#But I still can hit up my one good friend and I can play with my son

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve was lying on the floor of Robin's room, his back against the wall as he let Robin paint his toenails while he flipped through one of her magazines. The radio played softly in the background.

"I am totally new to having a girlfriend, and by girlfriend, I mean platonic girlfriend," Robin said.

"Well, that's one thing we got in common, I don't think I've ever had a girl who's just a friend," Steve said.

"What about Perkins?" Robin asked.

"She doesn't count, I hated her. She's the reason Tommy became such an asshole," Steve said.

"Hm, yeah," Robin said and paused. "So, how close were you and Tommy?"

"Well, we were friends since we were eight. We pretty much bonded over the fact that we both had assholes for fathers. We shared everything and told each other everything. He told me about his first crush, and I told him about my first crush. We practiced kissing, practiced having sex, and when I got first kiss, I told him immediately," Steve said.

"Woah, woah, woah! Back it up!" Robin exclaimed, and she closed the nail polish. "What the fuck do you mean you practiced kissing and having sex with Tommy Hagan?"

"Exactly what it means," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "We hadn't gotten girlfriends yet, and we wanted to get good before we did. It doesn't mean anything. We like women, so it didn't count."

"It still counts!" Robin shrieked. "Did you or did you not put your lips on Tommy's?"

"Yeah, and I also let Tommy put his dick in my ass. I was basically his pillow," Steve said as he continued to casually flip through the magazine. "It doesn't count if you're not gay, Robin."

"It doesn't work like that! Steve Harrington, the first time you had sex was with Tommy Hagan!" Robin exclaimed.

"It was not!" Steve exclaimed, throwing down the magazine.

"Was too!" She yelled.

"Was not!" Steve yelled.

"Okay! So, let's say if I kissed you right now. . .," Robin said.

"Wouldn't count as your first kiss, you're a lesbian and I'm straight," Steve said.

Robin grinned, a manic look in her eye. She pulled her hand back and slapped Steve across the face. He screamed.

"Didn't count! I'm a lesbian and you're straight!" Robin yelled.

"Okay, okay, I see your point. Jesus, did you have to hit me so hard?" Steve asked, rubbing his red cheek.

"Yeah, dingus, I did," Robin said.

"Okay, so my first kiss was with Tommy, and I lost my virginity. We're not gay, though," Steve said.

"No, just desperate and very horny teenagers, apparently," Robin rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you had gay sex before me, and you're not even gay. I bet you pictured some blond with big boobies."

"Well, no, actually," Steve shrugged.

"Hm, what do you mean?" Robin asked.

"I didn't have to picture a woman. I liked it," Steve shrugged.

"You liked it?!" Robin asked.

"Well, I am a man, Robin," Steve said.

"Uh, except not every man likes it when another man rams it up his asshole," Robin said. "Okay, I kind of wish I had been more delicate about this, but I didn't know this was you being in denial kind of situation."

"I'm straight, Robin, I like women," Steve said.

"Yeah, and did you know that you can like men and women?" Robin asked.

"What?" Steve asked.

Robin smiled and got up to pull out a box from underneath her bed. She pulled out a magazine and tossed it at Steve.

"Read it, study it, learn from it," Robin said.

Steve looked at it quizzically for a moment before opening it. He stared at it for the longest time before finally closing it.

"I am an idiot," Steve said.

"No, you're not. You just didn't know," she said softly.

"Bisexual," Steve whispered, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god, this whole time, I thought I lost my virginity to Chrissy Cunningham."

"Chrissy Cunningham?" Robin asked.

"Uh, we used to hang out all the time before she started dating Jason Carver," Steve said. "Our parents ran in the same circles."

"Well, you know, I guess you could say you lost your guy virginity to Tommy Hagan and your girl virginity to Chrissy Cunningham," Robin said.

"Yeah, that's true," Steve grinned. "Thanks, Robin, and especially thank you for giving me that slap. I definitely needed it."

"Anytime that you want me to hit you, I'm your woman," Robin replied.

They moved towards Robin's window sill and sat on it, opening a window to get some fresh air.

"You know this means that I'm not straight," Steve said.

"Something else we have in common," she said.

"You ever wonder how many out there who are like me and who just don't know?" he asked as he looked up at the moon. "Here in Hawkins, I mean."

"Probably a lot more than we think," Robin said. "And they're out there, sitting in their closets wondering if they're ever going escape themselves or be rescued."

"Isn't crazy how we found ourselves?" Steve said.

"Maybe queer people just end up finding each other," Robin said.

"Well, maybe they'll find their way out themselves," Steve said and then he looked her, hazel eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Seriously, Robin, thank you."

"You did that yourself, you know, you just needed a nudge. I mean, you could have told me to go fuck myself and continued to live in denial," Robin said. "You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for."

Steve smiled bashfully and glanced back at the moon. He looked at her, with tears in his eyes.

"Is it possible to be platonically in love with someone?" he asked.

"I think anything is possible," she said. "I think it's a definite because I know that I'm absolutely, platonically in love with you."

They dangled their feet out the window and leaned against each other, Steve resting his head on top of Robin's.

"I wish I'd known you sooner," he whispered.

"I wish I'd known you sooner, too," she whispered back.

They were here now, though, and absolutely nothing could get in between them.

Part Two

[theealbatross]

Headcannon: Sebastian takes care of people

Tags: fluff, kinda low self esteem, kinda unhealthy codependency, short read had to get it out of my head

He takes care of strangers

Like silly little first years lost in the moving stairs, albeit with a frown and a sharp lecture about the dangers of walking around the castle and being too prideful to carry a map when they could barely locate their dorm rooms, firmly putting a quick end to older students' teasing when their jokes cross a line, and even ending up as the reluctant volunteer tutor (live training dummy) for Defense Against the Dark Arts after Professor Hecat assigned him the role to complete his detention.

This, in turn, makes him surprisingly popular with the kids to his bewilderment as they gravitate toward their grumpy but reliable senior.

"Have a good day, Sebastian!"

Both of you frown in confusion at the gaggle of cheerful first-year Hufflepuffs who eagerly greet him as you pass the halls. One even waved at him before they turned into a corner.

"What was that?"

He shrugs. "Hell if I know."

He takes care of his friends

"Amitt! Watch out!"

The Ravenclaw could barely turn to the familiar booming voice before he was shoved to the ground.

"Hey! You aren't allowed in the field!"

"Are you alright, Amitt?" He realizes the concerned voice of his friend, Sebastian, brought him out of his stupor. And in his hand is the bludger that nearly had an intimate interaction with the back of his head.

"Oh! Sebastian! Many thanks! I didn't know Slytherin practices ran this late. I was on my way to the top of the bleachers -- the best views of the summer night sky, I tell you."

"Thakkar, you don't have permission to be here!"

Sebastian rolls his eyes, feeling Amitt's anxiety rising as Slytherin quidditch players land one after another, looming over him. "Back off, all of you. He nearly got hurt. I'll handle it."

"But --"

"My apologies everyone! I truly meant no harm --"

"The captain's right, Sallow. Who knows if those Ravenclaws are using this nerd over here to spy on us --"

"I said back off, Thorncrest," Sebastian turned his back on Amitt to face all of his teammates, daring any of them to take another step. "The next time you ignore my orders, I'll stop using words since they can't seem to penetrate through your skull. So you either learn to play nice or I won't let it pass that it was because of your subpar performance that a bludger almost hit my friend."

Sebastian and the other Slytherin student glared at each other until Imelda smacked Thorncrest's head, cutting through the tension. "Listen to your Vice-Captain," he turns to Sebastian with a nod. "I'll take care of him, you get Thakkar out of here."

Sebastian nodded back at Imelda, ensuring everyone was back in the skies before turning to a guilty-looking Amitt.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I did not think I would cause such a disturbance."

Sebastian just waved him off with a friendly chuckle and a comforting hand on his shoulder. Amitt can't believe his fellow Ravenclaws don't believe him when he tells them Sebastian is a warm person, laughing to his face was just quite rude. To be fair, they could barely believe they were friends at all. "Don't worry about it, athletes are assholes during Quidditch season."

He looked sheepish, "Can I still go up the bleachers?"

Despite his subdued character, Sebastian can see that Amitt has all the determination in the world when it comes to achieving the things that interest him the most. Maybe that's why he liked the Ravenclaw boy so much. "Yeah, go ahead, Amitt. Just don't let any prefect see you."

"Ah! Thank you, my friend! I shall be as quiet as a mouse!"

Sebastian waved as Amitt haphazardly said his goodbyes.

"If anybody bothers you tell them to talk to me!"

He takes care of Ominis

Despite his great interest in the dark arts and his pure-blooded status, Sebastian will take any and every opportunity to fight Ominis' family. He hates them simply because they hurt his friend, which is unforgivable in his eyes. He had every opportunity to get in their good graces but he blew all of that to pieces when he got in a crude fight with the eldest son of the Gaunts the moment he called Ominis a 'useless cripple'.

From then on, Sebastian has been banned from the Gaunt's estate indefinitely.

"Yeah, they better fucking ban me or I'll burn that haunted house to the ground and lock that prick inside of it."

Despite himself and his pacifistic tendencies, Ominis couldn't but scoff out a laugh while Sebastian nursed a bloody lip, glaring at the gates of the manor as it closed on them. "You didn't need to do that."

"I don't think I did enough," he sneers, blood boiling at the fact that Ominis seemed used to their cruel words. Not wanting to fester on their cruel treatment, he throws his hands across Ominis' shoulders. "Who the hell wants to spend Christmas there anyway? Feldcroft is way more cozy."

Ominis smiled, patting Sebastian's back, the closest 'thank you' he could show now that he knew he had found a true friend. "You're right," He thinks of Anne, Solomon's bland stew, and the blinking lights of the Sallow home.

"Are you alright?" And Sebastian -- kind, true, painfully loyal. His first friend.

Ominis nods.

"Let's go home."

He takes care of his family.

