#* argumentative yes. you can argue with me.

[nochepsicodelica]

"Stop. Moving," Toji groans, sleepily, as he tightens his arms around you and buries his face into your back. This is the third time you try to wake him up by shifting on the bed and he is not having it.

"It's time to wake up, Toji. If you don't want to get up, you can stay here while I go make us breakfast."

Toji hums in disapproval. "What's the point in staying behind if you're not gonna be here? Let's just..." he sighs, nuzzling his face into your back, getting comfy, again. "...stay in bed a little longer. Let me keep you like this for a few more hours- minutes. I said minutes."

"Baby," you say, through a laugh. "It's almost ten. I know that if you could, you would stay in bed all day-"

"We would stay in bed all day," he corrects, his voice a low grumble.

"We would stay in bed all day," you repeat. "But... I want breakfast, and I know you'll want breakfast, too, once you smell all the food. I know how much you love your bacon," you add, trying to persuade him.

"Brunch sounds better," he mutters, stomping on your argument.

"No, breakfast sounds better," you argue, to which he groans, dramatically—almost childishly. "Oh my god, Toji," you say, in utter disbelief of the way he's acting.

"Shh... let's sleep," he murmurs.

You sigh, defeated. "Five minutes. That's all you get. Five more minutes." Toji doesn't even respond, too busy dozing off to make the most of these measly fives minutes, you "generously" offered. And, yes, you were generous, because five minutes became ten minutes, and then fifteen, until you reached the limit you had set—twenty minutes.

After the twenty minutes, you start moving around a little. You flip onto your back to get a look at the sleeping hulk that's been clinging to you. He just adjusts to the new position, not bothered in the slightest as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"Toji," you call, softly, waiting a few seconds to see if he reacts. When his steady breathing is still all you hear, you decide to try again. "Bear," you call, dragging your fingertip along the slope of his nose. "Wake up," you murmur when his brows pull together. "Hi, baby," you coo, smiling when he just blinks his sleep-ridden eyes.

"That didn't feel like five minutes," he mumbles, his voice raspy.

"It was twenty," you respond, a soft laugh following. You press a kiss to the top of his head and watch the way he subtly eases up a little more. The crease between his brows is gone, now. "Let's go have breakfast, alright? Some coffee will do you good."

"Fine," he grumbles, before rising slowly from where he lays on you, like he weighs tons.

You turn over to see the subtle jut of his lips, a small detail that never fails to make you laugh when he doesn't get what he wants.

"What's that thing you always say to me? 'If you keep pouting, I'm gonna kiss you'," you say, mimicking his voice.

"I'm gonna kiss you," he mutters under his breath, like the grumpiest bear.

"Ooo, I'm sooo scared," you say, your voice doused with sarcasm. "Please, don't do it. I definitely don't want you to kiss me," you jest, smiling to yourself as you walk towards the door. Your hand doesn't even reach the doorknob, before you're caged against the wooden slab. Two enormous hands rest on the door, preventing you from getting it open. He's discovered a loophole that gets you to be the one who wants to kiss him.

"Pay the Toji Tax," he murmurs, tiredly.

"Now, why would I do that? I haven't asked you for help with anything," you argue.

"You need my help getting the door open," he says, matter-of-factly.

"I don't need your help getting the door open. You just need to move out of the way so that I can open it."

"So, ask me to move. Simple, no?"

"Can you pretty please, with a cherry on top move so that I can open the door and make us breakfast?" You plead, your voice monotonous.

"Sure, for three kisses," he says, naming his price.

"It's unfair to Toji Tax me when you're the one keeping both of us from getting out."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but you either pay the price or you rot in here with me until your precious little breakfast time turns into brunch, or even lunch time. Hell, dinner time might even roll around."

You turn around, slowly, your expression contemplative. A hum, just as mindful, reaches Toji's ears.

"You'd starve both of us for three kisses?" You question, your expression unchanging from its depiction of disbelief.

"Shamelessly and repeatedly. You wanna make it seem like kissing me is a job, I can play along and treat it that way. You can't go until you finish your task, and if you do it wrong, you get to do it again."

"Tojiii," you whine.

"Babyyy," he mocks, smirking at your rising impatience.

"Fine," you agree, bending to his will. You reach out to cup his face, but Toji takes a step back before you can touch him.

"What did I just say about getting it wrong? You really don't wanna kiss me, do you?"

"I do," you argue.

"Well, it doesn't feel like it. Seems like you just wanna get it over with so that i'll let you open the door."

"I'm sorry. I do wanna kiss you."

"How bad?" He pokes, loving the way you tilt your head, your expression unamused. "Plead your case, ma. How bad do you wanna kiss me?"

"So bad," you utter.

"Don't believe it," he responds, not moved enough by your words.

"Toji, I wanna kiss you so bad," you repeat.

"No, you don't," he denies. "I'm not feeling how much you wanna kiss me."

"Baby," you start, your voice exaggeratedly sentimental, your gaze filled with a saccharine amount of love. "I wanna kiss you so damn bad. It's not even funny."

"The way you're making it up is funny, though," he fires back. He's having a ball with this, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from cracking. Then, he sees you powering up, getting ready to go full siren. "You got it," he says, encouraging your theatrics.

With a deep inhale, the show commences.

"Pleaseeee! Oh god, please, please, the prettiest of pleases," you cry out. "If you love me—shit—if you value puppy lives... Oh my goodness, I can't even get it out. It's... it's too much. My desire-" you break out of your own drama scene to release a cackle at your word choice. "My... desire to kiss you..." you press your lips together, finding it difficult to hold it together when you see how entertained Toji looks. You use it to your advantage, adding a little head shake and dragging yourself down on the door, appearing to have crumbled to the ground. "I can't contain it. I just... I can't. Please," you whisper, weakly, looking up at Toji, pathetically, from where you sit on the floor.

Toji is very familiar with your dramatic fits, but this one takes the cake. You stunned him for a solid ten seconds. He peers down at you, his hands still planted on the door.

"And you called me dramatic earlier. Did you hear yourself just now? All that for some kisses?"

