when the two of you lose your clothes His breath taking kisses and the piercing gaze from his seeing eye in between call for all of your attention.

One of your hands rests against his scarred cheek, your thumb running along the scar with feather light touches.

“I´ve waited so long to finally meet you, my love. Let me prove to you the true depth of my feelings.” He breathes. The hot air from his lungs making the skin on your earlobe and neck prickle with the contrast it builds against the cold around you.

With one swift movement he enters you. Bottoming out before he starts to move out of you almost entirely. Pumping in and out of you in a slow pace. All the while, his hot lips never leave your body. Kissing down the curve of your neck and the point where it connects to your shoulder, over your collar bone, all the way down to your breasts. Nibbling on the soft flesh with gentle teeth until your back arches of the sandy ground into his chest, whining out his name. The slow pace is becoming too much, taking into factor that it has been a long time and a simple one of his touches set you alight with want.

“Please, move faster.” You beg. Pulling his face up to yours.

Teasingly tracing his lower lip with your tongue. The giddy feeling that makes your stomach flutter at every new touch spreading through your entire body, setting your nerves alight with the burning need for him. Stoked by the feathery brush of his lips.

You don´t need to beg again. He obliges immediately. His hips fully smacking against yours, one of his hands finding its way between your legs to play with your sensitive clit. Rubbing tight circles into the bundle of nerves, that make the sounds your bodies produce sound even more lewd. Pulling a string of moans as well as cries of his name from your lungs non-stop. They are met by his grunts of your name and groans of ecstasy.

Your hands hold onto his strong shoulders to keep you grounded. Digging your nails into his shoulder blades the more pleasure he brings you. Even if he clenches  his teeth, sucking in some air at the stinging pain, it drives him to drive into you faster and harder. The circles he rubs into your clit becoming tighter just like your core around him.

“I´m so close, Aemond…” You manage to whine. Pulling him closer by tightening your legs around his hips.

“I am too, my love… Let go. Come for me.” His voice is shaky in your ear, making your stomach flutter with butterflies once more. With a few more snaps of his hips the fluttering sensation wanders down to your core. Your walls tightening around his long cock, giving way to waves of pleasure crashing over you like the waves crashing into the sand a feet away from your bodies. Your hips tremble relentlessly even long after your orgasm has subsided. Rendering you unable to meet his thrusts any longer, though he doesn´t seem to be bothered by the fact that he was left to fuck into you until he reached his peak as well.

Your back arches up again as you feel his hot seed paint your insides. Never had that felt so magical. So right. So… good. For a moment the two of you just lay there, panting as you process what had just happened.

“I love you…” You whisper breathlessly.

“I love you more than words could ever express.” He whispers back. Pressing the sweetest kiss yet to your forehead.

After that he goes to pull out of you, but you keep him right where he is buried inside of you.

“Let´s stay like this for a bit longer.” You don´t care that his weight is slowly crushing you under him. The stretch just feels too right to end already.

In the end you fall asleep like this. Laid there on the beach shielded from any possibly prying eyes.

Only awoken by the sun breaking through the thick clouds, that seem to be a constant around here and the first waves licking at your toes.

“Good morning.” Aemond rasps into your ear.

“Good morning.” A smile instantly pulls on your face as memories from the previous night flood your mind.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks as if that was even a question.

“Perfectly.” You muse. Gazing deep into his lilac eye, making it unclear if you are answering his question or simply complimenting him. It doesn´t matter though as his mouth splits in a smile as well. Just as it doesn´t matter that your whole body hurts from the unfamiliar sleeping ground.

When you look down to see how far the water has risen though you are met with a sight that pushes another surprised gasp from your lips. There in place of Aemond´s legs is now a fishtail. The scales shimmering in the little sun that manages to break through the clouds. He follows your eyes and his face flushes a soft shade of pink.

“I didn´t plan on you finding out like this, but I guess I didn´t do anything to prevent it either by bringing you here like this, did I?”

“No, but in a way I already knew you were too good to be from this world.” You chuckle. “Can I…?”

You reach out to his tail. Not quite touching, before you get his agreement. He nods and so you run a hand over the scales. You don´t know what you expected them to feel like, but still it isn´t what you expected.

After a while he raises his voice again. “Are you ready to see my world?”

[wandering-winchesters]

If this is how I go, it’s worth it.

Dean x injured reader

Word count: 1,926

Trigger Warnings: injury, blood, mention of a firearm.

Summary: reader gets hurt protecting Dean.

A/N: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know! Masterlist

I’ve always had a hard time letting people into my life. Introducing them to the real me, the darker side of me that I hide behind a bubbly facade. The childhood that shaped me, something that very few people know about. When I was little there was no one to protect me from the things that I had to live through, the nightmarish situations that I still relive too often in my sleep. In adulthood, I’ve changed the narrative. I’ve become the protector, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help someone else. Save someone else. Especially those that I love and hold close to my heart.

Sam and Dean have always held a special place in my life. Ever since I met them, on a hunt many years ago. They’d taken me under their wing, Sam willingly, Dean reluctantly. I knew nothing of the supernatural until I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and become the next helpless victim of a nest of vampires. That was until Sam and Dean showed up, just in time.

They knew I didn’t have a great childhood, I’d clued them into that much. However, I would never let them in entirely. It was too much, I didn’t want them to think of me any differently. I’ve seen the way Dean already looks at me after hunts, the annoyance that comes over him when things don’t go the way he wanted. I see the concern that washes over Sam, when I come close to being injured, or when I walk away with cuts and bruises. I don’t need their pity, they don’t need that burden.

Through everything over the years, I began to love them more than I thought possible. Sam like a brother. Dean like an annoying asshole, but also my best friend that I loved with all of my heart, not that I would ever tell him. I couldn’t, he would never feel the same way I was sure of it.

So when I saw that demon smirk and point a gun directly towards Dean’s head, I never hesitated to throw myself onto him and shove him to the ground. My body blocking the path of the bullet, giving Sam enough time to finish the exorcism, the black cloud erupting from the helpless man and fleeing the room.

“What the hell, Y/N. You shouldn’t have done that!” Dean yells, anger etching its way across his face, the concern only evident from the tone of his voice. His eyes searching mine for any sign of pain.

“He was going to kill You Dean.” I grovel, pushing myself off of him, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Dean scowls, his hand coming up to his face to wipe some sweat from his brow.

“So what? You were going to sacrifice yourself for me? How much of an idiot are you?”

I roll my eyes at him, pushing off my thighs to stand from the squatting position I had moved into. It wasn’t until I stood fully upright and began to stretch my limbs that the searing pain caught up to me. I press my hand to my abdomen instinctively, trying to dull the pain.

“I’m not an idiot De-“ I stop mid sentence as I bring my hand up to eye level. Red. Dripping , red blood, covers the entirety of my fingers. My eyes dart up from my hand, locking with Sam’s from across the room. He’s staring back at me, shock etched across his face, but beginning to walk towards me.

“That’s debatable- oh my god Y/N, fuck.” Dean starts, his tone changing halfway through his lecture. He takes the two steps necessary to get to me, taking his flannel off in the process. I feel his hands grip my body, one going to my back, the other balling his flannel up and pressing it tightly against the wound in my abdomen.

“Sam, you’ve gotta help me.” Dean pleads, his eyes never leaving my face.

My body starts to feel numb, the adrenaline wearing off and searing pain roaring through every nerve ending in my body. I feel my legs collapse beneath me, Dean quickly compensating for my lack of lower body strength, by pulling me into his embrace.

I laugh bitterly, coughing and choking on what I assume is blood making its way through my lungs and out of my throat.

“If this is how I go De, it’s worth it. I promise you.” I whisper, my eyes locking with his vivid green ones. His eyes. I’d never allowed myself to stare into his eyes for this long, the deep green is enchanting. Pulling me in, the longer I look. I barely even notice my tears beginning to fall, I’m too focused on the way his eyes are beginning to water as he stares back at me.

I can see his lips moving, feel the way he’s shaking me gently, his hand cupping my face. Sam is right next to me too, I feel the floor pressing into my body as they lower me to the ground, in an attempt to slow the bleeding and apply more pressure. None of that matters now. Nothing matters now, my vision is blurring. My eyelids are heavy, so heavy.

“Hey!” Dean’s firm voice breaks through my haze, his hand lightly slapping my face, “don’t do that, Y/N. Don’t close your eyes. You don’t get to die on me, you hear me sweetheart?” I blink rapidly, trying to clear my field of vision. I momentarily succeed, my eyes locking with his again. I can see the absolute panic engraved into every ounce of this man’s face, he’s moving me now. My head falls forward as he places an arm under my shoulders, the other under my knees. He tucks my head against his chest with his chin, pressing a kiss to my sweat soaked hairline. I continue to fight the wave of exhaustion sweeping over me, blinking my eyes trying to keep them open. The last thing I see is Dean, looking down at me pleading for me to stay with him. But slowly, ever so slowly, my eyes fall closed and the world around me goes black

-

Agony.

This must be hell, the amount of pain that I’m in, the only explanation is hell.

A low groan escapes my lips, every inch of my skin is on fire. Muscles and nerves that I didn’t know I had are screaming out in protest as I try to take a full breath. I manage to inhale, immediately turning into a coughing fit as I choke on the air entering my lungs.

“Easy. Slow breaths, sweetheart.” A hand comes to rest on the crown of my head, stroking my hair gently. The touch startling me, causing me to panic and try to brush away the touch.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” His voice rushes over my senses, calming me, reassuring me.

I force myself to open my eyes, unsure what to expect.

“Dean?” I whisper, finally realizing that he’s here in-front of me. “Am I dead?” My voice barely functioning, my throat dry and hoarse.

“It’s me sweetheart. You’re not dead. I told you I wasn’t going to let you go.” He smiles slightly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He holds a cup up to my lips, letting me take small sips, his fingers never leaving my skin.

“I must be dead, the Dean I know is never this nice to me.” I whisper, a small laugh escaping me, which I immediately regret. Relief floods over deans face, the crease in his brow lessens, a small smile reaches his eyes this time.

“That’s not true, idiot.” He says, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“That’s more like it, bitch.” I say, squeezing his hand back.

-

The next few weeks pass slowly, I’m never alone for more than five minutes. The boys take turns, keeping me company, changing my bandages, helping me shower, and just all around waiting on me hand and foot. Dean spends every night on the couch, that he had dragged into my room in the bunker. I don’t object, too weak and tired to even dare. I spend a lot of time sleeping, nightmares plaguing my every attempt at resting.

Tonight is one of those nights, I’ve already awoken from a nightmare. Now I lay on my side, gazing at Dean sitting on the couch. His fingers hovering over the keyboard on his laptop, researching some creature that he has refused to tell me about. Any time I have asked, it starts an argument about how the only thing I need to think about right now is recovering.

“I can feel you staring.” He smirks, bringing his eyes to meet my own, the corners of his mouth turning into a smile. He seems older, worry is etched deeper into his face, his eyes not nearly as bright as they used to be. The dark circles under his eyes, accentuated by the terrible late night lighting of my room.

“I can’t help it, you’re just so annoying I can’t not stare.” I mumble, gently pushing myself up on my elbow. Trying to conceal the wince that follows this slight movement.

Dean chuckles, closing his laptop and turning his body to face me.

“Y/N, we need to talk about what happened back there.” He stares, his brow furrowing again. So many emotions sweep across his face at once, I cant read him.

“You can’t do that again. You cant throw yourself into harms way to save me. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. What am I saying? Something did happen to you. I already have a hard time looking at you, knowing you almost died to save me. I love you too much, to let you die for me.” He wrings his hands as he speaks, his eyes moving away from mine and focusing on the wooden floor boards beneath his feet.

A silence falls between us for a few moments, his words hanging heavy in the air. My head spinning at his words, I love you too much. Dean Winchester loves me.

“Dean, I don’t think you understand me nearly as well as you think you do. There is nothing you can say or do that would stop me from taking a bullet for you again. I will always do everything in my power to protect you. Protect you in the way that I never had. You would do it for me De, you gotta let me do it for you too.” His eyes are trained on me again, red rimmed and watery. He swipes at them with his fingers, clearing his throat and maintaining eye contact with me once more.

I slide my feet towards the edge of the bed, intent upon going to sit near to him. He stops me with a look and a few mumbled words about how I better not move my ass from my spot or else.

I huff, patting the bed next to me.

“C’mere then, Winchester.” I say, watching his every move as he crosses the distance of the bedroom to sit by my side.

“De-“I rest my head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath and steeling my nerves. He reaches over and intertwines our fingers, his thumb tracing a pattern into the back of my hand. “I love you too, more than I thought possible. I’ll always do anything I can to save you. On this side of hell and the next.”

[nothingtherefornow]

The Tags in Lila's secret lair may give us a clue about her real name

So while I was doing stuff on Tumblr, I found the official models of the Tags that were on the walls and ceiling of Lila's secret lair in the Paris's catacombs.

As you can see below, the names "CAT NOIR" and "LADYBUG" are promiments, but two others words are used numerous times in the tags : "MARINA" and "SHONE"

There's also the word "MIO" used once which means "mine" in Italian so I'm not sure what to make of it or if it is that important.

Although its curiously funny that both the word "Mio" and "Marina" have a heart on their "i"

But I don't think it is a coincidence that "Marina" and "Shone" were tagged more than once on Lila's secret lair walls. I once theorised that Marina may have been Lila's real name. which lead me to now theorize that Shone could be Lila's real family name, even if it doesn't sound Italian at all.

And while Lila's fakes identities all have italian sounding family names (Lila Rossi - Cerise Bianca - Iris Verdi, which represent to colors of the italian flag nonehteless ^^') and that she likes to pass as an italian girl, there's no confirmation yet if she's tuly italian or not (something that even Astruc clued us on with a comment that maybe Lila also lied about being italian)

But Marina Shone sounds like a possible name to me

Although I know it seems too easy to imagine that the ML devs could have put Lila's real name on the walls of her secret lair before season 6 even launched, buth then the show has an history with visual foreshadowing, clues and symbolism.

Now as for the "Ladybug" and "Cat Noir" that are also tagged on the lair's walls, either they were written there in the Paris catacombs by bystanders before Lila made it her secret lair (Ladybug and Chat Noir were already famous when Lila moved to Paris and enrolled at Françoise-Dupont college). Or Lila herself wrote those tags as a way to express her jealousy toward the heroes and her lust for the miraculous (the synopsis of the Special London does confirm that she'll steal the Ladybug miraculous at some point after all, and only because she discovered Ladybug's secret identity. Had she also discovered Chat Noir's secret identity she wouldn't have hesitated to steal his miraculous too).

[landinrris]

Re: your tag “a top 10 video of the day tbh” - that made me curious. What ARE your top videos of the day and why?

Shuffled back through the videos for this, so here we go in no real particular order because I'm endeared to all of them and horrible with ranking things when they all make my mind vibrate in equal amounts. Shoving this under a "read more" because it got long (top 10 moments and all) and fic-y.

I'll start out with the first real video of the day that I remember (not counting Shaun Farrugia's Insta Story that clued everyone into Lando being on the boat). Just them dancing with each other in essentially a circle of people. Martin's hand on Lando's shoulder, his thumb splaying out along Lando's collarbone. Makes me weak and ill in equal measure. They have several moments caught on camera that feel like a "this is us being close while still in public," type thing.

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A post shared by Martin Garrix News (@garrixnews)

Them dancing together at the Decks. Who knows the state of Lando's sobriety at this point. It's so carefree and open. I love the little flags on his cheeks and the ribbon around his head (the chain of his necklace poking out the back of his hoodie overtop his undershirt). I'm pretty sure this is around the same time that Lando asks Martin if he wants a drink as well because Eva's on the other side of Martin as the camera pans up.

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A post shared by Lando Norris #4 (@norris.content)

This is a more understated moment that's pretty quick, but I just love that they're dancing in their own little world with everyone. Parked up next to each other because where else would they be? (original video link)

This video of them with Lando asking Martin if he wants a drink 🫠. Lando taking the second to ask Martin if wants anything, Martin pulling him close so he can hear what Lando's trying to tell him, the person recording the video panning over to them and then almost immediately pulling away, Martin stealing Lando's drink and then not letting him go while he pretends to drink it.... it's every bit of the video as you can see 😅. Like bro, you can let go of him, it's okay. But no, it's another one of those little moments I mentioned earlier where they can let themselves have this little thing in the middle of a crowded boat with who knows how many cameras pointed in their direction.

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A post shared by Lando Norris #4 (@norris.content)

This video simply because it's cute and short and sweet. Them both vibing. I've put it here more so because of Lando's little dance and shimmy. It makes me sickeningly endeared. Lando may have quit DJing apart from special circumstances, but you can tell he loves getting into the rhythm of it.

I have... too much to say about this one... The fact that they're kind of sequestered off to the side a bit- Lando even behind what looks like a makeshift curtain of clothing. There are a few others around them, but boy if their attention isn't solely on each other. Their little mirrored dance is so much as well. But what absolutely annihilates me is the way you can tell they're both smiling at each other towards the end. Plus the fact that it looks like Lando either leans into Martin as the video cuts, or Martin pulls him in. In any case, it's a moment of privacy and it makes me ill.

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A post shared by Lando Norris #4 (@norris.content)

These are two long Insta stories I recorded for reasons, the first one more pertinent to it immediately being here than the second. I just love Lando sitting in and amongst everyone. He's sitting next to Martin's father (which is an entirely separate thing tbh) chatting and having fun. The second video was included because when the lights go off and a spotlight shines back onto the area he was, Lando doesn't seem to be there, which was an interesting note I wanted to have in the records because of the shot of Martin making his way back in that direction during the first half. Much to think about. (Tumblr didn't like my embedded video, so here's a screenshot of the first bit, but you'll have to go through the link to see all of what I'm talking about)

This was just a quick tiny thing piggy-backing off the last video, but it's a more closeup shot of Lando chatting with Martin's father. It makes me all soft inside that he gets close with the families of the people important to him. (Tumblr also didn't like the embedded video that was originally here, so here's a screenshot if you don't want to click through to see the actual clip)

Putting this video here because of both Mat Normann's arms around Lando, but also because Martin's there vibing and dancing by his side. Like, they're truly just existing and having a good time. Need to know who gave Lando that stupid little visor. But again, I love it for the subtleness and the comfort with how packed that room was.

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A post shared by Lando Norris #4 (@norris.content)

And then finally, this video that might as well be an hour long. The smiles, the bouncing back and forth... Martin's arm moves away from Lando at one point, almost like he was pulling Lando at the beginning. Many thoughts head very full. They almost never get to do this at the same time with each other, and it's an addicting feeling.

[crusty-chronicles]

Kites reaction to hearing reader having to wear something fancy and go on a date with palm? 🤭

In reference to the latest Sun and Moon chapter I suspect😏

For those of you who are new, the series this is based on is here

It was something he was bound to find out during the duration of your relationship. Either through you or the boys. Something that was said in passing. And when he'd properly asked you about it, it wasn't something treated like a secret. You were open and honest about the situation.

You had gone on a date with a woman named Palm. And because you had absolutely no idea what you were doing, your approach was rather old fashioned. A nice button up with flowers.

Now, you weren't a flashy person by nature. Not even an outgoing one. So it was a bit of a surprise to hear how formal you dressed and acted. Especially considering your avoidant nature. But your reasoning had clued him in to your unusual behavior.

It wasn't really your choice to go on that date. It was either Gon or you. And he knew for a fact you'd never allow anything to happen to that kid. You'd deal with even the most unhinged of people if it meant he was safe.

Your day, as you'd described it, was one of your worst. Starting off with a spat between you and Killua that led to your date with Palm. Doing whatever you could to distract your mind from it. Laughing, flirting, the hand holding. (He didn't like the idea of somebody else touching your hands very much. Not when you two had done it first when you engaged in silent conversations.) At the end of the night, she'd even leaned in for a kiss, but that was where you stopped her.

You weren't so far out of it that you didn't know what you wanted. Who your heart wanted. And for that reason, he couldn't be jealous. Even without you explaining what happened, he never was. He's not the type to worry about the before. Who you were with or who was special to you. He respects your boundaries and trusts that you're with him now.

Which brings him to where you are now. Yet another biological survey. It was supposed to be a short one. In and out. Kite had offered to go by himself knowing your preferences. But you tagged along anyway despite the humid climate. Which was proving to not be the best decision.

It had started pouring seemingly out of nowhere. The droplets pelting you and seeping into your clothes in a matter of seconds. It was a miracle Kite hadn't brought any electrical equipment. Underneath a sturdy tree had been your temporary shelter until the rain let up. But minutes had soon turned into an hour.

So what did the two of you do during this shitstorm you might ask?

You two had danced in the rain.

It was no secret you hated the rain with everything in you. And for good reason considering the trauma you had connected to it. But as much as you hated the rain you loved dancing. It had taken quite the bit of coaxing from the taller male to get you to agree. Rationalizing that if you were stuck here, you might as well make the best of it. Promising that if you hated it, you two would stop immediately.

You were hesitant to step out from the tree's cover, but nevertheless you took his hand. Your arms going up to his shoulders while his rested on your waist. Your discomfort soon melting away with the light movements. As if your mind was starting to block out the cold of the storm. Your shift in demeanor noticed by Kite who decided to whisper words of encouragement in return.

“That’s it. Just keep your eyes on me. Focus on me, love.”

And that was all it took to have you forgetting about your disdain for the rain. Eyes trained solely on each other. He couldn't help but notice that the droplets sliding down your cheeks framed your face perfectly. You were both incredibly soaked, but despite that, Kite continued to sway you sweetly. Matching the soft tempo you were humming.

“Kite.” You called out after a while.

“Yeah?”

And the way you looked at him with pure adoration, it made his heart beat in overdrive. He was sure you could feel it with how close you were. He doesn't think he's ever experienced something this special before. This intimate.

“I think I'm in love with you.”

Not, ‘I think I like you’, but that you loved him. It wasn't a case of mild infatuation or a meager crush, but love.

He smiled down at you, mirroring your soft expression.

“Really? Because I know for a fact that I'm in love with you.”

So no.

You may not have dressed up for your first date with him. But it didn't matter all that much. He couldn't say he was jealous when the memories you were creating together now were sweeter.

How could he when you were right here looking at him like that? Like he was the center of your world.

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

an: Men who don't jump to conclusions and respect their partners>>>>>

[jadeoru]

I WILL SEND SELFSHIP ASKS WAIT FOR MEEE also tøp trio… hrm why’s that’s kinda yummy and cool YES PLEASE 🙏🏻

@wyrcan TØP TRIO RISE ‼️‼️

[housesunstone]

special interest third grade teacher story pls!

it might not be as funny as I think it is but here we go

To start off, I need to mention I moved schools in grade 3, so this teacher knew nothing about me prior. I liked this teacher a whole lot I still say she was one of my faves she is also the reason why I got dyslexia and dyscalculia testing done.

I also need to mention this was in 2007/2008 I was between the ages of 6-8 (I started school when I was 3 since I am a December baby I just don't know the exact year I was in grade 3)

My grade 3 teacher was also the techy teacher of this school, which had moved from computer labs to a MacBook cart that was booked out one half-day a week per class. However, like I said, she was the techy teacher. The MacBooks, when not in use, were in our classroom.

Grade 3 is also when the cart can start to be signed out from class to class, and to get us familiar with the laptops, we had some assignments to do. First, we did a slideshow on keynote about ourselves. Then, we made name tags for ourselves using clipart. Finally, to tie into a unit, we did a pamphlet we would print off and hand in.

Now what was this unit and what does it have to do with one of my special interests? I'm glad you asked. We were reading a book about skyscrapers. Each kid in my class of 28 had to pick a current or former skyscraper and make a pamphlet about it, talking about how it was constructed when it was built, what it was for etc., etc.

Now, I'm sure here is where you have clued in on what my special interest may be. I knew and still know way too much information about the Twin Towers. So my hand shot up, and I asked if I could pick the Twin Towers. The look of panic on my teacher's face is something I will never forget. Before she had the chance to say anything, I started rambling off about how cool I thought the towers were and about how it was 7 buildings, but the North and the South were the most famous since they were the tallest buildings, but one was taller than the other. You know, completely glossing over the facts about 9/11. She agreed to let me do it.

The first day we worked on them, she called me over to her desk and asked me if I could refrain from discussing 9/11 in the pamphlet. My response was, "Why would I talk about that? The buildings are interesting enough."

So imagine when my grandparents come in for parent-teacher interviews, and my teacher is like, "Hey, your kid might have dyslexia, and that needs to be tested. also, your child is a little obsessed with the Twin Towers less than 10 years after 9/11 happened.... why?"

Needless to say, no one ever mentioned me getting tested for ADHD or Austusim until almost 20 but it makes so much sense in retrospect

[herefortarlos]

Hello!

I love seeing your excitement around the fandom and a special thanks for all the support you give me in the tags! I was what made you start watching lone star? What made you keep watching lone star? What’s your favorite part of fandom?

Awwww, hello, Jen!! Haha, I am very happy to know that you enjoy my fangirling and hopefully don't find it annoying 😆.

So what clued me into 911 Lone Star, was seeing random clips from the show when I would be bored and scroll through FB and Instragram's videos section. The scenes that I remember the best are of course the racist neighbor and "Sure ma'am but I am a homosexual." And Paul's, "but I am trans, though." And then the corn silo scene and Marjan popping up and having lost her hijab, and everyone gathering around to protect her modesty. I loved knowing there was a show out there that had, from the brief bits I saw, canon gay, trans and Muslim characters!! Then I bought Hulu in late 2022, specifically to watch the movie Julie and Julia, then I watched all of Modern Family. And then I was like, well, I still have this service for the end of the month, and I saw Lone Star was on it and I have not looked back 😂 I wish Hulu kept track of it, because I don't know how I consumed 3 seasons of Lone Star so quickly while also working.

Tarlos and TK, then later Carlos, when we finally got more of him in season 2, were big reasons I kept watching. I also genuinely like all of the characters! I did not think I would love Judd as much as I did, big, stereotypical Texas man, but is not like you thought at all! Owen and TK's relationship is one of my favorite things too, such a loving father-son relationship, without the toxic masculinity is so refreshing! Getting Tommy in season 2 was such a big improvement too!!

I could go on and on about the characters, but another huge reason I fell in love with the show was because it actually had a trans black man, played by a trans male actor, a gay Latino man, played by a gay actor, and of course the fandom didn't find out about Ronen until 2021, but I learned watching in 2022, was a gay man, played by a bisexual actor!! Representation matters and as a queer person, I was so happy to see a show actually put in the effort to try and cast accordingly!! Even now, when I try to get friends to watch the show, I always start by gushing about tarlos, of course, and then secondly talk about the casting!

Finally, my FAVORITE part of the fandom has to be all of our amazingly talented writers and the stories they provide to keep Tarlos alive, interesting and relevant, especially during longer than expected hiatuses. I have been reading fanfic for various fandoms since 2012? And I appreciate all the work and effort writers put in to provide us fans with more content, without expecting anything in return, so the least I can do is comment on fics and reblog works here with my unhinged tags 😂

Also, I really appreciate how active the fandom is on Tumblr and I loveee saving and liking posts, specifically based on different people's tags 😆 As my name suggests, I made a new Tumblr for Tarlos in January 2023 I believe, so very recent. The last time I was on Tumblr was 2019, after it quickly declined in popularity, and all the previous artists and writers I followed left for Twitter. The fact that I fell in love with a show and couple enough to seek out a community for it definitely says a lot about it! When I fall in love with characters or a couple, I will hyper fixate on them for a minimum of 2 years, and hopefully this obsession lasts longer because of this active fandom and the fact that Lone Star is still ongoing and providing new material, as soon as these dumb companies decide to actually pay their workers a decent living wage anyway.

Phew, time to go find some lunch 😂 Thank you for the ask, Jen, and if you ever need a beta I'm your girl ❤️ But regardless, you can definitely expect me to reblog and express my love for the next fic you tease! I am not going to survive when Meet you After Dark drops!

[strawwritesfic]

Ryohei Sasagawa x Female!Reader: Cootie Catcher [Ch. 2]

Summary: You liked it better in the old days, when boys had cooties and didn’t talk to you.

Challenge: “What to do, oh, What to do?” by crimsonxtearx5 on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (Friends to lovers; idiots to lovers; childhood friends; happily blended family; embarrassing parents; civilian!reader; bookworm!reader; opposites attract; Namimori Middle School; TYB!KHR Cast; no honorifics; boxing club; tutoring)

Relationships: Ryohei Sasagawa/Reader; Original Character/Original Character; Kyoko Sasagawa & Reader; Ryohei Sasgawa & Kyoko Sasgawa; Tsuna Sawada & Hayato Gokudera & Takeshi Yamamoto; Hibari Kyoya & Reader; Hibrari Kyoya & Ryohei Sasagawa

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List

Chapter 2: Should Have Worn a Cuter Bra

Today had not been a good day. It wasn't even a mediocre day. No, this was full-on [Name] and the Horrible, No Good, Very bad Day territory. With such an auspicious start as waking to the sudden realization that your mother hadn't made it to her doctor's appointment time should have clued you in. You'd spent twenty minutes convincing her to get out of bed, followed by fifteen minutes prying her out of your stepfather's arms. That left you with exactly five minutes to make sure she'd actually left the house and get to school. Shortly after arriving at Namimori Middle School entirely out of breath, your teacher asked for a history paper still sitting on your desk at home. And on top of all of that, tutorials that afternoon turned out to be a special kind of torture. The underclassman you'd been assigned to help in math didn't really seem to need much help once you'd actually sat down—and yet you still had to sit there and watch him go through his worksheet until he finished up.

"Thanks, Senpai! See you tomorrow!” Takeshi Yamamoto waved before he sprinted for the stairs.

“Do your homework!” you shouted after him.

He had his back to you, but he waved again to show he had heard. With a shake of your head, you gathered up the leftover pencils, crammed them into your schoolbag, and stood up. Why, exactly, had he bothered to show up to this tutorial session? Yamamoto's head was so filled with baseball and some mafia game that he'd hardly been able to sit still during your review of logarithms.

Maybe why you'd agreed to spend your afternoons helping struggling second-years was a better question. You pondered it as you made your way down the hall. A perfect grade point average meant you were good at school, sure, but hardly fit to teach your fellow students. But the reason behind your walking out of the school building two hours after classes had finished was an obvious one: Kyoya Hibari. Just the suggestion of you tutoring coming out of his mouth had had you failing to comply, lest you find yourself on the wrong end of his tonfa. Then again, just why he cared where two specific second-years flunked out, you had no idea.

Such thoughts carried you to the school gate. Your mental complaints so preoccupied you that you didn't think much about the fluffy, gray sky hovering overhead. You just wanted to go home, change into something more comfortable than your uniform, and study in peace for the rest of the evening.

And then you realized the rhythmic popping noise on the pavement was not, in fact, coming for your shoes. Raindrops the size of bullets were falling to the ground at breakneck speed. Had you checked the weather before racing to school that morning? Bothered to grab an umbrella just in case? Done the very simple task of grabbing one of your school-issued navy sweaters as you exited the house?

After pressing your lips together as hard as you could for several seconds, you finally lifted your head to the sky and shouted, "Oh, come on!"

“Come on what?”

“Ah!” You turned around to see Ryohei, as usual, standing right behind you. “Ryohei! Don’t do that!”

“Sorry!”

He grinned at you, clearly not sorry, and you felt your heart flip over. You scowled. No. You were supposed to be annoyed at him, not happy to see him. Thankfully, Ryohei seemed pretty intent on making sure you were annoyed, too, if his next statement was anything to go by:

“You’re cute when you’re startled.”

That slapped the frown right off your face. Forget being annoyed. Now you were just horrified. “Wh-What?”

He waved your stammered question away. “Never mind. You extremely missed practice today!”

“Ryohei, I told you I can’t come to boxing club anymore. Hibari has me tutoring.”

He nodded slowly. For one wild moment, you thought perhaps he actually understood. Maybe he could get frustrated and flippant with the school prefect, but not all of you were so fortunate. Some of you actually had to ask how high when Hibari said "jump."

“Do you want to be a teacher, [Name]?”

The question was such a startling change in subject that you actually laughed. “Definitely not.”

“Then come back to boxing club!”

He laughed as well, and threw his arm around your shoulders. Again, you felt like you were being hit by a large rock. Over the years, though, your knees must have gotten used to it, because they barely buckled under his weight at all. Ryohei tugged you toward the school gates before you registered he was speaking again:

“Hibari can get over it, right?”

“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled. “He can’t easily beat you up.”

“Hey! What do you mean ‘easily’?”

"Nothing!”

Oh, sure, that Ryohei understood. Time for a rapid change the subject. As you looked around, you noticed that Ryohei was not, as he normally did after boxing club, taking you to the baseball field to watch his group of second-year friends get up to...well, whatever they'd be getting up to that day. Instead, with his arm still firmly anchored around you, he appeared to be guiding you home.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“You don’t recognize your own walk home?”

“No, I do. I just want to know why we’re taking it.”

“It’s raining to the extreme!”

“And?”

“I’m taking you home to make sure you don’t catch an extreme cold!”

“Oh, no!” You tore yourself out of his grasp, then took several steps away from him, just to be safe. “Oh no, no, no, no. You are not coming over.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Because!” You threw your hands in the air and then clamped them across your chest again, suddenly hyperaware of the lack of sweater over your thin, white uniform short. Could this day get any better?

It sure could, because apparently you also got to have a shouting match with your best friend in the middle of the street.

“That’s EXTREMELY not an answer!” Ryohei said.

“Yes, it is!”

"You're not making any sense!"

"I'd make perfect sense if you just thought about what I was saying from time to time!"

Because you couldn’t tell him that you didn’t want him around your mother. Ever since the cruise, when you and Ryohei had been nearly inseparable, she hadn’t shut up about how handsome he was. She wouldn't just say that for Katsuro’s benefit either. He was perfectly athletic in his own right. And so who could your mother be dropping all these hints for except for you? For the past few weeks, even just you being in her presence threw your mother into a fit of “girl talk” giggles. You paled at the very thought of what would happen if Ryohei happened to arrive in time for one of these episodes.

“No, it wouldn't.” He cocked his head to one side.

Your face heated up. Thank God Ryohei never noticed the opposite sex. You could probably relax your arms, but what if someone else walked past? Not that anyone would in this downpour.

Then Ryohei walked toward you, and pressed his hands into your shoulders with a concerned glint in his eye. Something else to worry about? Really? “[Name]," he said very seriously. "Is everything okay at home?”

You could not believe you were having this conversation. Stupid tutoring. Stupid Hibari. Stupid best friend. “Yes. Why?���

“Are you extremely sure?” The concerned look had not left his face. “Because you know…I was thinking…maybe Katsuro is a zombie.”

You deadpanned and peeled each of his hands off your shoulders in turn. “Zombies don’t exist, Ryohei.”

“Maybe you only think that because they’ve extremely turned you into one!”

“My mom and Katsuro are not zombies.”

“How do you know?”

“Because no one has eaten my brains yet.”

“That’s because they know I’ll punch them before they can!”

“Yeah. Sure. That’s it.” You turned away and rubbed your temples. A headache pressed tentatively above your left eye. “Look, thanks for the offer, but I’m already soaked. Kyoko is probably worried about you. Just go home yourself, okay?”

“No.”

“What?”

Ryohei crossed his arms over his chest as he lifted his head to stare down his nose at you. “No. Extremely.”

“Ryohei! I know the way home!”

“I’m not a member of the boxing club!”

“Yes, you are,” he said stubbornly. “I say you’re in it, so you’re in it.”

“That’s not how it wo–”

He lifted his voice to speak over you: “As a member of the boxing club, it is my duty as captain to make sure you get home safe before you catch a cold. It could extremely hamper with your practice.”

“I’m not coming back to boxing!” Even you could hear the whine in your voice now. “Hibari will kill me!”

"No, he won’t!”

“Ugh! Whatever!”

You whirled around and stomped up the street. In some remote corner of your mind, you realized how unreasonable you were being. Normally, you were the calm one, the one who made sure Ryohei didn’t get into fights. Perhaps you could chalk your attitude up to the rest of your bad day, but there was something else niggling at the back of your mind. Try as you might to ignore it, it continued to gnaw its way to the front.

“[Name]!”

“What?” you asked, quietly this time. Ryohei was walking right next to you again, and you didn’t bother trying to run off. He would just catch up with you again anyway.

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh?” You looked straight up into his face. “About what? You don’t have anything to apologize for! I’m sorry I got mad at you and–”

Ryohei shrugged. His concern had been replaced by a distinct aura of awkwardness. “I knew you were having an extremely bad day. I was just trying to make you laugh.”

“Well, thanks.” Without realizing it, you had started to walk along with him in the direction of your home. Maybe Ryohei was crazy and loud, but he was still the best friend you had in the world. “Sorry I got so mad.”

“We’re all entitled to a little extreme anger now and then!”

“Yeah. So…we’re cool?”

“We’re always EXTREMELY cool, [Name]!”

“We are, aren’t we?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back to boxing practice? I can have an extreme talk with Hibari.”

“Yeah.” You could see the gate to your yard approaching. “Save yourself. Besides, I kind of like tutoring.”

“You do?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good! Because I wasn’t going to let you do it if you extremely hated it.”

“It’s nice, you always looking out for me.”

“Of course!” Ryohei must have realized this was you'd come to your stop as well. He came to a halt and grinned at you again.

“Well…bye.”

“Hey! [Name]!”

Ryohei's voice stopped you just as your fingers touched the knob. You turned around. Already anticipating the soup your mother was sure to force down your throat when she caught you in this state, you were not expecting Ryohei’s next exclamation:

“If you can’t come to practice anymore, can I come to tutorials with you? Maybe I can teach your students something extreme!”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “You can only come if you need tutoring.”

He frowned at that, and paused to wipe some sweat–or was it rain?–off his brow. Then he looked up at you with another of his trademark smiles. “Mr. Hatachin says my grades are extremely terrible! Will you help me?”

This time you laughed. You opened the door, and, just before you snapped it closed, you answered. “Of course. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, [Name]! And thanks for all the help!”

[horizon-forbidden-sheesh]

Writing Process: Timelines & Trackers

Okayyy, so I've written about the drafting process in detail. But along the way, logistics problems tend to pop up that can't be solved in words alone.

Mostly, it has to do with knowing exactly where someone is or what someone is doing at the same time as another character I'm writing. For instance, when does Alva get back to the Base? How long is she there before Aloy shows up?

I didn't always take detailed notes on this during my first play-through. And after I abandoned my Scrivener file, (more about this here ⚙️) I decided to refine my timeline.

I already had a great foundation based on my first play-through and my New Game+ speed run. So, I started fresh, with a new game file and good old fashioned pen & paper. I'm still working through this as I write. (Just finished the Scorcher side quest!!)

*This is in a Master-size (A4) Leuchtturm notebook, in which I'm working back-to-front. I prefer purple pen and grid paper always.

Yes. I know. I am a psycho. As I mentioned in the Preamble, gaming timelines are a special interest. 💁🏼‍♀️ Plus, I build client-friendly Gantt charts for design projects IN MY SLEEP. So, taking my timeline from paper into Spreadsheet status felt like a v natural next step.

💡I started with a weekly at-a-glance, mostly because I needed to coordinate when various characters arrived back at Base:

Why yes, I am tracking Zo & Aloy's periods. Because there is no single, magical herb you can take to stop pregnancy. Don't get me wrong, I dig this trope! It's important to discuss family planning, and our genre is ✨fantasy✨ after all. But I can only suspend my disbelief so far, and there are other ways to get around this, which a Matriarchal society would probably be clued in on.

💡 This quickly evolved to a daily at-a-glance once Kotallo made it to the Base:

This spreadsheet helped me IMMENSELY as I was writing chapters 13, 14, 16, 17, & 19! Basically any time Aloy & Kotallo are not in the same location. Knowing what Kotallo is doing at the Base while Aloy is off mid-adventure has been super important to make sure their Focus calls work and feel natural.

Likewise, knowing exactly what day Erend returns, and how long they have before Aloy gets back all helps with continuity and flow.

Other Things I'm Tracking:

💡Datapoints. The whole point of the GAIA Gang is that they're sorting through the data Aloy collected during the events of HZD. And since that was an absolute whirlwind year for Aloy, I'm thinking her files are a fucking shit show—and almost none of the people sorting through them even know how to read. 😵

So, I started by accumulating all the files by location. I am assuming they're probably geo-tagged—if not, they're at least assembled in order of pick-up, which would mean they're ordered by Aloy's general location at time-of-discovery anyway.

*I crossed them out as I moved them to the next spreadsheet tab...

From this hot mess, I figure that Zo, in her infinite wisdom, took one look at Aloy's files and went, "Oh hell no."

💡Here's the way I imagine Zo organized her playlists, much to Varl, Erend, & Kotallo's relief (Meanwhile, Alva re-filtered everything, and discovered entirely new metadata categories, obviously):

The most important detail here was time!! Most of these are like 1 minute long... but 1 minute in the game is like, 20 minutes IRL. So you've gotta figure the GAIA Gang is back at Base binge-watching an entire docu-series, while simultaneously learning how to read (and procrastinating with hours and hours of bodycam battle footage).

No wonder they're always busy when Aloy shows up!

💡 And yes, these are all tabs on a single spreadsheet:

💡 "Population" is literally just a mess of numbers & formulas as I try to figure out how we went from ~20 E-9 Cradle inhabitants to multiple tribes in the span of ~700 years.

I mean in 3041 we're prolly sitting at like... maybe ~15k in the U.S.?

*On second thought, that Oseram number is probably higher.

Anywayyyy, as fun as a blank page is, my brain really does work best on a grid. The process is totally intuitive, and I create the necessary docs as I go, the same as I would for any client or project. Sometimes, you need to explain things in a way so everyone is on the same page, and I find spreadsheets invaluable in that regard. (Y'all should see my wedding planning spreadsheet, lol.)

This whole process has helped me to find what works for me, and writing fanfic is truly preparing me to write my own original works. What I've discovered is that spreadsheets are part of my flowstate. They bring me a deep sense of peace and they help me to stay on track and oriented while I'm in the weeds.

🖤 Really, I want to come back to something I said in my second 'Process' post: Do what feels natural. Everyone is different. If being 'organized' steals your joy, don't do it. Stay messy! Whatever! Who cares? The most important part is that you find your flowstate.

I found this old Hindu saying while I was copywriting for a Chinese Medicine client, and it really stuck with me: "There are a hundred paths up the mountain, so it doesn't matter which path you take. The only one wasting time is the one who runs around and around the mountain telling everyone else that their path is wrong."

I'm just here documenting my own path up my mountain. And part of me thinks that it's all incredibly self-indulgent and cringe, but hey—when has blogging ever not been?

If you've read this far, I'm grateful. It's all a bit shouting-into-the-void out here, especially when you're this deep into a niche that moved on a while ago. But I've always loved a slowburn. (And if you do too, you might consider reading The Marshal.)

xo, Sheesh.

[finniestoncrane]

Finnie hi! Hi Finnie hi!! Well first of all congrats on reaching 1k followers you deserve that and more because you’re an AMAZING writer and a very lovely person (and yes I know that I already congratulated you but shhhhh)

Now if it’s not too much to ask can I have number 9 pretty please? (It’s gonna be weird to describe myself but here I go)

Ok so I’m a latinamerican person with curly brown hair, brown eyes with myopia so I need to wear glasses, I’m like 1.70/5’7. I’m riddled with anxiety, and there’s probably something else going on up there in my brain but idk. I love animation be it 2D, 3D or stop motion (I love making puppets), and also I love cinema, big movie fan me. Specially horror movies, sci-fi and fantasy ones! I also love playing video games, my favourite type of games are story driven games or puzzle games, so when a game has both it’s the best for me. I really like reading books, again mostly horror (like Stephen King) or fantasy novels (like Lord of The Rings). I listen to music daily. I really like building puzzles and learning things (specially languages) AND I love everything that has to do with space and cryptids (hope this wasn’t too long I love you Finnie bye 🧡)

🎀 No.9: Ever Fallen In Love With Someone 🎀

tell me a little bit about yourself and i'll give you a rogue pairing a/n: ah gus this was PERFECT! i am so excited about this one!! and thank you so much ily ;-; 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

so the thing is, i struggled between three boys, because i could have given you a scarecrow, your beloved, and i could have given you a jervis, but i think that's just because you're so loveable that you suit everyone 💚 i think though, this is a good match!

first of all, glasses wearers unite. ed obviously has a thing for people with glasses (or monocles) and i think he'd love having a partner who wears them too because his love language is acts of service. cleaning your glasses for you and putting them away carefully each night would be quick habits he formed to show you he cares

riddled with anxiety? ok first of all, he would love the casual use of any word relating to riddles so jot that down. but he shares this with you, and the other vague neuro-divergencies that we just can't put a finger on (don't we all...) but that means he's loaded with methods for grounding yourself and diverting panic attacks and he'd love to put those to use on someone he loved

he doesn't explicitly mention loving film or cinema, but ed's such a romantic at heart that i find it difficult to think he doesn't enjoy classic cinema, and even contemporary films too. he has all the potential to be a movie buff. i don't think there would be any genres he wasn't keen on, but sci-fi and animation would definitely be up his street, and he'd marathon any series with you at the drop of a (bowler) hat

and as someone who had an entire show in the narrows where he did a comedy skit about his rival, puppets would have come in handy, so expect that to be a bonding experience for you both

ed loves video games too! and story based or puzzle ones would definitely be his favourite. something like the original resident evil games where there was a plot, a mystery, some tension, and a whole lot of puzzles to solve would definitely appeal to everything he loves about gaming as a hobby

music is one of his loves, and he enjoys having it on in the background while he works away. something about a partner who enjoys it too would have him giddy. he'd grab you for a quick dance, either fast or slow, at any opportunity just to feel the music with you

someone with a strong desire to learn and a geuine love of educating themselves would be so important to him. he's a little sponge that absorbs facts and information and knowledge, and you two could bounce off of each other, tutoring the other in subjects they're not as clued up on until you have a strong, shared knowledge base. he'd make study plans, and flash cards! how romantic!!

i'm adding a headcanon in here, but i think that as logical and fact based ed is, he seems like the kind of adventurous little soul who would definitely be into the concept of cryptids, and the world beyond our own out there in the universe. he's intelligent enough to know that there's no way we're alone in the universe, and adding complicated scientific explanations to the more bizarre things that happen in our world would feel like solving a little puzzle to him