Even though Anne no longer communicates with him after 'the incident' Sebastian still religiously sends letters to Beauxbatons Academy along with whatever trinkets he finds that remind him of her. And even though he detested Solomon and barely felt bad about his death, he still made a point to clean his grave, knowing the old man didn't like it when things were messy, and even emptied his favorite whiskey on his birthday.

"Seb?"

He blinks as you slip your hands into his. He squeezes it, letting the heat on your skin ground him as the two of you stare at the gravestone. Just as remorseful guilt creeps into your heart, he cuts it off. "I don't regret it, you know," he mutters firmly. "He almost ... he was hurting Anne. He was going to hurt you."

You nod, leaning your forehead on his shoulders, trying to comfort him through his quiet struggles knowing words or pieces of advice won't help.

"But I know he did his best. It wasn't enough but it was his best," he empties the other half of the whiskey on the grave, and his grip on you tightens. "I owe him this much."

He takes care of you.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Sebastian flinches awake at the recent memory, his breath shaky as he looks around the dim light of the Room of Requirement.

He did what he had to do, he knows this. Solomon has been eaten up by his own anger, if he didn't stop him ... Merlin knows what would've happened.

If the three of you had gotten out of that fight alive, with your participation in his insipid plans, it wasn't unlikely that Solomon would ship you off to Azkaban with him. That can't happen, he dragged you into that hellhole, he had to get you out of there unscathed.

No matter how high the cost.

"S-Sebastian?"

He sits up from the couch, surprised to see you awake on the open door that leads to your personalized bedroom. The two of you had holed up in your safe haven after the events of the night but it would seem rest evaded the two of you.

"I can't ..." you sigh shakily, biting your lips. "I can't sleep. I'm scared."

As if your fear had overpowered his own, he swiftly set aside the last traces of his fear and guilt, extending his hands, which you eagerly took. Sebastian pulls you in his lap, preceding any thought of impropriety as he curls himself around you, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck while he covers the two of you in your blanket.

"It's all going to be all right," he promises, pressing his lips on the crown of your hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."

And takes care of you.

"Hey, Sebastian is waiting for you in the common room."

"Sallow said he'll pick you up after class."

"She's not coming, Sebastian's got her."

"Your hound is here."

You turned with a frown from Imelda to what she was staring at with a mischievous grin and by the door stood Sebastian, smiling when your eyes met.

"I --"

"-- have to go," Imelda playfully rolled her eyes. You gave her a smile as you gathered your books.

"Same time next week?"

"Maybe let's hide somewhere your hound can't sniff you up?"

"Get your own witch, Reyes," a deep voice from behind proved her point. Sebastian grabbed your book and satchel from your hands, hooking it on one arm, and the other gently offered his free hand to yours. "This one's mine."

And wants to take care of you forever.

"You should marry me."

Your next step faltered as you turned to Sebastian on the shore of the Black Lake, the setting sun illuminating his face and the vulnerability and determination written across it.

"W-What?"

"I've thought about it," he swallows, walking closer until he is right in front of you, the cold shallow water above your ankles a welcome reprieve from your burning body at such an announcement. "I've thought about letting you go, letting you find someone better than me. "

"Sebastian --"

"But I figured that I'm a selfish man. I always have been. And I want you more than anything else," you shudder at his fervor. "I love you more than anything else in this world."

Gently, as he always does, he took your hand, placing it on his warm cheek. "I can't offer much, I know, but I ... I will make you the sun my world will revolve on."

He presses a kiss at your palm, a warm tear falls from your eyes.

"Marry me," he begs. "Let me be the one to make you happy."

[crazylittlejester]

Unsure if you’ve answers this already, but what’s the rest of the chain doing in your modern au?

I don’t think ive ever really talked a lot about it like, in depth, but im more than happy to because i love my au and my silly guys :)

my bad for spelling errors i am Stupid 💔

Time: (46) Lives on the ranch with Malon. He worked full time as a mechanic before he met and married Malon, and he still works at the same place just SIGNIFICANTLY less hours because he’s also doing work on the ranch. He also plays guitar as a hobby, he played more when he was younger but Twilight’s BIGGEST flex in middle and early high school was that his dad owns some fuckass guitars

Hyrule: (20) He really really really likes rocks and being outside so he’s going into geology because he wanted to dig in the dirt and find special rocks. Sometimes Twi will text him like “bro where are you?” and if he even has service Hyrule will just send him a pic in the literal middle of fucking nowhere. Hyrule lives with Legend in the same apartment as Wars, Twi, and Sky, EXACTLY one floor below them

Legend: (20) Political science major, because he was running out of time and had to pick something. He’s not super sure what he wants to do, he has like, no plans, he didn’t think he’d be alive this long and have to DO something with his life. He works at the same little coffee shop as Sky, and those two are good friends. Every time Wars is being too loud above him (jumping, screaming, dancing) he will get up on his table and smack the ceiling and yell, or he’ll leave him angry voicemails. He left the dorms because he couldn’t handle being in the room next to Wars’s dramatic ass, he was DEVASTATED to discover all he did was move in underneath him

Wild: (19) He’s doing fashion/arts and he really really likes photography. He’s a retired skater (same as Wars) and on good days he can move around alright with minimal pain, but it’s not uncommon for him to use a mobility aid. He’s very good friends with Wars and sometimes they’ll fuck around at the rink together, other times when he has five minutes to spare Wars will drive him around and they’ll go to parks and just sit. They’re each other’s oldest friend and they both left a sport that was literally their entire world and its been hard to adjust to life without competitions but they’ve got each other. Wars makes a very serious effort to meet up with Wild 2-3 times a week

Four: (19) He’s a blacksmith, like his grandpa, but he got roped into this mess of a friend group somehow anyways. He finds most of them to be far too loud or dramatic, but they’re his best friends and he’s stuck with em

Wind: (16) He’s still in high school, but he does band and soccer. Wars took him skating ONCE because he used to babysit him, and Wind kinda got obsessed with the idea of what he calls ‘knife shoes’. Of ALL the people Wars has taken to the rink with him (who have no prior experience skating), Wind is the best. He’d be able to fuck around and play ice hockey with Wars, he’d get his ass beat if he went against an actual hockey player, but he can play a simple friendly game with Wars if Wars agrees to it

and then for anyone unfamiliar with the au!!:

Wars: (20/21; depends on what time of year I write the au in, because everything is just about their last year of undergrad and he’s a December birthday) He’s a retired figure skater who holds a world record and several gold medals, and he won the hyrule equivalent of the olympics at 18. He’s a dance major now, he’s been doing ballet since he was 3 and he never quit it, and he’s gone pretty much all day during the week because he goes skating for two hours before class, his last class ends at 5:30, and then if he’s actively in a show rehearsal ends at 10. Weekends are his only time to breathe but he’ll still have rehearsal from 1-6 and will hit the rink from like 10-11 unless Sky and Twi get on their literal hands and knees and BEG him not to because they miss him and “when will my husband return from the fucking war??”

Twilight: (21/22; his birthday is March) Bio/chem major with the intent to become a vet for ranch animals. He LOVES animals so so so so much, and he has a rather bad habit of bringing home sat wet creatures to his adoptive parents/aunt&uncle Time and Malon who just need a little extra love, including but not limited to: Several dogs, several cats, an injured bird, Warriors, a baby deer. Most of these things get taken care of and then released or Time helps them get adopted, and others get kept (at LEAST four dogs (including a very fluffy one named Wolfie), Wars, and two cats)

Sky: (21) English literature major who wants to become a teacher because he had an awful time as a disabled kid in school and he was made to feel stupid and he NEVER wants a kid to have that experience. It broke his heart to realize Wars had that experience too and still thinks he’s stupid, but Sky is determined to be the kind of english teacher you remember DECADES after you leave grade school because they were so important and changed your life. His gf Sun also loves english literature, and they go on dates to the library together and it’s just disgustingly sweet. He’s living out his best coffee shop romance au life because he does in fact work at a coffee shop and he did in fact fall in love with the girl who came in and ordered mint tea at 4 pm on the dot every day he just so happened to be working

[eatmeeraw]

never tell anyone anything ever. never tell anyone anything again.

Escapism.

summary: you’re in her friend group. you two have been close for months and you slowly fell in love with her more and more. you suspected the feeling was mutual because of how attached she was, how she behaved like you two were together, until tara began detaching and avoiding you, not showing up for you nor your friends anymore…

category: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end.

warnings: swearing, idk if my writing is good sorry if it disgusts you, avoidant attachment everywhere, venting, alcohol usage, smoking, dissociation (r doubts she’s alive). portrayals might not be 100% canon. might not be completely proofread. there are mentions of tara’s trauma with amber and some behaviors she has because of it.

word count: 4,9k.

A/N: first fanfic, kinda nervous. i hope everything is okay and some people are going to like this. ethan and quinn aren’t ghostfaces in here, but the group knows they’re siblings, anika isn’t dead, and they’re all still in the friendgroup with the core four. ghostface isn’t present. tara is a bit of a emo who actually lags and denies everytime she feels emotions here. Error 404 kinda thing, but as the fanfic continues she gets better.

you are settled on the couch, your body sinking into the soft, cold, and miraculously still clean cushions, their fabric feels good against your skin, making your muscles relax. you could hear the voices of other people overlapping each other furiously, and smell the scent of alcohol, coca-cola and tobacco mix in the air.

you inhale just because you need to, you didn’t appreciate such strong smells, but you could handle it. you always handled it.

the room is large, but not too overcrowded, making the party feel a little bit less dangerous.

groups of friends are chatting around you, some people are dancing, you could catch some of the guests kissing or directly, shamelessly, making out, the sounds of their lips meeting, their spit, and everything else almost makes you nauseous.

the dim and warm hues of the lights are hitting you and the others, and the music in the background isn’t too loud, but loud enough to set the atmosphere and make people move to the rhythm of the sweet, animated music.

you luckily aren’t alone: sam, chad, mindy, quinn and anika were around you, on the couches, making short and light conversations. not everyone in the group was in the mood for partying, like sam, who was blankly looking at the ceiling, jaw clenching sometimes. you can see especially chad go around and try to flirt with some people, entertaining himself after the disappointment he had with tara. unrequited love always hurts, and you know it all too well. he isn’t the only one disappointed.

mindy and anika are creating the conversations mostly, quinn following them and playing their game every time, ethan, instead, her brother, is extremely silent, looking around like a lost puppy who couldn’t understand how to have fun. he always has been so weirdly shy.

you are lost in your thoughts, until anika talks again. « oh! have y’all seen tara? sam, any news? » before tara’s older sister could talk, chad opened his mouth. « she didn’t even show up tonight…weird. » « yeah, she hasn’t been around lately. didn’t even text back these days. i sent her a message about tonight’s party and she left me on seen…rude » mindy explains, looking at the ground, crossing her arms. you can hear a hint of anxiety in her voice.