"Not just any kisses. Your kisses," you respond, with a satisfied smile and a nod.

"Get up," he commands, offering you his hands for assistance in standing up. You take them and push yourself up and off the ground, smiling softly when your hands remain in Toji's. He loves when you look at him like that—with your eyes all shiny and that smile on your lips that expresses the joy you find in these ridiculous moments with him. In one fell swoop, you pull his arms around you and reciprocate the gesture, giving him a big squeeze. Obviously, to him, it's anything but a big squeeze, but it brings a smile to his face anyway.

"Please, let me make you breakfast," you plead.

"You still have to kiss me," he insists.

You smile as you take half a step back to be able to see him. Stubborn as ever, he still really wants his kisses.

"Come here, baby," you call, your voice so sweet that it's almost a coo. You outstretch your hands in preparation for cupping his cheeks.

"Mmm... I like that," he murmurs, lips pulled into a smirk as he tightens his arms around you a little more and starts leaning in. "Three kisses, pretty, but you know I won't complain if you want to give me more."

"We'll see," you tease, smiling as your lips connect for the first kiss. Your hands gently mold into the softness of his cheeks, your fingertips grazing his jaw. It's soft, sweet, a little impatient on both ends, but controlled for the most part. Like you're kissing without a limit, that second kiss is easily melted into and attained, leading you to the third and supposed final one.

Once that one concludes, you decide to be nice and reward him with a bonus kiss. This one lasts longer, and you hum into it, like kissing him is your favorite thing to do in the world. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks a couple times, before you release him with a loud "mmmwah!" and step back, releasing an irrepressible giggle.

"Give me another one, just like that," he requests, taking that step towards you, again. "Come on," he pleads, grabbing your hands and pulling them up to place them on his face. "One more, doll?" His hands lower to your waist, and when you smile and roll your eyes, he knows he's won.

"Alright, only one more, bear," you comply, standing on your tippy toes to meet his lips one. last. time.

Once your lips brush against his, you hold them there for a few seconds. No movement, nothing crazy, just warm softness. You can feel yourself wanting to laugh, but you hold it together for a few a couple more seconds. After you do the same "mmmwah!" sound, you finally let your soft laugh out.

Toji smirks, his gaze darting between your eyes and the lips he just kissed, as he unwinds his arms from your waist and steps back, giving you the space to open the door and let both of you out.

"Toji Tax paid. You can open the door now," he says, grinning contentedly at the way you press your lips together in amusement, before turning around and pulling the door open.

Breakfast would be yet another task and a half for you to complete. With Toji trailing back and forth after you in the small kitchen area, refusing to be anywhere you weren't, you're surprised nothing ended up burning.

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington showing up to Hellfire made sense.

He knew the kids. After The Incident of which they Do Not Speak Of, he knew Eddie. There was a friendship there that was pulling him into Hellfire��s orbit, and the elder members followed their leader's cues when it came to jocks who had decided to redeem themselves and evolve into beloved town hall heroes. 

Showing up to Corroded Coffin’s recently restarted band practice required a bit more adjusting, but it was fine. 

Everything was fine.

Steve showing up in the middle of a heated, completely nonsensical argument with Eddie, was also, unfortunately, growing to be something normal and fine--but arguing over Jeff specifically?

That was a little harder to ignore. 

“That’s my Robin.”  Eddie had started, pointing sternly towards Jeff as he marched up Gareth’s driveway. 

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“You already claimed Gareth as your Robin, you can't also claim Jeff.”

Yes I can! Because I have two--no, no, three!” Eddie counted on waiving fingers, “I have three Robin's, Grant’s one too!

Jeff blinked, before turning to his other bandmates. “Any idea about what this is about or…”

Nope.” Gareth refused to even look at the duo arguing. “And I don't want to know.”

“Okay then.” 

“They each have different specialties,” Eddie was animatedly arguing, having stopped in the center of the garage to square up to Steve. “So combined they make up one Robin.” 

“That's not how that works!” Steve loudly scoffed, arms winging out in a way that disturbingly, looked like a move he had copied from Eddie. 

He got a smirk in return. “Don't  be mad because I'm more popular than you are these days, Steven.” 

Oh now they were approaching dangerous territory-- Eddie was getting smug.

A smug Eddie, Jeff knew, was an obnoxious Eddie. The kind of obnoxious that refused to let things go and claimed victory over random bullshit. The type of obnoxious that would take weeks to kill, with them all suffering through Eddie’s crowing in the meantime.

Given the look on Steve’s face, he knew it too.

There was only one way to prevent the monster known as Smug Eddie, and that was to cut him at the knees before he properly got started. 

Something no member of Hellfire had ever before managed to accomplish--on purpose.

Steve, Jeff thought, was not a member of Hellfire. 

With a sudden and distrustworthy narrowing of his eyes, the ex-jock asked. “Didn't you say Jeff bakes?”

“No--” Eddie spat instantly but it was too late, Steve was already turning and--oh God, trying to pull Jeff into this shit. 

“Yes--hey Jeff, man, do you bake?”

“Uh…”

Grant looked between Steve, Eddie and Jeff, before taking one giant step to the right of them all.

The traitor. 

“Don't answer that!” Eddie commanded, stalking around to put himself between Jeff and Steve. “Do not answer that!” 

“I--yeah?” Jeff answered anyway, confused to hell but choosing to trust Steve on this one.   

Unfortunately for Corroded Coffin as a whole, and Jeff specifically, what they were missing was the fact that Steve could be a downright petty bitch. 

“What’s the hardest thing you can reliably bake?” 

It took a moment for Jeff to realize Steve was still talking to him, given his eyes were locked onto Eddie’s. 

“I like doing those kind complicated swirls with frosting sometimes?” Realizing how that sounded he quickly added; “To make cool patterns and shit!”

Steve nodded once, before boldly declaring: “I'm taking Jeff.” 

Eddie sputtered. 

“No you are not--” 

“That way,” Steve said, steamrolling right over, “you have two and I have two.”  

“Were not sharing cookies here, Steve!” 

“I know,” Steve retorted and oh God, now he sounded smug, “because Jeff and I haven't baked them yet.

