#..do not take that sentence out of context i beg of you

[hershelwidget]

Hahahahahah ANYWAYS here's Skribbl.io interpretations of the Octo-Crab/Red Crab

Ordered from "Silly Guy" to "Cosmic Horror". of course

I have no memory of who made which ones but judging by artstyle alone the first one may have been "K_K" and the second one was "Gerbo" and the third & fourth were "Professor" . aka me

She's beautiful ....... Go girl go

[7ken3]

tw. MINORS DNI, fem/afab! reader, quite the buildup n plot, reader found out she has a thing for choking, bit of voyeurism, breast play, possibly ooc gallagher, oral (fem receiving), scratching, implied impact play, smut grows into fluff but with tiny bit of angst, protected sex, no proofreading cuz all done in one sitting teehee

notes. the things i want gallagher to do to me after that trailblazer quest... like the new update just made me go full on feral thoughts for him

—;;

Gallagher reminds me of that neighbour that has been living beside you for years, that neighbour who he, kinda unfortunate for you, has seen everything, from your past lover storming out of your house, to your coos echoing in your house directed to your pet, to you walking out to pick up your order, and yada yada, you get it.

He has seen it all, heard it all.

And what he has heard from you ranges on a lot of contexts... let's say your laughter, your complaints, your cries, and also your cries — of pleasure.

What shocked you the most after living beside him, acknowledging each other's presence for more than half a decade, was the thought of him popping up in your mind while you were going at it. At first, you thought:

"Hey... this is... wrong! I shouldn't be thinking about my neighbour like that..."

But once he appears, then disappears, and when you thought that'd be final, there's the image again, but with him pressing you up against the wall, a hand carrying your leg while the other hand presses gently around your throat- Woah! Around... my throat?

It was all too good, all too... exciting, yet it's still bad.

Maybe just this once... it wouldn't hurt, right?

And just when Gallagher thought that this be the last time he'll hear your moans and begs through the wall separating your houses, your rooms, he finds himself in the same position again like the other night, his back leaning against the wall with a hand cupping his length as he strokes himself. He doesn't know why and not precisely when did he begin becoming aroused to the thought of you engulfed around his cock. Becoming so... accustomed to whatever this is.

He doesn't know when had he begin to start imagining your body bouncing on his member, or have you whine and cry as he pounds himself into you while having you spread open with your hands gripping the sheets above your head, telling him to don't stop.

He blames you that's for sure, and he blames himself too, mostly, for being attracted to you in the first place. At some point in time he wasn't sure if all this was just lust on your part, since this new stage where he finds your frequent moans and cries arousing was just a bonus point on his perspective.

Heck, it has come to a point where he has to double check in the morning when all strings of control broke loose from your offer one evening.

"You wanna try my dessert? It's my special and just... thought of sharing them with you!" You chimed, hands both clasping on the fence. It only takes for him to lean further in like he always does, for you to hitch a breath, for him to stare into those beautiful, glossy orbs of yours, and for two sentences to be exchanged:

"Why not, y/n? Bring them over later so we can enjoy them while we chat."

"Sure!"

God none of you knew that the moment after he opens the gates for you, closes the door behind him, and after you've placed your dessert on the counter, that it would be this... quiet.

The two of you stared at each other, being a meter apart at the moment feels... daunting enough for the both of you. What if he steps closer? Would he scare you off and ruin the vibe? Or what if you stepped closer and close the distance, just to go along with your fantasies and fulfil your subconscious longing that has grown over time for him.

Then your bodies clashed, as if both minds were on the same wavelength about the same thing, your hands fumbled across your clothes, the two of you not sure where to begin. He was yearning and you were craving for each other's touch.

The room now fills with pants, your hands slid up to his chest and to his stubbled jaw, his hands squeezes your waist before venturing down to grope your ass. You swear that the further your bodies press against each other it might soon become one.

"Gallag-" your hand cradles his neck, "-gher", as your right leg lifts up, your lips molding together with his before he hoists you up to wrap your legs around him. It was all too fast, all too fast that you're both in his bedroom, clothes messily and not even completely torn off each other. He gazes dreamily at you, admiring your body under the warm evening light, how the sunset orange hue washed over your body, eccentuating the curves and dents of your perked mounds.

Was this even reality?

Now that you're beneath him and how he has his clothed member pressed against your clothed sex. A moan slips off your lips as his calloused hands graze past your belly and up to grab your tits. He squeezes and jiggles them, playing and toying your bud until you're a squirming mess beow. Too much, this feeling you've thought of countless times begins to feel too much!

You arched your back in response, and he toys them further, rolling his thumbs on your buds before coming down to kiss you. He never thought he'll hear your moans this clearly in his ears, especially when he goes further down to suckle on your nipple while the other hand ventures further down, tracing patterns on your stomach before going lower and lower, until he decides to flick his tongue at your swollen bud due to how wet you've become. At this point he couldn't care how messily you're gripping his hair, he lowers his head down to the wet spot between your legs.

"How long have you been waiting for this?" He asks, chuckling at the sight.

You waste no time in replying to his question, "So long. So, so long, Gallagher."

"Ya know, y/n... I... nevermind." He whispers towards the end, not wanting to dwell on a possibility that might never happen.

What was he to you anyway? He was merely a neighbour, a friend, nothing more.

Even though the chemistry is strong, what type of chemistry is this? Based on lust? Based on cravings?

It isn't love, right?

"What is it?" Carefully, as if he might pull away, you try to move your hands to cup his face, only for him to press his face firmly onto your sex, your hands now carefully pinned by your sides. You buck your hips when you felt his wet, warm tongue pressing against your entrance. "Please- just- just-"

He retracts and hums before poking at your entrance again. The slight sensation leaves you whining before he releases your hands to hold onto your hip, the other pushing the fabric aside for him to swallow you whole in his mouth. He licks, sucks, nibble the side of your thighs. You taste even better than he had imagined, and he becomes more eager at each beg and cry he gets to pull out of your panting wet lips. He pauses for a moment, perhaps fearing he might go mindless into eating your wet pussy out.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he pauses, hoping that he wouldn't make you uncomfortable, "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable-"

"Gallagher." This time not caring to be gentle, you pull his face up, all he can do is to blink at you, wondering if he has ruined the mood, wondering the reason behind the firm tone of your voice. "I..."

Your pause only leaves him more nervous than he anticipated, he doesn't show it, yet his mind is running around the places right now. You? You what?

Watching as you grow hesitant, his voice now soft, asks out to you. "You...?"

"I want you."

His heart stops. I... want you?

"Y/n, really... Are you sure?"

"Yes, I want you. I need you."

Immediately he buries himself into the taste of your pussy, licking and sucking any liquid off your entrance. Your moans grow from begs and gasps to cries of gibberish, cries of how good he's making you feel.

The two of you went on and on, condom after condom, scratches after scratches. Hours went by, and rounds after rounds were done. By the time the two of you come for the umpteenth time, his bedsheets now become a mess as the both of you lay there, panting, heaving. The stings on your bodies now barely felt as a fog of satisfaction clouds your minds.

"I want you."

The words echo in his mind again, guess he might need to check again with you in the morning if you ever decide to stay over for the night tonight.

Though, he's now sure he doesn't have to when he realizes he has fallen all over again for you in the dark of his room tonight, turning his head at your call to find you gazing up at him, as if the stars were now a part of your irises. Your arms now loosely wrapped around his waist, your laid body snuggled much closer to his seated figure as a soft murmur slips out, now becoming a memento of tonight.

"Stay, Gallagher."

—;;

©  2024 at 7ken3, do not repost or plagiarize.

[r4g1n-c4jun]

"Do I look like her?"

Remy Lebeau x fem!reader

A/N: Here's my first little one shot for the after party of our main event! you don't have to read/attend the main event but if you'd like to.. Here's your invitation to "May the cards be in our favour." Thank you for all the support on the main series! Here's a well deserved Angst/comfort tiny tale <3

────────────────⋆༺𓆩🂱𓆪༻⋆─────────────────

Things played out well for you.

Of course it did.

Sure, you lost everything..But you healed. You accepted a new life. Hell, you even got the guy.

So why is it so..numbing?

Why do you feel like you're walking on thin glass, prepared to shatter under the weight of your heavy heart, when you wake up next to him? He’s not a bad guy. Remy Lebeau is anything but bad.

He’s gentle. Despite your past, your fears, he’s never once doubted you..so why are you doubting him? He knows what it’s like to lose someone. He lost you. Well, a version of you. 

That’s what has your mind all twisted.

Her.

Well, you.

It was haunting, knowing that there once was a you that he loved so much. You wonder if maybe..just maybe. If she was still alive, would you stand in the same place? Would you wake up next to him? Would you share breakfast together? Take care of the cats? 

The worst thing was, you didn’t know.

She meant so much to him.

Could you even compare to her? 

- - - - - - -

You stand in the kitchen, the cats demand their breakfast. They circle you like you’re prey. Tiny predators pawing at your legs. They’re cute..demanding? But cute. Lucifer, the ginger cat, drags his claws down the food cabinet. You give him a look, something along the lines of, “seriously?” and in response..he does it again. Slower. He’s such a little shit. He really lives up to the name. Oliver, the grey cat, circles you. He nuzzles up to your legs. He's trying to use his affection to coax you into opening that damn cabinet. Finally, Figaro, the white cat, simply just sits there. Purring. He’s using his cute little face to try and win you over.

“Boys..five minutes, literally..just five.”

The door of the bedroom creaks open and there he is. Remy, He got out of the shower earlier, he’s dry and dressed now. Apart from his hair, which you can tell is a little damp still.

His scarlet gaze finds yours and he gives you a grin before turning his attention the his cats, who stare up at him expectantly.

“Boys..what’re you crowdin’ your momma for, aye? Where’s dem manners? You aint supposed to crowd a lady.”

He scolds them so gently, it's actually kinda funny. The best part? They listen.

Oh.

I should probably give context to your current situation.

After the near end of the universe, the destruction of your world and the pain and weight of it all..Wade wilson begged the TVA to let you stay right here. They obliged due to your..heroic acts and now you live across from Wade and Logan, who also agreed to stay. Wade retrieved Remy (and Laura) from the void, blah blah blah..you kissed, he moved in, you’re together and now you own three cats.

All caught up? Good.

Remy heads over to the cabinet, pulling out the cat food tin. The cats crowd him instead. A chorus of pleased meows follow him as he dishes up the food. Normally, you’d find a strange sense of joy watching him tend to his cats but today..you had this nagging feeling. It tugged at your heart, sending dull throbs of longing into your soul.

You were snapped from your trance by familiar hands placing themselves on your waist. The Cajun male presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. It tingles. You knew he was being sincere yet it all felt so..hollow.

“You've been frownin’ since ya got outta bed, chère. C’mon, Tell Gambit what’s got you all tied..”

You meet his gaze. You always do. He finds your eyes all the time and the weight of his sentence. The affection, the care that’s laced into his words..

It cracks the wall you tried to build, the bricks crumble and you stand there..

Vulnerable.

Before you know it, tears begin to well up and it takes Remy no longer than a second to scoop you up. His strong arms encase your frame so gently, his hand runs up and down your back.

“Ma belle..what’s goin’ on? What’s all dem tears for, huh?”

He coo’s so sweetly, leading you to the couch. He takes a seat, pulling you into his lap so you straddle him. One hand lays on your thigh, his skilled fingers tracing soft circles against the skin whereas his other hand works on wiping your tears and pushing the hair out of your face. He runs a hand over your hair before cupping your cheek. All his movements are with practised ease. He knows your body like he knows his cards.

He deserves an explanation. 

He’s been nothing but a picture perfect boyfriend and you’ve been cold to him. You have no idea how he put up with it.

You gather yourself, alongside your thoughts, and you allow some much needed air into your lungs, soothing your nerves.

“It’s– it’s ridiculous really– I think..I'm jealous? Envious? I don’t know but– it's her! Me! Whoever it is! You..you loved her so much! How..how can i even come close to what she had– who she was to you–”

He was confused for a moment before it clicked. You felt..inferior to his past version of yourself. He felt sick. A rush of nausea overwhelmed him. He never meant for this to happen. Not like this.

He watched the tears slowly slide down your cheeks, his thumb stilled. For a second, you thought he might shove you off his lap, maybe even leave out the door but instead his palms rushed forward to cradle your face. 

“Oh..chère..mon amour–”

He brings you closer, taking your hand and placing it over his heart so you could feel the steady thump.

“She..she was a piece of me– a piece of my past but oh..chère..”

You could hear it in his voice, he’s getting choked up.

“She ain’t you..and you ain’t her. Even Gambit knows dat. Ya got de same face but not de same heart. Not de same soul..”

He brings his hands down to find yours. His own eyes betray him, they grow watery as he presses kiss after kiss to your knuckles.

“Gambit don’t want you feelin’ like a replacement cuz you ain’t. You’re his future. Dat’s what you are. Ain’t no second choice.”

He presses his forehead to your knuckles, it’s like he’s silently begging for forgiveness. He inhales with a shudder.

You can’t find that feeling anymore. The feeling of nagging, the pain, the anxiety.

It’s all gone. Thanks to him.

Now it’s your turn, you tilt his head up with shaky hands and bring him towards you. His nose gently bumps against yours. He holds your wrists like he’s scared that if he lets go..you’ll vanish.

He knows what’s coming yet his heart still flutters when you press your lips to his. It’s slow at first but then a string of desperation ties itself into the mix. His usual skilled hands scramble to grasp your hips while you tangle your fingers in his hair. It’s soft, still a tiny bit damp from his shower but it’s soft. He pulls back only to kiss your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck. He continues to travel till he reaches your collarbone. The whole way down he praises you, he worships you like you're an angel on earth..and to be honest? When you hold him like this he thinks you just might as well be.

He finally pulls away, taking in your flushed cheeks and the dots of red that linger on your skin from his heavy kisses. He gives you a grin. You get to see his jagged canine peek out from his lips. He doesn’t need to say anything because you already know.