« i mean, she has been through a lot- » ethan talks, surprisingly, but his sister interrupts him. « it’s not like her to disappear like that, but…i dunno. » she shrugs, now fidgeting with her fingers, suddenly serious again.

you drown in your bitter thoughts again, as you hear the others talk. their sentences a echo in the room of your fears and your indescribable confusion, making you feel slightly hazy even though no alcohol is flowing in your veins.

« y/n? » quinn calls for you, but you don’t reply, completely zoned out. « y/n… » another time, and this time you look at her, frowning as to invite her to go ahead and say what she needs to say. « when was the last time she replied to you? » she asks, and you grab your phone to check the chat. you scroll up, because ten or more messages were sent by you during those days where she fully disappeared. a worried you. a worried you that was still there, lingering, being the skeleton of your essence. « two weeks ago. »

and the question was asked to everyone else in the friend group: they all hadn’t heard from her since a week ago. they stare at you, and your breath hitches in annoyance and paranoia, as you are the center of the worst type of attention possible. you were sure it was your fault, you probably said something that made her get icky and disgusted, like always. you softly tremble in your seat as they discuss how, maybe, something was going on with you, and then sam talks, interrupting the endless, useless gossip that was gravitating in the air.

« can i talk, now? » she asks, crossing her arms tightly on her chest, head tilting slightly. ethan nods, and she continues her sentence. « she’s okay, just stressed. she’ll return. » her posture was tensed, her jaw just persistently clenched every time she’d close her mouth. you knew something was up, you knew she knew. anika sighs, and everyone nods, except you.

as the context of the conversation shifts, making the previous calmness of your friends come back, you stay there, you remain where everyone was investigating heavily on the girl you always loved.

you just felt the urge to cry: she’s so dear to you, the love you feel is like an eternal explosion, butterflies rising and falling inside your stomach, a soft hand grasping your heart: her hand. when you first started liking her, everything was smooth, like an oiled surface. the feelings were unspoken, no kiss was given, but, oh, how her eyes would sparkle every time you entered the room, every time you joined a conversation, every time you simply passed by.

her cheeks flushed, her softness being between your hands, she was malleable and weak for how much she seemed to care about you but you loved her the way she was. her hands loved to be in your hair, or on your cheeks, her fingers would perfectly interlock with yours, and her arms found comfort encircling your waist or neck.

but, still, at some point, she chose to act like you were dead, like right now.

are you dead? you aren’t sure, you can bet that your heart is beating still. you try to re-focus on your friends, whom you hear giggling in the background, giving one another the entertainment they needed in a similar party.

« so…what’s up with that guy you fucked, quinn? » mindy teases, giggling afterward, making the others gasp. quinn squints her eyes, you see it as a little detail that you actually appreciated about her. but, god, if she, sometimes, was annoying. especially when you were in tara’s apartment and you could hear continuous moans in the background while you were trying to have a normal conversation with tara, or with sam.

« huh, we text here and there…he’s fine, i guess. » she shrugs, like nothing was important, like he was just a passenger, someone that existed in her space just to satisfy her stupid needs once, and then disappeared. « no second date? you’re slippin’, quinn » chad jokes, raising an eyebrow, a hint of startle on his face. sam, instead, wasn’t surprised at all. « no. i’d say i prefer variety. »

« what a shame, anika and i were searching for a couple to go to a double date with. » mindy affirmed, anika nodded in agreement, a little pout painted on her face.

you think about how sweet it would be, to go on their double date bringing tara with you. maybe you would end up in a lousy fast food, or maybe an elegant, cozy restaurant with all her favorite dishes. you sighed, shaking your head softly as you looked around. you gazed at sam again, she was lazily scrolling through her phone, always serious and tensed up.

you get closer to her, whispering, as everyone else is distracted. « …did i do something? ». tara’s older sister looks up at you, and you see her turning off her phone as she pushes the tip of her tongue against the inside of her cheek. she takes a deep breath before replying. « no, she’s just…complicated. » she looks around almost as if she could be there, secretly listening to your conversation. « it’s not just you. give her space. »

you stare around, still disoriented, if not more than before. you decide to get up and walk towards the table that holds bottles of beer, pouring yourself a cup and tasting the bold, cold bitterness while it fills your mouth and goes down your throat, bringing you relief. you drink a little bit more before everything gets destroyed by something that you didn’t exactly expect.

you see tara, the friend group slowly walking closer to her, and you do the same thing, still holding the plastic cup, now as warm as your palm.

« hey, you made it. » her sister awkwardly says, waving a hand, and tara would just softly nod and wave her hand back. « WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? » mindy screams and tara giggles, the nervousness was clear, she was avoiding eye contact with every single person in front of her like it would be a potential danger, like it would make the plague come for her body and soul. « we thought you went full hermit mode, dude. »

« i…didn’t think so many people would come. » tara murmured, looking down. felt off, like a withered rose, a rotten fruit, a bleeding pomegranate. tara looks at you, a strange spark in her eyes. you glance at her back, hesitantly, and you feel like death isn’t so bad, suddenly. you are hoping someone would show their guns and threaten everyone to have no mercy upon them in that exact moment. but no one saves you, saviors don’t exist, you remind yourself.

« hi. » she murmurs, forcing a smile.

« hi. » you reply, showing the palm of your free hand, waving it slowly, just a lazy move. she nods and goes away, showing a lack of interest in any sort of interaction between her and the group. they remain skeptical, and you just walk away again, gulping down every single drop of the drink you had in your cup.

a hour passes. you spend it by secretly glancing at tara, or at least trying to, since every time you would set your eyes on her, she would catch the opportunity to make creepy, long-lasting eye contact with you. you hate it, you hate it because you blush, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed by the slight, useless attention she gives you with so much nonchalance. after this, she is surely not going to talk to you again, you think.

the lights that once made you comfortable inside a house you barely knew the owner of, now make you irrevocably disturbed. too intense, too blinding, they would get in the way as you tried to understand what tara was doing, but it actually wasn’t much: talking to sam, looking around, scrolling on the phone, and grabbing drinks.

nothing to see. but everything to think about: many questions would torture your mind, and make your soul beg to leave your body at once. but what did you do? what made tara so distant? is it actually you that is the problem?

you stare at her again. this time, she was talking with mindy and anika, her expression cold, blank, like emotions were nothing to her but ants she could step on and kill with no hesitancy. she shook her head at them, and then looked behind them, at you. her big, brownish eyes scan you, her lips are slightly parted and her expression always neutral, but somewhat altered by something else, looking almost dubious or...scared?

you are the one that breaks eye contact, grabbing a pack of cigarettes that was hidden in the pocket of your jeans, going out of the party, not talking to anyone anymore. you feel too dizzy, too bothered, to even function properly, to even talk to someone without crumbling in a million pieces. you feel almost miserable, too. you have been desperately chasing something that, clearly, wasn’t meant for you.

she doesn’t love you, does she? your gaze hardens as you light up a cigarette with your lighter, looking at the emptiness of the dark night sky, the stars are barely visible and it was saddening. maybe you are like that to tara, too: barely visible, and not worth squinting her eyes for.

you are just a fainting star for her and it destroys you. when are people going to figure out you exist? you breathe, you are alive, are you not? are you dead?

you put your free hand on your chest, searching, looking desperately for the beat of your heart. as you find it you exhale loudly, and your hand becomes a clenched fist.

you feel it, why doesn’t anyone else feel it, too? you grab with force your cell phone from your pocket, scrolling through your new notifications fast, not even glancing at them with great attention. chad asked where you were, mindy called you. it meant nothing. you opened tara’s chat, scrolling up, gazing at the messages you two would send each other.

you smile bitterly, as the phone lights up your face, which was wholly taken by nostalgia.

a month ago

tara 💗: can u come over rn??

you: i don’t know, are quinn and sam around?

tara 💗: no

tara 💗: please? we needa watch the movie we talked about :)

you: alrrrr, coming

memories flash in front of your eyes, her apartment and the sweet scent of hers, the popcorns, her adorable giggles that would give you a reason to exist. you inhale deeply, your lips wrapped around the cigarette, and you almost choke on it as you hear tara’s voice.

« throw that cigarette. » direct, almost mocking, and you don’t look her way, avoiding to even acknowledge the fact she is talking to you. really a coward thing to do. you exhale the smoke, and you watch it get lost in the fresh air of the night.

as you get the cigarette’s orangish butt close to your lips, you feel a hand blocking your wrist, the other grabbing the cigarette by the white casing wrapping around the burning tobacco. you watch the youngest carpenter hurl the item on the ground, putting it out by smashing the heel of her shoe against it with great force, looking at you.

« what the fuck? » you mutter, your cheeks slightly red. is it the alcohol or her presence making you react like that? her cologne was slowly dominating the scent that the cigarette was producing, filling your nostrils, your lungs. you would exhale with great hesitation, aching for the perfume you missed for days.

you, in a rush, turn off the phone, putting it inside your pocket again. your chest feels heavy, your breathing is irregular and you can’t grasp again the control you had before checking the past messages.