“No--no! Jeff, Jeffery look at me.” The older teen whirled around to face Jeff, face serious. “You are forbidden to bake with this heathen.” 

“Wow, controlling much?” Steve drawled, moving fluidly around to stand shoulder to shoulder with Eddie, facing Jeff. With a weighty sincerity, he said, “I would never tell you what to do.”

“Yes he would! Yes He absolutely would! 

“What the fuck.” Jeff muttered, as they both continued to stare at him while maintaining their argument with each other. 

“You made eye contact, this is on you.” Grant told him. 

20 minutes later and Jeff would finally announce he was not going to do anything with anyone until after band practice. 

20 hours later, Steve would invite himself into Jeff’s house with a bag full of baking ingredients and a look in his eye that terrified Jeff more than Jason ever had. 

2 days later, Eddie would loudly declare Jeff’s status as a traitor, only to renounce it five seconds later after Gareth shoved one of the cookies they baked in his mouth mid rant. Only then would he agree that Steve could have Jeff as “his second Robin.” 

Unfortunately, he did this in front of the real Robin, who, as it turns out, can give one hell of a rant. 

(Later, Jeff, Grant and Gareth would loudly declare Robin their Queen and expert in all things Steve and Eddie, going so far as to present her with a Burger King crown to seal the deal. 

She would proudly wear it, despite all the bitching it caused from Steve and Eddie.) 

[katsu2ji]

gentle reassurances — k. bakugou

a/n: katsuki can stay mad at a lot of people for a long time. you are most certainly not one of them.

“come here.”

there was no frustration or annoyance in his voice, breaking the tense silence between the two of you as you stood on opposite sides of the kitchen. the words he spoke were soft and calmer than they were just moments ago, and you knew he was putting in careful effort to keep it that way.

you stood there watching him for a few seconds, quiet. he couldn't read the warring emotions on your face as the two of you held eye contact, and for a moment, katsuki was so afraid that you weren't going to come to him—that you were going to turn around and leave him standing there alone with his arms open. that you would leave the argument unfinished, unresolved.

his worries disappeared, however, when you crossed the gap and stepped into his waiting arms. you breathed in his familiar scent as you wrapped your arms around him. he did the same as he buried his face in your hair and closed his eyes. he took a long, deep breath.

you were the first to speak. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have yelled at you."

your voice was muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but his heart gave a squeeze nonetheless. you could feel his head shake against yours, one of his hands moving up and down your back.

"don't apologize," he mumbled, his voice equally as hushed. "i'm the one who came in annoyed. you did nothing wrong. it's just—" he took another deep, steadying breath. "it's been a long day. for both of us."

you hummed against him, not moving from your spot in his chest. "still, it wasn't right for me to yell back at you. i should've given you space when you came in."

katsuki frowned at that, pulling back just enough to look at you as his hands slid down to your waist. "space? why the hell do you think i'd need space from you?" he asked, brows furrowed.

you avoided eye contact, choosing instead to focus on a loose string from the hem of his shirt. katsuki stared at you for a moment before taking your hands in his.

"hey, look at me," he said. again, his voice carried no hint of anger or annoyance at your actions, just gentle reassurance. "you are the one person i will never—ever—need space from, you hear me?"

you knew this tone of voice. it was one he only ever used for you. katsuki wasn't a liar, you knew that—especially not when speaking like this.

he waited silently, watching you nod your head. he pulled you close again, kissing the top of your head.

"i love you, okay? today was long, and...and i shouldn't have yelled, but i never need space from you, alright?" he kissed your head again. "so don't think like that."

you closed your eyes, feeling his chest rumble as he spoke.

"i love you, too, kats." you leaned your head up. "can we go to bed now?"

you smiled at the chuckle he let out, feeling his body reverberate again. he gave you a squeeze, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

"for fucks sake, yes please. i'm exhausted." he placed a soft kiss on your neck, then smiled at you.

"no more arguing, okay? not worth arguing over stupid shit like this, anyway. not with you."

"oh, so you'd argue with someone else over stupid shit?" you teased.

he bit back a smile. "shut up. you know what i mean. no more fighting."

you smiled, kissing him. when you pulled back, he swore he could see the stars.

"no more fighting," you concluded, feeling contentment wash over the both of you.

katsu2ji © 2025. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[candykissd]

Can you please write a George fic where he and the reader does not get on in the slightest always arguing you’re Chris’s best friend George went too far with one of his insults, reader goes on a night out then rings Chris to pick her up but he doesn’t answer instead it’s George that answers and he comes and picks her up, results in an argument but then they turn from enemies to lovers if that’s okay!

i don't hate you.

pairings : george clarkey x female reader

summary : you're at a party and want to go home, but have no means of transportation, you decide to call chris to come and pick you up, but end up with george instead

warnings : alcohol consumption, fluff, mentions of nausea, light angst, mature language, mentions of anxiety

beth's notes : is this slightly cheesy? yes, but we all love a bit of cheesiness from time to time!! first george clarkey fic!!! if this wasn't very enemies type vibe i apologise for that, i was lowk kinda stuck on this one! thanks for the request lovie 💘

you stood in the corner of the pub, the building bustling with life, all of the people coming out to watch the football before the start of the week ahead.

your head pounded, the mix of the loud chants and shouts from the football fans and the few vodka shots you'd had earlier taking a toll on you.

a nauseous feeling brewing in your stomach as you sighed, you knew coming out with your friends tonight wasn't the best idea, but sometimes you liked the thought of going out and drinking away all your problems with your girls on the dance floor.

but tonight was not the night for that.

you wanted to go home, desperately, but finding a taxi in london on a sunday at this time of night wasn't the easiest, nor safest, job to do.

you weren't sure what chris was doing today, but you thought it'd be worth a try to call him, see if he was available to pick you up, and if he weren't, then you'd just have to sit through the rest of the night hiding in the pub bathroom.

you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts list and stopping at chris - or rather, 'bilbo baggins variant❤️'.

you clicked the little phone icon, holding your phone to your ear. though, the music was too loud, and you could barely hear the ringtone.

you quickly shuffled towards the side exit, pushing the door open as chris picked up the phone, leaning against the wall, the cool breeze sweeping over you and washing away all of the tension in your body.