He doesn't need to say anything. 

But he does.

“I love you..Gambit loves you so much..”

The cats all clamber onto the couch, trying to figure out what all the commotion is for. 

You return his words, watching him reach down to scratch lucifer behind the ear.

“I love you too..”

It’s four words that bring a man, and his cats, so much joy.

Perhaps you didn’t have the greatest start but that doesn’t mean you’ll be stuck in the unknown for good. Not when he’s here.

- - - - - - -

When you get into bed that night, your heart feels full. You crawl into waiting arms. Large hands run up and down your back. You can hear the soft purrs of your beloved felines and that's how you know things are going to be fine. 

Remy presses a kiss to your forehead, humming softly as he checks on you, watching you fight the well deserved sleep that creeps over you.

He chuckles softly, his chest rumbles at his laughter and it pulls a sleepy smile onto your lips. With a final kiss against your hair, you hear him.

“You got me, forever..and dere ain’t nothin’ you can do about it..”

He’s teasing. You know he is because why would you wanna do anything about it? He’s perfect.

And he’s yours.

────────────────⋆༺𓆩🂱𓆪༻⋆─────────────────

Taglist:

@techs-stitches

@kaidan-z

@tetra-stark

@aisling1985

@trinswhimsys

[thevelvetvampyre]

Bunny to a wolf - Jonathan Crane x patient reader

“So go on bunny. Run for me.”

Warnings: Predator x prey dynamic, noncon, restraints and cuffs, victim blaming, sexual assault mentioned, he’s derogatory, creampie, dacryphilia, general smut and dark adult content

Note: this is basically an intense game of hide and seek (predator x prey kink on 🔝)

──── ──── ────

It had been a few months since the attack, the smell of musk still making your stomach turn and your face cringe.

The memory of how heavy he felt on top of you, the way he heaved against your limp body and his rough grip on your sides that bruised a deep purple the next morning. The only thing that made it more horrific was the fact that he was still out there, probably boasting about the young girl he cuffed and fucked on the side of the road after one too many beers, how tight she was and how she took him so well.

“Are you scared that it may happen again?”

Dr. Crane gazed at you expressionlessly as he held his notebook on his crossed thigh. Exasperated and bored from asking you the same questions after each therapy session, his time with you proving to be non-beneficial as each appointment came around.

“Very.”

Your voice shook as your eyes remained on your lap, unable to look your psychiatrist in the eyes as you felt him grow more irritated with you daily.

“Well- unfortunately there’s not much else I can do.”

He huffed, uncrossing his legs and widening his knees as he clenched his jaw. Pushing up the frames on his nose bridge and glaring at you disgustedly, he linked his fingers on his stomach and furrowed his brows as he analysed you.

The fear that radiated off your skin was hypnotic, capturing his affection with how weak and pathetic you looked. He could smell how scared you were. Of him or the context as to why you sat opposite him, he didn’t care. He felt honoured, blessed even, he got to hear your sweet voice string out sentences of his version of an erotic violence.

Your descriptions of the attack were pornographic to him, the way you sobbed as you went into extensive detail of the pain you felt was so arousing you’d think he was watching you get off. With each tear that rolled down your cheek, a bead of cloudy white leaked out his pulsating tip.

A seething jealousy prickled under his skin as he imagined a filthy, Gotham peasant thrusting himself into you, angry he couldn’t of been present that night to stop him. He often wondered how adorable your wrists looked cuffed together, bruising and bleeding as you tried to escape.

He dreamt of replacing the man’s drunken cock with his experienced shaft, squinting down at you begging him to stop as he felt himself spill his cum into the back of you.

Watching you now, seeing how you were still so hopeless after months of therapy, he felt he’d broken you down enough to take matters into his own hands.

“There is one more thing we could try…”

His words were slow and deliberate, the tone he emitted made it sound like he would present you with a gift, a glimpse of hope in your psychologically devastating situation.

You pull your eyes up to meet his, a small haze had covered your vision and you rapidly bat your eyelids to focus on his face clearly.

“You may be… scared.”

He tilted his head as he pondered what emotive affect his suggestion may cause, confused on how your sensitive emotions may arise during the ‘treatment’.

“But it will work. It has to work.”

His lips pulled into a grin, the corners turning upwards as his eyes flattened into a squint.

Nodding your head agreeably, you’d do anything to rid the trauma from your mind. Desperation was in your blood at this point, your heart thumping in defeat as you’ve accepted you may feel like this forever.

“Anything Dr.Crane… I’ll do anything.”

Cocking a brow up, he clenched his jaw as he stood up and took slow strides to his desk, pulling open the top drawer on the right side of the mahogany wood and looking up at you in amusement.

Reaching down, you heard a clanking metal scrape along the material and his fingers revealed a dangling, swaying set of silver handcuffs.

Your eyes widened and you gulped, the fear of seeing the restraints sending goosebumps onto the back of your neck and flushing your cheeks with a violent red.

He walked around the desk to sit on the tabletop on the opposite side, your body physically reacting as you pushed yourself further into the couch to create as much distance from him as possible.

Watching as he sat on the desk, the grin on his face made you queasy and on edge.

“Come here.”

His voice was low and husky, his eyes following you as you hesitantly stood up and carefully walked over. The knot in your stomach was bubbling with anxiety, twisting in your gut and making you want to gag.

Standing in front of him, he took a deep breath as his eyes fell over your face, basking in how scared you looked and ignoring his primal queue to pounce on you then and there.

“This treatment is called systematic desensitisation. Where aspects of the patients PTSD or trauma is gradually exposed to them in a safe environment- the end goal being…”

He swiftly grabs your wrist mid sentence, causing a gasp to escape your lips.

“The confrontation of the fear allowing the patient to overcome that aspect of their trauma.

He gave you a full smile as he tugged lightly on the free side of the cuff, looking down and humming in approval at the way your wrist fit perfectly under the metal.

“Dr.Crane I-“

A wave of uncertainty and panic rush over you, subconsciously trying to retreat your wrist as it proved to no avail, his fingers holding firmly on the other clasp to keep your wrist propped up.

“Be a brave girl… I’ll admit you if this doesn’t work.”

Your eyes went wide as they began to swell in tears, his threat of Arkham throwing you off guard as he’d never mentioned it before this moment.

“You’ll be a danger to yourself.”

His head tilted as his voice purred a tone of sarcastic, speaking to you like you were a stupid dog who didn’t know how to sit for a treat.

His face became blurred as a tear brimmed on your waterline, the icy blue that stared daggers into you feeling threatening enough over his cold words.

Swiftly pulling your wrist a couple feet to his left, he ducked down and cuffed the other side of the cuffs onto the leg of his desk. You followed behind stumbling with the force of his action dragging you downwards to attach you to the pole of wood.

Sitting down and bringing your knees to your chest, you curled vulnerably as your mind raced with your attempts to calm yourself, trusting Dr.Crane through your palpitating anxiety.

As he glared down at you, his eyes turned dark and an overwhelming sense of panic flooded over you. He looked at you like a piece of meat, wanting the floor to suck you in whole to avoid his hungry gaze.

“Have you ever considered that maybe, you were asking for it?”

Dr.Cranes words shocked you, furrowing your brows and opening your drying mouth to respond to him.

“W-what?”

Pulling your knees closer, your heart pounded in your chest as he pulled a chair in front of you and sat down, spreading his knees as you sat perfectly between them.

“Tell me again, what were you wearing?”

His words were venomous yet clinical and he spat them out onto you, your limbs began to tremble as he suddenly looked a lot bigger with you sitting down.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with-“

You were offended, confused as to why he was suddenly going against the comforting advice he’s been giving you since the first session.

“Oh but it does darling, this is Gotham- remember?”

His face pulled into a look of disgust as his eyes trailed along your frail body, shuddering as his gaze was eating you alive.

“S-skirt- I was wearing a skirt.”

You shamefully looked down and tears started to swell in your eyes, the pain in your chest evident as you started to breath heavy in an attempt to calm yourself.

Groaning and clenching his jaw as he rolled his eyes back and pictured you laying exposed on the side walk in a tiny skirt, he felt his cock thicken under his pants and he licked his bottom lip as he salivated.

“So you were asking for it.”

His eyes remained closed and yours snapped onto him, your jaw falling in shock as your tears violently fell down your cheeks.

“No! I wasn’t!”

He chuckled at the fight in your voice.

“Oh I think you were”

His eyes opened and his head nodded to his words.

“Only whores wear skirts in Gotham.”

You began sobbing and trying to pull your wrist out of the clasp of the metal, panic fuelling you into fight or flight and in this case, running was the only answer.

He chuckled as he watched you intently, enjoying the view of you struggling.

“Calm down…”

His voice was oddly comforting but to no avail, your wrist pulling harder on the desk and it proved to be much heavier than you as you winced.

“I said- calm down.”

He lent his chest forward and grabbed your scalp, pulling your face up with your hair as he remained inches away from your lips.

His eyes fell across your features as you winced in pain to his grasp, admiring how pretty you looked with flushed cheeks and black smudge running along your eyelids.

“Are you going to be a pathetic little victim forever? Or are you going to let Dr.Crane fix for you?”

He growled his words, showing his teeth as he spoke.

All you could do was whimper, causing him to pull back at your hair once more and snap your neck further back.

“Hm?”

You gulped down as you looked at him, his hum now a softer whisper.

“Dr.Crane to fix it for me.”

You mumbled, he let go of your hair and sat back on the chair, you swayed as you lost his grip and he cleared his throat.

You could only look up at him with furrowed brows, your eyes swollen and your scalp stinging. You felt pathetic, chained to your psychiatrists desk as he made you feel responsible for your attack.

Sighing, his eyes fell along your body and you shuffled back, anything to get out of his sight.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

He threw his hands up, stating his sentence as something that was obvious.

“And I’m going to fill your cunt until I’m finished.”

Your eyes widened and your brows knitted, a string of begs fall from your lips as your wrist started pulling violently on the cuffs.

“No! Dr.Crane-please!”

You began to sob, panic possessing you as you watched him chuckle.

He basked in your pleas, rolling his head back with his eyes as he furrowed his brows.

“I’ll do anything! Please let me go.”

You choked on your words, your wrist bone bleeding purple as a bruise began to form.

“That’s it… cry for me.”

The shock of his words left you sobbing louder, your chest heaving and a panic flushing your skin warm. You tried lifting the desk, sneaking your wrist out and opening the clasp manually, you were stuck under his control for as long as he had you chained.

His cock began throbbing as you cried, his months of patience paying off as he felt his veiny dick fill with blood.

He continued to chuckle, amused by your failed attempts of escaping.

“Please- Dr.Crane let me go!”

You extended your last word, sobbing through your mouth and whining like a spoiled child.

“Go?”

His eyebrows cocked up.

“Go where?”

You continued pulling on your wrist, the pain growing unbearable.

“Home- please… I want to go home.”

“Oh no bunny… not yet.”

He began tapping his foot, growing irritated at the sound of the metal pulling aggressively on the wooden leg.

He chuckled louder as you began to scream for help, screaming louder than your lungs could hold as a hot burn filled your organs in urgency.

“There’s no use darling. I’m the only one in my office.”

Your cheeks stung with his nicknames, a heat rushing across your skin as you felt you were knocking on deaths door.

“Oh c’mon…”

His eyes rolled.

“Nobody’s coming to save you. Fuck, no one can even hear you.”

His tone was flat, his words stabbing you deeply as you knew it was true.

His office was huge, basically the small section of the ward in Arkham was completely his. Three rooms, one of which you were currently in, and the reception. Nobody was ever there and you were alone in this apartment sized office, crying and begging your psychiatrist to not fuck you.

“Please… please let me go!”

Your whines grew annoying to him, rolling his eyes and groaning at the sound of your screaming voice.

“You just won’t have it, will you?”

“No-no, no… let me go!”

You shook your head in denial, your words rapid and rushed as your wrist started to bleed.

Sighing in defeat, he leans forward as a smirk grows on his face.

“Let’s play a little game, hm?”

He roughly grasped at your wrist, groaning at the sight of your exposed flesh that your desperately pathetic attempts to escape caused.

Looking up at him through your heavy, tear stained eyes, you frowned and felt your heart thump in fear.

“Are you good at hide and seek?”

His face was dangerously close to yours now, the bright white of his office turning your stomach as this monster was supposed to be your psychiatrist, your saviour.

He reached into his pocket to pull out the key to your cuffs, your eyes going wide and your chest fluttering in relief.

“We’ll play a round. You hide… and I seek.”

His voice was low and merely above a whisper, the undertone of excitement made you breath shakily in fear, unable to respond to his words.

“Please let me go.”

You whispered, his face still inches away from yours.

“I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, watching as his fingers clasped at the metal and his other hand turned the key to loosen its hold on you.

“So go on bunny. Run for me.”

As soon as you felt the cool air on your bruised wrist, you shot up and began sprinting towards the door.

You stumbled as your legs tried to move faster than you were capable of, sobbing and screaming as your knees moved fast.

You pushed past his office doors and he watched as you shoved yourself through the frame, clenching his jaw, flaring his nostrils and cocking up his brows as he remained bored at your panic.

Running as fast as you could through your exhausted pants, you ran through his reception and attempted to push the door.

He locked it.

Screaming a screeching sound of ‘no’ as your palms slammed against the door, you pulled at the door handle desperately as you sobbed in failure.

Staying seated in his chair, he flipped his wrist and pulled back his suit, watching as his watch ticked to thirty seconds since letting you free.

Standing up slowly before adjusting his tie, he took slow strides out of his office and chuckled as he saw you on the other end of the reception banging as hard as you could, your ongoing screams swelling his thick cock harder and tenting his pants.

“You just don’t listen, do you!”

His voice was loud and echoed through the clinical walls, swinging your head back to look at him as the panic stole the air away and switched it with fear in your lungs.