« smoking is bad. » tara hisses, and you raise you eyebrows, skeptical by the reaction she has. impressed also by how smoothly she came, how you didn’t notice for not even a moment someone was lurking. you reply, your voice cracking mid-sentence, making you melt in shame: « also alcohol is bad, but i saw you drink with no shame tonight. »

« you did, too. » « so if i smash my head against the wall you’re gonna do it too? »

silence.

you take a deep breath, avoiding watching her in the eyes, you just can’t. confusion is even more marked now, and you bite your lower lip trying to take some of the frustration out of you, but it lingers still, it haunts you totally.

you feel played, like a light that gets continuously turned on and off. now she shows she cares, turning on that light, but those two weeks when the light was off? what did they mean? you can ask her, you have her right in front of you, and the alcohol, somehow, makes you bold, a brave girl confronting the cause of her fears.

« why did you disappear? why was i the first you ran away from? » you question with a shaky voice, and you see her expressionless face falter, turning into something more confusing. is the spark in her eye sadness, or something else?

silence, again. for a few moments, she just watches, as if she didn’t have a voice, as if she was trying to communicate everything telepathically to you.

then, she talks.

you see her hesitate, remain with her lips parted longer than needed, and you wonder what was she trying to cover. « why do you care? i’m here now, so. » she hints a giggle, you know tara is actively trying to ease the tension, somehow. but she’s failing, because your expression hardens more, your eyebrows furrow. « are you serious? » you almost bark.

you slowly feel the anger knock at the door of your throat, wanting to come out. still, you bottled up. still, you swallowed down the loath. you force your gaze to soften. « why do i care? how do you- shit »

you take a step ahead, turning slightly towards the nothingness that is seated beside you and making your shoulders face her for a brief moment. you cover your mouth, taking a deep breath against your palm.

« you think it’s that simple? you think it’s easy to see you walk away without saying anything? you’re my friend, i thought some bad shit happened to you. » you laugh nervously, you see guilt in her eyes as you glance at her, but also…disappointment. like she expected something more.

« fuck, i even talked to sam. you know how awkward it is. » you try to change the context of the conversation as you feel a part of you beg to let the fear out, all the worries she caused, all the paranoia you felt that kept you awake at night. the insomnia, the poignant thoughts that would keep you alarmed.

tara laughs, but it sounds fake, programmed. she slowly turns serious as she sees you not even hinting a smile. « i’m sorry, okay? i just needed space. » she fidgets with the hem of her shirt, almost painfully torturing it. you can see the regret showing, but being denied by tara herself.

« for what? what did i even do? » « nothing. » you huff, befuddled by her ways, she is making you feel like you are in an unlimited limbo. you completely lose it. some tears prick your eyes, you gaze at her almost like you wanted her dead.

« you know what? fine. » you bark, and you walk away with hasty steps, the silence from her was the strongest, most hurtful sound you could feel at this moment. the only thing covering it were your heels striking furiously the ground, until you stop.

your walk gets interrupted by a hand grabbing and squeezing your shoulder, and tara is panting. maybe you walked too rapidly, until now. you gaze at her, surprised and still confused, a tesr goes down your visage. your head is clouded, the alcohol you have inside your body isn’t helping at all.

« okay, i’ll- i’ll tell you. » she says, quietly, taking a deep breath in. you frown, her hand lingers, not letting you go, going down until it reaches your forearm, the grip tightening again, fearing you’d escape, exactly like she did. « i was…scared. » « of what? »

she freezes, looking down at the asphalt beneath your feet, tapping on your shoulder obsessively, reflecting, opening her mouth before closing it again.

a sigh. « i-i mean, you started treating me so w-well and i got- it was so- i didn’t…» « sorry, i won’t do it again. » you shrug, and she squeezes your arm painfully tight. your breath hitches, and as she notices, she lets your arm go. « it’s not what i meant. i…» she swallows hard, putting a hand on her forehead.

« it’s that after what happened…» she stops, putting her hands behind her back. oh, you know it all too well. sam talked to you about it when she felt like you were close enough to them to deserve to know, more as a warning than a demonstration of closeness

she continues: « with…amber. i can’t risk again. » she hesitates before saying her name, almost as if her name was a forbidden word, a spell, a death sentence. it held weight, but she acted like she would show up if she said her name too many times. and the umpteenth confirmation is in front of you: she looks around, looking at the empty streets, checking to see if someone is watching. if amber is watching. « but i’m not amber, tara. » you remind her, crossing your arms.

« i know, but i’m scared. y-you’re so nice and she was too- you know, you know what she was doing to me while she was b-being nice. » she says one word after the other furiously, her voice shaky and unstable, cracking, and she says everything so slowly because sobs would interrupt every word in her sentence, obstacles full of emotions.

you notice tears going down her cheeks, and it makes you wonder when she started crying. you move your hands slightly, nervously, trying to not listen to the urge you have: cup her cheeks, wipe her tears. you just couldn’t, you feel like it would be too much.

« but i don’t want anyone else to hurt you » tara barely nods, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt again, her head tilted. « that’s exactly what amber used to tell me. »

you sigh, having no idea of what to do now, what to say. the young girl saves you, just by declaring something else. « besides…if you don’t kill, y-you’ll get killed. being close to me is a death sentence, really. »

« don’t say that. » you murmur, shaking your head, a shiver of pity runs through you like thunder. you hate seeing her that way. her voice is still there, but unstable. « the next one could kill you. i don’t want you to d-die. » she almost screams, holding up a hand to her neck, like she was choking on her tears. she cries, and she isn’t even able to interrupt her grief, her pointless grief that looks at the future with a negative eye. « who said there’s going to be a next one? » you ask, almost rhetorically, like it was sure the murders ended in woodsboro, and that would dare hunting down tara and sam another time.

not in my story, you think. not when there’s me. you would protect her, no matter what, and at the first suspicious murder happening close to her, you already know you would make whoever wanted to get in the way disappear, in one way or another. but you didn’t know the gravity of the situation, you never were a victim of the attacks, you have no idea how smart a ghostface killer has to be.

tara remains silent again, her silence, every time she would use it, was as bothering as a loud, earth-breaking storm.

she just sobs, and trembles, and you can’t hold back anymore. you wrap your arms around her, pulling her in a hug that you both needed, so much, and you get it, you do, because she wraps her arms around you like her life depends on it.

« it’s okay. » your lullaby of consolation makes her nod, breathing deeply between her sniffs. she tightens her grip, and you only desire to feel all of her attached to you, every limb touching yours. you feel content at the affection, but you want more, her lips looked perfect, smooth, and soft. you wondered how they would taste.

but you couldn’t fuck around and find out, not now. « i know you’re scared, but i’ll be here, okay? we’ll be fine, no matter what. just…please. please don’t run away from me again…i…i missed you, so much. » you whisper, your voice is a restless plead, and you almost break down between her arms.

« i missed you too. » « but…i’m confused, » you finally confess. she looks at you, waiting patiently for you to add context, something that can help her understand what struggle you had. you notice how she calmed down, how she doesn’t sob anymore, how very few tears would fall, compared to how much she was crying before. she looks clueless, and it made your sentence stop for a little more time than how much you programmed. is it just you who wants more?

« the days we spent together…what do they mean to you? » and the question takes a few moments to be answered, as her grip tightens around you, her eyes gazing at you rather than the emptiness of the place. strangely, no one is there, you two can hear the music of the partying flat even out of it, and it relaxes you more because you aren’t alone, you can say you need to go if you want to, if it gets too much even for you.

you wait still, and she sighs. « they’re special, obviously. » « but tara, there’s more. » you notice that as you speak and breath, cold whiteish air goes out of your mouth, losing itself in the space in front of you. is it really that cold?

« i don’t know what you mean. » she shakes her head, and you take a step back. her cheeks are flushed, her body is stiff and as she doesn’t have anything else to grab, her hands clasp roughly.

you falter, shaking your head softly. « it’s nothing. maybe i should head out, y’know, maybe mindy is still waiting f— » « no, wait. » her hands open, she shows her palms, and huffs. « i want to understand. how come there’s more? i don’t even know what that means. »

« you get incredibly close for weeks, you kiss my face, you hug me and struggle to let go, you treat me with…weird sweetness that i have never seen before, especially from you. you suddenly disappear because you’re scared that i’ll end up copying amber, then…you say that those moments are just special. that’s a meaningless reply to me— do you even care? » you vent, a hint of anger mixed with palpable confusion, and the words go out of your mouth faster than you wanted them to.

she widens slightly her eyes, raising her eyebrows. and you know she still isn’t understanding from what place you’re coming from, or maybe she understands? how confusing she is.

« what kind of question is that? i care »

you decide to go all in, your patience wearing thin, as thin as a blade of grass. « then why do you act like you’re in love with me? » you giggle nervously, maybe looking crazy in front of her eyes, maybe looking desperate. she locks eyes with you, and you go ahead and take steps towards the building, fearing her reply, fearing that everything you know is false.

« because i am, y/n » you hear her say from behind, and you turn around, frowning. you are suspecting that what you heard isn’t actually what she is trying to say, and somehow, even if you didn’t say anything, she gets it. « i said i am. »

« how did you— » « you always make that face when you’re lost. » she laughs, getting closer, and that phrase makes you hint a smile. she cups your face with her cold hands, and it makes you shiver, but somehow it feels emotionally warm. a blanket over your heart.

« so what do you think? » she whispers those words, her voice cracking with fear. you feel your cheeks gradually getting hotter and hotter, redder and redder. « i think that…i’m in love with you, too. »

you stop, and her gaze softens. yours does too. « i love you, tara. a lot. i thought you were disgusted by me or…you didn’t want me around anymore. but god, i’m so in love. » you calmly declare, her fingers brush against your cheeks softly, with tenderness.