"hey, chris, i have a favour to ask!" you greeted, awaiting his response, except it wasn't chris, it was george. only your second favourite person !

"chris is in the shower, uh, want me to pass on a message?" george's voice rang through the phone awkwardly.

"oh, uhm, hi george, yeah. could you ask him if he could come and pick me up later? like... half an hour?" you mumbled, your voice losing the jolly tone from earlier.

"where are you?" he sighed out, you could practically see him placing a hand to his forehead, his eyes closed in annoyance.

"The Charles." "i'm on my way." he mumbled, the faint jingling of his keys heard in the background as he opened the door to their apartment, ending the call with no further warning.

you sighed, looking down at your phone before slipping it back into your pocket, making your way back into the pub to find your friends, letting them know you were heading out early.

leaving out the part where george was the one picking you up. why'd he decide on it so quickly? he hates you, or, atleast that's what he always says.

well, you're not the most keen on him either. he could've easily told chris when he got out of the shower. or maybe he's just in a good mood tonight?

you pushed your way through the crowds of people, weaving your way through the tables and barging through the front door of the pub, leaning against the railing as you looked out at the road.

the boys' flat wasn't too far away, maybe 20 minutes if there was bad traffic, you very easily could've walked. but it was late at night in london, and you were mildly tipsy. it wasn't the best idea.

around ten minutes later a black car pulled up, and you already knew it was george. you stood up properly and made your way over to the car, letting out a deep breathe, preparing yourself for whatever mood this man was in before getting in the passenger side.

"uh, hi." you smiled, buckling your seatbelt as he nodded. "hi."

the next few minutes were sat in silence as george drove, his hands desperately gripping onto the steering wheel, as if he'd fly away if he let go.

the car came to a halt at a red light, george's grip loosening as his left hand dropped to the gear stick.

"what did i ever do to you?" you asked, the question coming out of nowhere, you weren't sure what had possessed you to finally ask the question you'd been wanting to ask for months.

"what?" he looked over at you, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"what did i ever do to you?" you repeated. "what's your issue with me?"

"i don't have an issue with you y/n-" "oh my god, george, you so obviously do! every time i'm around you, you go quiet, you won't have a civil conversation with me!"

he sighed, running a hand through his hair, and oh how you wished the light would turn green.

"i just... don't know how to talk to you, you're different to all of my other friends." he lied through his teeth, his grip returning on the wheel as the light turned green, and he turned the corner, growing closer to your apartment block.

you couldn't help but scoff, an eye roll following as you crossed your arms.

"don't scoff at me." he muttered.

you scoffed again, just especially to piss him off as much as you could. was it petty? yes, completely. but you could not give one less shit!

george pulled into the car park of your apartment building, the nauseous feeling in your stomach from earlier appearing again as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

you let out a deep breathe, placing a hand to your stomach as you used the other to open the door once he'd parked. you knew it was just your anxiety making you nauseous, and that was all, just the loss of adrenaline from earlier.

"are you okay?" george asked, a strange tone of sincerity filling his voice as he sat forward, unbuckling his own seatbelt.

"huh? oh... yeah, i'm fine, just nauseous, that's all." you mumbled, shrugging it off as you shut the car door, noticing george get out of the car too. "what're you doing?"

"what kind of gentleman would i be if i didn't walk you to your door?" he gave a playful smirk, resulting in an eye roll from you. "and besides, you don't feel well, if anything happened to you chris would murder me."

you couldn't help but laugh at that, shaking your head slightly as you pushed open the door to the apartment building, holding it open for george.

the two of you made your way upstairs, stopping on the floor your flat was on as you made your way to your door, digging around in your pocket for the key and unlocking the door.

"i... don't 'hate' you." he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

you looked up at him in confusion, turning around to face him. "what do you mean? you never go out if you know i'm gonna be there, you never talk to me when you do, and every time you do speak to me - which is rare - it's always some bitchy comment?!" you exclaimed, your voice raising much louder than you'd intended for it to.

george just stood there, a shocked expression in his face as he let out a small chuckle. "y/n... it's because i like you."

"i- you- the fuck?" you spluttered out, completely gobsmacked at the fact that he'd just admitted his feelings for you out of nowhere.

"i. like. you." he smiled. "and the reason i'm always such a dick to you is because if chris, or anyone for that matter, knew i liked you i'd get the shit kicked out of me."

you let out a small laugh, knowing for a fact that chris certainly would do just that.

you thought it over. well, yes, you did always find him attractive, and he's funny, and he can be quite kind, and he's dedicated, and...

well fuck.

you like him.

"you okay there, love?" he laughed out, waving a hand infront of your face, trying to snap you out of your zoned out state.

"oh- uh, yeah..." you mumbled, a small smile on your face as he looked down at you intently. his gaze flickering from your eyes, to your lips, and back.

god, this man was not about to make you blush.

as much as you tried to fight it, you felt your cheeks flush, and you prayed to the lord that you weren't as pink as you thought you were right now.

he chuckled, stepping forward, his hands travelling down to settle on your waist, and you were sure that his grip around you turned your cheeks the same shade as a ripe tomato.

"george..." you muttered, shaking your head, a small laugh slipping past your lips as you looked up at him. it wasn't that you were objecting, goodness no it wasn't that, it was that you were trying to make sure that he actually realised what he was doing.

he rolled his eyes playfully at the way you said his name, as if it were the most stupid thing to have ever come out of your mouth.

a small smirk forming on his face before his lips connected with yours in a soft, gentle kiss. your hands slid up his arms, resting on his bicep. and it took everything in you to not let your legs buckle at the feeling of his lips on yours as you reciprocated.

the kiss wasn't long, short n sweet, some may say, but you thought it was just right.

when you pulled away a smile graced your lips as you looked up at him. "goodnight, clarkey." you said as you turned to your door, pushing it open, his hands falling from your waist to his side.

"sleep tight, y/l/n." he returned the smile, his eyes following you as you walked into your flat, the door shutting with a click of the lock.

and as you leant against the closed door, a look of pure joy on your face. you suddenly realised just how obvious the signs had been.