You heard the clanking of his shoes come closer behind you, bailing on your attempt at his reception door and deciding that maybe you could outrun him.

You were exhausted from the sobbing as your knees became weak and barely let you run, your breathing was erratic and you heaved in desperation.

Although you felt as if you were bolting around his office, his long strides seemingly caught up with your pathetic jog.

Feeling the heat of his arms, he grabbed you firmly and pinned you against the wall. He was bigger, stronger and faster than you and held you up on your tip toes as you struggled beneath him.

You felt his throbbing erection press into your stomach, sobbing out choked cries as his cock felt huge, bulging into your stomach and spreading a heat across your core.

“Is that the best you could do?”

You continued to squirm, avoiding his face as he was merely an inch away from yours.

“No wonder you were so easy. You’re not very good at this, are you bunny?”

He chuckled and pressed you tighter against the wall, grunting as he tried to keep you still.

You were on your tip toes as he held you on his eye level, wincing out in pain as the concrete was violently pushed against you.

Dropping you slightly but keeping you firm in his grasp, he wrapped his arms around you and guided you into the room besides his office. The room with the examination table, limb restraints on the bed and a rack of medical tools that ranged from blunt to flesh teasingly sharp.

Manoeuvring you onto the examination bed, he swiftly chained your wrists to your sides and made his way to your feet. You kicked at them in an attempt to hurt him, his grasp too strong and overpowering as he held you down and chained you up to the heightened stirrups.

“Don’t be so… difficult.”

He grunted as the final clasp tightly restrained your left ankle, your legs open and wide for his viewing.

Huffing out and placing his hands on his hips, he tilted his head as he admired how weak you looked chained up and legs spread, a smirk growing as he turned around and walked to the cupboard behind him.

Your chest heaved heavily and your hands trembled, fear possessing your body as tears violently sobbed down your face. Watching as he turned around with a pair of scissors in hand, your stomach turned and almost brought up breakfast in panic.

Watching as he held one hand to pull up your pyjama pants and used the other to slice the fabric down the center, you cursed yourself for not wearing underwear as the cold, clinical room hit your exposed cunt.

“Such an easy slut… have you learned nothing?”

His face was in disbelief, licking his bottom lip as he placed the scissors down next to him and ducked down to meet your pussy at eye level. He brought both his hands up to pull you apart and growled at the sight of your pink flesh.

“You’re very wet for someone who’s so unwilling.”

Your face flushed red as you cringed, turning your neck to the side to avoid looking at him analysing your dripping cunt.

He stood back up and his eyes turned dark, purring groans as his expression was now possessed with lust and hunger.

As your tears continued to roll down your face, your chest palpitated as you watched him glaring down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked like he was about to dig right in to your raw flesh and eat you alive.

After basking in how pathetic and easy you looked, his hands fell to his pants and he unzipped his middle, leaving his belt on as he shimmered his cock out from under his underwear.

“No- please Dr.Crane no!”

Your head rolled and your tears were flowing, the size of him frighting as it sprung out into the cold air onto his palm.

“You’re scaring me- please.”

Your voice remained as whisper as you lacked air in your lungs, feeling his hand grasp round your hip as he moved closer to your exposed cunt.

“That’s the point darling.”

He growled lowly, pressing his tip against your entrance before slowly dragging it up and down your wet slit.

His cock was already warm, a residue of liquid smearing along your opening as he picked up your arousal onto him. Whimpering under his touch, your body attempted to shift but proved useless, his grip too firm on your hips and your wrists heavily bound onto the table.

Pressing his tip against your hole, he sunk his head quickly and you sobbed at the feeling of his cock breaching your tight walls.

“Oh- bunny.”

He panted breathlessly, watching as his inches pressed into your unwilling cunt.

He groaned around your walls, after feeling how tight you were on his tip he impatiently pushed himself down to his base. His balls pressed against the bottom of your asscheeks and you couldn’t help but cry out a sobbed moan at the feeling of him inside you.

“That’s it…”

He pulled his hips out slowly before harshly fucking himself fully once more. Wincing in pain, his mouth fell open and his brows furrowed.

“Take your psychiatrists cock like the whore you are.”

He groaned and you squirmed in pain, his thick, veiny cock being much larger than your attackers.

Repeatedly dragging himself out before roughly fucking his hips into the back of your cervix, your cries became muffled as you laid there limp in acceptance to your situation. Occasionally shedding a tear as you whimper against his thrusts, he strung out praise on how tight you were around him.

“Taking my cock so well.”

He grunted, fastening up his pace as his balls slapped against your ass and filled the room with a squelching noise, his growls filling your ears as his pace remained robotic. Your stomach turned as he spoke, repeating the same words your attacker did, your pussy clenched around him in response and he grunted against the feel of you tightening around him.

Your crying was poetic, softly sobbing as you felt him ruin you. With each sob, his dick hardened and flexed.

“Cry for me bunny… cry- oh yes, just like that.”

Throwing his head back and rolling his eyes, you peered a look at your psychiatrist who was seemingly coming undone around your cunt.

You watched as his face blushed a soft pink and his lips were swelled, his mouth falling open as his eyebrows twitched in rhythm to how his cock flexed. His fingers remained deep in your hips, stinging at the sharpness of his nails in your soft skin.

You bounced off his hips as your skin slapped together, watching how his hair fell around his face as he scrunched it in pleasure.

“M’gonna- fuck- fill this cunt. Have’s you dripping my cum- mhm- all week.”

His words were breathless and whiny, his knees bucking as his thrusts became sloppier.

His cock stuffed you, ploughing into you hard enough to shift you along the examination table.

“Yes… yes- oh fuck bunny your cunt feel so good.”

His voice was trembling at a higher pitch, swinging his neck down to watch himself break you in half.

He whimpered as a circle of white covered his base and his cock glistened in the medical, white lighting in the room.

“M’gonna- fuck!”

His cock flexed and twitched violently inside of you as he met your eyes, watching as you bawl in pain undid the hot knot in his groin as he spilled his cum into the back of you.

It felt like a dam that had cracked, a monstrous amount of liquid seeping out of him as it sprayed along your walls.

Whining and panting as his thrusts fucked you pathetically slow as he came, his face was a deep red and his hair fell over his eyes.

His mouth was open and his brows knitted together into one, the strength of his orgasm overpowering him as he wobbled on his knees.

The liquid heat had filled your pussy, you felt the stickiness rub against you as he continued to drag out his cock and delicately touch the back of your cervix.

After slowing down his thrusts and panting through his whines, he pulled his cock out and it fell out softly in between his thighs.

His eyes remained knitted and tearful as they looked at you limp on the examination table, your shirt wet from tears and your nose runny from the force he fucked you at.

Collecting himself, he pushed his cock back into his suit and slowly removed the shackles around your ankles. Moving slowly and deliberate on your skin in a soft, gentle manner.

Unable to move as you continued to lie in front of him, even once he had freed all your restraints, you were defeated and stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes as you were now weak and used.

Sighing as he looked down at you, he lowered his gaze and pressed his glasses up on his nose bridge.

Meeting his eyes he was shockingly giving you a sympathetic look, genuine or not you’d never seen him look so kind.

“You can go now, bunny.”

He whispered, bringing the back of his palm up to caress your tear stained cheek.

Huffing out at your lack of movement, he stood back up and left the room.

Your body began convulsing as he walked away, his absence from your side, or in you, feeling colder than you expected.

He turned around at the frame of the door to glance back at you.

“The session next week will be at the same time. Wear something… accessible.”

Your eyes rolled on the bed and you huffed out, a string of his cum tickling your slit as it rolled out of you.

[wonder-mei]

The days to come are ours ( Honkai : Star Rail’s Sunday)

@Taogg_collect on X

Thanks for the voting this as the top 1 in the poll! I'm so happy with this one-shot, probably my most favorite!

Reminder : I do not write accurately to the lore of the world I am writing. I write whenever there’s an idea

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

‘The universe is a void,

Every souls has been plotted,

It is the soul need to discover, 

And my soul seek for answer,

I am seeking for…” 

The grayish-blue haired man lays down his pen with a sigh. Sunday did not finish this poem for hours, he was fine upon hours; excited to be finally alone after long weeks but he received a letter from a pigeon through his office. He was half way finishing the poem but the letter. The letter stops it all. The time, the emotions, his heart.

His yellow eyes drift to the torn white envelope. The card decorated with flowers behind and front made his eye hurt from the absurd decoration. The front card is laid on the desk hidden from his view but his mind wants to read back to re-read if what was written true at the first time reading them. His fingers tremble, reaching the card, he closes his eyes tightly lifting and flipping the card. 

Upon opening his eyes. The context is the same as before. Her name is matched with another man. The word ‘You are invited to our another chapter of love. We are excited to invite you to our lovely wedding’. 

‘Wedding’, Our and her name shouldn’t be in the same sentence. Not without his name in them. This shouldn’t happen at all. Call him selfish but this really should not happen. But it is happening and will happen if he likes it or not. Sunday slumps into his chair letting the card fall to the ground. He doesn’t know what to think. Should he be happy that she is getting married? He should, right? That is what a sane person should do when someone is going to be married. But he is not a sane person if he doesn’t do that.

Sunday rubs his face out of frustration. Then his eyes fall onto the frames on his desk that have been there forever. Pictures of her together with him and Robin when little. Then three of them went to school. And lastly the picture only shows the two of them together; dressed in a gown and suit for playing Romeo and Juliette at a school play. 

“Do I look pretty?”

“Of course you are! Always pretty!” 

“When we get married. I want to wear this dress. You promised to marry me right?”

“You know I won't break a promise. I will marry you when we are older!”

“I will be waiting for you,Sunday!”

People said kids do not know what the world is. All they know is when they are older everything they dreamed of will come true. It’s like they all will magically happen without any effort. Now that they are all adults. The dream is still there but the only thing stopping it from coming true is the effort. 

Everything was fine. They start to understand love between two people. They cherish each other’s love and effort but something happened that made them dull. It wasn’t her fault at all. He knows she tried to make it work but his family situation made him cut everything off with her.

“Sunday, we can make this work. I know your family makes you frustrated but– we still love each other right?.... You do love me,.....right?”

Her red eyes from crying begs Sunday to say anything. To say ‘Yes, I still love you’ came out from his mouth. But nothing happened. Only the wind fills the silent void between them “Say something please…” 

“....There is nothing more to say. I have important things to do. My family wants me to take over the business. I don’t want any distraction…. We have to stop seeing each other”

With no empathy nor giving her a chance to say anything. He left

They never speak to each other after that. His sister is still friends with her, which is why the letter came to his house. It is for Robin. He wasn’t supposed to receive it but that dumb pigeon has bad navigation. 

“Here” Sunday lift up the envelope to Robin in the living room watching the TV 

“Thanks”, when she holds it she knows he already opened it from the envelope is not tightly glued “Oh my” Robin gasps reading the card “Brother–”

Sunday lifts his hand, stopping her to say anything further “Don’t say anything. You can go if you want”. He turns to leave but Robin grabs his wrist.

“Brother, you can stop this!”,Sunday doesn’t even turn around to face his sister. Then she continued “I know you still love her. And she still loves you,brother. She’s waiting for you even until now… You can stop this. She doesn’t even love the groom. This marriage was arranged”

“She is a grown woman. She can just refuse” With that cold response. Sunday pulls his hand away from Robin’s grip and leaves.

Robin knows Sunday and her is still madly in love. A love where that will last forever. A love where they are meant to be but with the stubbornness of her brother, it creates a barrier between the two lovers. Robin sighs. Her sad eyes read the card. She dislikes that her name is matched with another man. She has to do something. To make her own brother to take courage to sweep her friend’s away from this marriage. She can’t convince him too because her words will be meaningless in his eyes. She needs to have a plan. She has a few weeks to make this happen. To reunite them both once again and tie them together forever. 

✦·┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

“Please,brother! I need to give her that present! Pleeease come and drop it here!”Robin begs again on Sunday on her phone. She has left the wedding present in the living room “I was so rushed because the taxi arrived! Please come!”

Sunday sighs in annoyance “I’ll be there”, he ends the call slumping in his chair “You gotta be kidding me,Robin”. He then opens his closet to look for a dress that is appropriate to church. His fingers stop on a new tailored white attire that Robin gave him as a gift the other day. He thought for a minute hesitate to wear it but eventually he made up his mind that he should wear it. 

The weather was nice today; not too hot or cold. Sunday has stood at the church gates for 5 minutes. Robin is probably inside due to her not being in sight outside. He enters the building, the church is well designed. He looks around admiring every carving and painting. The ceremony hasn’t not started because of the lack of people and few staff still decorating. But Robin is still not found, she also hasn’t replied to his text asking her whereabouts. 

He doesn’t know anyone here. Everyone seems busy with chatting and decorating, it is up to himself to find his sister. He went to the back opening each door to find Robin, nowhere to be found. But there is one room left at the end of the hallway. Maybe she is in there. 

Sunday grip tightly on the knob. Why is he feeling nervous suddenly? He twisted the knob, opening the door widely “Oh…” his yellow eyes widened seeing her standing alone in front of a big mirror in the middle of the room. After years of avoiding her. She looks so beautiful in white. She always does… “My apologies. I’m looking for Robin… Is she here?”

Her eyes never left him. She stands up straight making her veil fly gracefully that makes Sunday’s heart beat more intensely “Robin??? She hasn’t arrived yet”

“When i get you,Robin–” 

“Ah” Sunday holds the gift tightly “She said to give you this” he lifted up the pink wrapped gift “She left it at home… Where do I place this?” 