« i could never be disgusted or change my mind about you, you’re pretty dumb. »

giggles echo in the air, and she leans in, her breaths quiver at the intimate closeness you both have now. everything fades out, and you both look at each other in need, in need for the physical contact you both are craving. she scans your face as your breaths intertwine, and then her lips found yours, after months of research.

it’s perfect, you kiss back without even thinking about it, like you were born for this: to kiss her, to have her with you. you cup one of her cheeks with your shaky palm, the touch is soft and warm, and her lips are too. no anger is held in the kiss, only the affection you both feel, gentle in its essence. your heart stumbles in its rhythm, and you fear that she can hear it beating erratically too.

she breaks the kiss hesitantly, and you don’t know how long the kiss lasted — seconds? minutes? — but it just made you even more infatuated with her. her forehead rests against yours, her brownish hues shining with satisfaction, her lips curled up in a soft smile. you can still feel those lips against yours, or maybe you simply want them to be there again.

but you’re fine, you finally are. there are things you both need to work on, but you know that, until you’ll have her, you’ll be content and wanting to be better.

« i promise i will take care of you. » you whisper, you can’t help but smile, showing your teeth.

« i will take care of you, too. »

[0lliecl0wn]

PUNCH OUT HEADCANONS: Clueless Friends Edition

so i showed my friends the punch out cast and asked them to make up headcanons for them (they have never seen nor heard of punch out outside of me rambling to them about it)

so uh

here it is

GLASS JOE

-Wet the bed as a kid

-Probably still does it

-Denys it

-Goes honk shoo honk shoo when he sleeps

-Had a mullet in middle school

-Has to draw on his eyebrows

-Mouth Breather™

-Wears a cap and nightgown and holds a candle at night

-Can’t swim

VON KAISER

-Bartender

-Screams into his pillow at night

-Screams like a little girl

-Wore light-up Sketchers in middle school

-Got bullied for it

-Goes to the gym to cope

-Fucking YEETS the dumbells

-Flexes on people (also to cope)

-If he is told to sleep on the couch, he will sadly sulk there like a emo person (cue sad hamster music)

DISCO KID

-Babygirl

-Zesty

-Took ballet/gymnastics

-Optimist

-Accidentally broke a trampoline

-Was the popular kid in school

-THE sweetest guy

-Cat person

-Owns 4 cats

-Wears fluffy robes

KING HIPPO

-Plays League of Legends

-Tweaks out HARD at Angry Birds and Super Mario Wii (friend is totally not projecting)

-Really good at board games

-Gamer

-Patrick Star kinnie

-Does NOT cackle. He giggles

-Has Live Laugh Love framed over his toilet

-His snores have caused earthquakes

-Heavy sleeper

PISTON HONDO

-”He did WHAT in his Honda?!”

-Behaves like that one English teacher you had in middle school

-aka the ”Never in my 15 years of teaching have I seen a substitute report this bad” teacher

-ponders

-Dances to animation memes

-Worked at Burger King once

-Constantly pissed

-Goes honk mimimimi when he sleeps

-If he ate a cheeseburger he would explode

-Was the guy who made the post that just says “everytime a new chicken sandwich releases”

BEAR HUGGER

-Smells PUTRID

-Real name is Cleetus

-Lumberjack

-Has a lisp

-Gets food in his beard

-Eats it (EWWWW 🤢)

-His theme song is “Entry of the Gladiators” (aka clown music)

-Wouldn’t survive a day in the military

-Plays Microsoft Flight Simulator

-Goes “weeeeee!” as the plane flies

-Has a poster that says “Eat Slur Game Repeat”

-Redneck

-Has a shirt that says ”These Fists Are Rated E for Everyone”

GREAT TIGER

-HOT

-Has the most beautiful hair but hides it

-Binged My Little Pony

-Binged Twilight

-Plays with Barbie dolls

-Listens to Kpop

-AMAZING at Just Dance

-Also good at DDR

-Plays Pikmin

-Loves the Stone Pikmin

DON FLAMENCO

-Once got addicted to cough drops

-Uses really bad pick up lines

-Does really bad trickshots to impress girls

-Slips like a cartoon character. His shoes go flying every time

-Watched MLP with Great Tiger

-Watches Mean Girls

-Kins Regina George

-Cried when she got hit by a bus

-Zesty

-Scoliosis

-Can pick my friend up with one hand

-Would lean on a wall, say “hey cutie, you free tonight?” and immediately have a coughing fit

-Took an Am I Gay? Quiz. It said yes and refuses to believe it (internalized biphobia)

-Likes big butts and he cannot lie

ARAN RYAN

-Menace

-Actually very lightweight, refuses to admit it

-Bullies kids on ROBLOX

-Keeps getting censored in chat

-Plays Dress to Impress

-Would hit you if so desired

-Uses Joker quotes

-Bakes pink cupcake in spare time

-Would make a balloon animal for a kid and then pop it like Gru

-The guy he tickled in his character intro was Don Flamenco

-Killed someone, steals, graffitis, takes candy from babies

-Should be in jail

-ADHD

-”Ya prob’ly got cheeseburgers in those gloves, have ya Mac?!” “well you have horseshoes”

SODA POPINSKI

-Dropped on the head as a kid

-Nicknamed ”Pinhead Larry”

-Oiled up

-Naturally loud

-Skipped leg day

-Mr. Krabs walking sound when he tiptoes

-Speedruns Hello Neighbor

-Hands are too big for the keyboard

-Makes dad jokes and laughs at himself because no one else laughs

-Gets bullied by Aran Ryan for his dad jokes

BALD BULL

-Someone threw a bowling ball at his head

-Peak Male Performance

-40% chip (context for this is in comments)

-Watched game shows, was in one once

-Blurts out the answers at the TV, gets pissed every time they get it wrong and screams

-Screams like the ash baby

-Shakes randomly

-Ate lead paint

-Ate a glow stick

-”ladies, ladies, calm down, theres enough of me to go around” (stolen from don flamenco, difference is this actually works)

-ash baby coded???

-Teeters on the line of being ugly and hot

-Gets beauty sleep

-20 step skincare routine

SUPER MACHO MAN

-”he looks like a founding father”

-Shrimp posture

-UGLY??

-Listens to phonk unironically

-Has jiggle physics

-Uses his chest to type on keyboards

-says “eureka!” when he as an idea

-FAKE chain

-wears speedos (canon)

-its his only outfit

-played five nights at freddys and shit himself

-Pimp

-GILF

-Looks 72, is 27

MR. SANDMAN

-Drag Queen

-Chappell Roan listener

-Once tried to wax his nose but got q tips stuck in it

-REALLY into horoscopes and gemstones

-NAPALMED a homeless shelter

-Dances like the dame tu cosita guy

-fucken BUSTS IT DOWN to every song

-Throws gang signs in his boxing gloves??

-Does the Omni-Man squat sometimes

-Ate a lightbulb and that's why his skin glows

-Skips to the song “Mr. Sandman” because he’s babygirl like that

LITTLE MAC

-Floats in the air when he smells pie

-Anime protagonist

-Loves Ben 10

-Had a greasy mohawk

-Ate a bug

-Sticks his head out of the car window

-Gulps and goes “EEEYIKES!!!” when he has to fight a strong opponent

-Listens to Mitski

-Loves the movie Ratatouille

-His favorite character is Remy’s brother

-Makes kandi bracelets

-Asserts dominance by T-posing

DOC LOUIS

-Wears yoga pants

-Has asthma

-Runs up the stairs on all fours

-Maximum silly

-Watches romcoms and cries

-Draws watches on his wrist and looks at it when someone asks him for the time

-Watched Skibidi Toilet AND knows all of the lore

-Doesn’t know what a tampon is

-Listens to the song that goes “once I was seven years old”

-Mama’s boy

-HORRIBLE driver

[bitchfitch]

I've started playing Potion Permit, and so far it's one of my favorite games I've messed around with, but the most big brained move the devs made was giving you a dog on day 1, and then making that dog able to track NPCs and lead you directly to them no matter where they are in the town.

[fragglerockopinions]

The worst thing about suffering is that it still hurts when the danger is over but no one cares about it anymore because it shouldn't hurt. No one will ever say "I'm sorry that happened to you" especially when they barely say "I'm sorry that's happening."

[thisismenow3]

Getting into your 30s can def be this. And I’m here to tell you that even your fears of the worst version of what OP relates are just spiraling. I’ve had a lot go wrong in my 20s with my health, my spouse’s, my family dynamics, I lost many friendships that later on I was glad to have lost and left friendships I’ve made peace with trying to salvage for too long. I’ve made a new great friendship with more forming finally. My health and my spouse’s still have lows but we are managing despite our bs healthcare. We still have many estranged family members, but like the friendship blank slate they all needed to be pushed away. And the one thing that is different about me now with my new hobbies, friends, and outlook on life is being able to enjoy the truly enjoyable despite almost anything. Cause even if things still need fixing in life I’ve learned so much and am a much better person on top of the wisdom.

The point is that there is always another side, the dark forest is not endless, sometimes the opening is a clearing but eventually you find the true way out to the verdant grasslands where you belong.

listen. aging into your thirties rocks. yes your joints get a little creaky. yes you can’t sleep in a pretzel on the floor anymore after a concert or a convention. and you lose some friends. but the thing is that you sort out who your real friends are and you sort out who you really are. and you get to see your friends settling into careers they like, and adopt new dogs and cats, and you find a job you can stand, and get really good at arts and crafts, and maybe that book you loved as a kid gets a movie deal and it doesn’t suck, and you learn to like new food and bake your own bread, and you realize that the great portfolio of self harm scars you all used to curate are going white with age and not updated, and half your friends are a different gender now and so much happier and maybe you are too, and you know who you are, and that it’s a journey and not a revelation. it’s a direction you’re headed, and you’re enjoying the trip.

reaching your 30′s rocks. and i’m hearing good things about what comes next, too.

[star-ocean-peahen]

After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.

[fatherbrat]

ONE LAST TIME, R. SUNA

sum. two months into your relationship with your current boyfriend, your ex-fwb finally sends you a voicenote to let you know exactly how he feels about it.

feat. rintarou suna

cw. ex-fwb!suna, cheating, mutual masturbation (kinda lol), jealousy, dirty talk, anal mention, pillow humping, possessiveness, degradation

wc. 1.2k

When you posted your first official pictures of you and your new boyfriend, you had expected Suna to react…negatively. You basically braced for impact the moment you hit post, but all you got from him was an Instagram notification and two texts.

sunarin liked your post.

rin ;)

lmk if you want me to delete our pics.  and hmu when you two break up :p

You never bothered replying, initially not sure how to reply, and then forgetting about the texts entirely. The two of you barely have any contact for a few weeks after that, but he's obviously keeping up with your socials; liking every post and viewing every story. It doesn't bother you, but it's weird going cold turkey on your relationship like that. You had expected him to reach out for some sort of closure. You wanted him to. 