[starrdream]

14 minutes in hell

rich kids AU!Anakin x reader summary: A game of spin the bottle with your ex includes: SMUT, head(f receiving)

The mansion is packed, thick with the smell of spilled champagne, designer perfume, and bad decisions waiting to happen. Half the kids were absolutely wasted, passed out—proving the fact that their parents’ money could buy them anything—except self-control.

You should’ve known better than to come to one of these parties. But Ahsoka dragged you, and now, here you are, sitting on the floor, watching as the bottle in the center of the circle spin.

It slows. Stops. Lands on you. Your stomach drops.

Anakin Skywalker stares at it like it personally betrayed him. He’s sprawled out across from you, all dark curls, tanned skin, and that stupid look on his face.

Someone whistles. "Ohhh, this is gonna be good."

"Skywalker, what’s your girl gonna say?"

And that’s the worst part. He has a girlfriend already.

One of Anakin’s friends grins. "Fourteen minutes for the lovebirds."

Your jaw clenches. "It’s seven."

"Nah," Rex smirks. "You two get double."

The room erupts. Laughter, cheers, claps on Anakin’s back. He barely reacts, still looking at you like he’s caught between thrill and sheer panic.

"I’m not doing this." You exhale sharply.

"Oh, c’mon, sweetheart," someone coos. "What’s a little alone time with your ex-boyfriend?"

And that’s the thing. Ex.

Anakin and you used to be everything—what some might describe as a power couple, untouchable, beautiful, inevitable. Then, the breakup happened. You two barely talk. Barely acknowledge the others existence. But here you are.

Before you can argue, someone yanks open the door, and hands are on your shoulders, pushing you both inside. The door slams shut, trapping you in the surprisingly dim light of the room.

It was small and looked nothing like the rest of the house. There was a single chair in the middle of the room, nothing else besides the seemingly cheap light bulb emitting light.

Since you were the first one to walk inside, you wasted no time in plopping down in the chair—crossing both arm and legs as you look up towards Anakin.

Anakin stands before you, arms crossed, staring. Then, without a word—he kneels. He sinks down onto his heels, hands resting on his thighs, and tilts his head slightly. The picture of ease—except for the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch.

"Maybe I should've kissed you in front of everyone. Probably would've been easier than this."

You roll your eyes. "Does your girlfriend know you hoe around like this?"

"You're jealous." He grins.

"Am I?"

Anakin ignores you entirely. One hand reaches out, palm warm against your calf, rubbing up and down slowly, steadily. The other drifts up, settling on your thigh, thumb stroking over the fabric of your skirt.

He leaned forward even more, resting his chin on your knee. He looked up at you and smirked, his hand creeping even further up your thigh.

"Can I kiss you?"

"You're so pathetic…" You spit. "You broke up with me and now you act like this when you have a girlfriend. Unbelievable…" You shake your head in disbelief.

"You are jealous." He smirks.

You shake your head, glaring down at him, but he only nuzzles against your knee like some desperate thing. Then, a kiss.

Soft. Feather light. Up your thigh. Then another. Then another. Getting closer.

You inhale sharply. "Don’t embarrass yourself, Ani."

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop. His lips brush higher, heat trailing in their wake.

"Are you asking me to ignore the fact that I still want you?"

"Yes." You huff "You broke up with me." Feels like that's your only argument.

His hands tighten on you, grip almost pleading. "And? I was stupid."

"Of course you were. Once an idiot, always an idiot." You scoff.

"I’m still your idiot," he murmurs. "I always have been."

Your throat tightens. "Not anymore."

Anakin groans, burying his face against your thigh. He’s so warm against you, all heat and desperation, like he could crawl into your skin if you let him.

"Don’t you want to kiss me?" He repeats. Anakin lifts his head, pouting at you, looking up through half-lidded, stormy blue eyes, voice achingly desperate. "Not even a little?"

"Don’t look at me like that" You shake your head, leaning back in the chair. The heat in your chest is unbearable.

But Anakin doesn’t care. He never does. He tilts his head, curls falling into his eyes, and somehow looks even more pathetic—like some love-drunk fool clinging to whatever shred of you he can get.

"Please? Don’t tell me you don’t like me even a liiiittle bit anymore?"

"Your father will kill you if he finds out you're acting like this. Stop embarrassing yourself, Anakin."

He shakes his head, pressing his cheek against your thigh like a damn cat. "I don’t care..." He mumbles against your skin, pressing another slow, lingering kiss just above your knee.

"My father loves you…He’d probably be thrilled if we got back together." He murmurs.

"Maybe," you mutter, eyes fixed on the ceiling, trying not to feel how his lips graze you. "But he definitely wouldn't be thrilled with you acting like this."

Anakin tilts his head, eyes burning into yours. "Like what?" He squeezes your thighs, spreading them just slightly, watching the way your breath stutters. His smirk is unbearable. "Like I know what I want?"

Your jaw clenches. "Like you have no self-respect."

Anakin flinches, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in further, wrapping himself around you tighter. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips just there, hovering like a ghost of something you swore you’d never let haunt you again.

"Yeah?" he taunts, tilting his head, lips dragging up your thigh, pressing another kiss—slow, lingering, like he’s savoring it. "And you still let me touch you like this?"

"Don’t flatter yourself." You snap. His fingers slip under the hem of your skirt, just barely teasing the skin beneath. You roll your eyes, feigning boredom, but your breath stutters as he moves even closer, his shoulders settling between your knees.

"It's hard not to when you haven’t stopped me yet." he muses, nudging his nose against the inside of your knee. Your breath catches.

Anakin hums against your skin, pleased. His hands press against your thighs, pushing them further apart as he shifts between them, kneeling like he belongs there.

His hands slip beneath your skirt, gripping, pulling you closer to the edge of the chair, caging you in completely.

"There we go." He purrs, looking up at you as he hooks his fingers under the hem of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease.

Your fingers dig into the skin of your upper arms. Why were you even letting him do this?

"Just like that..." He coos, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder for better access.

"Anakin-" You start but he interrupts you by burying his face between your thighs, causing you to gasp. His tongue immediately got to work tasting every inch of you, licking up and down, side to side. It was sloppy, messy.

His tongue laps over your folds mercilessly causing soft whimpers and mewls to escape you.

"Keep it down, yeah?" He pulls away for a second. "Wouldn't want anybody to hear us." His mouth is back at it, devouring you like a starving man.

You bite down on your lip, one hand reluctantly reaching down to tangle in his hair and pull him further into you.

He sucks and nips on your sensitive skin, pushing his tongue in and out of your aching hole before going back to licking your folds. His nose brushes up against your clit, causing you to arch your back.

He moaned in content, tongue delving into your folds with a new fervor. Ankin happily lapped at your pussy, lips suctioning around you with the filthiest sounds, pulling the most beautiful moans from your lips.

He tightened his grip on you, angling you towards him. Involuntarily, your hips jerk, grinding against his face shamelessly.

In a matter of seconds, you were panting, coming down from your high. Anakin pulled away from you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You're fucking crazy, you have a girlfriend." You murmur, not making an effort to move your legs off of his shoulder.

"You didn't seem to mind when you were riding my face, what, a minute ago?"

[forsaken-headcanons]

HCs for Elliot!! [yapping session nerd warning]

After seeing people hc elliots is a people pleaser, i got the urge and idea to do some people pleaser characteristics research. As a people-pleaser-on-a-fundamental-worrying-level myself, i thought of giving some headcanons about his people pleasing side

[This is probably me just projecting some traits that are considered as people pleasing according to some psychology websites]

Just to note, people pleasing isn't a medical term used by psychologists, more of a label

- People pleasers please people because they want to feel needed by people and will become the "handy reliable man" due to their low self- esteems

- Elliot has his cheerful, happy personality as a way to cover his low self esteems that he has, and also to serve customers with a smile (except 007n7 lol)

- He molded himself into one of the caregiver/parental roles from the survivors despite his young age (prob is in his mid twenties), with most of the other being older than him. This gives him pressure and stress to operate efficiently and take care of the others, while having little-to-no time for himself

- His selfless giving and caring are often taken up to others' advantages (mostly unknowingly)

^ Due to this, Elliot feels extremely burnt-out and hates his role he assigned himself to because it often feels like what he is doing is one-sided

He is an absolute peacemaker, trying to solve/fix people's problems for them and coming up with various excuses for people's bad habits

^Though lately, he has been tired from being the cover-up guy, so he almost stopped doing that

- Possibly due to his service for customers, he would keep his opinions humble and agree what the customer's says

- Elliot would often not speak his mind and just agree with people's opinions or find a middle ground between arguments even if he doesn't wholly agree with what he is saying

[This includes pineapplepizza. He likes it but wouldn't admit it]

^Even if somebody asked his opinion about smth small, he would still hold "do what you want" even if he has the strongest opinion about the question

- Man hates being the caregiver lately, since many don't even take his pizzas, but still contributes to taking care of some sentinels like guest 1337

^ def would contribute to smth he dont wanna do, like distracting the killer [this aint dandys world though]

- Saw hcs of him being the therapist that people can vent to, but wouldn't really talk about his feelings

[Though I can see g1337 being a dad and listening/ caring for Elliot's mental and physical being] <-Yo have any hcs on this mod？

People pleasing is mostly rooted from low self-esteem and wanting a sense of belonging, which could root from various long-term traumas, like neglect from parents of physiological and emotion needs, rather than a once event like an accident

I don't necessarily think Elliot's parents were abusive though, it's more that his parents had arguments about finance and business managing a lot that Elliot's and his sisters needs weren't often met and he had to take care of his sister with a "third parent role". There were definitely maids around but their parents mostly argued when there weren't anyone but their children around.

Probably Elliot was taught to be humble due to the family wealth status to a point when anyone compliments him for his pizza mkaing skills he would just down play it and say its no big deal or nothing big

Thats what I have for now

[And yes some-perhaps most- were projections]

I read that you hc Itrapped NPD AND BPD which is an interesting combo, def would do research on those and make some headcanons for ya mod

🔫🐟 anon

[omg a hc not about 007n7]

Why yes, I do have some headcanons for 1337 being a father figure.

He would father over all the younger survivors - Noob, Two Time and Elliot. He'd call them "kiddos" and spend most of his time in rounds protecting them.

More Elliot particular hcs - Guest would call him "Elli". Elliot gets hurt a lot during rounds and nobody is there to heal him (unless a dispenser somehow survives for longer than 2 miliseconds), but Guest is always willing to patch him up and treat his wounds. He has a lot of experience in doing so from his time in the army. He'd give him some advice that would help Elliot survive too. He's more than willing to listen to Elliot's troubles.

[catboybiologist]

why are you in my 4tran spaces?

Girl what were YOU doing at the Devil's sacrament?

But... yeah, I still lurk and comment on 4tran subreddits, yes its a bad habit. I was fairly active on them with a burner reddit account pre-transition, and they were horrible for me. After a break, I occasionally drop in to try to inject optimism into poisoned doomers. If I can drop a bit of transfeminist talking points using a facade of their language, hey, maybe I'm contributing a drop to deprogramming.

Yes, I know I'm not completely immune. I feel like I have more resistance to the brainworms now than when I was closeted, though.

Is this all an excuse? Kinda. I find myself interacting with those subreddits, because I really don't have anything interesting to comment in other places. Its like... the place I can be contentious with other trans people, as opposed to just idiot transphobes. So its a bit of an outlet for my argumentative side as well.

I guess its the right balance of a place where I can argue, where its not just transphobes, where I feel like my comment arguments actually sway the people in the comments a bit, and where its not just the same repeated topics like a lot of other trans subreddits.

If you ever see me non-satirically falling into those old mentalities, please call me out.

Turning reblogs off here, don't need discourse about this. I totally get if people's opinion of me goes down because of this.

[stilljuststardust]

Hey, am I ruining or delaying anything if i have to think the opposite of my desire? like for example if i were manifesting having always been rich, but in the 3d i'm not rich so i'm looking for jobs and i have to think about that a lot. another example would be someone manifesting that they already have a bunch of degrees, but in the 3d they have to think about what university to go to and plan all of that. or another example is someone manifesting having always had an amazing bond(never arguing) with their family, but in the 3d they had a massive argument so they have to think about what they can do to solve it in that moment.

sorry for all the examples i just wanted to be as clear as possible.

Hello love, you can manifest anything

You can always return to the state of having after reacting, it's just important to avoid rumination on how much you don't have it is all. You're not ruining anything, just return to the state and remain consistent outside of necessary actions.

Do what you need to do in the physical world but don't affirm against what you want. Yes, if it hasn't materialized you will still have to problem solve but in my opinion that shouldn't fully take you out of the new story unless that process involves a lot of negative affirming.

You can totally just return to affirming whenever you're not doing what's necessary.

I think that there is a difference between problem solving and rumination and you can find a solution for yourself in the physical world without "having" to affirm against it.

Like you can go to work without repeating "I'm so poor" in your head.

You can still consciously make choices going forward that would benefit you without saying to yourself "oh my God I'm so poor". I think it's possible to be scrolling university websites and affirming "I'm so glad I've already graduated", because it doesn't have to align with what you're doing. Your subconscious has no idea what's going on, it just believes whatever you say.

Like if you have to do what you have to do to make rent for the month that's totally fine, but telling yourself you're poor and nothing works out for you isn't actually required to do that.

You can do anything in the physical world and still be affirming in your head you can literally just be repeating a sentence. It doesn't have to align with what you're doing you don't have to twist whatever you see into something it's not. It's okay if you're inner world doesn't line up with the outer one.

I think that's maybe what you're struggling with is "how do I think about this thing that I'm doing in a way that's aligned with what I want", when the truth is you don't have to twist it into something else you can just affirm. Your affirmations are allowed to be separate with whatever you're doing in the 3D.

You don't have to force what you see in the 3D into something that makes sense for your desire because the 3D doesn't matter. It's a common mistake, where people will justify something they don't like that they're seeing instead of just letting what they're thinking in their head not align with the events in the physical world.

A lot of these things you can do without going through the mental process of

I'm making a resume -> therefore I'm poor

You can be physically doing something that conflicts with your desire and still thinking as if you have it because the physical world has no power.

For the family example in my experience as someone who's manifested less fighting with my family, it's ok to react in the moment but once it's over try to avoid thinking about "they always do this, this always happens, I hate them" etc. Personally I just repeated that they were nice to me even though I was totally mad at them at the time.

[brucewaynehater101]

The number of times I've seen people argue that Bruce is a decent father and that he is not abusive absolutely blows my absolute mind.

Yes, you can hc whatever version of Bruce you want. You can even blame it all on bad writers or reject canon. You can claim comic!Bruce isn't your Bruce and main a different version of him. Those are all valid.

However, you can NOT say that he has ever been justified for hitting his kids. There is no excuse for him willingly laying his hands on his kids. It doesn't matter if the person is drunk, drowning in grief, lost in emotions, whatever. Hitting kids is not okay.

Continually, the physical abuse is a very obvious sign of Bruce being a shit dad in the comics. On top of that, there is so much emotional abuse and manipulation as well. He's shitty as fuck to his kids and there's no reason this is okay. He may love those kids, but that doesn't excuse his behaviors.

Anyways, reject canon Bruce all you want. There's certain aspects of other characters I reject, and DC stands for Disregard Canon. Feel free to have whatever version of Bruce you desire.

What is NOT okay is excusing or accepting canon Bruce's actions/behaviors as acceptable.

[amplexadversary]

I do think an ideal translation team would need to have at least three people, and only two of them absolutely *must* speak both languages.

You need someone who's better at the original language but speaks the target language (to identify subtleties and cultural references), you need someone who is better at the target language but speaks the original (to make sure the initial translation makes sense), and you need a proofreader who has some expertise in prose in the target language (to make sure the concerns of the first two are being met in the final draft, and determine if there are any cases where a better-fitting word in the target language fits for words with multiple definitions)

and all three of these people need to be in some kind of communication with each other, back and forth until all parties can come to some consensus.

[mayordeas-clone]

saw a take that peeved me in the vocaloid feed on bluesky but i don’t wanna be confrontational there + my thoughts are too powerful for a 300 character per post thread so im making it tumblr’s problem

due to my intense vsynth brainworms this is going to sound incredibly pedantic and annoying which is why i am posting it here okay here we go

the post was sort of a ‘callout’ of a creator who uses synthv for covers of fnf songs or whatever. the general body was like “they write their own lyrics but they make the vocals using ai with a program called synthesizer v” (the implication being, “this person is an ai-using fraud, don’t support them”)

if ur in the community or like have a little bit of an idea of how ai is associated with synthv specifically this is a nonsense uninformed take (the ‘ai’ training is used for autotuning/cross language synthesis/some other shit idk but the point is it’s not the type of ai that like, writes the melody/lyrics for you and is voiced from random samples from unknowing providers but i’ll get back to this later)

ai is mentioned on synthv’s website (also vocaloid’s much to the detriment of news articles that report on hatsune miku) so it’s a common misunderstanding, whatever. it would be nice if people actually looked into the ways ai works in vsynth at least a little bit but in an age where artists are on the defense against the ai boogeyman i guess i sorta understand the knee jerk reaction to assume the ai in vsynth software like synthv is the Bad kind. annoying, but nothing new.

but i think what made this post rotate in my mind to the point of crystallizing into unnecessary rage is an add-on that was like “i just prefer my music to be sung by real people!” followed by “by the way, vocaloid isn’t ai, so no you’re not bad if you like hatsune miku music”

ohhh man this actually did piss me off a little cuz wow way to really shout to the heavens that you have no damn clue what you’re talking about

firstly, i COMPLETELYYYY understand that the premise and general sound of vocal synth music is not for everyone. the computerized words, the unrealism, or even the fact that it’s not an actual person singing, like whatever that’s fine i get it. but like you can’t go around and be like “by the way vocaloid [aka hatsune miku] is chill don’t worryyyy” bc that line of thinking from my understanding doesn’t really make sense? miku isn’t a real person either 😭😭 her latest release even uses ai! (at least i think it does cuz vocaloid 6 has ai support but idk i guess that doesn’t matter) does she just get a free pass cuz she’s an internet darling?

miku is a piece of software where you write the midi for her vocals and input the lyrics so a slurry of samples recorded by saki fujita can be played back in an in-character singing voice. synthv is a piece of software with similar character voice databases where you do the same thing, write a midi and input lyrics so a database’s voice samples put it all together to sing back. the inclusion of ai in this process is to streamline the workflow for the user to automatically work out the pitch transitions between notes to save on time manually tuning, creating a more realistic playback. this ai, perhaps merely the inclusion of these two letters in the proximity of synthv’s marketing, is what makes synthv both Significantly Different and Inferior to miku.

the lack of ai with vocaloid (as far as op knew, cuz need i remind you vocaloid as of its 6th installment uses similar ai to synthv lol) making it Better than synthv sent the implication, TO ME, that op thinks that the ai used in synthv is the type that like, takes samples from other people without their permission to create the voices (then leading to the “i just want my songs sung by REAL people” aka not sung by dubiously gathered samples). i recognize this means of creating ai voices to impersonate other people and make them say things they should not without their knowledge or permission is CERTAINLY bad but like that’s not how any of this works if we’re talking synthv (you could argue this applies to those utau banks that make voicebanks for like sonic the hedgehog and shit but those usually sound like ass and are about as convincing as a sentence mixed youtube poop). maybe that’s not what they meant (i don’t wanna dig up the post cuz i don’t wanna be bothered and it’s probably gonna piss me off to the point of starting something which i don’t want) but based on my understanding of their point this is like. wholly untrue. in fact synthv voicebanks (particularly those from eclipsed sounds whose terms of service are free to read on their website) have special terms specifically designed to protect the voice providers of their databases BECAUSE of the extra realism in their voices (terms such as, “you can’t credit any voice work done with Solaria to Emma Rowley [her voice provider] or anyone else besides the software itself” in the case Solaria is used to say something objectionable and cast it on Rowley, that would be a breach of the terms and might even get your license revoked). shit like that is likely what people who are afraid of ai voices expect to happen but there were contracts signed to protect and inform the voice providers of what their vocal likeness is being used for + compensation paid to them for their work providing vocal samples SPECIFICALLY for this product. and ofc miku is the same. ITS THE SAME. BUT MIKU IS A FUNNY INTERNET MEME SO SHES FINE. GRRRRR!!!!!!

[why-is-it-always-autumn]

Hate it when a piece of media is centered around a specific Ethical Debate and not one of the characters has or even brings up your position

You have a very specific opinion on this argument, you don't side with any of these people, and the writers seem to be completely overlooking the obvious answer

[insomnia-productions]

I spend too much time witnessing leftist infighting on this app because today I got into an internet argument with someone from the Outside World and it was. so different.

Snapped out of it when I realized I was never going to be able to explain to these people why I, despite doing pretty well in life, might care at all about people who are not

[meowww-ffxiv]

on Meowdred and his gender/sexuality because I saw a WoLQotD on Twitter and it's interesting:

Meowdred had the fortune of growing up around a lot of trans/nb people or those who eventually discovered themselves to be trans/nb or otherwise non-conforming to even the loose societal expectations of Dirt Poor Bastards Living in Port City. So he got to ask the question of whether he felt the same early, and got the answer early that he was comfortable with the way his gender identity matched with his physical body.

The whole being aro/ace was more nebulous because there was no point of reference for Mordred to even think about the concept. He just knew that he didn't feel the kind of craving others seemed to have of sex, or even the loneliness that drove some friends to have 3 lovers in the span of 2 weeks. Yeah, he's kissed a guy...and a girl...and a non-binary person. It was nice, and a bit awkward, and Mordred decided to take the fact that he felt no urge to pursue a follow-up at face value.

Nowadays he's like... "I'll try and meet you in the middle of our attraction if it is mutual and if I care about you, whatever it is, but there will be no point in our relationship -- of whatever nature it is -- where I cease to be myself."

It had been both a point of appreciation and consternation with others in his previous, and current, relationships. Mordred would be incredibly upfront about his limits and hard lines, and didn't tolerate attempts at coercion or manipulation to get those hard lines to change.

But those were sweeping, hard lines drawn in the earth. For the little things, a hundred thousand compromises and small negotiations of space and however many moments of inconvenience and discomfort Mordred needed to go through, to make his friends happy? Yeah, he'd do them. The favors, the hours trekking through the rain to get them something they like, the conversations he didn't really enjoy but knew Alphinaud did.

For all that Mordred didn't experience sexual or romantic attraction, he's very clear-minded when it comes to knowing how relationships work for him, and how he can make his side of a connection work for others. Relationships, after all, aren't inherently transactional. Nor are they about feeling comfort in each individual moment. Rather they're a balance of intuition, attention, and care; if the small things inconveniences and disagreements suffered are towards a net-positive, then he would suffer them all, and be glad that there was someone he loved enough to make all this worthwhile.

But this was wisdom Mordred could never put into words. He wasn't very good with words. He could only live it, and sincerely hope that his friends understood the value he placed in those friendships, and the reason why he would keep choosing them.

[96percentdone]

I do honestly believe that all communication ever would be vastly improved if everyone on earth internalized and understood that the the whole thing is a series of back and forth interpretation of words with a collectively understood haze of potential meanings wildly dependent on context, speaker, and audience, even for even the most basic of sentences.

Like I can say "I like cats" but the degree of intensity to which i like them is just something you're inferring based on prior context (also interpreted) and how my tone is read. I could be sincere, or totally sarcastic, or maybe cat is slang for something else—miscommunication happens because everything is up for grabs, and communication is not an objective science.

It's a fast-paced guessing game played by all.

[klysanderelias]

any time theodicy comes across my dash I get worked up and type like a couple thousands words of response before I remember that I'm too much of a communist to care about theodicy anymore