“There” she points at a long table full of gifts and flowers that is placed near her. Sunday hesitated at first for being near her but he has to do it to end this quickly. With shaky legs he approaches the table and drops the gift. So near, so close to her. The sunlight that enters the room shines perfectly on her glittering her white dress

“You look…beautiful”, Sunday gasps himself not realizing he thought out loud “Sorry” 

“It is fine” 

“Congratulations. I am praying for your—” he stops mid sentence. The word ‘for happiness with him’ stuck in his throat “Congratulations on your marriage”

“Thank you” She has been staring on the floor emotionlessly “I’m glad you came” her eyes lays on him. Those eyes. He knows she is in sorrow. “It is nice to see you after a long time. You being this healthy already makes me so happy,Sunday”

His heartache upon hearing she calls him by his stage name. She used to call him by his real name. This tells him he has broken his trust. Lost her love. “I—” he says her name “Are you…happy with him?” 

The question shocked her. Is she? 

She turns around hiding her face “Of— of course I am. I’m finally getting married… I do am happy” 

Sunday frowns, she wiped her tears hiding her sadness “Are you sure?--”

She face him again “I—” 

The door swings open and interrupts them. Her confession “The groom is ready,miss!” the dresser and her assistant approaches her tidying the bride “Oh you are crying! No need to worry. I cried out of joy at my wedding too!” 

Sunday stares at her. It is time for him to leave. Letting her get what she always wanted. Each step leaves the room. Leaving her again but this time forever feels like he is walking in a mud screaming for him to stop and think. He glances at her. Their eyes finally meet, now her eyes speak words that he understands. With a deep breath, he walks out the church in a rush. 

With the bells ringing, the wedding has started “I’m so excited! Come, it is time” 

“Can you give me some space for a minute?”

The dresser and her assistant look at her then smiles “Sure, you are nervous. We’ll be outside” 

With a nod from both of them, they gave the bride some space to calm down. After a few minutes, they both open the door again.

Every wedding guest has arrived and sat excitedly in their chairs as the wedding has started. The groom has already arrived near the altar waiting for his bride. The heavy running echoes the hall to spread the news;-

“The bride! The bride is missing!” The news made everyone gasp. The groom took the news heavily. His heart stops suddenly and he doesn't know how to breathe. Her family ran to the room where she was getting ready and to be greeted with nothingness other than the window was wide open.

Wheres and whys question fills in the building trying to grasp the reason the bride has run away. But only one person isn’t shocked at this news. Robin sits calmly in the long chair smiling. She knows the why and where the bride- her friend is. 

The moment she was left alone. She stands in front of the window, as her heart told her so. There he was. The man who has had her heart since they were children. The man who made a promise for their happiness together finally kept his promise and now he wants to make it come true after years of denial. 

The frowness from her finally smiles in joy seeing him waiting for her. The bride jumped down from the two storey building and he caught her. Without wasting time, he carries her to the car he brought. 

The bride at last finally feels the emotion of getting married. The joy,the happiness, the love she was supposed to feel when with true love finally ignited. As the car drives further and further leaving everything behind for their new chapter together. Holding hand to hand as they leave the city where they grew up and to leave to seek new adventures together. 

At sunset, the sun witnesses their vows together. They finally get the kiss they’ve been craving for. And finally get the touch they’ve been desiring for. 

“I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart for leaving you. Now I won't do that again. I’m stuck with you as you are stuck with me. The eons has made us together, to love and to cherish together until the end”

“And i love you too” the moment she spoke his real name fluttered his heart. It is what was before and what was meant to be. Sunday now has completed the poem he had troubled with finishing; 

My soul has been sewed to you,

Since the birth of me and you,

With the blessing from divinity,

We are bound for eternity.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You can just imagine they did the boombayah in the car, You are welcome. I listened to Call out my name for 3 hours on loop for this

[try-set-me-on-fire]

requesting hand kisses for all my life there you go if ur still taking :) that's one of my favourite ongoing fics in the whole fandom! every time u update I smile so big. - @team-118

@chaosandwolves also requested this one! Thank you so much omg 😳😳😳 Uhhhh sorry this is kind of stream of consciousness half tragic 8x08 reaction…. They’ll kiss for real eventually Eddie’s just going through it. On ao3!

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, backlit by the sun coming in through the window over the sink. Wrong sink, wrong window, so many many miles away from anything Buck knows as home, but also- maybe they’d fit into any kitchen like this. Eddie at the sink by the window, Buck at the table. So we just never leave the kitchen, Buck thinks. They never go back into the wrong living room of this tiny apartment 15 minutes from Christopher and 12 hours from Los Angeles. They never leave because Buck doesn’t know how to exist outside of this context, Eddie at the sink and Buck at the table. They just stay right here. They move kitchen to kitchen, it’ll all be okay.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says again. He looks tired. It’s January. He left before Thanksgiving and Buck couldn’t eat anything the whole day, pushed around turkey and mashed potatoes he helped Bobby make on the nice dishes Maddie got down from storage. It’s January but it's Texas, and it can get cold sometimes but it isn’t right now, so he’s in shorts and a worn out t-shirt, holes in the collar. His arms are crossed. Holding himself together. Buck knows the feeling.

“Buck,” Eddie says, stunned, broken open, dripping with guilt. “I didn’t know it would feel like this.” One hand wanders out from the knot he’s tied himself in and then quickly tangles itself back up again. “I don’t… know-” he laughs, this is stunned too. “You were there- you were always just there. I didn’t need to ask- there was nothing to ask. It’s just the way it was.” He looks up, guilty guilty. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. Leaving you.” All the air sighs out of Buck’s lungs, and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s never been hard to talk to Eddie, who’s always waited out his stumbled words and winding sentences easily and without judgment, but the only thing he has to say now is: I did. You were looking at homes and you said they’re in El Paso and I knew exactly what it would feel like for you to rip yourself out of me. I forgive you for not knowing — I didn’t understand either, until that moment — but I did know.

“And now I- Buck, I don’t want to live like that- like this- I don’t want a life without you in it. A-and I don’t know what that looks like.” Eddie’s face is helpless, begging. “I know you- I don’t know that I-” one hand reaches again, pulls back again. “You like men and I- I don’t know that I-” a furrow between his brows and he looks as scared as he only ever was telling Buck about people who died in a helicopter crash years after it went down. “I’d try. To be that for you. To- to do that with you. I’ll- we can-”

“Eddie,” Buck says.

“Can’t I just want to hold you?” Eddie demands it. “Can’t I- can’t you sleep next to me? Can’t I take care of you?” He looks near angry. “What do you- I don’t need anything else. I don’t need anything else. Just- can’t I have you?” Buck thinks it’s probably unnecessary to say you already do. In any way. Held and slept beside and cared for. What else is there? He’d live off far less.

“I’d marry you,” Eddie says. “I’ll marry you. You can- if you need- there can be other people but you can come home to me. I’ll- Chris- it’s getting better. We’ll come home soon, we’ll move home soon, and- and we’ll work together again and you come home to me-” hands uncrossed, hovering, shaking. “You can do anything, you can see other people, just- come home to me.”

“There’s only you,” Buck whispers.

“Buck,” Eddie says, a cry. He comes closer. “Please.” When his hands touch Buck’s face, warm, he almost flinches. It’s just that they’re so real, solid, impossible to dismiss as imagination or hallucination or dream or wishful thinking. Eddie’s hands, on his face, scratching into his hair, scrabbling over his back as the man collapses onto him smelling like deodorant and coffee and sweat, t-shirt cotton soft over the fat and muscle that presses into Buck’s face. Buck’s arms drift up to hold him back. This is a new place Buck could learn the context for. Kitchen sink and table, held in Eddie’s arms. The only two places in the world that make any goddamn sense. Eddie’s curled over him, a shelter, his body a home. But Buck already knew that, too.

“Sorry,” Eddie croaks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I’m like this.” Buck holds tighter so Eddie doesn't shake so much. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry you- I’m sorry I hurt you. God- Buck, it hurts, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-” Buck shakes his head, face dragging across Eddie’s chest. He could fall asleep here. Rest until they go meet Christopher this afternoon. Rest until he has to get up at 4 to get to the airport and catch the red-eye and tear himself in two again. Visiting was a bad idea, maybe. He’s not sure he can survive that a second time. But Eddie said soon, he said he’ll come home soon, he and Chris. Buck and Eddie and Chris, who all come home at the end of the day, kitchen table kitchen sink Eddie’s arms sleeping and cared for.

“I love you,” Buck says. Why not. Why not.

“Buck,” a gasp, though surely Eddie can’t be surprised. He pulls back, face red and wet. His hands slide across Buck’s shoulders, down his arms, pull Buck’s hands up and press his knuckles to his mouth. Closes his eyes. Buck feels warm puffs of air against his fingers. Two lungs messy breathing loud in the small room. “Buck,” he says, and Buck knows what he means, knows the reply for what it is. He was wrong, the flight will be easy. The wait will be easy.

Eddie opens his eyes.

[matryosika]

Johnny; Power Dynamic and Other Analysis

Wordcount — 1,086 words Includes — Headcanons Genre — Smut 18+ ✉️ Author's Note — Took me forever to fulfill this request, but here it is! I honestly felt like I got too immersed into the power dynamic bit, but honestly I had plenty to say about Johnny. Please keep in mind that these are headcanons and I'm just free-associating for a thousand words straight; this is fiction and in no way I'm claiming this is real. It's honestly the vibes I get from him, and that's pretty much it.

Nurturing, guiding and a natural giver —a soft and service dom. 

I picture Johnny as someone dominant, both in sexual and non-sexual contexts. He likes to take the lead, to guide and might even love to teach others —during intimacy, he is no different.

He doesn’t strike me as a sadist at all; Johnny is tender when it comes to the physical aspects, and practices such as impact play might not be his cup of tea. Not even when it comes to punishments.

Because as much of a soft and service dom he can be, I sense Johnny likes it when you submit entirely. He can switch from being a soft dom to a brat tamer, but it’s not what he likes best —he likes it when you behave and, willingly, submit to him. He finds it endearing, and he might even think it is somewhat romantic to be in complete control of you.

Because yes, he enjoys being in complete control of you. In and out of bed. 

If you’re loyal to him, behave and submit in the ways Johnny wants you to submit, then he might reward you with the pleasure of having no responsibilities. Would even take the weight of deciding anything (from what food to eat, to which clothes to wear) off your shoulders, if you want and allow him to.

In that sense, I see Johnny as someone who takes his role very seriously —he is the type to “whatever my baby wants, my baby gets” as long as you behave. If you’re good to him, he will be good to you.

But Johnny can be quite stern, and he is not one to let things slip. Not once. 

If you're good, then you're safe. If you do him wrong, expect some retaliation from his side.

Johnny is something of an extremist —either he gives you everything or nothing at all. Denial might be his favorite way to punish you, and he doesn't even flinch at your begging and crying whenever the punishment lasts for a bit too long.

He also doesn't mind abstaining from sex because he is really in control of himself. Johnny doesn't bend easily, and that's why his punishments denying you are way worse than a couple of spankings or other forms of physical punishments. 

Onto the practices he likes, I feel very strongly about dumbification, but like, it comes naturally. There’s something about this man that just screams to me that he might phrase his sentences and perform his actions in a way that could make you feel you silly, that you know nothing —it’s the perfect balance between humiliation and guidance. He is overstimulating you so much to the point that you can't form a coherent sentence? Don't worry, Johnny can help you find the words. You're too embarrassed to say what you want? He might make you repeat word by word after him. You can no longer come without his help? “Do I have to do everything for you, baby? Don’t worry, I got you”. 

Johnny needs you to need him. And he is okay bearing the responsibilities such a thing entails. 

But even whilst being a service dom, when his pleasure mostly derives from yours, his own physical pleasure can’t be neglected. Johnny is very talkative about what he wants and how he wants it, and he doesn’t mind teaching you what he likes, taking his time shaping you into the perfect submissive for him. 

It's not that he wants someone who is well-experienced, and that they know what they're doing —he wants someone that is willing to learn everything there is about him, to teach them what he is into and how he likes it. 

He wants someone perfectly made for him, and him only; so this is probably a good time to talk about his corruption kink.

The corruption for him would be introducing you to his lifestyle, the things he likes. He isn't necessarily interested in teaching you what sex is about, no —he wants to teach you all the things he knows, the way he lives, the things he enjoys. He wants to corrupt you into finding new pleasures, into finding satisfaction in things you didn't think could satisfy you before. There's also some corruption into moving the power dynamics you two might have in bed into non-sexual contexts —corrupting you into “behaving”, into following rules, into trusting him enough to give him your freedom of will and choice.

However, with everything mentioned above, please note that consent means everything to him. And albeit stern when it comes to rules and punishments, Johnny values input. He will never act without your consent, and will never move forward with such a dynamic without any sort of negotiation. He would also respect it if you're not willing to offer him what he wants, and might want to work together to get to a common ground.

And just like he wants you to learn about him, he takes his role as a dom very seriously as he learns from you. He knows everything, from the smallest little things such as your favorite snack or color, to things that might have to do with your emotions or thoughts. Johnny wants you to rely on him, and might offer you intimacy as a way of treating yourself from dealing with the stress and anguish the real world can cause.

He is tender and loves taking his time with foreplay. Sex can last for hours with him, and I'm not talking precisely about penetration —petting, masturbation, oral sex, dirty talk... he likes to take his time with you and your pleasure. Because of this, I don’t feel like he enjoys quickies, nor fucking in uncomfortable places. It’s either the bed or nothing.

And although he might be picky with all that stuff, you should know that it is for a reason. His priority is that you both feel comfortable, in a safe space where you two can unwind. Johnny doesn’t mind to show the dynamic you two have to the world —however, sex is a whole other issue. Such intimacy is between you and him only, unless discussed otherwise.

Because yes, if you want a threesome, Johnny will agree. 

If you want to experiment with a new kink or fetish, Johnny will say yes.

If there’s something you’d like to try out, Johnny will comply.

To whatever you want, actually.

You know —with him, what you want, you get.

[strawberrymochin]

Springtime Fushiguros♪

Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.

Lost-: satoru loses Megumi while you all visit the firework festival

Your lips form a satisfactory smile as you finally finish tucking Megumi in a kimono with blue dragonflies printed all over, which once belonged to gojo.