Halloween swings by in no time, and (much to you boyfriend’s dismay) you dress up as a sexy nurse. You don’t remember much of the night, but you do know that you posted a picture of you and your friends all dressed up on your story before getting blackout drunk. 

Your phone dies early on in the night. Your friends take good care of you up until it’s time to bring you back home, and you don’t wake up until the afternoon. You don’t check your phone until a couple hours after that—long after it's been turned on and charged to 100%. 

When you finally check it, two particular notifications catch your attention. 

sunarin liked your story. 

rin ;)

Voice Message

The voice message is 12 minutes long. 

You exit your texts immediately, opting to distract yourself by tending to your other notifications. It doesn’t help much. Your mind races, wondering what he was talking about for so long and if it was really so important that he reached out after almost four months of near-silence. 

You toss your phone onto your bed, shaking your head. You try to ignore it, cleaning the bathroom and folding the laundry and vacuuming the living room all in an effort to forget about the lengthy recording sitting in your phone. 

But it doesn’t take long for the curiosity gnawing at you to win. 

You practically run back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Your fingers move quickly across the screen, hitting play without hesitation. 

The first 8 seconds are nearly silent, and you start to wonder if it’s possible that he sent such a long message by mistake.

But then you hear a heavy sigh.

“I like your costume.” His tone is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. “You look hot.”

There’s another moment of silence, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind and stop listening. 

But then Suna moans and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. 

“You never answered my text, y’know. When I asked if you wanted me to delete our pictures. So, uh, I kept ‘em.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

“I’m looking at one right now. It’s from last Halloween. When you-“ His breath hitches. “When you went as a Playboy Bunny.”

You remember. Suna dressed as Hugh Hefner and the two of you went to a party together. Then he took you back to his apartment and fucked you while you were still wearing the bunny ears and bowtie. 

You’re pretty positive you’re not wearing the bodysuit in the picture he’s looking at. 

“I don’t know how much of this night you actually remember, but I can describe the picture for you.”

You tense, anticipation sending goosebumps up your arms. 

“You’re kneeling on the ground, looking up at the camera, and you’ve still got those bunny ears on your head.”

This voice message is going in the last direction you thought it would.  Is he—?

“You’ve got cum all over your face, baby.” He laughs to himself before continuing. “And you’re sticking your tongue out like a fucking whore.”

Suna takes a ragged breath, a sound you're all too familiar with. It confirms your suspicions—he’s definitely jerking off. 

“That was a good night. We had a lot of good nights.” He sounds miffed all of a sudden. “I seriously doubt the boyfriend is fucking you as good as I did.”

You suppress a shiver. A pang of guilt heats your chest at the mention of your boyfriend. You should stop listening. Delete the message. Tell him to delete the pictures and then probably block him. 

Or you could let the message keep playing. 

Suna inhales sharply, followed by a shaky moan. You swear you can hear the sound of his fist stroking his dick. 

“I hope you’re not letting him put it in your ass like you let me. That’s our thing, okay?”

Under different circumstances you would have laughed. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “And I hope you’re not letting him spit in your fucking mouth. Or–shit–doing that thing where you’d suck me off with your head hanging upside down off the bed.” He falters at the end of the sentence, groaning into the phone.

“I’m not gonna–” he interrupts himself, sighing deeply. “I’m not gonna pretend I’ve been happy for you. I miss you.”

You feel hot all over, a heady combination of annoyance and arousal and embarrassment. There’s a dull throbbing between your legs and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is what Suna wanted when he sent the message. 

“Just–just let me fuck you one more time. Okay princess? I’ll make it sooo good for you,” he whines. You can hear his hand picking up speed.

“It’s still early. Two months is nothing, it won’t even count as cheating.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “God, just one last time. Please?”

Without thinking, you grab a pillow and position yourself over it in a straddle. You won’t let him fuck you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make you come one last time.

“I promise I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue. And you can pick all the positions if you want to.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “Or just lay there. I’ll do all the work.”

You grind into the pillow beneath you, picturing the expression you know he’d be wearing if he were in front of you–batting those dark eyelashes with raised eyebrows, just barely able to control the smug curve of his lips.

Heat pools in your gut and a whimper falls from your lips. Suna keeps talking.

“I know you miss me. You have to. You’re probably touching yourself to this right now.” 

You gasp softly and rock your hips faster.

“Such a fucking slut.” You hear the telltale quiver in his voice that tells you he’s getting close. “My fucking slut.”

You moan, his words giving you flashbacks.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m coming,” he rasps, before letting off a series of moans and whimpers that almost make you concede. You grind harder into the pillow beneath you, imagining Suna in his room, chest heaving, talking into the phone and making himself come to pictures of you. 

That does it. A tsunami of pleasure washes over you, forcing your body to tense before you go limp, collapsing onto your bed with a shudder.

You and Suna breathe in tandem, both of you catching your breath. 

You hear another laugh through the phone. “Damn, that was a lot.” There’s the sound of sheets rustling. “Kinda made a mess, princess.”

He’s silent for another few beats before clearing his throat. “Text me, okay?” he says quietly. “Please.”

The voice message ends.

[goxjo]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 “𝐢’𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬” — 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜

⟢ ﹒ ft. gojo, megumi, sukuna (you’re his vessel), naoya

⟢ ﹒ links. gen masterlist ༚ jjk masterlist

⟢ ﹒ an. it is what is this. couldn’t sleep and have to be up in 3 hours plus I suddenly had horny thoughts before bed. ++ reader as sukuna’s vessel is a concept I really like and have written a fic about before. enjoy <33

overall cw. f! reader, commando, reader wears a skirt / dress, exhibitionism. gojo cw. semi-public v! fingering. megumi cw. aged-up! megumi, public sex, consensual chikan, creampie. sukuna cw. sort of monsterfucking + body horror (since you’re sukuna’s vessel + check my header for reference!), dressing room mirror, cunnilingus, saliva for lube, getting caught. naoya cw. mean! naoya (a.k.a. he’s normal), trophy wife! reader, modern! au?, degradation, humiliation, rough, v! fingering, wall sex, creampie

♡ ┈┈┈ ꒰ ♡ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢 ♡ ꒱

⟢ ﹒ 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

“oh yeah? spread your legs for me, baby.”

satoru reaches for your pussy underneath the table, finding you soaked and bare, exactly like you’d told him. of course he doesn’t care that you’re seated with 2 of his friends. you try your hardest not to squirm in your seat, biting onto your fingers balled in a fist with your eyes closed, corners of your lip upturned, releasing hot and heavy exhales due to the crazy heat budding in your core from how good he plays with your wet, throbbing clit.

“what can I get you— a-are you alright?” the waiter turns to you when you suddenly grip onto the white table cloth.

“she’s fine. just give us 5 more minutes,” satoru responds with the widest shit eating grin as he begins to pump two digits into your cunt, palm stroking your clit.

“mmff,” you purr, hunching and leaning onto satoru’s shoulder causing the waiter to cock a brow.

“stomachache.” satoru smiles at the waiter, still relentlessly fucking your hole now with a third digit.

“hmmmfuuuuck,” you drag out as you hit your climax, and at this point, both of his friends are staring at you intently.

“some stomachache. you should get that checked,” suguru says, clearly finding the whole scene very amusing.

“yeah, at home or in a bathroom at the very least? and please, never call us again for dinner. ever,” Shoko barks.

⟢ ﹒ 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢

“fuck, now you’ve done it.”

megumi’s dick presses hard against your ass. it’s a good thing the train is crowded and everyone is busy waiting for their stop. he’s not really keen on having his fully hard, throbbing cock out on full display for the other passengers to see. but you could’ve at least picked a better time to let him know you had gone commando.

a cold breeze brushes past your bare ass as he reaches for your wet pussy underneath your skirt. he pinches your clit making you stifle a moan with one hand, the other holding onto the cold steel bar inside the train for dear life.

he reaches for your hand, guiding it to cup his aching bulge. you take his zipper from behind you, pulling it down slowly so it doesn’t make a sound. you reach for his cock, whipping it out through his fly. megumi groans when his foreskin gets a little snagged by his zipper but he doesn’t budge — not when he’s aching to get inside your free access hole.

“‘s tight, fuck.” he slides his cock into your warm, slippery pussy. he’s grateful for the influx of new passengers coming in, allowing him to move and fuck you freely. to others, he only seems like he’s trying to get a good squeeze within the tight space, but to you, his cock hits deeper and deeper the more he tries to ‘struggle’.

“hmmmffff,” you mewl when denim slaps against your ass, roll of his hips forcing you to jolt in shock.

“be quiet, okay?” he whispers in your ear, leaving a hot and sloppy trail of kisses down your neck, hips ramming onto your ass last time before he fills you with his hot cum.

you’ve lost track of time, and with it your stop, and you’re suddenly hit with the realization that you have to get off at this exact moment, not even worrying about the mess beginning to drip down your inner thighs.

“bathroom?” legs crossed, you ask.

“duh. need to make you cum, then let’s get you cleaned up.”

⟢ ﹒ 𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

“I knew that was for me, doll.”

a voice growls from your cheek. he licks his lips, and your cheek by extension, at the sight of you trying on clothes that are a tad too tight and too short for a leisurely walk. you perk your ass up, watching the reflection of your exposed wet and puffy lips through the dressing room mirror.

“bend over a little bit more for me.” you do as you’re told, pussy creaming every single time he speaks. every syllable feels like a love bite, as if his razor sharp teeth gnaws underneath your skin. and any time a 2nd pool of heat grows in your stomach, one that is different from your own, you know for a fact that sukuna is excited.