Tsumiki was twirling, wearing her new yukata, adorned with sakura prints on the pink fabric, you guys brought her back shopping. You bought one for Megumi too, which was what he supposed to wear today— on Hanabi— the firework festival celebrated in Japan during the summer season.

He would have looked so cute in the kimono you initially chose for him, even with that grumpy face, like a squishy mochi, if not for gojo who threw out the shopping bag containing megumi's kimono mistaking it for trash.

"Aww! Megumiii!!!! He looks just like mee!!!" Gojo squealed in joy, coming into the kids bedroom to take a look at kids. "And oh my gawd! Miki!!!! You look like an angel! Just like—"

"Like me?" You cut gojo's sentence, grinning at him.

"Nah, I was talking about my self!"

"Wha— you're such a sucker!" You scoff at him, while tsumiki giggles.

"Oii no swearing infront of the kids. Wasn't it a rule you made? Who's breaking it now?"

"Shut up!"

"Hey gumi, never thought you could pull off my kimono huh!" Gojo remarked, bending his torso down, to the kid's level to look into his eyes.

"Do you really have to throw it away?" Megumi grumbles, seemingly uninterested to respond to gojo's compliment.

"I told you, i thought it has trash in it."

"Who keeps trash in a shopping bag?" asks Megumi bitterly, turning his head away, noticing you picking up their now-discarded dresses into the laundry basket. However there was a faint blush tainting your plush cheeks, as your eyes crease shyly, excusing yourself out of the room.

"I do. It's basically saving money yk. You don't have to buy trash bags." Gojo says cupping his face, back to him, squeezing his cheeks.

~♡~

This was just a while ago, before gojo messed up. He's damn sure you would never forgive him for this. Nor tsumiki would. The sounds of people passing by; sounds of childrens laughing, running around; sounds of announcements buzzed through his ears.

He had lost Megumi in the crowd.

Now there are only two options:-

1. Tell the truth and beg for your forgiveness

2. Wander around trying to find Megumi

Before he could decide which option to choose—

"How long do you have to take to buy one lemon soda?" Gojo turns around to find you along with tsumiki, sucking on her popsicle.

"Oh...um—" gojo hesitates, panicking inside, as your eyebrows form a frown.

"Where's Megumi?"

"You see— he's....umm—

Announcement-:

A lost kid has been reported named Fushiguro Megumi, age 7 years, wearing a blue kimono with dragonfly prints along with a blue belt. His guardians are requested to gather near the lost and found centre near the main entrance. Thank you.

"Wow! I see how it is..."

"Listen—"

"Have fun doing the laundry the entire week!"

Gojo sighs in defeat, knowing better not to provoke you anymore following you on your way to rescue Megumi.

When you reach the lost and found centre you see Megumi, grim faced, clutching the lemon soda tight in his hands, among the bunch of other lost kids.

His eyes perk up with relief as soon as he saw your silhouette, running to you ignoring gojo's existance.

"Next time don't loose my hand." Gojo says, getting hold of him again. " Or maybe next time you don't loose my hand trying to pose for those aunties simping over you."

You dart your eyes at gojo, upon hearing megumi's words, "what?"

"No..no babe. He's lying. I swear." Giving you his innocent pouty victim look trying to melt your heart with his cuteness. "I love you."

"Satoru"

"Yeah?" However, his cuteness didn't work melting you this time.

"Have fun doing the laundry and sleeping on the couch this entire week."

Gojo - (⁠ノ⁠ಥ⁠,⁠_⁠｣⁠ಥ⁠)⁠ノ

~♡~

Back home, you were helping megumi, take off his kimono, an unconscious smile tugged on your lips. Megumi tilted his head to the side as you unwrap his belt taking it off.

"Why are you smiling?" He asks.

"am i? Just remembered something sweet yk...." You reply, folding the belt taking in a deep breath.

"What?" You looked at Megumi, eyes glistening with curiosity. It's rare to see him with such soft expression except when he's asleep.

"This kimono you're wearing holds a precious memory to me." You smile, before continuing, "This was the kimono satoru was wearing when I saw him for the first time. You know that day he saved me from getting killed."

Megumi's eyes widened a bit as his lips parted in a small 'o'.

"It's strange how you're so similar to him. Yk, when he was of your age, this guy barely smiled. God he would have such terrifying blue eyes that kids would stay a mile away from him. Lol."

"Weren't you terrified?"

"Yes....but what I was terrified of was the sheer loneliness that lied behind his eyes, which were devoid of any emotion."

"Oh" Megumi didn't know what else to utter. It's hard for him to imagine gojo as someone who would stay dead serious.

"Though don't tell your sensei about it. He doesn't remembers that incident."

Megumi nods coming closer to you as you take off the kimono from him.

[missmeinyourbones]

ahhh congrats on your milestone leah!! you deserve it all and more!

oh my god all these prompts are so good and you write everyone so well, how can we choose? for your event, may I suggest eren and "this this the first time i've felt the need to confess." or "it's okay, we're the best of friends."

ty for hosting this! I can't wait to see everything you come out with ٩(⌒‿⌒)۶

FIRST TIME I'VE FELT THE NEED TO CONFESS (e. jaeger)

a/n: drunk eren and dd reader, mutual pining but eren is shameless and reader has class, LOSER CORE EREN, reader referred to as "ma'am" once in a teasing context

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

If anyone saw this situation out of context, it might be funny. But in content—your context specifically—it's nothing less than a headache.

Because you've been saddled with the pleasure of driving home an absolutely trashed Eren, pulling him by his collar to your car as he whines and thrashes with objections.

"One date," he repeats, plopping dead weight into the passenger seat of your car and looking up at you with clouded eyes.

Your response is expected, "Nope."

Eren opens his mouth, but before you can hear whatever bullshit he was conjuring up, you shut his door and walk over to the other side of the car.

Without fail, as soon as you open your door, he's continuing his pleading.

"Just dinner? That's literally all I'm asking for, just one dinner where—"

"You know," you interrupt him as you slide into the driver's seat, "you're a sloppy drunk."

You watch the thought process (or lack thereof) in his mind as he smirks and leans his seat further back, "Drinking isn't the only thing I do sloppy if you—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

Eren's eyes travel in amusement from your blushing and aggravated face to where you turn the key in the ignition and white knuckle the steering wheel. He huffs and kisses his teeth, before defeatedly joking.

"Too far?"

You don't speak, but the glare you shoot him says enough. He holds his hands up in defense and turns his attention to his window.

Silence takes over the car for a few peaceful moments and you don't bring yourself to question it, because Eren not talking is a whole lot better than Eren talking. Not only talking, but asking you out—something he's never thought to do before in the entire three years of knowing you.

Between your own exhaustion and his pathetic alcohol tolerance, you're almost positive you can write it off as nonsense. That is, until Eren opens his big fat mouth up again.

"What if I beg?"

At a red light, you rest your forehead against the steering wheel in exasperation. You hear him borderline giggle as the action gently beeps on your horn.

Your voice comes weak, "Since when do you even want to ask me out? Are you that off your ass right now?"

That changes something in him, because even though he is off his ass right now, he's wanted to ask you out when he was sober about ten times over by now. It's not his fault he's never gotten the courage to do so until now. Right?

"No, fuck no, I—" he stumbles over the slurred syllables as his brain fogs, "I mean, I am drunk, yeah. But I've been far drunker."

Comically, you stare through him, as if he doesn't have a single thought in his puny little brain. When the light turns green, you turn away from him and start driving again, suddenly far too calm for his liking.

"Believe it or not, that doesn't make me feel any better."

Eren rubs his blurry eyes with a calloused hand. "Shit—yeah, I know, okay? Just, hold on. Let me start over, 'cause I do really do wanna buy you dinner and—”

"Why now?"

"Not now," he states matter of fact, "when I'm sober and know where my wallet is."

"No, Eren," your voice is soft now, humiliated. You won't even look at him when you weakly whisper, "Why are you telling me this all of a sudden?"

He takes pride in the way he holds your stare for all of three seconds, before turning down and looking at his shoelaces.

"This is just the first time I've felt the need to confess," he mumbles.

You deadpan, "The first time?"

"Yup."

"There were other times you kept it to yourself?

"Like two whole years worth, yeah," he huffs under his breath. "But I wasn't gonna lead with that because that sounds lame and this makes me sound more manly and suave."

The car hums beneath him when he hears you laugh, and his drunk mind can't tell if it's out of pity or honest amusement, but he likes the sound of it all the same.

Though your words might be meant to sting, the delivery is silky when you tease, "I'm driving you home because you can't handle your liquor. Nothing about you is manly or suave right now."

He nods along obediently, "Okay, sorry."

Turning his attention back to the condensation dripping from the window, he suddenly speaks so gently that you'd think he was sober if you didn't see what he drank tonight.

"If you don't actually wanna go out, you can just reject me already. It's fine."

Now it's Eren who won't meet your eye as you're pulling up to his house on the corner of the street. Throwing the car into park and tapping his bicep, he slowly sighs, a bit embarrassed but too drunk to actually care.

"Tell you what," you breathe, and you're surprised Eren's neck doesn't snap on impact with the speed he turns to face you. You bite your cheek at his desperation and exhale, "If you wake up in the morning and still want to take me to dinner, then we can talk about it tomorrow."

"Yeah?" you swear you can physically see the light reenter his eyes at your simple words.

Nodding, you smile. "Yeah, but for now, get your ass in your apartment and drink a shit ton of water."

Gently shoving him, Eren gets out of the car. In the slightly drizzling rain, his eyes never leave yours as his lanky legs stand up and he salutes in a corny way, "Yes, ma'am."

You reach over the middle console to pull his door shut, but before you can even grab it, he's reaching for the handle and holding it open.

"Wait—!"

"What now?" exasperation crawls from your throat.

You watch unimpressed as he pats down all of his pockets before meekly whispering.

"…Do you have my house keys?"

[sinsandsuccubus]

Fire & Ice - Urban Wyatt

Context: Like a moth to a flame.

Genre: smut

Word Count: > 1k

Pairings: Urban Wyatt x Fem!Gf!Reader

Warnings: 18+ ! Sexual activity, cunniligus.

a/n: I got high, took one look at this photo, and got horny. This was the end result.

-

Please DO NOT ENGAGE if not older stated age. Reader’s discretion is advised. I am not responsible if YOU CHOOSE to continue.

-

Masterlist ☽☾

“Oh my fuck, Urban…” You moaned, tilting your head further up towards the ceiling. You could feel your legs begin to shake, body convulsing with pleasure.

“Mhmmm.” Urban called out into your pussy, sending vibrations up the flesh.

You groaned, whining slightly as he replaced his mouth with his fingertips, rubbing on the sensitive bud.

You hated the fact that he put this blindfold over your eyes, limiting one of your senses. And so, you couldn’t notice the ice cub tucked in his lips, sucking on the frozen cube as he began to lap at your clit.

Your body jolted from the bed, Urban using his hands to pin you down to the bed.

“Fuck Urban, please. You’re gonna make me cum. You’re gonna make me cu-.” You couldn’t finish your sentence as your body jolted once more, a swift change from his cold lips to the warmth of his tongue, body growing hot like a flame.

“Mmm.” He moaned once more into your swollen cunt, pulling back as soon as he felt you beginning to pulse around his tongue.

“Urb-“

“Not yet baby, not done playing with you yet."

This continued to go on and on, Urban pushing you closer and closer to the edge, before pulling you right back down.

You swore you were going to implode if he continued this any long. However, that was before he let out a final moan, fingers filling your swollen pussy before the cool sensation on your clit.

He had taken the final ice cube and tucked it between his plump lips, rubbing it over your clit. You yelped, clenching the sheets around you. The contrast between the heat of his tongue and the cold of his lips brought you closer and closer to the edge, faster than you thought.

“Urban, baby I’m gonna-“ He pulled the ice cube back in mouth before mumbling “cum”, immediately pushing you over the edge. You let out a silent scream, feeling your body spazz before letting out a broken moan.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” He spoke, tongue still lapping at your folds.

You didn’t think you could cum as hard again until he pushed the ice cube into your pussy, body immediately begging to shake. Between the cold of the ice cube, and the warmth of his tongue on your clit, you were completely shoved over the edge, another orgasm shaking your core.

And as you came, the ice cube shot out of you, alongside the rapid fluids of your orgasm. You had squirted all over his mouth and neck, body jolting hard.

“Fuck.” Urban muttered, pulling away from your body and loosely rubbing at your clit with his hand, shaking a harder pulse out of you. Your legs fell hard against the mattress as you descended from your high, tugging at your boobs.

Urban kissed your cheeks and forehead, the space between you accompanied by sighs.

“Urban, that was- Holy fuck.”

“I didn’t know you could squirt baby.”

“Neither did I.” The two of you laughed, you leaning up to kiss his lips.

“I love you Y/N…… Y/N…. Y/N…?”

You came out of the trance hard, Urban pulling you back from your daydream with his voice.

“Y/N?” He snapped his fingers in your face, pulling you further to attention. You smacked his fingers out your face, him making a face in return.

“What?”

“I lost you for a second.” He spoke, placing a hand over his chest.

“Are you okay?” He spoke, and you immediately nodded your head.

“Just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?”

“Last night.” You deadpanned, Urban’s eyes going wide briefly before a smirk appeared on his face.

“Is it my outfit?” You nodded your head, taking your tongue between your lips. He let out a small chuckle before he responded.

“Baby, I don’t even look that good. This outfit is basic as fuck.”

“You're hot Urban. In anything you fucking wear, you look hot. Hell, you could be in nothing but a pair of sneakers and boxers and I’d think you’d look good in it.” His cheeks began to glow pink, flustered before he spoke.

“Want to do it again tonight?” He deadpanned, eyeing you up and down.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch.22

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

WARNING: non-consensual groping

First - Prev - Next

CH.22

Jingle

Click

Creeeakkk

“Hey fellers, I’m back! I hope ya’ll are ready for- hello?”

“F… Fiddleford…”

“Stanford? Where are you at? Why d’you sound so-.”

“L-Living room...”

“What in tarnation - Stanford, why’re you dressed like that? And why’re ya’ll laid back on the armchair like that?”

“Can’t… move. He left Naloxone on the coffee table… I can’t reach it… I’m paralyzed.”

“How did this happen?”

“Stanley got me with my own tranq gun…”

“Oh, for Heavens sake. Here friend, let’s get you that Narcan.”

“Thank you, Fiddleford. Stanley underestimated his ability to metabolize opioids, or he overestimated mine. It took sixteen hours for me to wake up, and I’ve still been paralyzed for the past six or eight.”

“Why would Stan do this? And did he switch clothes with you?”

“Yes.”

“...This makes me uncomfortable.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, I’ll explain as much to you as possible on the way down to my lab. Follow me!”

(...)

“So cosmic-level authorities placed you under arrest.”

“Yes.”

“And you tried to save your sorry hide by requesting a transdimensional trial by combat?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“And Stan - who has been to multiple planets and different dimensions - cut his hair, knocked you out, stole your spare set of glasses, and switched clothes with you to take your place?”

“Correct.”

“And you expect me to believe all of this?”

“Fiddleford, we scavenged several parts for my computer at crash site omega, you know extraterrestrials are real, why does this seem so far fetched?”

“That’s different! That ship was millions of years old, and long abandoned! Whatever left it behind should have died out eons ago.”

“Didn’t you ever wonder how I was able to decode the alien language so fast?”

“I imagine you put your doctorates in Linguistics and Etymology to use.”

“I tried to at first. But Stanley already knew that language, and translated it for me. Well, the major structures of words and sentences at least, cultural context was missing.”

“...I beg your pardon?”

“The language is called Gromflomish, it’s the standard language of the Galactic Federation due to the dominant species of that regime being the Gromflomites. Stanley learned it while he was galavanting in space.”

“Are you even listening to yourself right now?”

“Fiddleford, I understand that what I am telling you is a lot, and I am sorry we weren’t more forthcoming with you from the start; but we need to focus on rescuing Stanley.”

“How in Sam Hell are we supposed to do that?”

“When Stanley switched our clothes, he also switched our wallets. I imagine this was to avoid scrutiny if he was searched. I found some items of interest inside.”

“You didn’t search what was in it when you confiscated it the first time?”

“No. There was not a lot I expected to find in there given his lifestyle. I only did a precursory check for illicit substances. But what I found with a more in-depth search is… Interesting.”

*Ford quickly types on his computer, and pulls out a photograph and an I.D from Stans wallet*

“Who… are all of those strange characters and critters in the photo with him?”

“Apparently he was the bouncer for a group called the Flesh Curtains… a band made up exclusively of intergalactic criminals. And there is one member who can help us.”

“You want to call a space outlaw to help us find your brother?”

“Fiddleford, I will remind you Stanley is not just an ex-convict, he is also an intergalactic and interdimensional wanted criminal. And trust me when I say, I also very much do not like who I am about to send a beacon to.”

(...)

“Stanford Filbrick Pines, step forward.”

“Almost a whole day in ‘the hole’, just to drag me into court anyways? What happened to the Gladiatorial challenge?”

“SILENCE! You will be read your charges before you make your attempts to clear them in Globnar! First and foremost, your most heinous crime is Unlicensed Nightmare Fueling! You are wanted under suspicion of giving debilitating nightmares to the following individuals; Federico Fidel “Rico” Leiva Arias, Jorge Andrés Martelo Visbal, -”

‘Hey wait a second, these names…’

‘These are a from the list I gave to-’

‘Has he… has he been giving them nightmares?’

‘But why?’

‘Why would he…?’

‘Has he been doing that the whole time?’

“FURTHERMORE, a standard DNA scan has linked you to the crimes of the petty outlaw, and notorious first and second person to ever break into and out of the Infinetentiary; Staniel Danger Malone.”

‘Why did I ever let Rick submit the paperwork for my Federation I.D..?”

“REGARDLESS of what name you use, any crime committed that is linked to your DNA signature will be held against you, and can only be cleared by Globnar, or an imprisonment up to a number of Schwabe cycles equal to xn+1=rxn(1−xn), whereas x represents the amount of crimes you are convicted of. WHAT SAY YOU, The Accused?”

“Bring it.”

(...)

*Ford is heavily hugged from behind by a much taller figure, who practically drapes over him*

“Hey-Hey Stan! I was wondering when you’d call back. Took you long enough.

Has someone been trying to install tracking chips on you, by the way? I’ve gotten like, six notifications from how many have been shorted out in the past four months or so.

Didja miss me, Stan?”

“...Sanchez.”

“...”

“This is Dr. Stanford Pines, while I did send you that beacon, you are mistaking me for my identical twin brother, Stanley.”

“Huh, so I guess it was short for Stanley, I owe Birdperson a Kalaxian Crystal.”

“Please remove your hand from my groin. I will only request this once.”

“Wow, you two really must be identical, the way it fills my hand-.”

WACK

(...)

“So you’re Stan’s brother huh? You must be that thing he was looking for. Here I was, thinking he buried some gold somewhere.”

“Sanchez, we’ve met before.”

“Have we?”

“I attended several of the same classes in Backupsmore University as your late wife.”

“Hm, still not familiar, pal.”

"I have six fingers."

"So you'd be more expensive to animate, but I'm still blanking out here."

“We had a heated debate once because you claimed you solved the Hodge Conjecture.”

“Was it a heated debate? Really? Sounds more like whisky-over-the-rocks chat to me.”

“...Perhaps a bit more heated on my end.”

“Still not- Oh! Wait, I think I remember you now.”

“Good, now-.”

“You were that slutty shorts guy!”

“...Now, we need to discuss Stanley. My brother has recently been apprehended by the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadron. I called you here because I am aware you possess advanced transdimensional portal technology.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

“Excuse me?”

“You want my help? What can you give me for it?”

“I was under the impression you and Stanley were friends.”

“When he calls me I could at least expect a booty call.”

*Fiddleford in the background clearly tenses up, and angrily crosses his arms*

“But you? I can tell just by looking at you that, the only thing you’ve ever fucked is your own sleep schedule. Also, you just gave me a black eye, so excuse me if I’m not feeling charitable.”

“Why you selfish, short sighted, arrogant-.”

“Wait, those plans over there? Are those yours?”

“Those are my schematics, actually, Mister Rick.”

“Hmm, interesting. A gun that wipes out memories based on a typed-in word, phrase, or concept? Looks like it can be edited to store what’s removed as well, what a mindblower. Tell you what, Ford, I’ll get you teleported over to your superior half, with a way back, but your little lab partner lets me study his invention.”

“Fiddleford?”

“If it's what it takes to bring him back… but I’m not gonna like it.”

“Alright, Sanchez. He’ll share his concept with you. But in exchange you need to help us find and retrieve Stanley.”

“Finding him is easy enough, I had a tracking device stored into one of his molars. It shorts out any lesser tracking device.”

“He said you didn’t alter his physiology.”

“Oh, he doesn’t know about it. The shady dentist he went to who surgically re-grew all of his missing teeth, he owed me a few favours.”

“I have no idea what Stanley ever saw in you…”

“Ha! You think your brother’s some kind of saint? He once took a rocket gun, said “I am the god of destruction”, and vaporized an unmanned warehouse full of Galactic Federation pharmaceuticals, because the local supply depot didn't accept the prescription pad that he forged, in English.

He got us both banned from The Gambling Dimension because he wrote a three hundred page manifesto on bribery called The Holy Brible, which created a new religion called Stanentology that became the third most practiced faith in the entire dimension. And then he kept advising his followers to overthrow the government, kickstarting The Crusades.

One planet has a picture of him in the dictionary when you look up ‘customer complaint’, because he sold them really shitty copper.

He did a keg stand with liquid ecstasy once. You think it sounds insane, me just saying it? Imagine what it was like to see it. He did a keg stand with liquid ecstasy.”

“I am sure your influence did not help.”

“Oh, definitely. I know I made him worse, but he was already fucked up when I met him. Also, Ford, not using contractions doesn’t make you sound smarter. Just confirms how much of a hubristic turd you are.”

“Are you going to show us where in the Sam hell he is or not?”

“That southern guy has more bite than you do, Ford. Buuut, a deals a deal. Here we go.”

*Rick takes a cable and connects his watch to Fords computer, and then begins typing*

“Alright hot dick let’s see where you managed to get yourself cornered this time.”

“Stanford, you better hurry when you find Stan. Because if you leave me with this man for too long…”

“Yes, he is insufferable, I understand.”

“There he is. He’s in the Time Dimension - in the Future City Court Room? Ouch. That isn’t good, he’s wanted by the jurisdiction of Future City because he broke into their maximum security prison to get me off, and also out, twice. And they’re still pissed about it.”

“But you’ve pinpointed his location?”

“Yes. But I’m not giving you my portal gun, you couldn't possibly even begin to understand how to use it. Instead, you’re going to put this watch on. Here.”

“Fine.”

“I’m going to open a portal that will drop you directly next to him. When you’re ready to come back, just press the button on the side of the watch, it’ll send me a notification that you’re ready to come back, and I’ll open another portal for you.”

“I won’t be long - Fiddleford, keep an eye on the place. Sanchez, behave yourself.”

“You really do have less bite to you than Stan does, he would have told me to go kill myself.”

“The day's still young, Sanchez.”

(...)

“[The winner gets a precious Time Wish, and then decides the loser's fate. And you are officially ch-.]”

“WAIT!”

*Ford suddenly drops out of a green portal vortex right next to Stan, who is still in shackles. The portal winks out instantly.*

“Doc?!”

“Stanley, I cannot believe you thought you had to save me from-!”

“Both of us.”

“Excuse me?”

“They were never just gonna charge you for your weird brain crimes… They were gonna charge you with my stuff, too. And my rap sheets a lot longer than yours.”

“I would have done it anyways!”

“I know you would, that’s why I had to trick you. By the way… about those nightmares you caused- why did you do it?”

“You know why.”

“EXCUSE US?! This is unprecedented! An imposter among us?”

“I am the real Stanford!”

“No, he isn't! Don’t listen to him, he’s crazy!”

“SILENCE! Timebot, run a DNA analysis of the interloper.”

“[Scan complete. DNA 102% match for the accused, with a 2% margin of error.]”

“Identical twins? Clones? How can we possibly tell the difference between them, Lolph?”

“That new one has six fingers, and his glasses still have their lenses.”

“Yes, but our reports never specified the number of fingers of the suspect. And the suspect was always reported to be wearing goggles designed for skiing.”

“Really, Stanley? You judged me for the outfit I chose, and yet you-.”

“Can it, PhD. We both know you just like playing dress-up.”

“Why don’t we use footage from the Infinetentiary Break to count the fingers?”

“We cannot reliably do so, the graininess of the footage is cleared up by an A.I that almost never gets the amount of fingers right.”

“Nah, you listen here ya future jerks, you can’t tell us apart! If you’re gonna take us, you’re gonna have to take both of us- in combat. I want to specify and put that to record right now, I mean take us in combat.”

“Stanley, why are you repeating that?”

“Trust me. This one time, just trust me. Specification is important.”

“[Agents Dundgren and Lolph, do you accept a challenge of two versus two?]”

“We accept. We have advanced, expert training.”

“And those two are just a pair of nobodies with many identities under their belts, but no true purpose with any of them.”

“Hey, doc?”

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna punch that guy.”

“Understandable.”

*A large hole opens up above the arena, and the Time Baby floats out of it, and the crowd in the arena goes wild*

“Welcome Globnar tributes! I have a very important nap to get to so let's make this quick. You each have a chance to settle your time-crimes through gladiatorial combat.”

“[You will have until Time Baby finishes drinking the cosmic sand in this hourglass.]”

“Get ready, Stans. When we win and decide your fate, you’ll both be subject to the maximum punishment under time law.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Stanley! Put the finger- fingers, down!”

“...Dundgren, why is the pudgy one giving us the universal symbol for good luck?”

“Maybe he’s taunting us by suggesting that we will need luck to beat them.”

“That one is tricky. I’ll be sure to stab him before he becomes a problem.”

To be continued…

[the-way-astray]

The Keefe Sencen Infantilization Argument (because I've seen people say that saying he infantilizes Sophie is a bad-faith argument):

(Note: This post is a repost. I had my thoughts scattered out over a few posts, so I wanted to put them all together in one cohesive post. If you've already seen all the original posts, then aside from like two sentences being reworked and the format being better now, there's like nothing new here for you. Sorry.)

Examples of Keefe infantilizing Sophie and my explanations as to why this is infantilization and not okay:

Lodestar, chapter 4. What I originally said: “There you go, rocking the whole adorable-when-you’re-angry thing. I think that’s what I’ve missed about you the most.” Keefe infantilizes Sophie by saying she’s cute when she’s angry. She is trying to express her feelings, and all Keefe can do is be all Awwwwww. Isn’t that so cute? She’s angry! How adorable. It’s a form of invalidating someone’s feelings, by treating them like they’re just entertainment or by brushing them off like that. It’s some of the most manipulative behavior out there. It also saves Keefe from having to actually take Sophie’s feelings into account. His infantilization of her also shows up in his incessant need to protect her. It’s icky and gross, and authors should stop encouraging this behavior.

Sophie and Keefe are having a mental conversation and Keefe starts talking about Sophie's love triangle/square situation and Sophie doesn't want to talk about it. Not a fan of this, because Keefe butts into Sophie's personal business, then when she gets worked up, he heavily implies that he thinks it's cute. But this one isn't particularly bad compared to the others. Don't get me wrong, I still think this is infantilization, but the best I can say about it is it's not the worst example.

Lodestar, chapter 46. What I originally said: “You’re so cute when you worry, he told her.” More classic Keefe infantilization. He once again invalidates Sophie’s feelings by dumbing them down and acting like they’re this cute, quirky, inconsequential thing.