“you know what to do.” sukuna’s mouth suddenly appears on your hand. like a ritual, all he needs to do is say the words, and you are more than ready to say grace. much like a sex toy, you bring your hand — his mouth — to your cunt, his hot saliva, your makeshift lubricant.

“ohhhh fuck. fuuuuuck!” you whine, pitch of your voice increasing the longer you drag out your moans.

sukuna’s mouth ravishes your cunt, alternating between his tongue flicking and his teeth nipping at your sensitive clit, the added bonus of your soiled expression through the mirror pushing you over the edge.

sukuna begins to suck your clit and your cries have all but filled the dressing room.

“are you okay in there?” the shop assistant asks you from the other side of the door.

“mmhmm, yeah ‘m fffine,” you answer back, weakly.

“you sure?”

“yyyeahh,” you breathe out. “just… ti-haaaa-ight, that’s all.”

sukuna’s tongue explores your velvet walls mid-conversation, preventing you from answering any further.

“keeping you here until you’ve collapsed, doll,” sukuna barks.

“is someone there with you?” the shop assistant asks, voice thick with concern.

“fuck,” you curse, knowing just how much sukuna is going to enjoy this.

⟢ ﹒ 𝐧𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚

“you little fucking slut.”

he takes the champagne from your hand, giving it to the waiter. he drags you all the way to the bathroom, past the hotel staff, past his family, flaring at how you’ve chosen to make him horny during his much awaited family reunion. he was going to show off his accomplishments, he was going to show of you, his new pretty little wife, and parade you in front of all his brothers whose wives can barely hold a candle to you.

he shoves you up against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, hand reaching for your unclothed cunt from underneath your dress.

“fuck, you’re wet.” he coats his two digits slick with your juices before waving them to your face. “see this? my horny little wife, so eager, so wet for me.”

he sucks on his fingers, tasting your wetness before sliding them back into your hole. “fuck, you taste so good. do you want me to make you feel good? say it. say you want your husband to make you feel good.”

“I-I want my husband to m-make me feel good—fuck!” naoya ruthlessly pumps your pussy with his thick fingers, coiling inside your walls, nails scratching your insides making you scream in pleasure.

naoya swells with pride knowing zen’in ears are pressed up on the other side of the door, not that they couldn’t already hear you with how loud you’re screaming from just his fingers. he wants his brothers to hear you. wants them to get hard from the lovely tunes you hum in pleasure and remind them none of them can have you.

“naoya, please—mmm—need your cock now!” you whimper loudly in full support of all your husband’s endeavors.

“my lovely doting wife, so fucking needy!” he says as he lets his pants drop down to his feet.

he hooks your leg around his arm, granting him deeper access to your insides, balls wet from slapping your cunt.

“fuckfuckfuck!” his cock hits you so deep, you’re forced to prop yourself better against the wall while he fucks your high — one hand raised up, palm flat against the cold tiles, the other digging nails into his shoulder, into the hard material of his tuxedo.

he bucks his hips one last time in his climax, stuffing you full of his white seed.

you take a couple of minutes to fix your hair, your clothes, and even clean up the mess dripping down your thighs.

“shall we?” your husband offers you his arm, excited to see the look on his brother’s faces.

[nkogneatho]

Y'all know those insecure girlfriends on tiktok when their boyfriend does their makeup accurately, they go “what bitch taught you that?” yeah, Gojo is the male version of that.

He knows he is attractive, and that everyone dotes on him. But you look out of this world. Everybody wants you. Like all of his friends have tried to hit on you a few times. They said it's just playful, but his insecurities kicked in.

One evening, you showed up to one of his totally unserious basketball games with his homies, cheering him every time he dunks.

“Suguru, my girl's watchin'. Gotta show off a bit, yeah?” he smirks, licking his lips his reflexes were so good that barely anyone else could keep up with him. It was like he had drank 10 liters of energy drink with the sudden speed boost.

You hopped in his arms when the match was over, peppering his face with kisses as he enjoyed his victory, showing a middle finger to suguru to which he rolled his eyes.

“you look so cool when you jump so high, toru!” you squealed in happiness. He really did look cool.

“hehe, you liked that, baby? Jumped a little higher just for you.” he kissed your forehead.

“hate to say it, but he is undefeated.” suguru spoke up. “feel like we need to put you on the court, y/n just to distract him so we can win.” your cheeks started burning up at that. You and satoru have been dating for a few months, but you were still not used to the way everyone talks about him as if he's a simp for you. well, he is and should be.

“i would still win though.” your eyes shifted to gojo. You were a little offended at that, even though it was just messing around. It was his habit.

“alright. Let's have a 1v1” the men did not miss the shift of your tone. Suguru knew satoru might be in trouble, while the white haired wasn't worrying about it too much. Because you're not too savvy with basketball aside from what he's taught you, and he is a pro. Sure, you would be mad later, but nothing he can't make up to you.

The boys spread in corners, as you and gojo exchanged a competitive gaze—yours was competitive and his was more of a “i love when you get riled up”—before the match began. The game was not anything serious, so all you had to do was score five points. It was a piece pf cake for gojo but you were being surprisingly competitive. You scored two points just as soon as he did. His homeboys thought that gojo was going easy on you but suguru knew he was struggling. But he lives up to his name and score two points, making him just 1 score away from his sweet victory. There's no way you can win now. If you miss this chance, it's over. But you remembered something someone had taught you and all that “i'd still win though” just pumped up enough adrenaline and oh. my. god.

Gojo's jaw dropped as you shot a three pointer, your lips widening into an evil grin, and all the boys cheered at your win. You were sure they're gonna tease him about today until eternity. Toru was impressed…well, for a few seconds before he hit you with a,

“which motherfucker taught you that? because I don't remember teaching you this yet.” you were laughing but his reaction was genuine.

“hey, c'mon now. don't call me a motherfucker.” suguru slid in, a hand resting on gojo's arm. “i'm a good teacher, aren't I?” he winked at you.

“the fuck? When the fuck did you teach her?”

“last week when we were playing at toji's party.” gojo was too busy playing beer bong at that time.

“thank you, suguru. And you…" you looked at your man, "where is allat “but I'd still win though” attitude?” you mocked him.

“ight fine. you got me. i was just messin' around and ya'know that. don't get mad at me, baby,” he snaked an arm around your waist. “we're both winners. We gotta celebrate properly, right?” he leaned closer to your ears.

“now let's see who wins in the bedroom, tonight. hmm? You know i gotta settle the score, princess.”

[afterglowsainz]

Hey can I get a jealous Jude x female reader. Nothing too toxic lol l, it’s just some guys hitting y/n up on social media and somehow Jude sees the DMs and gets a little jealous. Then his petty self goes and posts a picture of him and his girlfriend on her ig or something petty like responds back with a “she’s busy bro”. Thanks 🫶🏻

jealousy | jude bellingham

obsessed with this concept already !!

summary: while you're getting ready to go out on a date with your boyfriend, he accidentally sees some dms he doesn't like and decides to do something about it

warnings: none

word count: 738

a/n: boring title booo i know i know i couldn't think of anything better :( i do hope you like the one shot tho it was fun to write about jealous jude <3

you were getting ready to go out on a date with jude while he was laying on your bed waiting for you. his phone was charging somewhere in the living room so you gave him yours to play a game so he doesn’t get bored. you were putting on your makeup while singing along to your playlist while he was building some villages or whatever it was that they do on clash royale. however, jude got distracted when an instagram dm pop up at the top of your phone, it was from this formula 1 driver that he knew was always liking your pictures, he didn’t knew he was dming you as well. he thought about opening the message, but he didn’t want to invade your privacy like that, so he simply looked at you.

“someone dm you.” he says.

his voice took you out of your little world and you place your gaze on him thought the mirror you were applying your makeup on.

“who?”

“lando norris.” he reads the name like he didn’t knew already.

“what does it say?” you hide a laugh and continue with your makeup routine.

jude opens the message and reads it out loud. it was obvious he was hitting on you by replying to a story you had posted earlier that day when you went to brunch with your friends and you felt cute.

“are you gonna answer?” he asks again, hints of jealousy on voice.

“not really, no.” you answer and go back to singing along and applying mascara on.

when jude goes back to the screen on your phone his thumb accidentally swipes left and your whole inbox is completely exposed to him. he didn’t meant to do that, but it really was an accident and he couldn’t help but see now that it was there, only he wished he didn’t have.

some of your dms were just conversations with your friends, but a lot of them were just guys replying to your stories and hitting on you, which made him even more jealous than before. you never replied to them, going as far as deleting some of the messages you received, but since you hadn’t checked your instagram since that afternoon a lot of dms from different guys complimenting you on your story were there for jude to find.

he frowns at the phone and takes a look at you, completely oblivious while doing your eyeliner. his eyes go back to the screen and he starts looking up some pictures that you took the week before of you two.

“do you mind if i post one of those pictures you took of us last week?” he asks out of nowhere. “so i can repost it on my story.” he clarifies.

you frown a bit confused because this is the first time he has asked you something like this, but after him seeing the other guy’s dm and feeling a bit jealous you connected the dots and smile amused.

“sure.” you say.

he nods and went to post a story with the two of you looking definitely like the couple you were. he spend a few seconds thinking about a good caption, landing on a simple “my boyfriend❤️”, very straight to the point. he also tagged himself big enough for everyone to see and posted the picture, a satisfied smile on his face.

when you were done with your makeup and ready to go, you approached him and sat on his lap, your phone still in his hand.

“let me see the picture.” you smiled. he shows you the story and you rolled your eyes, a bit amused at his possessiveness. “was that really necessary?” you point at the text and he just shrugs.

“i just feel like there’s a lot of people that don't know we’re together, you know? just wanna put it out there.” you nod, fighting the smile on your face and putting your arms around him.

“is that so?” you tease him, getting closer to him if that was even possible.

“yeah, lots of guys on your dms.” he confess. “they liked your selfie earlier.”