Sophie is obviously incredibly worried. Keefe clearly knows this. And his comment is to be like Yeah, but don't you know that makes you sooooo cute??? Like, sir.

Lodestar, chapter 65. What I originally said: “Is this going to be another one of those nights where you spend the whole time yelling at me to come home? Keefe asked, making her sit up straighter as his thoughts filled her head. Because as much as I love it when you get all feisty on me, now’s really not a good time.” God, Keefe is so subtly invalidating. He treats Sophie like she’s just his personal worry machine, not a person with valid concerns and ideas. The flippant way he talks about her worry for him makes me so mad. He takes her worry for granted and throws it back in her face, without a care for how it would affect her mental health. He brushes her off and invalidates her because he thinks he’s so much smarter than everyone else. Not to mention he calls her worry “feisty” and further infantilizes her feelings and ideas.

This one honestly stands alone. Context doesn't really do anything to it. The infantilization for all these quotes is in the quote itself, because it is invalidating to treat someone's outburst of negative emotions as entertainment. Keefe basically just says that he finds it cute when she insists he comes home because she's worried about him??? He's like, yeah, Sophie's worried about me, tearing up her mental health over me, but like. She gets feisty when that all becomes externalized and she begs me to come home! Again, it's just a way he's able to brush Sophie's feelings off and disregard her opinion entirely.

When I say Keefe acts like Sophie is his personal worry machine, I'm saying he acts like her worry only exists for his amusement. He doesn't see the deeper feelings behind that worry (or if he does, he certainly doesn't respect them), and only see it for what he sees it as: something cute and adorable.

Nightfall, chapter 24. What I originally said: “‘I know! Our little girl is growing up and getting so snarky!’ Keefe pretended to wipe his teary eyes. ‘I’ve never been so proud.’” “Our little girl” . . . that totally isn’t creepy or infantilizing at all. The way Keefe talks about Sophie here is genuinely so gross, even if it is a joke. 

This is a joke. 100%. But it's a joke that sat very poorly with me because of the way Keefe verbalizes this. The problem for me is in the quote itself, again, because I feel like saying these sorts of things constantly is just so weird.

Nightfall, chapter 32. Wouldn't say what I originally said adds anything new, so I'm just gonna move past that. The larger problem here is 100% the fact that Keefe is clearly trying to joke to deflect Sophie's anger away. My argument isn't about that. My argument is that saying that someone's anger is adorable is textbook infantilization. In context, Keefe uses it as a way to deflect or joke. But the simple act of saying that is a form of invalidation where Sophie's emotions are made out to be some silly, inconsequential thing.

Anyway, about this quote in particular. Sophie is obviously freaking out, and she is clearly and seriously trying to tell him that his joking behavior is unacceptable. Keefe responds, not by listening at all to what Sophie said or what she's feeling, but by instead saying this. This invalidates Sophie's very real feelings as well as saves Keefe from having to confront what Sophie's telling him. And yes, this is a product of his deflection, but my point here is that saying someone's anger or worry is adorable or cute when they are trying to be serious is textbook infantilization, because it treats that opinion they have as a silly, child-like tantrum. "Awwww, isn't that anger adorable???" is what you say about a tantrum-throwing toddler who just got their favorite toy taken away, not someone your age presenting a valid, serious opinion. My issue is with the statement "Your anger/worry is adorable/cute" itself, not how Keefe uses it to deflect. It also presents Keefe, subtle as it may be, as the only one with valid opinions on things because Sophie's adorable little feelings get in the way of her rationality.

And before you say Sophie calls him out on this, yes, but he doesn't change. I'm not going to talk about it at length here, but Keefe apologizes to Sophie in the Nightfall scene after his bed rest more out of a desire to make up with her than a desire to change his bad habits. You can see this because he continues to do it into Unlocked.

Nightfall, chapter 34. Again, I don't think what I originally said adds anything relevant, so I'll skip that here.

The famous scene. I do admit that Sophie calls Keefe out this time. However, as I've already said, this doesn't stick, so it hardly matter. Keefe continues with this behavior through the series and into Unlocked, where he doesn't necessarily say these things out loud, but you can see he still thinks them.

Nightfall, chapter 70. What I originally said: “‘Much as I’m enjoying this sudden overflow of adorable Foster-rage—it’s not worth it.’” Ah, more of Keefe infantilizing Sophie and invalidating her feelings. If someone finds your anger or worry “adorable” and acts like it’s this cute little quirk, then that’s never a good thing. Especially if they enjoy it. Someone who cares about you should never enjoy seeing you angry or worried.

Sophie's having a serious, key word here is serious, discussion (we'll call it a discussion, even though that's not particularly correct) with Cassius, and even though her rage isn't aimed at him this time, Keefe telling Sophie her rage is adorable when she's being serious is still dumbing down her emotions to that of a toddler throwing a tantrum, not a grown-up (at least relative to Keefe) having a very valid reason to be angry. Just because he agrees with her anger, doesn't mean he can't still infantilize her.

Flashback, chapter 1, page 12. I think what I said in my original post just about sums it up: “‘You’re so adorable when you worry. I’ve told you that, right?’” (12) Yes, you have, and saying it more doesn’t make it any less icky and gross and infantilizing. It’s like he’s dumbing Sophie down to this object who only exists to entertain him with her adowabuw wittle feewings, instead of a person with very real, very complex emotions.

Keefe fans the air, so we have physical evidence he knows exactly how worried Sophie is. And his response is to be like, so cute! So adorable! Once again, this is serious, and Keefe is acting like Sophie's worry exists only to amuse or entertain him. I don't know else to communicate that that isn't a good thing. Someone being worried usually means they have something they're worrying about, worry doesn't just manifest out of thin air for entertainment's sake. Sophie also responds poorly to his writing her off, with what and the glare and all.

(Side note: When I was looking for that quote, I found a quote where Fitz says the exact same thing, I'm talking word-for-word "adorable when you worry" stuff. Like I mentioned in my disclaimers, I'm not saying he's more right for this and I'm not letting him off the hook. It's icky when Keefe does it and it's icky when Fitz does it. But I'm solely focused on Keefe, which is why I'm not bringing that up. It's also worth it to note that Fitz doesn't say this over and over again, the way Keefe does.)

Flashback, chapter 17, page 304. I think I'm just going to copy-paste exactly what I said in my original post because it's exactly what I'm trying to say: “‘Hear that, Ro?’ he interrupted. ‘She’s giving me her serious voice.’” (304) Another example of Keefe infantilizing Sophie and dumbing her feelings down for the sake of a joke. Awwww, isn’t her serious voice so cute? She only does that when she thinks she has something important to say to us grown-ups! Awwwwwww. 

Apparently, people don't get why this is a bad thing, so: acting like someone isn't being serious when you can literally feel their emotions and know they're being serious just because you don't like what they're saying is not just invalidation, but infantilization, because you are dumbing their emotions and the complexities behind them down to that of a child attempting to be serious.

I'd also argue that this shows Keefe's true colors: he only really listens to her opinions and respects them when he agrees with them. Disagreeing with someone is all fine and good, but you can still respect the other person's opinion and not dumb it down and act like it's lesser than your own. If Keefe said "Sophie, I hear you, but I think you're wrong" (in Keefe jokester language, obviously, not word-for-word what I wrote) then I wouldn't call this infantilization, I'd call it respect. My problems arise from when Keefe acts like Sophie's opinions are stupid because Sophie is the one saying them with that adorable little pouty voice.

Flashback, chapter 21, page 355. What I originally said: “It’s always fun when you get feisty.” (355) I’ve said this about a gajillion times, but Keefe’s infantilization of Sophie is so horrific, it’s like he doesn’t care about her at all. He just sees her emotions as amusement for himself.

This is a sad scene, and Keefe has every right to be emotionally . . . off in this scene. But it still doesn't change the fact that he calls Sophie's anger "feistiness" and then says it's fun when she gets angry. You could say that's not exactly what he said, but it's likely that's what he meant given the past few quotes I've shown. Keefe has demonstrated a pattern of thinking Sophie's anger is amusing or adorable or fun. Anger is a negative emotion. When Sophie feels anger she doesn't feel good. And Keefe is like, yeah, but it's cute! Do you see how that's not the greatest thing to say? It says a lot about his internalized beliefs about Sophie, and is essentially confirmed by Unlocked. And even if that didn't represent the way he saw Sophie inside, that's still a really shitty thing to say because it still carries the invalidation.

Legacy, chapter 3, page 70. What I originally said: “‘Tell me why you have that cute little crease between your eyebrows.’” (70) You already know what I’m going to say. Keefe finding Sophie’s worry cute is textbook infantilization. But also, if he finds her worry and anger so adorable, what’s he gonna do when the Neverseen are defeated and Sophie doesn’t have as many things worrying her?

So, the crease between the eyebrows is obviously because of worry. So by saying he finds it cute, Keefe indirectly says he finds Sophie's worry cute, though I'm sure I don't have to spell that out because he's already flat out admitted he finds Sophie's worry cute several times. I'm going to sound like a broken record if I repeat what I've been saying this entire post about why this is infantilization, so instead I wanna talk about that last paragraph there. Keefe literally knows how queasy Sophie's worry can make her sometimes, and he has expressed this before, as well. So he knows exactly what Sophie's going through when she worries. And still, he acts like her worry is amusing, funny, cute, or otherwise a quirky little thing. I don't understand how Keefe can be so invalidating, having had firsthand experience with Sophie's emotions.

“But I was only half listening because she gets this cute little crinkle between her eyebrows when she’s trying to be serious, and it makes me want to reach up and smooth her forehead with my fingertip—and I’m betting she’d think I was super weird if I did that, since it’s not like she’s my . . . ” (Unlocked, very first paragraph of Keefe's diary entry, 481)

Don't have an e-book of Unlocked, unfortunately (boooooooo). So the context is that Keefe is giving us (or himself???) an intro to what he's doing here, which is writing about his drawings. He explains that Sophie gave him the idea and gives a general overview of what she said to convince him. Then he says this quote.

Here's what I said, which I stand by: I hate the way Keefe talks about Sophie. She’s just this soft, kind of ditzy, child-like sort of figure in his head. He admits that he doesn’t care what she has to say, he just cares about how adorable she looks while she says it. This is a textbook sign of a toxic relationship. You should care about what your partner/crush says, because that shows that you see them as a person, not as your personal cover model. Also “trying to be serious” paints Sophie as this impudent little child who’s trying to get the attention of the older, more experienced adults and it very much implies that Sophie is not serious, but awwww, look how cute she looks trying to be serious, isn’t it adorable? Except Keefe and Sophie are the same age. So this is another case of textbook infantilization.

Personally, I think I made it fairly clear why I think this is infantilization. Keefe did not listen to the latter half of what Sophie said because he was too busy imagining how adorable she must've looked as she said it. I don't know how to make it more clear that Keefe does not respect or care about Sophie's opinions. He did what she asked, sure, but he did not actually listen to her. Again, implying Sophie was not being serious when she was is infantilization. It takes away the weight of what Sophie is saying and makes it out to be a thing of like, Oh well, Sophie told me to, so I guess I'll humor her adorable little wishes and give it a shot, but let's get back to what's more important here, which is how cute she probably looks! I don't know how else to explain that that's not an attitude you want in someone who claims to listen to you and respect you.

Addressing some other things (Keefe calling Sophie herself cute [1], Keefe's deflection [2], Keefe praising Sophie's prowess [3], Sophie not seeming bothered [4], and The Real Problem [5]):

I don't think Keefe calling Sophie herself cute or adorable by itself is infantilization. That's just a cute, fluffy teenage crush. 100% cool with that. My problem is with Keefe dumbing Sophie's negative emotions that have complexities behind them down to something cute or inconsequential by calling them adorable. There's a quote in the diary entries where Keefe describes Sophie's blush as adorable and proceeds to describe it in vivid detail. I don't like it for personal taste reasons, but I would never argue that this is infantilization. Because. It's not. There is no dumbing down of emotions here, no shrugging off experience or maturity. There's just a kid with a crush.

As for Keefe's habit of deflecting stuff through jokes, yes, it's a flaw and yes, some of the times Keefe infantilizes Sophie, he's using it as a joke to deflect. Yes, that's the larger issue. But the point still stands that the way in which he thinks of Sophie's worry and anger is infantilization.

There are moments where Keefe talks nonstop (sometimes in a very unnatural way, in my opinion) about how powerful and amazing and brilliant and talented and spectacular Sophie is and how he respects her choices and whatnot. I don't see this as particularly contradictory to his infantilization. Keefe can dumb Sophie's emotions down to cute, inconsequential little playthings while also insisting that he thinks she's amazing and powerful. I do think he does think that she's incredibly talented, but he also invalidates or disrespects her choices because he sees her emotions as adorable and unserious. Sophie is objectively powerful and talented and smart, I'm not really sure how saying those clear facts out loud changes the fact that Keefe still sees Sophie as very juvenile in his head. He can respect her prowess and capacity for talent while still disrespecting her opinions and emotions. The two can coexist. This is why I say Keefe pedestalizes and infantilizes Sophie simultaneously.

As for saying this doesn't bother Sophie (except in that one instance where she glares at him), I'd hardly say it matters. People can be the object of toxic behavior without realizing it. Sophie doesn't really seem to care past a handful of seconds when Keefe reads her emotions without her permission (on purpose, with intention), but I think most of us would agree that that doesn't make it acceptable. And Keefe's infantile views of Sophie say more about him than they do Sophie, which is the argument I'm trying to make. My point is that Keefe sees Sophie's emotions as inconsequential little things that don't need to be taken into account. This is all mapped into how he sees her internally. Again, just because Sophie doesn't seem bothered by Keefe's comments, doesn't mean they're acceptable, especially considering it gives us a view into the way he truly sees Sophie. And if Keefe thinks of Sophie is such an invalidating way, how are we supposed to believe he'll respect her when she argues with him, instead of just writing it off as "that adorable rage"?

And last but not least (as this is literally the reason people are annoyed with Keefe, regardless of what flaw you're talking about): the infantilization isn't the problem. Not really. What the problem is is that it is never called out by the narrative and when it is, it lasts two seconds, doesn't stick, and Keefe continues with it having not learned a thing. He doesn't change, and I can give you a thousand explanations for why Keefe may be so prone to infantilizing Sophie based on his childhood, trauma, and everything else, but none of that is an excuse. And I'm certainly not a fan of the way we're constantly told that Keefe respects Sophie when he's clearly so ready to undermine her emotions or dumb them down. If you're going to have him say things like this, it should be understandable that it's not a good thing.

I think it all comes down to this: Imagine you were trying to get a very serious point across to someone or otherwise feeling very emotional over something and then you look over and the other person's reaction is like, Aw, you're so cute when you're all worked up trying to be serious! Anger so adorable! Worry so cute! I love it when you get feisty! Wouldn't you feel like they don't respect what you're saying? Is that not incredibly icky and weird?

Here is the definition of infantilization. I think it's very difficult to make an argument that Keefe is not doing this to Sophie. And if you think that's bad, oh boy, is it so. Much. Worse. In the actual Unlocked novella. It's very difficult to deny that Keefe only sees Sophie as an adorable little cute thing that amuses him when you read it. But I'll get there . . .

Anyway I'm leaving it off with this because these are the vibes I get from Keefe every time he makes an infantilizing comment about Sophie (minus the yelling, Keefe doesn't really yell):

[bunnakit]

ok i'm finally doing it, i'm finally making one of my posts about The Sign because i can't take it anymore

Phaya and Tharn's constant back and forth has quickly become something I'm addicted to. Normally something like this would irritate me in almost any other show with any other context but with Phaya and Tharn it makes me lose my mind in the best way.

From episode 1 we see the way Phaya's very touch affects Tharn, the way his eyes roll back in his head and he instinctively melts back against him.

Every part of Tharn reacts to Phaya, Phaya calls to him in a way Tharn can't wholly resist, even in the most absurd of circumstances.

Tharn is drawn to Phaya like a moth (or a cold snake) to a flame. At every turn his drunken self and his subconscious reaches out for Phaya, craves him in a way Tharn can't suppress no matter how hard he tries.

Even when Phaya is stealing a kiss in the garden Tharn leans forward, almost imperceptibly, to meet Phaya in the middle because he wants. He can't let himself have this, but he wants it so badly it must feel like a crawling sensation under his skin, this craving to allow himself to have this, to steal whatever little moments he's allowed.

Even in his dreams he tilts his head just slightly, offers himself and his submission to Phaya's searing touch.

Every part of him is screaming to close the gap he insists on creating, to reach out and take what is being offered to him on a proverbial silver platter. He wanders the Garden of Eden and with each step the temptation of the Apple grows stronger. All he has to do is reach out his hand and take it but if he does he knows the Apple will rot. This is not a risk he's willing to take, not when it comes to Phaya, because Phaya is far too precious.

But even at his most vulnerable, his most exposed, he reaches out for Phaya, curls around him, and once again leans into his every touch - Because touching Phaya feels like coming home. There's something so deeply ingrained in them, this feeling of safety, of belonging that they foster in each other. Their souls reach out for each other and cling to every ounce of contact they receive, drifting to this warmth and light between them.

At every moment Tharn is called towards his true north. Phaya is like a warm balm on his heart that has been alone far too long. In trying to protect Phaya Tharn only serves to hurt them both, to deprive them each of something they desire on a level neither will probably ever understand. They're two halves, separate and broken, begging to be slotted back together and made whole again.

They make me feel so much, they have so much to overcome, so much hurt and tragedy and pain, but there's so, so much love just waiting to be seized. I absolutely cannot wait.

By the way, if you put these lyrics of 'Save Me' by Noah Kahan in context of Phaya Tharn it will make you partially insane (maybe that's just me)

Why do you keep reaching for my hand? Do you see something I can't? Why do you try to save me? This fate is well deserved I only make things worse Why do you try to save me? Have I served my sentence? Learned my lesson? Healed those wounds from my indiscretions? I don't know

[seiueina]

IN THIS TOGETHER | ITOSHI RIN*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ; 715wc

episode 3: "Mommy...where do babies come from?"

synopsis: during family dinner, jiro has some questions coming back home from preschool. which leads into some tough situations to pull out of…

warnings: suggestive at end + baby making talk + kids being kids at preschool + family life

“Momma, where do babies come from?” Jiro asks with a mouth full of rice, wiggling in his seat. You, middle of taking a bite of your freshly cooked curry and rice, almost choke. You were expecting this question. But not so soon. You thought it was your saving grace when Rin walked through the door, throwing his soccer bag down and quickly joining you two at the table.

“Maybe Daddy can explain to you, baby.” You say as you get up to refill your cup of coke. “What did you ask Mommy?” Rin asks as he grabs a spoon and grabs a spoon full of curry and rice. “Well see. Taiki said his momma is pregnant and- and I ask Ms.Kim what dat mean…and she said Taiki’s mommy is having a baby! ” Jiro further adds more context to what his day at preschool was like. Rin chuckled.

“So Papa, where baby comes from!?” Jiro exclaims almost impatiently, he was wanting an answer and wouldn’t stop anytime soon. “The same way you were born,” Rin states receiving a crooked eyebrow look from Jiro.

“But momma said I came from her!” Jiro argues with Rin and by then you returned to the dining table. “Momma, Daddy is not tellin’ me!” Jiro complains as you get yourself situated back into your assigned dining seat.

You look over at Rin, then at Jiro, back to Rin. Rin had a sly look on his face and you rolled your eyes before returning the attention to Jiro. “In simplest form. You see, papa and Mommy are married. Two married people then decide to have a baby, then one magical night…in this case-” Before you continue, you shakily glance over to Rin, who seems to be enjoying your way of informing where babies come from.

“In this case…mommy could become pregnant or not! It is a chance of having a baby or not!” You complete your sentence before shoving your food into your mouth. Jiro thinks to himself before eating another bite of his curry and rice. “Oh. Can momma and daddy have a magical night so Jiro can be a big brother? Taiki is a big brother and he always has cool stories!”

“Maybe if you beg momma enough she will give you a baby sibling.” Your husband looks at you with a cheeky smile before shoving his face with food and then downing it with water. “Momma please!” You sigh at your son begging for you to magically one night become pregnant with another baby, you manage to quickly change the topic with strawberry ice cream for dessert and Jiro had forgotten about the conversation the three of you were having before strawberry ice cream.

“Is Jiro sound asleep?” You ask as you unmake your made bed, slipping under the covers before grabbing the book that’s placed on your bedside. “Sleeping like how I am after practice.” Rin chuckles as he slips into the covers on his side. He slides closer to you and lays pepper kisses on your arm.

“Y’know, it seems like a magical night tonight..” Rin says and it takes you a few seconds to understand what he meant, once you understood you snorted before dismissing him. “Oh does it now?” You ask raising an eyebrow and scanning your husband’s face that was barely noticeable with your one bedside lamp on.

“Think about it, baby. Jiro is almost 5, and he finally is sleeping on his own…I am situated in my soccer team unlike when I was first being picked for the pro team…it’ll be different.” He tries his best to convince you and you take a second to think to yourself. “It doesn’t seem so bad…in a few years we are going to be in our 30s…” You speak slowly, thinking about it.

“Make me a dad of two?” He pleads before planting a kiss on your lips. “Agh, I’ve been convinced…I’ll make you a dad of two.” You say defeated, coming down to plant a kiss on his lips, he pulls you in more, closer, deeper. Extending the kiss into the beginning of a hot makeout session.

"Lock the door."

© satoberrie

[can-a-tuna-fish]

I can and will write a multi page essay about the way people write and portray Richard Goranski’s lisp in fan content and why I don’t like it. this is sort of just one aspect of it, guys please actually consider how a lisp works before writing/playing him with one I’m begging you.

Rich has a tongue between teeth lisp (as opposed to the type of lisp that happens when air escapes from the sides of your teeth), meaning he makes the “sss” and “zzz” sounds with his tongue “out” (touching the top row of his teeth instead of resting behind them).

The way the tongue between teeth sort of lisp works, you only make the “th” sound on certain words. sun, spoil, and toss all require you to use the “sss” sound to pronounce them, meaning they would come out with a th lisp. The same goes for “zzz” sounding words like zebra, puzzle, and lazy. Plus some words with C like icing, voice, and circle, since in this context the C actually makes the same sound as an S.

Not all words that have an S or C in them make the speaker lisp though, which is where I think people get confused about it and write/play him with a silly sounding or inaccurate lisp. Words like share, show, and sheet make a “shh” or a shush sound, which usually wouldn’t have a th lisp attached to it :))

Something I recommend if you’re ever playing him or just generally any character who lisps, be conscious not to speak with your tongue out the entire time. I see a lot of the people who play him just keeping their tongue between their teeth throughout entire sentences while trying to recreate a lisp, and it changes the pronunciation of ALL their words which a lisp wouldn’t do.

Also, when writing a lisp, it’s really repetitive to read anything that constantly emphasizes it. You don’t have to write “thally thellth thea thellth by the thea thore” it’s difficult to read and makes the content less accessible overall, it’s okay to write the words normally and THEN emphasize how they’re spoken, one or two mentions of a lisp is enough to get the point across without constant repetition. Plus then it’s not crowding up your writing and taking all that effort to figure out.

Honestly all I’m saying is to think about how speech impediments work before trying to write/mimic them, genuinely though at most it mildly annoys me so there’s no anger or anything behind this post. It’s something I like talking about + I like rich so he gets to be part of this too.

[shelfthe-reader]

So since I had 21 people ask/beg me for sentences in the WIP Wednesday community so I’ve decided to put them all here. And if you see this and you’re not part of the game? Well Merry Christmas here are some 9-1-1 fic snippets for fics that I’m actually gonna finish.

Sentence Count: 63

Word Count: 587

BUCKLEYS TAKE LA???? (Daniel lives/all three Buckleys are First Responders in LA) (12 sentences, 136 words) - @aparticularbandit @auburnlaughter @violet-prism-creatively @enigma-the-mysterious

“Okay,” Evan repeated slowly.  And it really was.  If he could say one thing about Daniel Buckley, it was that he was always true to his word. Even growing up, through all of the uncertainty surrounding Danny’s cancer, he never broke a promise.  “I’m gonna- ” Evan jerked his head towards the front door.  Danny shooed him away and Evan weaved through the house to his room. It was small, a little larger than a closet, with only one small window that he couldn’t truly open.  But the room was cozy. It was his. Looking back, he should have pushed harder in wanting to move into Maddie’s old room after she married Doug. Instead, he relished in the idea of having something - anything - that wasn’t Danny’s before him.  The perks of being the unwanted kid, he figured.

F*** Bobby Nash: The Fic (Lawsuit fic where Buck goes to Austin)(15 sentences, 171 words)- @twyrewolf @wizisbored @quietly-sleeping @hurricanebreeze @loyal-house-of-lupin

At that moment, the only way Buck could describe the interior of the 126 was spacious. Even under construction, he could see the potential. Wait, did they have a locker room, with real doors? And not in the bay? Interesting.  Stationed in the middle of the room, sat two men, almost as figureheads of the operation. One, Buck assumed, was Captain Strand. He had the air of authority, clear to all around him that he’d done this a time or two.  Buck had a harder time figuring out the other. He was younger by at least twenty years, most likely a few more - too young to be the lieutenant. But he had a stack of paperwork the same size as the Captain.  As he approached the table, the younger man looked up, and Buck caught a resemblance between him and Captain Strand. His son, perhaps? But, either way, by the look on the guy’s face, Buck wasn’t sure if he liked him. It reminded him of the scowl he received from his parents far too often.

Re-evaluate Your Decisions Bestie (FBN but Eddie’s POV)(24-ish sentences, 180 words) - @eriquin @somefishycat @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin @kalira @lizhly

@kallisto-k @whimsicalmeerkat @tiercell

When was the last time you chose to care about our Buck?” Eddie flinched at Carla’s words. Words that he never thought the kind, caring Carla would say to him. It was bad enough that he was already accused of not giving a shit by his coworkers, but by Carla? It was a stab in the gut. It wasn’t like he did any of it on purpose. If anything, Buck was the one that started it. Eddie, well- Eddie just started to spiral. He lost control of his own actions. Maybe if Buck actually talked to him, things would be different. But they weren’t. “Carla, it’s not- ” “It’s not what, Eddie? What is it ‘not?’ What is it ‘not’ that Buck and the Fire Chief have asked me to tell you all that Buck has put in for a transfer?” What? “A transfer?” Bobby tentatively asked.  ”Carla, what-,” Eddie’s voice cracked. “What do you mean? ” He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t have, even if- “He left, Eddie. And if I’m not mistaken, I think you have something to do with it.”

IVE GOT YOUR BACK (Navy SEAL!Buck secret relationship)(12 sentences, 100 words)- @tamsinswriting @zyrafowe-sny @asha10100101010 @1attheedge

(CW: This is a scene of a woman giving birth. Because of COURSE this scene would be the one I write for my first week here. It’s not graphic because I don’t really want to describe it. But just a precaution because context) (Snippet under cut)

“I’m so sorry Shannon,” Eddie apologized properly, tears welling up in his eyes. Here his best friend was, crying in pain because of his actions.  Shannon groped for his hand and squeezed it.  “Yeah, yeah. But it’s my own fault, Diaz. No need to cry over my decision making skills. Save the tears for when you actually see your child.” Eddie swiped the tears carelessly from his eyes with a small snort.  A nurse decided that now would be a good time to interrupt their little moment.  “Okay Mrs. Diaz- ”  “Not married,” both Shannon and Eddie said.  “-Shannon,” the nurse amended.