“hmm.” you answer. “i wouldn’t know about that, i only like one guy.” a treacherous smile takes over his lips and you take the opportunity to kiss him. “wanna go? we’ll be late to dinner.”

jude just nods and gets out of bed, never dropping your hand for a second.

[dwaekkicidal]

Lessons

˚ʚfwb!Bang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Just a regular session of your best friend helping you learn Korean <3

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, nicknames; ‘honey and good girl,’ pvssy slaps, playful ass&thigh spanking, Chris calls himself Daddy once lol, rough sex, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: max and I spoke about this a few weeks ago and it was soo hot so I wanted to write something for it,,, but then I lost motivation for it for a while😭 anyways hope u enjoy <3

OH and thank you for 700 followers!! (im late so now so ~25 away from 800) :''') I have something planned for if/when I hit 1k hehe, Love u guys :>

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

After you had moved to Korea, you made it your sole goal to be completely fluent in Korean as soon as possible. You knew the basics and some vocabulary that got you through day-to-day encounters, but holding an actual conversation past introductions was rather difficult. So, this is how you found yourself in your current situation. Your best friend and fuck buddy of 2 years giving you weekly Korean lessons.

And this? This was a normal thing between you both. Sitting in his lap practicing while he sits there explaining things and kneading your thighs mindlessly. It was a normal occurrence! The only difference is you usually wore sweats or some sort of bottom that would cover your legs more. Today was one of the hotter days of the week, so you disregarded the extras and opted to only wear one of his shirts, nothing else.

His hands rubbed eagerly up and down your thighs, squeezing the flesh like he does with soft pillows. Again, it was normal, but today he seemed to be restless with his movements. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath when he mindlessly squeezed the flesh of your inner thigh rather roughly while he translated a word you couldn’t figure out. “What is up with you today? You’re more touchy-feely than usual.”

“Sorry haha. Had a long day so I’m fidgety.. And you know I can’t resist you in nothing but my shirt.” You only hummed in response. You believed what he said, but you also knew that he wasn’t stupid and that the apology was not for his roughness as much as it was for how riled up he knew you were getting. He was never actually sorry about being physically affectionate with you, but you both knew how you tended to get very horny when his hands were on you so desperately.

“Mmmm.. Let me play with you a little while you read, okay?” You shake your head and push your study items away, pulling a laugh from him when you mumbled out ‘Fuck that, I need you.’

“None of that hahaha. Focus on the reading, honey.” He said, placing a kiss on your cheek before leaning down and biting into your neck. You groaned and leaned back into him, grinding against him in an attempt to make him fold in your favor. He let the first few grinds pass as he left hickeys along your neck, but the second your hands cupped him through his shorts he grabbed your hips to still your movements.

“Hey.“ The commanding tone in his voice caught you off guard and had your hands immediately stop in their tracks. “Stop that. You’re going to finish reading this text and then I’ll fuck you nice and good.”

“It’s not that serious, Chris. It's just a few paragraphs, we can do it after or just skip out this week.. Plus it’s your fault I’m this horny anyways.” The attitude in your voice makes him narrow his eyes, and then he grabs your chin and angles you to look back at him.

“Watch your tone. And I’m not gonna tell you again,” His hand grabbed both of yours and placed them on the table before moving to spread your legs open for him. Then, he finishes his sentence and enunciates each word with a harsh smack to your bare cunt. “Finish. Reading. The. Article.” The last one comes off harder than the others and it pulls a squeal from you, making your hands shoot down and wrap around his wrist while your legs slam shut against his hand. He grabs from your inner knee and hooks your legs over his, keeping you spread for him, and he pulls your book closer again.

You can feel the teasing smile on his face after he places a kiss on your cheek and then speaks against it. “You only have one article left, honey. The quicker you read it, the quicker I can bend you over and fuck you into the table~” You can’t help but whine and nod. Once you look down at the material again, Chris’ hands that were previously rubbing your inner thigh move back to rub along your wet folds. 

Then for what feels like the next hour, but was really just 20 long minutes, you slur out the words in front of you as best as you can. Chris’ left hand swapped between drawing circles into your clit and pinching your nipple, while his right hand shoved fingers against your walls. And every couple of minutes he would swap between kissing your neck to sucking hickeys into your collarbone. However, you weren’t allowed to cum and any time you mispronounced something or took too long to read a word, a stern slap was sent against your clit. As long as you continued to read well, he would pump 3 of his fingers in and out of you.

By the time you’re halfway through the material, your mind is foggy and you’re almost drooling on yourself from the constant edging. By the time you’re on the last sentence, your legs are shaking and you're slumped against him letting out quiet moans. Your neck and collarbone were so red from his incessant suckling, and you were desperate to get this over with. And then, when you finally finished, he stopped all movements to place a soft, congratulatory slap on your thigh and massaged your hips.

“Good girl… Now was that so hard?” With that, he hurriedly clears the desk before helping you stand and then standing himself. The chair you both rested on was kicked backwards and your whole world spun as he suddenly pinned you to the desk. You whined as his hand held a tight grip in your hair and pushed your face into the table. His free hand playfully squeezed and slapped at your ass a few times before you heard his shorts and boxers hit the floor.

You sighed out his name as he teased his tip through your folds, silently pleading with him to hurry it up. “Shhhhhh… ‘Atta girl. You did so well, baby. Now let me take care of you, yeah?”

He finally sunk in and nothing but low, whiny moans left your lips as you clenched around him. His free hand grabbed a handful of your ass, squeezing it in appreciation while he slowly sunk every inch he had to offer. Once he bottomed out he gave you only a little bit of time before his thrusts started, albeit slowly at first but quickly ramping up due to his own impatience. It doesn’t take long for him to change to an unforgiving and rougher pace, his hand still holding your head against the table.

“Fff-fuck.. Christopherrr-”

“Yeah yeah, baby. Daddy’s got you. ‘M nice and deep, just how you like it right?” You missed the way he smirked when you let out a desperate ‘Uh-huh’ in response, but you could feel the way it encouraged him when his hips slammed against yours with more eagerness. He keeps this pace up for a while until he feels you tighten around him, and then he changes to slow, deep thrusts that make your eyes roll into your skull. 

The hand in your hair slides on top of yours on the desk, intertwining your fingers, and he leans forward to place his forehead between your shoulder blades, “Mmmm keep squeezing me, Honey. Fffuck, juuust like that..”

When you’re tipping over the edge, he places a kiss on your sweaty skin and moans against it. “That’s it, baby. Cum for me and I’ll fill you up just how you like it, okay?” You want to nod, but everything hits you at once so you can only cry out against your desk.

As your orgasm starts to fade into overstimulation, he fixes his posture and focuses on his hip movements. A squeaky moan falls from your lips as he suddenly bottoms out and the hold on your hip tightens. He threw his head back and bit his bottom lip as he came, attempting to muffle his whiney moans. He rides out his orgasm by sometimes pulling out and snapping his hips harshly against yours.

“Fuck… If that’s how we end the studying session from now on, I might consider this payment.” He jokes.

You let out a breathy laugh and he starts to pull out slowly, pushing you into the table as he did so. You take the moment to catch your breath when you realize he’s gone quiet and there’s the light feeling of breath on your thighs. Your head snaps back and you realize he was kneeling in order to watch his cum slide down your folds.

“Hey!” you whine and place a hand on his forehead, pushing his face away only for him to resist, so you use your feet to push him harder. He laughs at your embarrassment and stands up, pulling you to sit up as well and lifting the shirt off of you. He uses it to wipe you down before throwing it into your hamper and grabbing one of his spare shirts from your dresser. He steals a kiss before covering you in the shirt, then drags you to the living room to watch a tv show together.

You two spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching tv and relaxing in each other’s warmth. It’s no surprise when soft snores are heard and you look down to see his sleeping face squished into your chest. You huff out a laugh before you snuggle him closer. Then, your eyes get heavy until they inevitably close, and you fall asleep too.

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina

[raccooninapartyhat]

There are two main kinds of reactions people have to seeing someone using a white cane walking towards them: fearful and aggressive.

The fearful are the ones who press themselves flat against walls as you pass by, the ones who see you coming and cross the street to not walk by you, the ones like the guy who walked into my path and then, upon seeing me, leapt two feet backwards shouting, "Oh shit!"

The fearful are an annoyance, but they're not usually dangerous. They don't seem to grasp that the path is generally wide enough for both of us, that my cane only takes up two more inches either side of me and isn't going to kill them. They're the ones that my friends remark on most, because once you realise what they're doing you can never stop noticing that people do this.

The aggressive, however, are a different story.

The aggressive are the ones who stare you down as you walk towards them like they're playing a game of chicken, the ones who wave and say hello and when you reply they use it as evidence you're not blind. They're the ones who try to hopscotch over your cane. They're the ones who will kick your cane and try to trip you up for fun. They're the ones that deliberately slow down, giggling as they look back at you, because they want you to walk into them and to hurt yourself. They're the ones who you'll walk by and, even though neither you nor your cane even brushes them, they'll get angry at you because don't you know you could hurt someone by walking around with that thing? Don't you know you should have someone with you at all times to make sure you don't hit someone?

There's a different kind of aggressive, too, and I don't know a single blind person who has not encountered this kind. This is the kind of aggressive who tries to "help" you, the kind who grabs your arm and drags you across roads without talking to you or asking. The kind who pull you into oncoming traffic and expect you to be grateful. The kind who pick up your cane to lead you. The kind who will get you hit by a car in the name of helpfulness. This kind does not realise or even care that it is terrifying to have an unseen person grab you and start dragging you away, who don't get that the cane is your contact with the world around you and they have stripped you of knowledge and safety by picking it up off the ground. This kind does not realise or care that it is still kidnapping, still assault, and they expect you to be grateful that they deigned to "help" you.

All three kinds don't see you as a person. The fearful see you as an obstacle, the aggressive see you as an idle amusement or a threat, and the helpful aggressive see you only as a way to feel good about themselves.

The second you hold a white cane you are unpersoned.

Do your local blind person a favour and cut that shit out.

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist