#I did my best to write from a kids perspective… it’s been a while since I was 12 LOL

[honeyed-blossom]

🪴🪴Herbology Mishaps: Chapter 2🪴🪴

Summary: Tending to Venomous Tentacula is never easy and unsurprisingly, things don’t go as planned. Can the girls put their differences aside to complete their task?

word count: 1.4k

Chapter 1 • Maven’s POV | you are here 🍯

banner belongs to the lovely @cafekitsune !

Maven Godfreid belongs to @theherbologygreenhouse

Valeria’s Perspective:

Her severing spell had landed perfectly and the tentacula head was sliced clean off, now laying lifelessly next to the rest of the plant. The precision of the spell would’ve made even Hecat proud. And Valeria might’ve smiled smugly at her work if it didn’t feel like time stopped for a moment.

The ringing in her ear is sharp and piercing. Her chest feels tight, like it’s been wrapped up with thick coils of shipping rope. She feels her heart thundering behind the constraints, beating harder and quicker with each passing second. Adrenaline rushes through her bloodstream, as if a dam somewhere in her body had collapsed and let the energy run wild. She has the urge to cast every spell she knows, climb a mountain, even fight a troll if it meant she would be fished out of this chaotic feeling.

She attempts to say something; her mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. Breathe, she tells herself, commanding her lungs to inhale as she realizes she hasn’t been breathing. That she had almost gotten maimed by a plant, of all things. That she had been terrified, an emotion she seldom expressed or liked to think about.

Breathe, Valeria. See? You’re okay. You’re all in one piece, aren’t you?

She hears her mother’s voice trying to soothe her. Odd. Her mother isn’t very kind or caring like the voice in her head. She looks around in a hazy panic to find the greenhouse in disarray - fresh dirt was scattered on the floor and walls, a water hose dances around, and Godfreid is starting to stand up from behind the pots. Oh good, she was okay. She feels guilt creep up on her as she feels the ground beneath her settle. A huge gulp of air finally makes it to her lungs, inflating it harshly. Just as she begins processing the situation, the voice returns.

You could’ve hurt her quite badly, child. Ah, but I suppose it’s only natural when you can’t even control your wand. The voice in her head morphs into something more familiar. Disapproving. Arrogant.

Disappointing, for a spell as simple as Confringo.

Valeria clenches her teeth, breaking away from the unpleasant thoughts. Her day had been bad enough and now she had to hear that nasty woman’s voice.

Suddenly, searing pain shoots up from her right palm, inciting a yelp from her. Valeria drops her wand in a panic and immediately pulls her hand to her face, finding the skin bright red. The blasting spell had quite literally blasted her in the process, leaving behind a nasty burn around where she held her wand.

After a moment of silence, the raven haired girl speaks up, “what is it?” Valeria ignores her, opting instead to drown her palm under the free flowing hose. It soothes the pain for a moment but she needs something more substantial.

“Did you get hurt? Let me see it.” Maven approaches and tries grabbing her hand to inspect, but Valeria snatches it back. “Don’t touch me,” she hisses, half in pain, half in anger, and washes her hand again before rushing back to grab her wand.

“Episkey,” Valeria chants, using her left hand to complete the wand motions. A soft green light illuminates her right hand. The pain subsides to nothing more than an occasional sting but the burn persists. Valeria frowns. She’d have to go to Nurse Blainey to get it fully healed.

“You need to get that treated. The pain might lessen but your hand is still burned,” Maven says from behind her, matter of factly. Valeria rolls her eyes. “I know as much,” she retorts, words dripping in more venom than intended. “I’m not as daft as you think.” She narrows her eyes at the Hufflepuff, blowing softly at her hand at an attempt to cool it down.

Maven scoffs, crossing her arms irritatedly, “Are you sure? Because you just tried to kill me. With a spell considered dangerous enough that even the professors won’t teach it.”

Valeria shrugs nonchalantly, “then you should’ve dodged. Don’t tell me all you have is your strength.” She smirks mockingly. “Maybe you should work on your dexterity. Would help you in Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Somehow, she could tell DADA was especially challenging for the Hufflepuff. They weren’t in the same class but Valeria had often seen the other come in for supplementary lessons when she ran errands for Hecat. Maybe magic wasn’t her strong suit. Maven does seem to prefer doing things the muggle way, by hand. Valeria turns back to the venomous plants, severing the remaining heads needing harvesting.

Suddenly, she feels shirt grabbed harshly from behind her and Maven turns her so the two face each other. “What did you say?” She seethes, pressing her face closer to Valeria’s.

Valeria returns an amused snort. “What, don’t tell me you’d like to hear my insult twice.” Valeria is most definitely being a little cruel. After all, Maven did try to help her and Valeria did almost accidentally explode her.

She ought to apologize and thank the other for trying to help but… her pride won’t allow it. Maven called her ignorant and criticized her snap decision to use the blasting spell. What an annoying know-it-all.

Besides, what was Valeria supposed to do? The tentacula has attacked her, biting at her ankles and her instincts took over. Like clockwork, her body shifted into a dueling stance as it had many times before, with her right foot at the front and her wand extended towards the plant. With a quick snap of her wrist, she drew a Z with her wand and sent the most powerful spell she know, a blast of flames towards the plant.

Confringo.

She had only learned it a week ago with Sebastian and the others. Rather, they taught it to themselves, the boys singing their eyebrows in the process and sending the girls into a hooting fit. Every evening after dinner, she and Sebastian would rush down to the undercroft and practice until Anne and Ominis dragged them back to the dorms. She loved the feeling of casting the spell: the pure rush of magic, of power. Of control.

Control. Her mind wanders back to her wand. Holly, the name she had given her companion, glints against the orange rays of the setting sun. It’s a powerful wand but sometimes, it’s as if it goes out of its way to tease and play pranks at her.

Her eyes dart back up as Maven begins to pull her free hand back, preparing a punch. The poor girl looks almost possessed, her eyes dark with ire. Perhaps I should apologize, she ponders.

“Is violence how you solve all your problems?” Valeria continues instead, seemingly uninterested by what might happen next. “Like you solved your problem with Leander Prewitt? Poor chap. Seems you’ve made him look sillier than usual.”

She flashes a pretty smile and leans right up to Maven, surprising her enough to push her a few steps back. She’s close enough to count other girl’s scattered golden freckles and catch a whiff of freshly cut grass and morning dew. It’s not like the floral perfumes Valeria wears but it isn’t unpleasant. “What-“ Maven starts as she stumbles back, not expecting Valeria to get so close. “You smell nice at least,” Valeria mumbles under her breath.

Valeria cocks her head back, gesturing to the hand on her shirt. “Now let go please,” she continues, staring right at Maven. “Professor Garlick will be back any minute and I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t want detention.” She glances behind them. “I’ll finish cleaning up. It’s my mess after all. You focus on what else is remaining.”

Maven’s grip on her doesn’t loosen but she can tell she had given her enough to contemplate her decision. Another detention on her record so soon after her last one would only put her in a deeper predicament. After considerable deliberation, Maven finally lets go of her shirt and starts tending the saplings. Valeria lets out a quiet sigh of relief before repairing what she can.

Valeria sighs tiredly as she cleans up the last of the dirt. She cannot wait for this terrible day to end, to lay flat on her bed and drown in the fluffy covers. To cleanse herself of every wrong thing that’s happened today and simply exist.

[thetriumphantpanda]

new perspective | joel miller

Summary | the summed wedged between finishing your undergraduate degree and starting on your graduate programme just got a lot better when Joel Miller turns out to feel exactly the same about you as you do to him.

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.7k

Warnings | Explicit Smut. dbf!Joel makes his return on my blog, mentions of food and alcohol, Joel being competent and fixing stuff, the classic dbf trop of a cookout, sex while your parents are around, oral sex (f), masturbation (m), unprotected PiV, talk of contraception, dirty talk, praise kink, THE RETURN OF MIRROR SEX BY THETRIUMPHANTPANDA, no outbreak au, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | I missed dad's best friend Joel so I wrote him :) I hope you like him. This is a standalone but I won't rule out adding more in this universe if y'all like it. I have to shoutout @hellishjoel for talking me through how to make a moodboard so beautifully, thank you honey! If you like this, consider reblogging/commenting/leaving asks for me - it really helps!

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for my writing updates. 

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The incessant dripping of the kitchen tap is driving you insane. You’d come back to Texas for the summer to relax. Hoping to leave behind shoddy workmanship that your landlord refused to fix because he would do it when you moved out, ready for the next lot of college kids to come in. If your dad had mentioned the dripping kitchen tap, the creaky floorboards on the stairs and the issue with water pressure that meant showering took longer than necessary, maybe you’d have stayed where you were.

“Someone’s comin’ to take a look at that later,” He’d said on his way out to work that morning, head tilting towards the kitchen, “Should be here after lunch.”

You’d waved him off, barely looking up from the book you were reading, legs outstretched on the couch with your notepad and pen resting on the arm. Wasn’t much of a summer when you were going straight from your undergraduate degree into a graduate programme.

As the day moved on, the heat got worse. Glasses of ice water turning lukewarm before you had a chance to cool down. The patio door open, hoping for a breeze every now and then, but finding no reprieve. The ice pop doesn’t even help that much, melting too quickly before you had a chance to enjoy it.

It’s pushing 2pm when there’s a knock at the door. Reading material and notepad pushed onto the floor, trash TV on in the background as you try not to sweat to death. It takes you a minute to register the noise, so long that whoever it is here to look at the tap knocks again.

You pull open the door, wincing when the heat of the sun being let in sinks across your skin. The change in light means it’s a few seconds before your eyes adjust to who it is standing in front of you. Joel Miller.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. He’s been busy, according to your dad, building his business with Tommy. Lots of out of town trips now Sarah is grown and away to college for her first year - schedules not quite lining up for you to see him when you come home, but God are you glad you have the chance now. He’s older now, obviously, greying a little. His hair has grown too, curls flopping onto his forehead and around his ears. He looks broader now than he did - the physical labour obviously working in his favour - you can see the arms of his t-shirt straining around the muscles there, but as you let your eyes trail down a little, you’re pleased to see that he clearly still enjoys his barbecue and beer.

“Y’gonna let me in, sweetheart?” He asks and that Southern drawl hasn’t changed either, low and slow, tickling just the right parts of your brain as they always had.

You’d thought whatever it was that you felt for him was just some silly schoolgirl crush, but the longer he hung around, the older he got, the more you realised he wasn’t something you’d grow out of liking. Not even the fair amount of fooling around at college had helped - boys that had no idea what they were doing, who couldn’t take instruction to save their lives. Whenever they’d leave, you’d lie there, sheets pulled up under you chin, and think, Joel Miller would never leave me like that - wet, wanting and unsatisfied.

“Sorry,” You mumble, taking a side step to let him in, “Here to fix the tap, right?”

“That’s right,” He replies, walking in and straight to the kitchen - he spends more of his time here than you do now, “Nice t’see you back for a while.”

You close the door, stopping off to lean over the couch and grab your half-empty water glass before following behind him to the kitchen.

“Weird to be back, honestly,” You muse, pulling a fresh glass out of the cupboard, “Didn’t think this place would ever change much, but it feels different.”

“Probably you that’s changed,” He talks as he opens the toolbox he’s bought with him, “Got a different perspective on things now you live in the big city.”

“You’re probably right,” You agree, filling the glasses with ice and water, sipping from one and putting the other near to where Joel is working, “And the fact no-one else left I suppose - did you know Becca from my year at school has had two kids since I’ve been away?”

Joel let’s out a low whistle as he uses some tool to tighten something on the tap, sighing when it doesn’t stop the leaking, “Two kids at your age?” He asks, “I could barely deal with Sarah, I don’t know how folks do it.”

“Yeah, me neither,” You shrug, leaning against the kitchen counter, “I can barely keep myself alive.”

He turns his head, his brown eyes roving you up and down, is he…? Is he checking you out? He lets out a little cough and reaches for his water, taking two deep drinks of it before he turns back to the job at hand, sinking to his knees on the floor to open the cupboard under the sink. He’s got his head inside it when he speaks again.

“I don’t know,” He muses, “You look pretty alive to me.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle, “Best compliment I’ve ever received.”

You can hear him laugh a little from under the sink, the noise punctuated with the sounds of him gently hammering at something.

“Can you pass me the screwdriver down?” He asks, an arm extending out towards you as you rifle through his toolbox, setting the tool in his hand when you find it.

It doesn’t take him much longer to fix whatever was wrong, the dripping from the faucet stopping, giving you the sweet relief of silence, save for him groaning as he stands from his knees.

“Maybe time to retire, old man?” You offer with a smirk as he shoves the tools back into the box.

“Careful,” He warns, but his voice is light and you know he’s teasing, “I’m in the prime of my life.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m all done,” He says a few moments later once he’s cleaned up, “Tell your dad I’ll be back sometime in the week to look at the shower.”

You follow him back to the door, like a lost puppy on his heel, wanting to spend as much time as possible in his company before he leaves.

“Thanks for coming,” You say when he opens the door, “The dripping was driving me wild.”

“No problem sweetheart, my pleasure,” He smiles, “Anythin’ else you let your dad know he can call me, okay?” You nod in response, about to close the door, “It’s real good to see you again.”

“You too, Joel.”

It’s been just over a week since Joel had fixed the tap. He’d been back and forth to tinker with the other issues throughout the house, talking to you here and there, but tonight is the first time he’ll be here without the pretence of needing to fix something. It’s always the same in Southern households in the summer - each household in a group of friends taking turns to host some form of dinner for everyone else, eating together in the name of community.

There’s a table full of food - your mother had made enough side dishes to feed the five thousand, potato salad, fresh bread and enough green salad that you’d all be eating it for days afterwards. The fridge stocked full of beer and wine and the crowning glory of a cheesecake you’d slaved over for hours yesterday.

Joel is here, along with Tommy, and your neighbours on both sides too. Your mom and dad had invited friends from work, but just like you’d expected, none of your friends from before you left were able to make it - prior commitments of children, husbands and work.

It’s a low-key affair, a table full of grilled meat and sides and plenty of alcohol, but it’s the alcohol that’s made this difficult for you. With Joel sitting right next you, smelling of cologne and entirely unaware that you’re creaming in your panties about wanting him to fuck you.

You’d not been subtle today either - picking the shortest dress you own, bending over to pick something up in front of him, laughing at his jokes and pressing against him at the table whenever he says something interesting or funny - you want him to know that you want him, you want him to know that he’s all you’ve been able to think about since he showed up on the porch last week.

And you think he does. When you rest a hand on his knee under the table after a particularly funny story about his apprentice and a drill on the worksite, he gives you a pointed look, but doesn’t brush your hand away, and when you announce to the table that you need to use the bathroom and cool down a little, you’re halfway up the stairs when you hear his footsteps following you - almost hunting you into the bathroom and closing the door.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’, sugar.”

Got him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel.” You smirk, turning around to lean against the sink as the bathroom door closes with a snick.

“Though you were a smart city girl now,” He muses, leaning his back against the door - you don’t miss his hand turning the lock, “You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Maybe you should explain it to me,” You say, looking up at him through your lashes, “I’d hate for us to have crossed wires.”

He shakes his head, but you can see the twitch of his mouth upwards, “Firstly, this little number,” His hand waves at your dress, barely short enough to cover your ass, “And the way you’ve been bendin’ over all night right when I happen to be lookin’, sittin’ right next to me, the way you’re puttin’ your hands on my leg whenever you laugh?” You shrug in response, “Definitely not the sweet girl I remember before you left.”

“Things change,” You offer, “New perspectives and all that.”

“And those new perspectives make you wanna fuck this old man?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

“Is that such a crime?”

“College boys ain’t doin’ it for you?”

“No.” You reply simply, trying to keep your grin from blooming as he starts stepping towards you until you can feel the heat from his body.

He’s looming over you, hands on either side of your body, caging you between his body and the sink. You look up, find his face close to yours and waste no time in pressing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him.

It’s soft. Softer than you’d imagined from him - his mouth moving slowly against your lips as he presses his body flush to yours. You open your mouth against his a little, let your tongue trail over his bottom lip, hands reaching up to grip onto his t-shirt as his tongue meets yours.

You think you could stay like that forever, tasting him, but he pulls away, hands gripping your hips through the material of your dress to turn you around. There’s a brief moment where he presses himself against you, letting you feel the hardening of his cock against your ass, but then he’s gone, dropped to his knees behind you, tearing your panties down your legs to pool at your ankles.

Joel brings his palms to the naked skin of your ass, squeezing before he pulls gently, spreading you open with a low whistle from his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re this wet from teasing me, sugar.” He says, leaning forward to press his mouth to the top of your spine.

You’re about to respond when you feel one of his hands drop and then brush against the slick folds of your cunt, all you can do is watch yourself in the mirror as you tip your head forward and wait for what’s coming.

You feel him run his fingers back down before one of them dips lower, dangerously close to your fluttering hole that’s begging to be filled - and he knows it.

“She’s desperate, huh?” He coos behind you, “Practically beggin’ for someone to fill her up, ain’t she?”

“Please, Joel?” You breathe out, looking at yourself in the mirror, “I need it.”

“What do you need?” He asks with a tender squeeze of his other palm to your ass, “Huh? You tell me sugar and I’ll give it to you.”

“Your m-mouth,” You stutter out, “Or your f-fingers, anything Joel, please.”

“Like this?” He asks, and you’re about to ask what he means when you feel the warmth of his tongue lapping at you.

He’s tasting you, lapping at your core where you’re seeping slick just for him, his fingers trailing up, finding that bud of nerves, gently circling as he drinks from you.

“Ohhhhhh,” You sigh out in relief, taking yourself in when you look at your reflection, hair a little mused, skin slick with sweat already, “Just like that.”

You can feel his tongue pressing inside a little as his finger finds a rhythm of short gentle swipes across your clit - he’s got your knees wobbling already, making you flatten your palms on the marble sink to keep yourself upright.

“You gotta be quiet, okay?” He says, pulling his mouth off you to speak, dragging his fingers from your clit, “You make too much noise, I’ll have to stop.”

You hum in agreement, waiting to see what his next move is, which is to sink of of his thick fingers right inside your cunt and to lean forward underneath you enough so his tongue is moving against your clit. You have to bite down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out - if there’s one thing college boys don’t do, it’s this.

You’re not sure how long he stays down there, lapping at your clit and slowly moving that finger inside you, but you know you’d have stayed there all night if you could, teetering just on the edge until he felt like finishing you off.

There’s a whine that leaves your mouth when his lips leave you - the finger that was inside you also gone, but he swaps them again - soaked fingers rubbing at your clit whilst he literally sucks the wet from your cunt, like a man who has gone without water for months. The hand that he’s hand pressed to your ass cheek is gone too - you can hear him fumbling with his belt and the movement of material somewhere along the line too, then, he’s groaning into your cunt.

You turn your head a little, but you can’t see him well enough to confirm what you think he’s doing - lapping at your cunt and circling your clit whilst he’s fisting his own cock.

“Are y-you-” You choke out, trying to keep your moans quiet as you feel the coil tightening in your tummy, “Are you touching yourself?”

Joel’s fingers continues its movement across your clit but his mouth leaves you, “Course I am,” He confesses, “Couldn’t help myself, sugar.”

“Just-” You trail off, a small, quiet moan slipping through the cracks of your resolve, “Put it inside me Joel.”

“Not yet,” He says, “Gotta make you cum first.”

“M’close,” You breathe out, pushing your hips back a little to get him to go back to what he was doing before, “Please Joel, I wanna cum.”

“Go on then, baby,” He coos, tongue back to licking at your wet hole, “You can let go.”

You feel your cunt pull tight and your knees buckle and your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as his fingers expertly push you over the edge. You can feel your walls clenching around nothing, begging for him to slip himself inside you so you have something to clench around as the hot furl of pleasure drifts like electric across your skin.

“Good girl,” You can hear him murmuring behind you, “So good bein’ so quiet like that.”

You’ve barely got time to recover before he’s standing up and pressing into you from behind, his lips wet and hot across the skin of your shoulder, a trail of wet being left from the drag of his beard where your slick has gathered.

“I don’t have anything on me,” He breathes into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe, “You got anything?”

You shake your head, “I’m clean though, I promise,” You speak softly, feeling him press his cock through your folds, “And I’m on the pill.”

He’s dragging his cock back through your folds, letting the head of it nudge slightly at your entrance, “You let anyone else fuck you bare before?” His hot breath asks into your ear.

“N-no,” You confess, “Only you.”

You can feel him press himself forward a little bit, feeding the tip of his cock into your cunt. There’s no doubt he’s big, bigger than you’re used to, but there’s no ache, not even when he pressed his hips further forward until you can feel his skin against yours and he’s buried fully inside you.

“Jesus,” He chokes out, “Fuckin’ Christ you feel good.”

Joel brings a hand up to rest against your throat, but it’s only to guide your eyeline to the mirror in front of you. He’s crowding behind you, hot and heavy against your back as he slowly starts to move, dragging his cock from your cunt and back in, chuckling against the skin of your cheek when you smile and giggle as the tip of him nudges at the very depths of you.

“You look good like this.” He whispers.

“We look good like this.” You counter, struggling to breathe a little as he picks the pace up, hips hitting into the meat of your ass on every thrust.

“We do,” He smiles, dragging himself off you a little to rest his hand on the back of your neck instead, “You like watching yourself get fucked, baby?”

You can’t speak anymore, the angle of his cock brushing against something inside of you which has you struggling to keep yourself quiet, so you just nod your head and let him press you further down into the counter, holding you still with his firm hand on your neck as he really starts to fuck you now.

You’re glad you can hear the music from the garden from here - means your dad has it turned up loud enough that no-one would be able to hear the squelch of your pussy on every thrust or the sound of your skin slapping together as Joel speeds up. It feels too good, you feel too full and you can feel that tightening coil again, feel the clenching of your cunt around his cock.

Looking into the mirror, you can see he’s in a similar state to you, his eyes angled down to watch his cock disappear into the heat of your cunt each time, sweat gathering along his brow. He sounds good too - small grunts on every thrust and a suck of breath whenever you constrict around him.

“One more, baby,” He urges, “Want to feel you cum on my cock, okay?”

He shifts his position a little so he’s fucking up into you - head of his cock pounding against that spot inside you that only you’d been able to find until now. It makes your legs shake and you have to bite down on your fist when he makes you cum again to stop yourself from crying out - tears springing at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill as he talks you through it, tells you how pretty you look and how good you’re being for him.

“M’gonna cum baby,” He warns from behind you, “Where d’ya want it?”

You have no sense in your head anymore, he’s fucked it from you thoroughly, so you say the first thing that comes to mind - beg him to cum inside you, to fill you up. It’s safe, of course it would be, but you’re glad that somewhere in the haze of it all, he’s got more sense than you, pulling himself out of your cunt at just the last second, resting it against your ass as he spills across the skin of your lower back with a growl of your name on his mouth.

There’s silence as the two of you suck in breath to your lungs, letting your senses come back to you. Joel is quiet as he steps back and pulls his jeans back up to dress himself. He uses some tissue to clean you up, inspecting the hem of your dress for any stains he might have left before he’s dragging your panties back up your legs.

You have a try and fixing your hair, wetting your fingers from the sink to try and tame the flyaways, wondering if he’s going to walk away and leave you, but he doesn’t, he just stands behind you and waits for you to finish.

“I hope that was okay?” He offers sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck when you’re done.

“I asked for it,” You smile at him, “It was fine Joel.”

“Only fine?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

You chuckle and slap him playfully on his arm, “Best I've ever had,” You offer, “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” He chuckles, moving to unlock the bathroom door before he turns back to you, “We don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

You make a sign of a cross above your heart, “Not a soul.”

[eggiesins]

Sandrock Bachelors Being Drunk

Mild NSFW so Minors DNI

My first head canon post, enjoy!

Arvio

Arvio already has no idea what inhibition is so expect his personality to intensify by 200% while his ability to actually come up with schemes drops by 200%.  He’s gonna have so many half-baked terrible ideas that he will immediately try to act upon, so be ready to keep him on a kid leash to avoid some really dumb incidents.  “Builder!  I just had the best idea for how to get more investors for By the Stairs, but we have to act fast!  I’m hopping on the next train to Atara right n- what do you mean it can wait til morning??”  Arvio already slurs his words, so drunk Arvio I could see being almost unintelligible.  Once he’s drunk enough, he’ll constantly flip back and forth between beaming over how much he loves the builder and sobbing over Fang’s most recent rejection.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE rizz

Amirah helps at first, but clocks out of babysitting after the first hour of shenanigans.  Good luck Builder.  He’s your responsibility now.

Burgess

Sweet, sweet summer child Burgess.  He’s not much of a drinker, but would easily be peer pressured into drinking games, especially if the Builder wants him to play.  Others offer to drink for him if he wants, but Burgess insists that, as the Chief Water Inspector, his high hydration levels and position of bureaucratic authority give him a high enough tolerance to make it through the whole game.  They do not.  Sweet baby boy’s never been drunk before and has no idea how to handle it, so be ready to babysit this one too.  He’s gonna cry over how beautiful the cactus flowers are in full bloom, how Banjo jumped in his lap and started purring, and how you’re an angel from the Light sent to save Sandrock.  Keeping him hydrated is easy, but if he does throw up, he’ll never forgive himself for the wasted water.

He’s very good at listening to the Builder’s instructions and advice on sobering up, though.  Of all the drunks on this list, he’s the easiest to comfort and get to bed by far.

Drunk Burgess is a “sinner” (by his perspective) & 100% gives Pen the “you’re a bully but I forgive you” speech instead of turning the other cheek or forgiving immediately.

Ernest

It’s been a while for him.  Did he drink and party with Luna back in Atara?  100%, but since arriving at Sandrock, he’s been so busy with hyper fixating on Logan and trying to survive droughts and sandstorms, there hasn’t been much of an opportunity for him to just let loose and party.  Once he finally does, though?  Mans is writing sonnets on sonnets on sonnets.  None of them rhyme, or even make sense, but he gives them his all anyway.  “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”  “Ernest, you said that one already.”  “Did I?  I guess every time I see you, I seem to just forget everything else.”

Ernest is pretty open about flirting with the Builder normally, so when he’s drunk, expect to hear it way way more.  He’s gonna rizz up that Builder as well as his drunk brain can ‘cause he absolutely LOVES seeing them blush because of him.  He’s all talk though, well aware that when he’s drunk, neither he nor anyone else should take him seriously.  He’s just having fun!

Fang

I could see Fang going one of two ways when drunk: either he realizes he’s drunk and immediately goes to sleep regardless of location OR his walls come down and you get to see an almost completely unfiltered Fang.  When his walls come down, oh man, Arvio better watch out.  If Arvio were to try any shenanigans, Fang is definitely telling him to shut up and sit down.  He’s grumpy normally, so drunk Fang would be much more likely to express that grumpiness.  It’s not that he’s a mean drunk so much as he is just more comfortable expressing himself under the effects of liquid courage.

If he’s with the Builder, he becomes soooooo clingy and jealous.  “The feel of your touch, unforgettable.”  Yeah he’s not giving up the feel of your touch while he feels confident enough to truly demand it.  If the builder is standing, he’s right behind them with arms around their waist.  If the builder is sitting, his head is on their shoulder, hand on their thigh, glaring down other townies who get too close.  

X lowkey loves when Fang gets drunk because it means he doesn’t have to filter what he says either, not that he does it too much normally.  He definitely eggs Fang on if the kind doctor happens to be roasting someone (Arvio) like a squawking mini-hypebeast.  At the same time, X helps the builder out a lot with getting Fang to drink water and go to sleep.

He has a very low tolerance, 4 drinks max

Justice

Our favorite Sheriff and tiredest dad of all the bachelors, Justice definitely knows how to drink.  One of his best friends is the local saloon owner, so yes, Justice has a pretty high tolerance.  With that, Justice tends to be pretty mellow when he drinks, but if he’s with the builder, he’s getting flirty too.  He’s gonna lean hard into the cowboy aesthetic, with a fake tip of the hat before asking the builder to dance.  During the dance Justice is pulling the builder close enough to stand on his feet (so he doesn’t drunkenly stumble on them) & going all the way with the spins and twirls.  He’s not elegant by any means, but he is fun!  He’s giggly and having a good time (probably annoying Logan).

If the builder is a friend, he’d insist on walking them home to see them off safely before stumbling back to his house.  If the builder is more than a friend, Justice is definitely laying on the rizz  and trying to get laid down at the workshop.

[insert “hmm society” question about life here] (seriously though, why do all the civil corps members wax philosophical so often?)

Logan

We all know the yakboy only dances when he drinks, but what else will he do when drunk?  Logan has a temper, yes, but he’s also a soft gooey ball of affection with the people he cares about, and that dichotomy is on full display when he drinks.  He avoids drinking games (they’re dumb & childish & he’s a grown man, damnit), but if the Builder wants to get up to drunken shenanigans?  Oh he’s in.  

“Darlin’, are you seriously tellin’ me ya wanna go build a scarecrow that looks like death to set up outside Cooper’s house ‘n scare him when he wakes up at 4am?”  “Ye”  “What do ya need me to do?”

Surprisingly, not a horny drunk at all (fanfic writers sue me).  BUT, he is an affectionate drunk with the builder.  Kinda like Fang, he’s all about the physical affection, especially in public.  The builder is his, and he’s gonna make sure it stays that way.  When they get home, he just wants to lay in bed with the builder in a cuddly vice grip til they both fall asleep.

He definitely relies on Rambo knowing the way home, just hops up, tells the goat where to go, and halfway passes out in the saddle.  He’s definitely getting roasted for being a lightweight by Andy when he gets home.

Miguel

How else would a religious fanatic obsessed with discipline act when drunk?  Off the rails ranting & outright simping for the builder.  Full stop.  I’m not even a Miguel fan and I know this man is so down bad for the builder.  He wouldn’t even want to drink initially, until the builder challenges him to a game.  “Very well, Builder.  For the person who has done the most to promote telesis in this barren land, I can surely raise a glass or two in celebration.”

Once he’s drunk, expect a strange combination of sermon and praise for the builder (he will definitely be mortified in the morning).  But if the builder even touches him by accident, he’s already hiding a sneaky semi tenting his pants.  

“Miguel…are you hard right now?”  “Builder, it would be a sin for me to deny the truth of this situation.  *proceeds to dramatically throw his jacket off*  Take me now, body and soul.”  “I mean, sure, but…can that wait til we can get home?”  “OH…………………..yes”

The next morning, while nursing a hell of a hangover and the raw, unfiltered embarrassment of drunken mistakes, he vows to never drink again.  At least, as long as the builder doesn’t ask him to.

Owen

Honestly?  I don’t see Owen acting too differently when drunk, just a lot less anxious when interacting with the builder.  Seemingly out of nowhere, his stuttering and nervous way of speaking with the builder is gone, replaced with a more confident barkeep.

He’s wicked good at drinking games, having spent his entire life inside of a saloon.  If you think you’re winning beer pong or rage cage against Owen’s 6 foot something ass, you’re wrong.  There’s a reason Justice and Logan outright refuse to play drinking games with him, and it’s cause it always ended with someone throwing up.  Never Owen, though.  He’s got a finely tuned tolerance for alcohol and knows exactly where his sweet spot is.  

He won’t really try to initiate any sexy times with the builder, but if they start dropping hints for him?  “Justice, can you watch the bar while I step out with the builder real quick?  They need some help..um…perfecting a new recipe.”  Cue Justice’s shit-eating grin.  “Sure pardner, take as long as y’all need” with a quick wink at the couple

Pablo

Is he drunk, or has he just been pretending to drink that much?  Who knows?  Pablo’s been around, especially in Walnut Groove.  He knows how to drink and even more so, he knows how to look how to drink especially.  He’s watching the town get absolutely smashed with glee, taking stock of everything that happens, especially anything embarrassing.

He’s the one who calls at 8am the next morning when you’re hungover to hell and back and tell you, in excruciating detail, every embarrassing thing you said and did, just in case you forgot.  All in all, I think he likes to drink a little, socially of course, but he’s far more interested in getting others drunk instead of himself.

Pen

Assuming that Pen can get drunk (he is sensitive to Duvos peppers), he’s gonna be glued to whatever the nearest reflective surface is.  But what actually surprises the builder is how genuinely affectionate he becomes with them, especially if they’re not officially a thing yet.  He wants them sitting in his lap so he can wrap their skinny arms in his big arms the entire time.

When he’s not being affectionate, he’s definitely trying to spar with them, though.  For Pen, fighting is very much foreplay, and this is even more true when he’s drunk.  He would already be turned on just by the builder existing, so a drunken brawl at 2am?  He’s the hardest he's ever been the entire time, full stop.  Bro is so hard from fighting the builder he has to take care not to fall flat on his face or he might break Pen jr.  

Pen avoids getting drunk because it also makes him feel guilty, at least some part of him.  He doesn’t necessarily like deceiving the builder (Sandrock he could take or leave tbh), but he has to so he can protect the life he wants for himself.  The builder changed a lot of that for him, so he feels a lot of guilt about keeping secrets.  Don’t be surprised if drunk Pen says he needs to confess something, only to go silent for 5 straight minutes before telling them he’s just hungry.

Qi

You know that meme about the guy’s roommate who blacks out and designs an entire airplane?  That’s Qi when he drinks, but with spaceships.  How did you get him to the saloon to start drinking in the first place?  Three words: Saloon Trivia Night.  Qi is competitive, and assumes that he’s usually at the top of his respective totem pole, so when Owen starts including trivia questions about archaeology, building, agriculture, etc, Qi can get frustrated relying on his team to answer for him.  And for every round lost, that’s another drink finished.  Soon enough, he’s ranting about the uselessness of “soft sciences” and the possibilities of interstellar space travel (someone please just make out with him and shut this nerd up)  The drunker he gets, the more he only excuses the builder’s mistakes and no one else’s.

This man definitely gets hot and bothered when drunk, but has no idea what he’s feeling or what to do about it, so he usually just goes to bed.  If the builder is romancing him, though?  The builder will definitely need to initiate things, but from there a now-uninhibited Qi goes off, following any and every instinct he can that the builder will allow.  He wants to try everything with them, for science of course.  

Unsuur

Regular Unsuur is honest, if a bit stoic.  Drunk Unsuur is too honest, and still kinda stoic.  As soon as he has a thought, he’s saying it, no filter.  It doesn't matter who he is talking to or what he is saying, he’s gonna let loose with whatever he’s thinking.  “Hey Cooper, why do you talk so much?  Like, you talk a lot.  Going on and on, kind of like I am now.  Why do you do that?”

“Unsuur, are you drunk?”

“Yeah.  Oh.  Builder, can I make love to you until you’re breathless and destroyed and the only word you know is my name?  I think you’d be really beautiful like that”

“Unsuur, we’re in public! Everyone can hear you right now.”

“Oh, yeah.  We should probably go home before doing that.  Pretty sure having sex in public is a crime.”

Aside from shamelessly flirting with the builder, Unsuur would also just wax philosophical to all the town pets in some corner of the saloon.  None of the other drunks there could keep up with his train of thought, but he doesn’t let that stop him.  Now Macchiato’s third eye is open, and he’s considering joining the civil corps under Captain.

I hope you guys enjoyed the headcanons! Let me know if you want to see the bachelorettes too! Yan has dialogue in the game about "mixing yakmel milk and catnip" so if y'all want any other headcanon posts, intoxicated or otherwise, let me know!

[newworldwritings]

If Only (preview)

paring: San x chubby!reader

genre/warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive, second chance, time travel/new universe (1950s), mentions of car accidents, female reader, featuring all of ateez (greaser ateez), featuring some of the nct & stray kids boys, smoking, motorcycles, fuckboy activities, lowercase intended, insecurities, body shaming, we hate hyerin, san being oblivious in flashbacks, yunho being an absolute golden retriever, wooyoung is a bit of an ass (sorry, don’t worry tho he gets a character development) will mainly be in sans pov but will switch from other perspectives, any bold & italic words are what the characters are actually thinking

word count: 1k+

pls reblog!

taglist: open! just comment to be added!

a/n: I had a dream of this (not with the members) & I wanted to write it out, also got a bit inspired by “Marry My Husband” but it’s a completely different plot.

preview:

“san i can’t be letting you back in every time things go sideways with her, i'm done being the second choice.”

“i’m done. goodbye san.”

those were the last words L/N Y/N had told me after i chased after her out of the school, and being the idiot i was i just stood there watching her walk away from me towards yunho, one of my best mates. since when did they become close? but those were the last of my worries. i had just lost my childhood best friend because i was too blinded to show this school i was the best at everything by going after the most sought out girl of the school hyerin. when i should’ve gone for y/n. she always stood by my side, never once showed me disloyalty, and always picked me up anytime hyerin shooed me off for her other boy toys. she never once judged me for my ways and i took her kindness and love for granted.

now im left here alone with no hyerin in sight, probably making out with jaehyun, and my mates are probably having the time of their life’s at the dance with no clue that i had lost y/n.

while watching her enter yunho's car my mind was yelling at me to go after her. but i couldn’t, i had been selfish for too long. i knew she needed me to let her go so she could move on.

but that also meant i had to move on but how could i move on with life when i had lost the best thing that i could ever have in life.

watching yunho's car pull out the parking lot, i decided that one last time i wanted to be selfish. so i chased after the car. not noticing how i ended up on the main road, not noticing how a car was coming towards me until it hit me.

i flew back and laid on the road while looking at the night sky, i wanted to scream at the universe for doing this to me. when in reality i should’ve been yelling at myself for being stupid, and oblivious.

the pain from the impact of the car started invading my whole body. it hurts. everything. mentally and physically.

i closed my eyes hoping someone or something would come and take this pain away from me. not just from the impact but from my heart as well.

i heard sirens and people rushing towards me, but i also heard someone saying my name over and over again. but i couldn’t open my eyes. until someone shook my body forcefully.

then i got up like i had just woken up from a nap. looking around trying to find out who was shaking me rather than helping me. then i noticed i wasn’t on the road, it wasn’t night time, and there was no car.

rather i was on a field under a tree next to a building that looked like our university. what the fuck.

“san!”

i looked forward to the person in front of me calling me.

“y/n?” but this was not my y/n i could tell from the very different clothes she was wearing and her hairstyle was completely different. it seemed like a hairstyle that would be done in the 1950s.

“come on, we’re gonna be late!” she pulled me up and started fixing my leather jacket. wait when was i wearing this. where am i?!

while I was lost in my thoughts i heard a group of people calling me towards the entrance of the school. wait is that?

“come on san we don’t want to get yelled at by Ms. Lisa again hurry up!” hongjoong?

it was all my friends, but it wasn’t at the same time? since when did we all start wearing matching leather jackets? but before i can question anyone y/n pulled me towards them.

“lover boy is gonna miss his chance to talk to hyerin before class.” i turned too wooyoung, who was snickering, but i was too focused on his appearance. he didn’t have his oreo hair as he liked to call it, his hair was all black with an undercut. when did he have time to do that? before i could turn to y/n to ask her what’s going on i was being pushed towards the door, following the rest of the boys, while i had time to look around the area i looked at the backs of my mates and some of there side profiles. they all had their hairs gelled back, even jongho who preferred the boyfriend style. what stood out to me the most was the leather jackets we were all wearing had ‘ATEEZ’ in big white letters with 3 motorcycles below it. they all look like they had just came out a greaser movie with this style they all had. wait… y/ns style of clothing along with my mates. am i in a different timeline..? no that can’t be.

to further prove my theory, i turned to y/n.

“y/n, what’s the date?” she looked at me weirdly.

“it’s march 29?” she said as if it was the most obvious answer. “no, what year are we in?”

“san are you ok? did you hit your head? you’re acting really weird”

“who’s acting weird?” wooyoung turned around to look at us. “san, he’s asking what year we’re in.”

wooyoung only chuckled, “he's probably just nervous because hyerin is going out with him this weekend, san it’s 1955 you bimbo. now loosen up don’t want to scare hyerin off.”

i stopped in my place. “it’s 1955!?” everyone turned to me. “aye san you sure you good?” i turned to yunho with a look that screams ‘do i look good to you?’

“oooookaayy, i’m gonna take this one to Lee before class, we will catch up to you guys later.” y/n waved to everyone while pushing me towards a different door.

what the actual fuck is going on.

[idiotmf]

Dom AMAB reader x sub fem!slime

This is a bit different, since it's a request. It's not much, I don't really vibe with writing from the perspective of doms...

Did my best, although it took me embarrassingly long, haha.

Working on two more things, one is just a little scenario, and the other is the regular sub AFAB kind.

(and of course the potential interactive story has been on my mind all day since the poll hehe)

NSFW, MDNI

Wondering about the dense forest, injured and alone, you come across a small hut. It's dilapidated, wrapped in vines, and judging from the outside, it looks abandoned.

You check the door, and just as expected, it is unlocked. Opening it, you glance around, surprised that the inside seems quite well-kept. There's a big bed next to a smaller one, wooden toys meant for children, and other knick-knacks strewn about. Your eyes lock with those of a beautiful woman, and your mouth falls open.

Her body is entirely made out of slime, and you can look right through her greenish form; despite seeming sticky and like she could collapse into a puddle at any moment, she has quite the curves. Her tits are huge, thicker than her overall body. You were sure that if a human had those, their spine would simply snap from the weight, yet she carries them seemingly effortlessly.

The woman glances at you, then down at your wound; it doesn't look like she is offended that you basically broke into her house; rather, she looks worried.

“Oh, dear, are you alright, adventurer?” Her voice sounds gentle, nurturing even, and by the toys laying around and the amount of beds, you can tell she has a child of her own. Before you could even think to answer, your legs give out, your vision spinning from the blood loss and exhaustion after running from an attacker for hours.

You jolt awake after what feels like seconds to you, but judging by the bright moon outside, it must've been hours. A familiar female voice is ushering a kid to sleep, singing a gentle song that threatens to make you doze off alongside the young, bluish slime boy. When gentle snoring fills the room, the woman turns her head towards you, her tits bouncing heavily as she gets back up from her crouching position.

“I see you're awake,” she speaks softly, quiet enough so the boy won't wake, walking over to you, her thick, slimy thighs rubbing against each other in the process. She hands you a cup of water before leaving you to once again rest, settling into the other bed with her child to leave you sleep on hers.

Weeks pass by in a flash, and by the time you're better, the slime woman and you are quite close. You even watch her kid once or twice. She is sweet, a nice lady who gladly let you stay with her since you could perform some of the heavier labor that she couldn't do, despite her malleable form.

Most days, while the kid is at the local village to attend school, the two of you spend your free time hidden in her cottage. She pretty quickly developed a taste for your cum, barely able to contain herself until her kid finally leaves for the day, just so she can suck your cock.

Her favorite thing these days was taking it all the way in the back of her throat, using her form to squeeze you tightly. She would let you fuck her face any time of the day, as long as no one is around, making eye contact with you while you pound into her drooling hole.

Thanks to her translucent form, you can see every single one of your thrusts in her; sometimes she even stretches her tongue to wrap it all the way around your fat shaft, wringing out every last drop of your delicious seed.

“What a good girl,” you coo, pulling on her slimy hair to fuck harder into her throat as she kneels there, just letting you pound into her face. All she lets out are submissive whimpers, her throat periodically tightening around your cock while she greedily swallowed every single inch of it. You finally felt your orgasm rise, pulling out of her mouth without care just to unleash a thick stream of cum all over her fat tits. Without even waiting, her tongue extends, lapping up every single drop from her own skin like her life depends on it. 

“Oh, we can't let it go to waste, dear.” Her tongue reaches out to clean your cock, despite you having stepped back to clean yourself off with a towel. After a few moments her tongue retracts, shrinking in size once more, just as she locks her juicy lips, making sure truly no drop of your precious seed goes to waste.

[nunalastor]

I have been struck by an idea for Angel Alastor AU

*Alastor's POV*

A couple months into his stay in Hell Alastor finds and figures out how deals work, as well as their roll they play in maintaining this realm. He is excited to try it out and finds out he is really good at it. BUT!! After awhile the people he takes under his care collapse into shows of light. He doesn't get it. What is he doing wrong! the only 2 thralls not leaving are Nifty and husker.

Let's see he takes in children and women who did what they had to do to survive. Check! Give them free housing in the forest he grew with his magic. Check!! Employ the women as either teachers/caretakers for the kids or writers for his radio shows. CHECK!!! Basically build and maintain a self sufficient community that doesn't have to worry about the stress of hell while he get to have his fun. Check fucking CHECK!!!!

No matter how many years pass in hell it keeps happening. It's confusing but that's ok, he only did it because all the most respected Overlords of hell run and maintain communities. His new bestie Rosie, Carmillia, Missi Zilla, Zestial and even that pathetic picture Box that got a lucky hit to his forehead with an angelic dagger ( thankfully Alastor bashed vox's face in before he could back up the memory) has one. Well the Princess is opening a hotel i hopes of rehabilitating sinners should be fun. He just hopes that the letters he wrote for Guy, Emily and his Mom and that they forgive him for his selfish acts.

*Heaven's/Micheal's POV*

It has been years since the one so loved by Heaven went missing because of Adam's carelessness when something miraculous starts happening. The souls of women and children damned to Hell start appearing before the high Seraphim Sera. Despite all the struggles the souls went through and endured, they had one thing in common.

Alastor

When Micheal is filled in on what's happening he doesn't rushes to the observation orb within Heavens Court house. With the help of the very souls Alastor redeemed he lays eyes upon his beloved for the first time in years. The sight is both comforting and devastating as Micheal watches Alastor rub at a nasty scar along his temple.

Of course. Everything makes sense now. His beloved wouldn't abandon everyone he loves on a whim. He didn't know it was possible for the love he has held for his deer to grow deeper because even when trapped in hell under the delusion that they're a demon Al still went out of his way to help others. After many apology's to Guy, Emily and Al's Mom for the deceit Sera decides the best course of action going forward is to call a meeting with Lucifer.....OH, Lucifer sent his daughter in his place. WAIT! She's starting up a redemption project that's perfect we can give her support through the search party now led by a talented exorcist by the name of Vagatha And his beloved's best friend Guy who's a detective turned therapist.

Charlie: "wait uncle, you know redemption is possible?"

Micheal: "Well yes, but not how because my boyfriend the saint who figured out how to do so, got trapped in Hell due to a tragic mistake some years ago suffering a horrible head wound. We were finally able to find him but we don't know how much he truly remembers."

*Lilith POV*

Lilith who has spent the last couple of years getting faded off champagne on a beach: "I feel like i'm forgetting something important" -the unopened letters Alastor asked her to deliver sitting at the bottom of her luggage- "If i can't remember, probably not a big deal."

-sleep deprived Anon-

P.S. the thought of Alastor finally finding joy in his after life only to have it be ripped out from under him because he is unintentionally being really helpful is funny and the growing unhinged perspective of Micheal as he searches for his beloved, is absolutely delightful for me

P.S.S. I had to write this down twice so it's a lot longer than it was originally so here's this wall of text-sorry not sorry

👀

[mscherub]

Stupid friend stuff but Yuu making a bet with Ace, he can beat Deuce in Arm wrestling. Ace calls bs since he knows deuce is stronger, but the pc wins by confusing Deuce and forcing his arm down while he's distracted.

Loosing a Bet

A/N: Heyyy! Thanks for the request, I love writing silly things so you made me happy with this, and with this ur also feeding my favoritism towards Ace— anyways, this is in my usual second person POV perspective, it’s what I’m most comfortable writing in. With that said, I tried my best with it so I hope you enjoy <3

Tags: Fluff, funny, stupid stuff, friends

Warnings: swearing, bribes

Lunch was as busy and loud as it usually was with the table you sat at. Grim scarfed down his food in less than 5 minutes at the start, Ace got into some fight with a kid across the lunch room, Deuce is struggling with homework and not touching his food which Grim gladly helps himself to, and Epel, Jack, and Sebek are all being fairly normal. Grim keeps begging everyone for a small share of their food even after stealing Deuce’s portions, bugging them, and especially you, as he paws away at your shoulder, a pout on his face. You’ve been ignoring him for most of the time and you were trying to keep it that way.

“Heyyy, Henchhuman…go buy me s’more stuff to eat…” he huffs, moving to float in front of your face. “Can’t ya go get me something? Cmonnnnn…” he whines as he brings his face closer to yours.

You move back and you give a small glare as you set down your drink. “You already ate your food, you don’t need anymore—“

“But ima growin mage! Gotta buy me something so I can eat it and get stronger! The least my Henchhuman can do for me.” He huffs again, his tail flicking out of anger, but he knew better than most to test you. He sits back down with a small plop and crosses his arms.

“Here…how about…what if,” you look over at Ace who’s blatantly flipping off someone as they walk past, presumably one of the friends of the kid he has problems with. “I bet Ace can’t beat Deuce in an arm wrestling match, so if he looses he has to buy you another lunch. And if he wins…I dunno, I’ll let him decide.” You watch as he perks up at hearing his name and he gives you one of the most confused looks you’ve ever seen.

“The fuck do you mean by that…” He tilts his head.

Deuce looks over at you, then to Ace, then Ace looks at him, and then at Deuces arms. “No way I’m gonna verse him.” He rolls his eyes.

“So you’re just a pussy then? Mannnnn, I thought you had some balls, but this is just a new low, huh?” You rest your chin on the palm of your hand and smile at him. He bristles up at the words and he shakes his head in disbelief and against the statement you just had to provoke him with.

“I’m gonna get my arm snapped! No offense to Deuce but all the offense to Deuce, I don’t wanna even try that…I’d loose. And I’m no pussy— I just know when not to do shit!” He shakes his head even more, making an x with his arms.

“You had no problem eating that tart—“

“That’s different!”

“Hey, I said you can pick what you’d win, so at least think of that before complaining.” You quickly interject. He goes quiet again and he pouts at you. Just peer pressure him into it. You get a kick out of watching him loose and you also can get a quiet Grim. Win-win situation.

“Fine. You know what, I’ll do it. If I win, I want you to go over there and dump a drink on that kids head who’s been really pissing me off lately. So I don’t get in trouble for it.” He smirks right back at you and crosses his arms.

“That’s…a far stretch from what I said you’d have to do if you lost—“

“Ah ah ah, but that’s what I want. You said so yourself.” He wags his finger at you and points his chin up.

This guy…. “I did…fine. A bet is a bet. You loose, you buy grim another lunch, you win, I go and be rude to that kid. Is that it?”

He nods and seems proud of himself while doing so. There’s no way he’d win, I mean compared to Deuce, his arms are…skinnier, in the nicest way you can word it.

Deuce listened to the whole thing and he’s still confused, but when Ace offers up his hand, Deuce reluctantly follows along. Grim obviously wants Ace to loose so he goes over to the both of them and pretends to be the referee and watches closely.

Not even a minute goes by before Ace is already struggling. He lets out small puffs of air as his arm trembles, his other hand gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles are white as he tries to push down Deuces. It’s a sad sight, but he knew he’d loose, like he said so himself, so all you have to do is just sit back and watch the scene play out. You wouldn’t have to spend any other amounts of money on Grim’s food for today—

Ortho comes zooming in and pops up behind Deuce, Ortho watching the whole situation very curiously. He startles both of the boys, but in one swift motion, Ace pushes all of his reserved strength into slamming Deuces arm down against the table.

Silence. Everyone goes quiet and Ace just chuckles breathily before he looks back at you and smirks. “Let’s go! Now go do what I said. Since I won and all…can’t believe you didn’t believe in me! Now look! Hah!”

“Ok, hold on! That’s not…” you sit up quickly and put your hands on the table, leaning forwards in disbelief. “That doesn’t count. Ortho surprised you both so—“

“Ohhhh don’t pull this. Now look who’s the pussy. You too sacred to got get lil ol’ me some revenge?” He clasps his hands together and pouts at you, fluttering his lashes.

Wow. Just, wow.

“Like ya said so yourself, Prefect, a bet is a bet, no?” He chuckles even more.

“Fine. Which kid?” You mutter out as you swing your legs over the bench and stand up.

“The one with the brown hair. His name is…I dunno. I was paired with him in class and he’s just a huge dick. Go show him some hospitality for me.” He hums all happily like a literal school girl.

You grab Aces drink which makes him glare at you, but he doesn’t protest any further. You walk over to the guy and tap him on his shoulder before you dump out the contents into his hair and chuck the drink on the table. “Present from Ace.”

Bonus:

“Out of the time you’ve been here you’ve never done something as outrageous as this…” Crowley sighs as he looks down at his papers.

“What possessed you to do this?” He looks up at you again, his lips pursed, holding back many words he’d like to say.

“I…lost a bet.”

I hope it was close to what you wanted, and sorry it was a little shorter <3

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[nixwriteschaos]

Hello! Can you do a part two to the Aizawa fic where the merchant reader accepts and moves on, and then a few years later he barely recognizes aizawa when they see each other again? Thank you!

Troubles Coming Back

Street!Rat!Aizawa x Merchant!Male!reader [Aladdin AU] Summary: Years went by without a hitch. Y/N had gone his separate way, forgetting Aizawa and getting caught up in all his traveling and selling work. When he came back from a long trip after his quarrel with Shota Aizawa 5 years ago, he was unexpectedly robbed. Who’s the robber?

★☽A/N: Oooo! This will be interesting! I didn’t exactly plan to have this to have a part two so I will try my best!

Contents: SLIGHT ANGST - FLUFF

════❖════

“Y/N! It’s so great to see you!” A black-haired woman greeted the H/C-haired man with a smile and open arms. Y/N smiled gleefully and embraced Jasmine in a tight hug. “It’s been too long! You didn’t even write a letter!” Jasmine laughed.

Y/N also laughed in response. “I know, I know! I’m so sorry!” He apologized. The rest of the day was spent talking about their life while the other was gone.

The 36 year old man was shocked to hear that Jasmine had married Aladdin, a streetrat. But it made sense to him after she explained the whole story from her perspective and from Aladdin’s. He had to admit, the topic about Aladdin made him think about Aizawa…

He couldn’t believe it… He missed him?

The memories of how they ended things flooded his mind. He had shivers down his spine just thinking about it. He wished he hadn’t said all those things to Shota.

Though, it was too late to go back from what he said all those years ago.

════

He was taking a stroll in the marketplace. He wanted to buy some things that he needed for his next trip next year, like ink and paper. It was safer to prepare objects such as that since it might increase in worth when it is less in stock and more in demand.

Y/N had lovely talks to familiar faces who were glad to see him after all those years. He was quite shocked that they still remembered him. L/N had a bad reputation as a kid, always running around and giving people death glares.

The only people who actually liked him when he was still a child and teenager were the old librarian, the king, Jasmine, Aladdin, and…

Shota.

He stopped in his tracks.

He couldn’t believe he was thinking about Aizawa again. After all these years, he didn’t expect himself to think back to his quarrel with the black-haired man.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

The H/C-haired man did not want to think about the man anymore. All he wanted to do was to work on his work and not to work on his past broken relations. Everything that happened 5 years ago, should stay in the past, not in the future and bothering him with guilt.

“Y/N!” The man turned to find Aladdin, dressed in much more cleaner clothing than he last saw him in. He couldn’t help but snicker. “Can’t believe you’re wearing cleaner clothes! Hah!!” He laughed. Aladdin laughed along, patting his back like he used to do.

“Now, that’s just mean!” He laughed back.

The pair ended up talking about their lives when the other wasn’t present, just like Y/N did with Jasmine. Suppose the two of them were too loud, because some passersby looked at them with strange looks.

Later, Aladdin had to do something else so he said his goodbyes to Y/N and walked the separate way.

════

Finally, he ended up finishing up his shopping and got what he needed. It was all in his traveling bag.

He was walking past the alley, bright with street lights. Y/N definitely wasn;t expecting his bag to be taken away from his bag in one swift move by a passing person. But he was quick with his instincts and grabbed the bag before it was out of view.

His action caused the robber to stumble back and fall to the ground. Y/N wore his bag again and bent over the fallen robber. He wanted to memorize the face and dragged the robber to the police to report him for the thief.

He took a closer look at the face and entire look.

Long black messy hair, half of it was tied in a messy bun. Sharp cat eyes with dark circles under, black eyes staring right back at him. A dark scruffy goatee on his chin that seems to be maintained well. A single scar across his right cheek, underneath his eye.

“Shota..?” Eyes widened and mouth agape, he looked over with shock. The dark-haired man was also shocked to see a familiar face. “Y/N! I didn’t realize it was you–” Aizawa rushed to say his words, trying to pick himself up.

Y/N gave him a hand and pulled him right back up. “I nearly didn’t recognize you! Your hair gotten longer!” Y/N smiled. He didn’t even realize how much he missed his hoarse voice. He always found it annoying back then, but now… he had a whole different feeling about it.

Aizawa blushed at his comment. “Yeah… It’s a bother to cut it..” he answered, twirling a strand between his fingers. He couldn’t believe that he was seeing Y/N again! Last time he saw him, he looked messy. Now, Y/N looked much cleaner. He looked mature and wise.

The two of them just stood there in silence. In their heads, they had no idea how to talk to each other. Afterall, they end things in a heated arguement.

With a deep sigh, Shota turned to Y/N with a frown on his face. “Look,” He took a step forward. “I’m really sorry for how things ended. I know it’s too late to say this, but– I love you and I’m so sorry I said all those words to you. I never mean to say them, they just came flooding out-”

He was suddenly pulled into a deep and passionate kiss. His eyes wide and his back arched as he was pulled into a kiss by his past lover. His eyes closed and his hands rested on the side on his neck and on his hip.

The two of them pulled apart, a long string of saliva connecting the two of them, their faces flushed and colored a deep red. Shota didn’t realize Y/N was crying until a few drops of water feel to the ground. He looked up at Y/N’s pitiful face.

His eyes were staring at the ground, tears flooding his vision and falling to the ground like rain. His whole body was shaking and hiccups and sniffles could be heard from the older man. “Hey, hey–” Aizawa lifted his head with his hand, revealing his bloodshot eyes from how much he was crying.

“I’m so sorry we ended things like we did. I didn’t want to say all those things– I swear, I-I didn’t mean to!” Aizawa slowly shushes him with a soft smile. “You shouldn’t apologize. I know life must’ve been hard on you.” He pressed his forehead against L/N’s, trying to soothe him.

The two of them ended up staying in that position for a long period of time.

Both relieved the other still loved them just the way they are. Just like old times.

════❖════

★☽A/N: HAHA, I’m not so good at making endings!! Let’s just hope this one goes well!

[tsukimefuku]

I don't normally talk on Tumblr but i just want to say I love love love your pics girlie. As someone who's 19 and wants to be a criminal lawyer myself, you are an inspiration for me as it's something I want to pursue.

Especially giving a voice to those who definitely need it the most 💕

Is there any advice that you'd give me for wanting to pursue in the field? Even the basics will help. I want a perspective from someone who's actually (I assume) doing this full time, if you're willing to pass the knowledge, Sensei 🙂‍↕️ (I pray for your sleep schedule and overall well being)

Hope you're doing well, sincerely! Keep doing what you love!

Hi!! Thank you so much, I'm always very happy to get these types of asks/DMs, and it will be my pleasure and privilege to help to any extent 💜

I've been thinking about this ask for weeks, but wanted to reply to it on my pc, and getting Tumblr to work again over here was its whole shebang 😅

Tips, tips, tips... okay, let's start at the beginning. I'm writing these considering my experience in my country (Brazil), so you might have to adapt a few things here and there depending on where you're from.

First off, the most important thing you can do is not slack off in college. In college it's where you're going to hone in not only some of the skills needed for this job (like the ability to seat and read, and read, and read precedents, bills, etc for extended amounts of time while paying attention to the details) but make your first professional contacts, especially with teachers. I absolutely slacked off regarding networking with my teachers (thanks to the 'tism) and although I got a jumpstart with academic research, my professional life did suffer.

Find an internship and use this time in college to experiment with as much areas as possible. I did have some familiarity with criminal law due to my family, so I had some idea I did like it. However, I had my fair share of internships in private law, and I kid you not, many organizational skills to study big lawsuits (currently, most the lawsuits in my firm are what we call mega ops, so they usually have 10k+ pages) I honed while in private law. Given these giant firms that work with private law tend to have a LOT of lawsuits to juggle, it's inevitable that they develop systems and specific bureaucratics to juggle it all. Take what knowledge you can from it.

If you can get an internship in a public defender's office, do. It's where you will find the most diverse list of lawsuits (concerning types of crimes) and you will get to learn multiple ways to come up with a defense strategy. Very rarely defense will be dependent on alibi, for example "I didn't do it, I wasn't there, it wasn't me, etc.". Consider learning from a public defender the equivalent to a general residence before you become more specialized, and what you learn here will be incredibly valuable going forward.

Try to get into a criminal law office midway through your law degree (idk how the undergrad+spec works in the US, I think this would be just as you go into the law specific subjects I guess). Usually here in Brazil, you get into a law firm as an intern and work with them up until you graduate, and since you've been there for all that time, you are then hired as a junior. Check if it works like that where you live too.

This one is more personal -- your client's problems are NOT your problems. I've been an attorney volunteer to overturn wrongful convictions alongside an institute here in my country akin to The Innocence Project (the human rights organization), and it was one of the hardest times of my professional life. To watch people suffering from every goddamn sort of AWFUL injustices and having my hands and feet tied most of the time, because the system is RIGGED to screw a specific demographic (the poor and the people of color). Think of it as a doctor would -- you give your best to help the patient to the best of your capabilities, but sometimes they will still suffer from things that are completely out of your control. To be a criminal defense lawyer is to accept a certain degree of helplessness regarding the system you're going to work with (and mostly against) for the good part of your life. I don't mean to discourage you, but it is hard, so brace yourself. It's a beautiful profession, and I will absolutely be waiting for you on the other side 💜

[fandom-hoarder]

Grabbing these tags by @deanwinchesterpregnant from this post to expand.

Because yes, this is a very important part! Sam says it, too!

And while there ARE Sam haters that will say "Sam doesn't know how much Dean sacrificed!" and mean it as a JUDGEMENT and omg wooby!Dean; there are also people like me, who started writing s1 Sam POVs to understand him better, and suddenly connected him to my little brother like, 'OH. Sam doesn't KNOW. How COULD he know??😭' and it's not a judgment of his character or his love for Dean! And he's not stupid! They're both just kids who have yet to work through their own shit enough to realize they don't know EVERYTHING about each other, despite their shared history. It's part of why Sam says in In My Time of Dying that they were "just starting to be brothers again."

Obviously it's a necessary part of s1 to give us, the viewer, expositional glimpses into Sam and Dean's inner workings. But the way they each react to certain new revelations about each other are still canon even if there are Doylist reasons.

It's canon that Sam didn't know Dean carried him out of the fire. It's canon that Dean has felt responsible for Sam almost being eaten by a shtriga since he was 9/10 years old, and it's canon that Sam never even knew that happened. It's canon that the memory of Mary was so coveted by Dean and John that Sam has virtually no connection to her; no stories and no echoes of her in the way they live other than the infamous Winchester Surprise.

It's canon that Sam doesn't really have any happy holiday memories, and Dean does. It's canon that their perspective on the same shared holidays is completely different. It's canon that Dean stole Christmas decorations and presents for Sam and apparently none for himself. And it's canon that Sam realized Dean did that for him and gave him his only present. And it's canon that remembering that made grown-up Sam want to give Dean Christmas even though it meant admitting something hurtful to himself. (John not showing up for Christmas/Dean's last Christmas)

If you put yourself in Sam's shoes--- a kid left alone for most of his formative years; unable to put down roots and make friends; whose best friend, the only one who could even try to understand him, is his good little soldier brother--- it's easier to understand why Sam felt lonely and became a much more introspective person. Because he was literally stuck with just his thoughts and anxieties and the TV for days at a time. When you think about how sick he must've been about it, every time Dean and John would leave. Waiting for that next phone call. Biting his fingernails when the call was late. Wanting to be invited to prove yourself, but also because if you're THERE at least you KNOW what happens.

But then, too, if you can put yourself in Dean's place: it's not necessarily something a kid or young adult can fully appreciate--- especially a somewhat emotionally immature young adult--- that their little sibling is a completely autonomous person with their own inner life. They don't just pause when you leave their sight. Dean throws himself into the hunt, and isn't thinking about how much Sam is worrying about them. He's thinking, "Sam is safe, so I can focus on backing Dad up."

It sounds selfish, but it's simply a fact of the maturing brain that it takes some time to comprehend someone else's existence outside of you as a real thing and not just a vague concept.

So, to touch on another aspect that gets discoursed:

There ARE a lot of things about Dean's parentification that Sam doesn't know at first, but he has always known about it to SOME degree. He had his own perspective on it, and for sure I wouldn't say that Sam thought of Dean as his parent. Dean has definitely always been his older and somewhat overbearing big brother. But who do you think Sam took his problems to? Who threatens to rip his bully's lungs out in After School Special? Who remembers what fucking play Sam did in drama?

And a short related aside--- thinking about how Sam was surprised about the things of his John had in storage. His surprise that John kept an eye on him at Stanford. And relating these things that changed Sam's understanding of his father, to the way his understanding of Dean shifted with each revelation of what Dean had done for him. And despite everything Sam ALREADY knew, his adult brain and life experiences gave him new perspective on things.

This maybe is a little rambley, but oh well. What was I saying...

Oh yeah. So sometimes people get upset about Dean being given like. More praise than he deserves or something, by having those "you practically raised me" lines and things. As if it's a retcon. But it's really not.

It's Sam growing up, and his brain constantly taking in new information and reshaping his understanding. It's Sam seeing how much Dean blames himself for things that weren't his fault, and wanting Dean to see the good he's done. It's Sam being able to see Dean's heart underneath his codependent or selfish decisions, and reaching out. It's Sam trying to remind Dean he can lean on Sam, too.

I've gone off on a tangent and made myself tear up lol. I don't remember where I wanted to end up anymore. Somewhere in the ether there's another rant about how Dean has a harder time allowing himself the introspection on his perception of Sam, and how this leads to Sam having to do a lot of the leading on the emotional maturity of their relationship, and how hard this is when the person you're leading still sees you as their kid, in whatever capacity.

But ultimately, of COURSE Sam does as much for Dean. Of course Sam has agency in this and isn't Dean's baby that had a pampered childhood vs Dean's horrible one. Sam and Dean acknowledging the actual circumstances of their childhood dynamic doesn't have to be a Samgirls vs Deangirls fucking situation lol.

[chronicbeans]

Hi! Since I saw the illustrator wally series I've been exited to request this, it was also sad to see how nobody has yet come with this idea or at least I haven't seen anyone else bring this up so here I come!

It will be interesting how It would work a relationship between Human wally and reader who has maladaptive daydreaming along with autism, I thought of how would it be to meet someone who has to experience something familiar with you. ( since maladaptive daydreaming can be described as a variant of schizophrenia with some small differences ) anyways, I'm a desperate for representation-

ET TU, BRUTE? Omg I maladaptive daydream too (if I am reading it right and you mean to say that you do IT-). My therapist says that I am like, addicted to it lol. My family counselor also likened my case more towards depersonalization/dissociation/a variant of DID due to me only daydreaming myself as other people. This is actually the first time I have heard of it being described as a variant of schizophrenia, but it actually makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it! I need more representation too, so let's do this! I'll try to make it as broad as possible, because everyone daydreams about different things!

Illustrator Wally with an Autistic Reader who Maladaptive Daydreams:

TW: Mentions of Hallucinations, Maladaptive Daydreaming

🖍️ He is a bit confused when he sees you pacing around your living room. He is visiting, and decided to try to surprise you by sneaking up behind you and giving you a gift! Now, though, he is a bit enamored by how you are prancing around, muttering little things to yourself as you seem so carefree and happy in your little world. This is the first time he has seen you like this.

🖍️ You finally end up turning around, in his direction, and your face grows a bit pale from shock and embarrassment. "Uh... Hello... I'm so glad you came to visit!" You try to play it off, but he is too intrigued. Maybe you are like him, and hallucinate, too?

🖍️ You explain what you were doing. You daydream... WAY more often than other people! Intense worldbuilding, character arcs, and more all take place in your head the majority of the day. You like to prance or pace, finding it helpful to feel more comfortable. You also tend to stim in other ways if you cannot pace or prance. The odd facial expressions and mutterings were just you getting in character and reacting to what was happening in your daydreams.

🖍️ Wally is intrigued. It is so... similar, but different, from him. Both you and him are autistic, yes. He's known that for a while, since you told him around the second or third meeting between you two. THIS, though, is so amazing to him. He wants to know more about the stories in your head!

🖍️What do they consist of? Are they horror? Romance? Action? Comedy? He wishes to know. Are you in them? Do you play someone else? Is it from a third person perspective, watching over your creations? If it is something child friendly, maybe you can write a book and he can illustrate it!

🖍️ Even if it is something more... dark, disturbing, overall NOT a kid friendly topic... he would still want to draw it! Maybe he can start to expand his illustrations into more adult books. He is shockingly good at drawing horror, you know. Some of his vent art is a really disturbing treat to view.

🖍️ You might get onto the topic of how both of your conditions are similar and different. You have a lot of characters floating around in your head. Different worlds, stories, everything! Wally does have, in a way, characters, too! The little voices in his head count, right? Sometimes the same one will pop up every now and again. Both of your conditions seem, in a way, uncontrolled. Due to Wally preferring to not use medications, he simply lives with the voices and hallucinations, going to therapy to help him cope and learn to live with it. You just go with the flow, in a way. As far as you've heard, the best and only way to help deal with it is therapy. No real medication or anything.

🖍️ You both are finally happy to find someone similar to yourselves. The best part is that it is similar enough to be familiar, but different enough to have such interesting conversations!

[adidastain]

just like heaven

college matt stone x fem reader

warnings: smut (vaginal penetration)

notes: first person perspective (I, me, my, etc.), i really wanted to write something fluffy and kinda vanilla so sorry if it’s boring but i love it a lot i think it’s sweet

word count: 5240

—

Nothing was more relieving than getting in bed after a long day of classes and running errands. I’d been busting my ass the entire day, making sure everyone around me was happy and calm. It was what I did best, to be completely honest. I liked taking over. Sure, it made me kind of a bad collaborator, but I preferred to stay positive and think of it as one of my best qualities. Productive, stern, and leaderly. 

One of my classmates had a dorm to himself and had been letting me stay there for a while, since I lived off campus on paper, but didn’t have a car. We both majored in film; he double majored in math as well, and I was minoring in psychology. 

He was cool and funny. Sometimes he’d even say stuff that earned him a clock to the jaw, but regardless, I thought he was funny. And smart. He double majored; of course he was smart.

I sighed heavily, opening the heavy steel door to his dorm, labeled ‘MATT’ with a cute paper cutout of a kid wearing a ushanka and glasses showing a peace sign. It made me smile every time I saw it. His mind was so interesting.

To my surprise, the lights were on inside. He’d told me he was going to a little party in our other classmate’s building a few blocks away, so I didn’t think he’d be home.

“Oh, you’re here,” I said, taking my jacket off. 

“Unfortunately,” he said, grinning. His voice was deep and slightly nasally as always, with just a hint of raspiness. He sounded really tired. 

“What happened? I thought you were going to Trey’s party,” I said softly. I looked in the mirror on the back of the door, removing my hair clip and earrings. I didn’t want to waste any time getting to bed. 

“I just…” Matt swallowed, shifting in his seat in the beanbag on the floor. “I dunno. I changed my mind. Kinda exhausted.”

“I hear that,” I laughed, raising my eyebrows. There was some sort of old comedy movie on the little TV next to Matt’s bed. His whole dresser was covered in empty cans, dirty shot glasses with sticky syrup at the bottom, wrappers, deodorant, shit like that. I guess someone had been over and Matt was too tired to clean up the mess. “I’m gonna change real quick, don’t look.”

“Aw man,” he said, teasing me. I rolled my eyes and turned my back to him, pulling my sweater and tank top over my head all at once. I’d been wearing a sports bra all day and the elastic was starting to dig into my skin. I looked behind me, just to make sure he wasn’t trying to sneak any glances. Not that there was much to see. 

Lo and behold, as soon as I turned my head, I caught his turning too, back towards the TV. 

I grabbed a discarded T-shirt off the floor and swung it at him, hitting him a lot more violently than I really intended to. “You are such a pervert!” I laughed.

“I wasn’t trying to look at you!” he shrieked. I hit him again. “I thought I heard someone at the door!”

“A pervert and a liar!” I accused. Matt stood up, trying to defend himself from my wrath as I exacted my revenge. He yelped and grabbed my wrists, pushing back against me. 

We play-fought like this often. He was a lot stronger than me. He may not have looked like it, being so slim, but he was fit underneath all that fabric he was drowning in. Especially his arms. We’d go on and on, until it felt awkward and drawn out. 

Of course, by doing this, I’d ended up giving him a free show anyway. He’d definitely seen me changing before. Matt had walked in on me on several occasions, but it was mostly my fault, since I would come and go in his dorm without saying anything. He didn’t seem to have a problem, though. 

I bit my lip, pushing against his weight with all my might. He pretty much towered over me and my hands were engulfed in his large ones. He probably wasn’t even using half of his strength on me. 

Suddenly, he let go of my hands, causing me to fall forward slightly. I lost my balance until I felt his arms wrap tightly around my torso, before he lifted me up and pushed me onto his bed and walked away. 

He giggled to himself as he stepped towards his little mini refrigerator to grab a can of soda. I felt slightly warm inside; something about the way he was able to just lift me up and throw me down so easily made my face burn up. 

Of course, Matt acted like it was nothing and sat back down in his beanbag, one of his hands idly rubbing the fuzzy fabric cover with his thumb and index finger. 

I scoffed loudly and stood back up, blocking his view of the TV. My hand politely took the soda can out of his hand, watching his eyes follow it as I brought it to my lips and took a long, long sip. He just stared up at me, but he didn’t look in any way offended. He just looked completely awestruck, a puppy-eyed look ever present in his face. 

I put the soda down on the dresser so that he’d have to get up to get it, and went back to changing. I faced the TV so I could keep a hawk’s eye on him as I peeled off my jeans, rendering me in just my bra and panties which didn’t match at all. 

I heard him grunt slightly as he stood up to grab his soda off of the dresser. He turned around to face me, until he stopped dead in his tracks and his smirk was wiped clean off his face. 

After a second or two of him taking in as much of the sight as he could, his hand flew over his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he whined. “I was gonna play a prank on you. Didn’t know you were changing again. ‘M sorry.” 

“I don’t care, Matt,” I sighed in defeat. “I practically live here now. You were gonna see me half-naked at some point anyhow.”

Hesitantly, he lowered his hand, keeping his gaze on the floor. It was strange; he didn’t sit back down. 

“Just don’t let me find any of my clothes in your bed or I’ll punch you hard enough to turn your teeth into bullets,” I said. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, focusing on my task at hand once more. I dug through my big duffel bag to look for a clean shirt to sleep in, only finding a bunch of dress clothes that I hadn’t yet needed to wear. Right. I sighed. They’re in the wash. 

“Could I borrow a shirt?” I asked. Matt was sitting once more, rubbing the back of his neck and gently tugging on some of his curls. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, glancing at me again. That ‘glance’ turned into more of a ‘good look’. My back was turned to him again and I pretty much had my ass on full display. 

I don’t know when he looked away. I don’t actually know if he looked away at all. I just dug through his closet, trying to find the biggest T-shirt he had. 

It wasn’t uncommon for me to borrow his clothes. My duffel bag had initially only had enough clothes for 2 weeks, so I did laundry quite often and sometimes had to wear the same pants multiple days in a row. When I felt extra lazy and put off doing laundry, he let me borrow shirts, hoodies, sweatpants, pajama pants, the whole shabang. 

I picked out one of his Primus tees that had some fucked up linework drawing of a prostitute smoking a hooka. It was a sick shirt but it definitely wasn’t something you could wear to class. 

It fit me like a dress, which I loved. It was big enough that the hem covered most of my ass, which was good, because I didn’t have any clean shorts to sleep in unless I stole a pair of his. 

Lastly, I pulled my bra off from under my shirt and tossed it towards the door, where I threw most of my dirty clothes. Once I was finished, I turned back around and stood next to where Matt was sitting. 

“Scoot over,” I said. He quickly obliged. It was a pretty big beanbag, so we could both fit as long as we were shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. I must admit that there had been a night or two where we would end up entangled in some way due to the lack of space. My legs in his lap, my head on his shoulder, his arm resting up behind me. 

There was nothing I didn’t like about being close to him. He made me feel safe and he smell good and was warm. Some nights I hoped he’d be in the mood for having me real close. I hoped really hard now, especially after what just happened. 

“What are we watching?” I asked, making myself nice and comfortable and curling up next to him. 

“Groundhog Day,” he said, tilting his head back slightly so he could speak through the soda in his mouth. I looked at him for a moment, watching the muscles in his neck move as he swallowed the liquid. Then I turned my attention to the screen. “You missed the beginning, but basically he’s stuck living the same day over and over again. It’s like, a big allegory or whatever for Buddhism. Pretty good, though”

I nodded, watching as the Bill Murray character talked to a woman and asked her out on a date. A few seconds later, there was a smash cut to them on the verge of having sex. Matt awkwardly laughed next to me.

“Ah, yeah. Buddhism,” I said, mocking him. 

“You’ll like it. It gets better,” he argued. That’s when I felt his arm snake behind me, just a few inches away from laying across my shoulder. Once again, he rubbed the fabric between his fingers, fidgeting. 

Eventually the whole foreplay bit was over and the next scene started. My body subconsciously leaned into Matt’s, sinking my weight into his slim torso and absorbing the warmth that his body generated. I was both extremely comfortable and extremely exhausted. 

The movie went on, and like Matt said, the character was living the same day over and over. It was kind of lulling me to sleep. It was definitely pretty funny; occasionally I would jerk awake at the sound of Matt chuckling softly. I think at some point he pulled a blanket off his bed and wrapped it around me. I swear he ran his hand through my hair for just a moment, pulling me closer to him. 

Now his arm was wrapped around my shoulder, his hand occasionally lifting up to run his fingers through my hair or flatten any stray strands. It felt safe; it felt right. 

I opened my eyes and looked up at him, finding that his gaze was already on me. He looked like a deer in headlights, but exhausted at the same time. I watched Matt’s eyes dart around my face. 

“You ready for bed?” he asked softly, looking at the top of my head as he fixed a strand of my hair. 

One of my favorite parts about him was that he could be harsh and gentle, depending on the occasion. He always had a resting bitch face and was kind of intimidating to a lot of people, but he had such a soft, gentle side to him. 

My hand made its way up to his cheek. Matt had a nice, soft layer of peach fuzz that, paired with the warmth of his face, made my heart beat faster. My thumb tenderly traced back and forth on his cheek bone while my eyes fixated on his lips. 

Eventually, I felt his breath on my face as he closed his lips over my bottom one. I’d been biting the skin off of it all week, so there was a small stinging sensation that quickly faded once he kissed me again. 

I felt so shy all the sudden. Here I was, curled up in his arms, softly making out with him like teenagers with no experience. No second guesses or hesitations, just hearts beating together, breaths melting into each other while we explored. 

How did we get here? The question crossed my mind before I immediately pushed it away. I didn’t give a shit about how we got there, I was just glad that this is where we ended up. 

Without pulling his lips away from me, Matt somehow managed to find the remote and turn off the TV, before caressing my waist and pulling me ever closer. He was hovering over me a little, only making my heart race faster and my desire for him grow stronger. 

Now things were definitely starting to heat up. Matt softly groaned into my mouth, and for the first time since our lips first met, we pulled away. 

His eyes bored into mine, pupils dilated. We sat breathing into each others mouths, catching our breath as we tried to read what the other was thinking. It was almost suspenseful. 

“Can I take your shirt off?” I asked. It wasn’t even a whisper. Nope. I just breathed and moved my mouth to form the words. 

“Uh-huh,” he responded, nodding. He swallowed and I didn’t hesitate to tuck my hands under the hem of his baggy gray-green T-shirt. Matt kissed me again, deepening it. 

In an instant, his lips parted and he gasped softly as soon as my fingertips made contact with the warm skin of his abdomen. I could feel that part of his torso shifting ever so slightly as he breathed. 

I pulled away, making sure to keep eye contact with him while I slowly lifted his shirt up inch by inch. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he exhaled, catching me off guard. I swallowed, feeling my face flush once again. 

A second or two later, I pulled the fabric over his head, finally rendering him topless in front of me. He had a slender, curvy waist and just the smallest little bit of muscle in his abdomen. His hips were prominent, and his upper body was very broad in contrast to his slim frame. He had little dark beauty spot freckles scattered across his shoulders and body. I would love to sit there all day and just count them. I wanted badly to just map out and explore his body, feeling every inch of his skin and memorizing his shape. 

I snapped out of my trance as soon as he kissed me again, letting out several vocal breaths that I honestly didn’t expect to ever hear him make. He remained gentle in his kisses, but I felt the desire boiling and festering within both of us. It was extremely hard to ignore. 

“Do you wanna stop?” I asked, pulling away suddenly. 

“Do you wanna stop?” he repeated, his voice somewhat nervous. Matt swallowed and scanned my face. 

“No,” I whispered. I wrapped my arms around his neck, taking one of his curls between my fingers. 

Matt licked his lips. I could feel his whole body relax, and he leaned closer, ghosting his lips against mine. 

“Do you wanna have sex with me?” he asked shyly, staring down at my lips. My stomach flipped and felt a strong jumping-like feeling in between my legs. 

“I would like that a lot,” I answered, giggling wide eyes. I was so flustered that I was to the point where I laughed at myself. 

“Fuck yeah,” he laughed, out of breath. Matt leaned in to kiss me again, this time opening his mouth slightly wider. “Should we go up there?” 

He tilted his head towards the bed next us, and I nodded, wrapping my legs around his torso so he could pick me up.

“Mmh… c’mere baby,” he hummed softly, pressing my body against his as he lifted me up and tenderly laid me down beneath him on his bed. 

Matt suddenly felt so much bigger than me now that his body was hovering over me. He was straddling my hips, both of his large hands massaging my waist under my (his) shirt while he started leaving wet kisses down my neck. 

I arched my back at the feeling of his teeth as they pinched a small spot below my ear, his tongue coming quickly to the rescue to warm up the spot and relieve the pain. My hands were entangled in his soft, somewhat messy curls, caressing his entire head and holding it close to me. I stared at the ceiling, letting my eyes flutter shut any time I heard him groan and felt his hips subtly buck above me. 

“How about your shirt, baby?” he asked, nibbling on my ear. I could hear him breathing heavily through his nose, each warm exhale covering my ear and neck. One of his hands slid up my body and grazed the underside crease of my boobs with his fingertips. 

“You mean your shirt,” I giggled, rubbing his warm shoulders.

“Okay, my shirt,” he scoffed. “Can I take it off?”

I nodded, sitting up slightly. As soon as his hands lifted the fabric up and over my nipples, I panicked slightly. In no time the shirt was on the floor and Matt’s eyes were tentatively glued to my bare chest.  

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna fuck you so good…” he mumbled, prying his eyes away from my now nearly naked body. His hands squeezed my hips, lifting them up so he could start grinding against me. 

“Matt-“ I gasped. His hot mouth almost immediately attached to my collarbone, his tongue pressing flat against the skin. Meanwhile, I shivered as one of his hands slowly dragged up my waist and tenderly caressed one of my tits. And on top of that, for the first time, I could feel the tent he’d been pitching press into me as he started grinding against my hips with desperation. 

I ran my fingers through his hair and lifted my hips up, supported by my heels digging into the soft covers below me. My hands slid down over his shoulder blades, tracing each muscle as I moved them towards my panties. Finally, I managed to wriggle out of them and fling them onto the floor while Matt was sitting on his knees, towering over me. His broad chest moved in and out with each heavy breath he took with his lips slightly agape. 

He looked like one of those ancient Greek statues. Each muscle so defined under such smooth, warm skin. Natural posture so relaxed and almost ethereal. I wanted to devour him. 

Matt stared at me, the look in his eyes almost anxious but infinitely flustered and filled with lust. In a flash he yanked his flannel pajama pants down to his knees, kicking them off while he crawled on top of me again.!

“Do you like it fast or hard?” he asked me, his voice faltering slightly. He swallowed, looking down at me from above. Matt’s arms were on either side of me, propping his body up as he then got ready to start pulling his boxers off. 

“Fast,” I exhaled, though it really sounded more like a moan. Even subconsciously I wanted him to know that right now, I wanted him more than anything. 

“‘Course, baby,” he hummed softly, bending his arms like he was doing a pushup so he could peck my lips. I felt him smiling in the kiss. “Do you wanna… get me going?” 

He gestured towards his boxers and the hot, throbbing erection beneath them. Without hesitation, I spit in my palm and slipped my fingers under the waistband of his boxers, first untucking his cock from the side and then gently wrapping my hand around it. 

Matt immediately whimpered, holding in as much of it as he could while screwing his eyes shut. He felt so warm in my hand… and thick. I could feel a vein or two protruding from the soft skin and made sure to pay a little extra attention to them. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, letting his head drop down so he could see what wonders I was working with my hand. He shimmied out of his boxers and now I could see that yes, he was in fact thick. Most definitely thicker than I knew I was used to. 

I knew it was going to hurt like a bitch. It was intimidating, but still, as I tenderly stroked up and down his length, I only kept thinking of it as something that was making him feel insanely good and not as something that was going to hurt me. It would only hurt for a few seconds. 

His breath hitched and he practically threw my hand off him, sitting up again to catch his breath for a moment. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughed, out of breath. Matt raised his eyebrows and smiled. His cheeks were so flushed and it looked like some sweat pearls had begun forming at his temples. 

I laid back, watching his muscles shift and flex as he took his glasses off and reached inside one of his dresser drawers for a condom. 

As he tore open the package, he looked at me, seemingly getting lost in the sight of me. 

I grabbed the hand of his that held the unopened condom and brought it close to my face so that I could kiss it. Then I pushed his hand back towards him so he could do the same, though he looked thoroughly confused.

“What, is that good luck or something?” he chuckled, looking down at his hands and dick as he opened the condom and slid it onto his length.

“It’s tradition,” I said, shrugging. Matt furrowed his eyebrows. 

“What tradition?” he scoffed, crawling on top of me. 

“Messing with you. I made it up,” I grinned. 

He shook his head, adjusting his position and posture while handling his cock, making sure it would slide in easy. 

Matt looked up at me through his eyebrows. It was the last look of reassurance before anything was really about to happen. Our lives were about to change forever. 

I nodded. I was so desperate for him at this point, I didn’t care if he hurt me at all. 

His large hand spread out on one side of my hips, digging into the flesh ever so slightly and likely leaving faint nail marks in my skin. I kept my eyes on him and found him instructing me to take a deep breath in with him. Before he told me to exhale though, he started pushing in. 

“Hmmn- ahh!” I half-moaned, half-winced. 

“Shh… oh, fuck,” Matt whispered in my ear, letting out a deep moan that’s he’s probably kept inside for a little while. 

I let out a groan of discomfort, trying my best to hold it in but ultimately failing. In response, Matt pulled his lips away from my ear so he could get a good look at my face.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, swallowing. 

“Mhm,” I hummed, biting my lip. I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the feeling of Matt’s fingertips brushing my hair out of my face. “Just give me a minute.” 

Matt lowered himself on top of me, beginning to pepper soft, wet kisses on my jaw and neck. His hand massaged my hip and occasionally inched lower to squeeze the soft flesh of my upper thigh. 

I kissed him and became lost in his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him close to me. His curls tickled my forehead as we kissed softly. I’d completely forgotten about the fact the he was inside of me; I was so focused on how his lips felt and the fact that I could feel his heart pounding with his chest pressed against mine. Our skin grazed together softly with each breath we took, giving me goosebumps. 

“You can start now,” I whispered against his lips. Matt hummed in response, kissing me a little bit deeper as he adjusted the position of his body. 

We remained with our lips attached as his hips started to roll back and forth. I could hear Matt whimper every couple of seconds and he kept holding his breath, pulling away from the kiss to exhale into my mouth. The warmth in the pit of my stomach really started to boil up once he started moving, slowly drawing himself out and thrusting back in. I listened carefully to each little sound and breath he made as he moved. 

I heard him heavily exhale after swallowing. “S’good…” he whispered, grunting slightly. I moaned, running my fingers in his hair and tugging on it gently. 

A loud groan escaped his throat as I did this, encouraging me to do it again. One of his hands suddenly wrapped tenderly around my throat, carefully squeezing my neck. Matt’s head cocked to the side as he opened his mouth and slid his tongue in between my lips. 

I let out a soft moan as his tongue slid against mine, exploring the inside of my mouth with hunger and desperation. I let my hands travel from his head and neck down to his body, caressing his waist and pulling him into me. Matt’s hand left my hip, instead moving up to grip the top of the headboard of his bed, holding it to keep it from knocking against the wall each time we moved. 

He leaned down to let his forehead rest against mine, staring into my eyes. I stared right back. I’d never seen him without his round silver glasses before, but I knew he had a stunning set of dark green eyes and now I could see each little spec of blue in them as they darted around my face, almost nervously. 

His free hand moved to cup one of my tits, rolling his fingers over my nipple to tease the sensitive area. I gasped slightly, arching my back. 

“You have no idea how perfect you look right now,” he exhaled. 

I couldn’t do or say anything else but smile. I always had that reaction when he complimented me, but I was much more used to him saying something about my clothes or my work. His voice always sounded so deep and smooth; to hear him say my name or something nice about how I looked always sent my blood rushing to my cheeks.

“I’m close,” I whispered, touching his chest. 

“Faster?” he hummed. 

“Yeah,” I laughed slightly. 

Before moving again, he adjusted his position, letting go of the headboard. He propped himself up and licked the thumb of his free hand, before lowering it and using it to massage slow circles around my clit. Matt’s body was hovering above me when he bowed his head to start kissing the crook of my neck. Only then did he start thrusting once more, rolling his hips faster and faster. 

The new sensation along with the added pleasure of his fingers working my clit had me in shambles. I threw my head back and let out a loud moan, succumbing to the electrifying, hot sensation that festered throughout my entire body. The pit of my stomach tightened, my legs trembled, my hands gripped anything they could touch. I dig my fingertips into the sheets, his back and shoulders, his biceps, his waist, his scalp. Several times did I pull on his hair like I was holding on for dear life, earning a groan from him each time. I just hoped I wasn’t hurting him. 

Matt let out a loud moan. I opened my eyes to see him struggling to thrust at a consistent pace, faltering every few seconds with his eyes screwed shut and his mouth agape. I watched him look down to see himself pumping in and out of me, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip tucked under his front teeth. 

He whimpered, trying his best to hold his breath. The sight of him rushing toward his own orgasm sent me over the edge. I cried out his name, gasping as every muscle in my body tensed up. The knot in my stomach came undone and I could feel my blood pumping through my body. 

Only a moment or two later did Matt’s body shudder and tense up. His muscles flexed as he leaned forward and tried his hardest to keep his hips moving, but he was ultimately overcome by his orgasm as he came, my name spilling from his mouth in the most beautiful way. 

I huffed, my body melting into his bed as my legs twitched and trembled. Matt collapsed on top of me, allowing his entire weight to sink into me. His arms were shaking, as if he were shivering. We both laid there for a minute, absorbing each other as we caught our breath. 

I think he fell asleep after a minute or two. He was completely relaxed on top of me like a big bag of sand. After a little while, my breaths became forceful, so I had to wake him up.

“Matt,” I hummed, tucking a strand of his hair behind my ear. 

He wasn’t sleeping. Matt lifted himself up, smiling down at me. He kissed me, seeming quite shy all the sudden as he had to hold his weight up while he leaned his head down towards me. 

“Sorry about these bruises,” he hummed, tracing a circle on the side of my neck.

“You’re not sorry,” I grinned, teasing him. 

“I’m not,” he admitted sheepishly. “They look good on you.” 

After a few seconds, we sat up and helped clean each other up a little. I could see small red marks in his skin from where my nails dug into his arms and shoulders. While helping each other get dressed again, Matt and I found ourselves a little distracted once more, kissing each other gently and softly as we pulled shirts over our heads. His lips were like air. I almost needed them to breathe. 

“Do you wanna finish the movie?” I asked him, massaging his waist underneath his shirt. 

“Sure,” he giggled softly. 

With that, we snuggled up under the covers in his bed, turning the TV towards us. Matt had me in his arms with my back pressed to his chest and his hand under my shirt, tracing shapes on my skin. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep. 

However, at one point, I opened my eyes to find that the TV and lights were off, rendering the room completely dark. Matt was no longer next to me, but it wasn’t long before he came back over to the bed and laid down behind me. His lips softly grazed the crook of my neck. “Good night,” he whispered, before kissing my neck one more time. 

“Mm… night,” I mumbled, barely awake. Matt pulled his thick pile of blankets over my shoulder, peppering small pecks of kisses on my neck as I drifted off once again, melting in his warmth. 

[sleeplesslark]

Fic writing ask game!

9, 10, 16, 26, 27

Omg thank you!

This gets ramble-y fast so going under a cut

9. How did you get into Fanfic writing?

I'm going to give two answers. How I started posting fanfic vs writing, if that makes sense.

I started writing and posting fanfic because I have always been more "in" fanfic than original fiction spaces. Idk why but the attitudes around writing in fanfic spaces have always gelled more with me. I wrote a lot of shorter fics but couldn't really get into it the way I could with original. I liked the process of fanfic more though, not having to advertise and not looking to make money of stories.

I struggled to find a fandom that clicked with me. The closest was Alice in Borderland but even then it just didn't stick in a hyperfixation way, more a "this is easy and fun" way. Original fiction was my hyperfixation for years.

Then, Kabuto. I've never hyperfixated harder than on him and writing for him was the reason for it. I think the best way to put it is that I'd never wanted to commit to a fanfic the way I did original fiction before Loyalty's Price. It's wasn't just, "this is technically done and I don't have further interest" it was "I want to write this story and write it well". In a way that's probably the best thing that happened to me writing wise, I hadn't finished a draft in almost a decade before LP because I got very perfectionist about it needing to sell and be worth real money.

What got me into Kabuto was initially his english voice actor's work (which is odd for me since I usually don't notice that stuff). Then it spiraled into me looking for fic and while I was complaining with a friend that I was curious about an exploration of him and Naruto's bond, which there wasn't much fic of, the friend told me to write it and I said "idk he seems happy with orochimaru. Ig i can't see how it would happen" pretty much verbatim. It was something on he Every-Kabuto account during the sannin deadlock that had me rethink that postiob and inspired the set up to LP (which is why the account gets a shout-out in LP fics). From there just trying to figure out Kabuto's voice and the Naruto world led to more analysis of the characters and series which led to more fic ideas...and now i hope genuinely I never stop writing him. It's the happiest I've felt writing since I started.

19. Are there any ships or characters you'd like to write but haven't yet?

Naruto, Misumi, and Yoroi. Headcanon, but I tend to have Misumi and Yoroi as survivors of the Nine-tails' attack, and unlike many kids they kind of remember it. I think it'd be fun to have Naruto interact with these two who were directly impacted by the Nine-Tails but are more neutral about it. Yoroi and Naruto also share something with the backstory I gave Yoroi that would be fun to explore.

Kabuto and Iruka, in a teacher student capacity more than a romance, but I tried to set up something for them in LP but it hasn't panned out, not enough room to let Iruka and Kabuto talk really.

I'm enamored with the idea of Iruka taking this polite but underpreforming student under his wing, not knowing he's a spy, and kinda pseudo adopting him alongside Naruto. I think his friendly but hardass vibe would be fun to give Kabuto as a parental figure and teacher.

16. What do you struggle the most with while writing?

Depends on the fic. I'd say generally anything physical like combat or smut that requires knowing where characters are in relation to each other and exactly how they're moving without it making it read like a script.

Resonance, I struggle with character voice, I hadn't written Misumi or Narutos perspective before which was a challenge, and tone. I don't want it to be too dark (lol it may have passed that signpost). I like analyzing my own work so:

Loyalty's Price: not just rehashing canon, I feel like I do sometimes. Early on confidence was a big issue. I could tell in LP and LP Interlude there were times I was almost like "haha yeah this scenario is impossible Kakashi wouldn't let Kabuto on the team" and talking to those readers rather than the people who were there for the what if.

This One's for the Lonely : (childhood friends au) characterization. Idk how to make Kabuto come off as Kabuto sometimes without his greatest tragedy. And plot, trying to decide the details of how this changes canon.

Inverse: (prison au) plot. It's meant to be very character focused but it can be hard to direct scenes or decide how to get to the ending. Part of me wants to give it a plot anyway but I'm not sure yet.

Shiver/Lose Yourself in Pieces: wording.

Oto's finest: characterization, Kabuto Misumi and Yoroi are a hard relationship to nail down.

I also compare fics to each other too much. I am too much of a perfectionist to the point where it actually inhibits more than helps.

26. Do you ever "prep" your fics with outlines or warmups before you start writing or do you jump right in?

Idk if this means before I start the fic or before the writing session and ahh, it varies. Sometimes I write and rewrite a paragraph for 45 mins before I get going. I generally outline as I draft whether that be on the computer or on paper and edit to that outline.

27. Are any of your fics based on personal experience?

How Kabuto and later Yoroi experience anxiety and dread is how I do. I don't do much research so I use personal experience with mental health stuff like that. Kabuto finding out about Nonou is more akin to like, a phobia-type fear and the way he feels post Sasori’s death and Yoroi generally is more like what ocd does to me.

If anyone else wants to ask me things and get a long rambling answer, this is the game!

[renthony]

Hi! Could you talk about what it’s like being an independent media researcher and how you became one? Did you go to school for communications or media studies? How do you make money?

I’m about to graduate college and I really want to go into the media studies field but I haven’t really figured out what the best way for me to do that is. I have a lot of similar research interests as you (animation, censorship, media analysis, queer media) and I’m disabled so I’ve been worried about not having the energy for a traditional 9 to 5 sort of job, so I’d love to hear more about how you’re able to do the research you’re passionate about!

Honestly, I got here by accident, and I'm still figuring things out as I go. I don't make much money and right now I feel like my work is in a period of transition. I have plans, but some days it feels like I'm barely making baby steps.

I started writing when I was pretty young, and I read every single "how to write" guide I could get my hands on via the library or bookstore. I wrote constantly. Short stories, various false starts at baby's first novel, even newsletters for school activities and community clubs. I was most focused on fiction at first, but I learned a lot about nonfiction as well.

I got involved in online writing communities back when forums were still a big deal, and I joined Twitter back in 2009 when it was still new and there was a massive author and freelancer community. (Anyone else remember before retweets were a thing? We had to copy, paste, and manually type out "RT @[user]" like barbarians.) I learned an absolute fuckton about the craft and the industry by talking directly with other writers, literary agents, editors, and various other people in the field. From the time I was like 14, I was interacting with professional writers, sharing my work for feedback, and racking up rejection letters from magazines and literary agents (which was a badge of honor in the communities I was hanging out in, because it meant you were working hard and refusing to quit). When I was 17, my best friend even scraped together money from their shitty fast food job to pay for us to attend a major writing conference in Denver, where we participated in all kinds of classes and panels with industry professionals.

My mother was also writing at the time, and I got a lot of support from her. She had a blog that got a decent amount of interaction, because this was right around the rise of the Mommy Blogger and my mom wrote from the perspective of a socially-isolated tattooed punk mom who never planned to have kids (which was unusual in a landscape of perfect housewives with perfect photogenic babies with weirdly-spelled Mormon names they chose when they were kids). Eventually my mom started writing for a website owned by Yahoo, to supplement the household income while staying home to care for my little siblings. When I decided I wanted to take a whack at freelancing, she gave me a lot of advice on how to get started. I also had a writing class at school taught by a teacher who made it a class project to submit to magazines, so I basically got a head-start on freelance life. I wrote a lot of random articles for a website that's since gone defunct, and I submitted a lot of short stories to contests and magazines. Didn't really make a lot of money, but I learned a ton and got a lot of experience.

When I made it to college, I studied anthropology and French. I'd planned to study history, but switched my track after a single semester because anthropology suited me better. I took a lot of AP classes in high school and did well on all the standardized testing, so I managed to get a full academic scholarship and skip right past a few of my gen eds. Unfortunately for me, I had a lot of difficult life experiences during that time period, and I started to struggle in pretty much everything that wasn't directly related to my degree. I failed Latin so bad I didn't bother to go to the final exam, because even a perfect grade wouldn't have saved me. I fucked up my algebra grade beyond salvation. Those two classes alone tanked my GPA enough that I lost my academic scholarship, and I wound up dropping out entirely. Grades in my required courses were solid, but the scholarship requirements meant I had to do well across the board or lose my funding.

My mother still has debt from getting loans to pursue a master's degree, and I knew damn well I didn't want that kind of student debt piling up on me, so I opted for dropping out. Sometimes I regret it a little, but I honestly think it was the best option. I was having so much emotional upheaval on top of the academic stress that I needed time away to figure myself out. I graduated high school early, so I was like two years younger than everyone around me, and I didn't have many friends. I lived at home and came to campus just long enough to go to class, so I had nothing in common with my classmates who lived in dorms and participated in campus activities. I missed orientation because I registered late, the administration sent me to the transfer student registration day instead of the new student registration day, and I didn't get any "here's how you navigate university life" support. I didn't know I was supposed to have a one-on-one academic advisor for a year and a half, and when I finally met him, his only comment on the matter was, "wow, I wondered why you hadn't come to see me yet!" without any sort of inquiry into how a fuckup on that scale was allowed to happen in the first place. I wasn't set up for success by university administration, and I burnt out hard. I dropped out.

My wife encouraged me to do what was going to be best for me mentally instead of letting finances dictate my next step. She had a steady job, and even though we were still pretty broke, her support let me drop out of college and focus on recovery. A lot of people gave me shit because their perception was that I was dropping out of college to become "just a housewife," and they couldn't fathom why. From my perspective, I'd been given a lifeline.

I took care of our shitty little one-bedroom apartment. I read a lot of books and played a lot of Minecraft. When I felt up to it, I did some more freelancing. My wife was working unholy hours in a factory and we didn't get to spend much time together. I started doing tarot reading as a side hustle, and we started making vague plans to move somewhere better for us, but saving up was hard.

Things felt stagnant for a long time. I didn't write very much, I wasn't really doing anything related to my studies. I wrote when I had energy, and I kept scraping together extra cash doing tarot readings while my wife started working a new job in a lumber yard. Her support is the only reason I was able to recover and figure myself out, so big shout-out to my beloved working woman wifey. God, I love her.

Eventually we packed up and moved to a different state so we could be closer to my family. I got a job baking for a coffee shop. I wrote whenever I could. When I got laid off from the coffee shop, I realized there was no way in hell I could keep working a regular job without sacrificing my health, so I went back to writing full-time. (The Queen of Cups was written during this period.)

At some point I started getting back into anthropology and history research, just for fun. I didn't have money to finish my degree, but I had enough academic experience to know how to track down and evaluate good sources. I wasn't really trying to do anything for career purposes, I was just incredibly bored and wanted to study something again, so I got really, really into studying local history. Once I read everything I could about that, I jumped to another topic I was interested in, and then another. Media studies became my biggest focus as a natural outgrowth of my interests in speculative fiction, animation, and the history of the entertainment industry. I studied anthropology in school because I loved learning how and why humans do the things we do, and media studies always felt like an obvious facet of that. It's part of why I was always obsessed with cave paintings and paleolithic sculptures--people make art! It's what we do! It's what we've always done!

Anyway, I now live in a university town that has resources available to the public, and I have friends who work in various university libraries or as professors. I started making use of whatever I could get access to. I read a lot of nonfiction books from independent researchers pursuing their own passion projects, I got really into video essays on YouTube, and I had the epiphany that you don't actually have to finish college to study and write about things as long as you put in the quality research and source all your information. At some point I started calling it my "DIY academia," which my university-employed friends found utterly delightful.

Honestly, I credit my formal-academia friends with a lot. They've all been an incredible source of support and reassurance, and have helped me track down quite a few sources I was having trouble getting my hands on. Everyone do yourself a favor and make friends with someone who works in a university library.

I started a Patreon several years ago (in like 2017 I think?), primarily for my fiction writing, but there's plenty of other things that have shown up there over the years (art, cosplay, essays, etc.). As I started getting more into my DIY academia, folks started expressing interest in seeing me write about it. My tumblr posts about media generated a decent amount of attention, I'd managed to build up a platform, and it wasn't hard to say, "okay, screw it: I have freelance experience and I know how to write a paper, does anyone want to pay me for it?"

I haven't been submitting to existing publications like I used to, mostly because I don't have a decent portfolio assembled. My old freelance work in high school and college was for a platform that closed down a decade ago, and no matter how popular they get I can't bring myself to include tumblr posts alongside professional credits. My current plan is to build a portfolio on my website showing off the commissions I've been taking, and then start submitting to magazines and newspapers again between my other work. I'd love to eventually write for something like Polygon or IGN.

It's hard. I love research, I love writing, and I love sharing information with people, but having to DIY everything is really, really hard. I often feel like I'm just throwing nonsense into the void in the hope someone will like it and leave a tip in my Ko-Fi. I don't have formal academic credentials beyond "I was planning my senior thesis about the ethics of investigating ancient burial sites, but then I dropped out." I just have a neurodivergent brain, a handful of special interests, a wife who works the graveyard shift in a lab to pay our bills, and the ability to hyperfixate on research for absurd lengths of time.

The most common advice I used to get about freelancing is that you just have to keep throwing things at the wall to see what sticks. It's been years since then, but I think the advice still applies. Read a lot, learn a lot, and write about the things you're most interested in. Search around and look for magazines and newspapers and websites that accept unsolicited freelance submissions. Read the other articles they publish to see how your work stacks up. Submit, submit, submit. Rake in rejection letters and keep them as a reminder of how hard you're working. If you're up for it, start a Patreon to post the things you don't submit elsewhere. The worst thing that can happen is that people don't give you money, but maintaining it still helps you lay the groundwork for a portfolio and a reader base.

I deal with a lot of hellacious impostor syndrome. I worry a lot that I'm just a hack who doesn't actually know what they're talking about. Like I said, I got here totally by accident, but whatever I'm doing seems to be working for me. I'm broke, but my work is being read, and opportunities for more work show up when I least expect them. I'm not sure what's next for me, but I'm excited to figure it out. Money's tight, but I keep enduring despite the chaos. I throw things at the wall, I see what sticks, I clean up whatever flops and then try it again later. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It's hard, but so is everything else. I like it better than a lot of other things I could be doing.

[ran-orimoto]

[ Looooooooong time ago, in March ,I reckon, I posted a The Rescuers Junzumi AU sketchdump I’m very affectionate to and it wasn’t really something that unpredictable I would eventually write something for it soon. In truth, I initially wrote this very small oneshot just for myself in my free time (I stupidly feel cringe while writing about AUs and that’s a very stupid part of me I’m trying defeating just like the fankids one), but then a friend convinced me I could share it with the world as a prompt for Flufftober. I mean, why not, I told myself. Am I commiting some crime throwing stories I put 0 efforts in into the net🤣🤣🤣? Mind you, I did polish this ,tho. It used to be terrible ahahah. ]

{ Intermezzo you wouldn’t expect } aka a short one-shot for Fluffoctober about a The Rescuers AU -> •Stormy night

XXX

“Signorina Izumi, keine Sorge! No need to worry! I’m an expert in reading maps and orientating myself even in the thickest mist, ah!” The stocky man opened a piece of wrinkled and yellowish paper. His brown eyes, darkened by the blackness of a rainy night, were apparently scanning the drawings before them as he frantically searched for something he would never find. Of course.

Actually, Izumi had noticed it from the start: how he hadn’t paid a crumb of attention to what he was doing, attracted and distracted by who knew what else he might think it was more interesting than their invaluable mission. For example, if he had been focused on the map he was holding for real, he would have noticed it was upside down from the unnatural shape the venetian calle and the lagoon had, making it seem a whole sea was going to overflow and swallow the entire city.

Due to her usual courtesy and politeness, she had been wondering how she should tell him about that, if she should at that point since, after all, she could rely on herself and let him play those detective games in his silly world.

Who had ever needed a companion in a first place? She had been travelling around the world for ages knowing she could only trust her own strength, her determination no one else, -modestly speaking-, owned with such an intensity, her spirit. The only mate she had ever needed was the voice of the wind, as kind and reassuring as always, immutable, no matter where she was sent to.

Did those people from up there really believe she couldn’t deal with that situation on her own, she couldn’t take care of herself, she needed someone by her side, a man, nonetheless. From her perspective, from what she had been able to grasp so far, he was the one clearly needing help the most between them, not even being able to speak italian properly and messing it with japanese and german words.

And yet, she had chosen him when they had allowed her to do that, -at least!-. She had, though she had just assisted to a scene in which he was about to get electrocuted after he had voluntereed for the job. She didn’t even know who he truly was, now that she thought about that…Not that she had ever felt that need, either: to socialize with others from the society.

It was enough to be aware they all were adults wanting to help unlucky kids in the best way they could, through money or other types of support, -even, yes, those kinds consisting in sticking your nose in issues that were much bigger than you actually are-. What their life was like out there, who they actually were had never been important. Nobody cared, -and should know, in her opinion-, about the fact she was a flight attendant who would often find herself on modelling magazines or cat walks. And ,in return, she would survive in the obscurity, not ever finding out who he was, where he came from, how old he was, if he was married or not, - without doubts, the latter option held the predictable truth in itself-.

She had always been la Signorina Orimoto, but he had been quick at cutting to the chase and calling her la Signorina Izumi, showing no decency but not surprising her with that in the least.

And he was…Junpei-San…? He had introduced himself like that and she had also heard others addressing him in that way or with a simple Junpei. Against all the odds, he seemed to be known by many members and some seemed to appreciate him a ton, despite the clumsiness he had never managed to hide.

”Junpei-San,” A gloved hand on her chest, she finally interrupted his mumbling, which was the reason why she had eventually decided she couldn’t just let him be like that. The incoherent noises coming from his mouth were so annoying they were interfering with her own stream of consciousness. “Junpei-San!”

”Yes, Signorina Izumi!” Like a soldier, he abruptly straightened his back, but managed to strike a clumsy yet sweet smile at the same time. Slightly puzzled, she blinked for an instant, taking a step backwards without wanting to.

”The map is upside down,” She said, as dryly as you would expect from such an expert at keeping her temper under control. That was one of her good qualities she exploited to promptly make that sudden emotion making her heart beat at a weird pace, even if, again, for just a second, slip in the background of the most trivial of her thoughts,ready to be forgotten and, consequently, soon fade.

In response to her comment, Junpei didn’t immediately react. He stood still, lowered his gaze to the panorama of streets and squeezed his orbs to find that detail, that very little detail, -of course, she is attempting to be sarcastic, santo cielo!-, he had been missing. And then…

“Ja, du hast Recht. Ehm, you’re right, Signorina Izumi, it’s…Upside down.”

”Yeah. It is.” Feeling the time they had at disposal slithering away from her grip, she struggled not to add a pinch of rudeness to her tone, so rare when it came to her, a blonde woman in her fourties enwrapped in a long purple dufflecoat; the symbol of elegance and refinement; a complete oxymoron next to the man in a baggy raincoat.

But Junpei-San‘s fashion tastes were not the main problem concerning him.

”Then…Let’s fix it,” He had begun stuttering and shaking, hiccuping too, but not because they had been wandering in the chilly rain for a while. Her remark had provoked a row of side effects on his body that might have been funny to observe, -she admitted it-, could have made her even giggle in amusement, if she hadn’t been counting each second flying away from them just like that kid, that poor kid.

They couldn’t allow themselves to indulge in more foolery. No.

Her eyebrows twitched and she pulled the paper away from him, accidentally dropping the umbrella he had asked her to hold in his stead go, -it had incredibly dawned on him he couldn’t read his map, if he continued on keeping the umbrella above her head like a true knight would, and per Dio!-.

The umbrella fell on the slippery ground and let heavy drops pour their cascade on their hoods all at once, on the locks of their hair escaping from their shelters. Her legs shaking due to crawling waves of cold, her fists clenching more and more in growing irritation, Izumi couldn’t help gasping: that was it! That was the end! That was the straw breaking the camel‘s back: he was blatantly influencing her with his manners! She would absolutely have to call the SOS society and come up with a valid justification to explain her decision to give up.

”Signorina Izumi…”

“I…I…I just…”

Her exasperated yell cut through the curtain of humidity and ,maybe, -she sensed without being able to explain-, a veil made of something else as well.

She didn’t look at Junpei, whether he had been startled or had grown disgusted by that display of utter embarassment. Indeed, she didn’t even want to. May he believe she had gone nuts and wasn’t the admirable Signorina Izumi he had been staring at with dreamy eyes for the whole day: she wouldn’t be touched by a change of heart happening inside him at all. If he left her in the freezing atmosphere of the incoming night, it wouldn’t make any difference.

But maybe she had always known he wouldn’t, as it suddenly dawned on her the one who would have run away from him, the person who had found himself in front of that side of hers, would have been her herself in other circumstances.

Instead, she had remained there and had silently, unconsciously waited. She waited for that sweaty yet warm hand to defeat the low temperatures of both outside and inside, at a first and single touch of her shoulder. It sent all those nagging shivers and tremors away with who knew what kind of magical trick, and, most of all, succeeded in reminding her Izumi Orimoto, la Signorina Orimoto never threw in the towel, never let stress dominate her clear logic, no matter how hard it was to find a lead, to operate as quickly as possible to rescue an innocent soul.

”Here,” There was another kind of rain that was falling that night. Quieter, more reserved, shyer, it let itself be seen and felt only by Junpei‘s hesitant thumb. She couldn’t help sighing in relief, leaning her cheeks towards that pleasant sensation. “Let’s go home. We will be luckier tomorrow when the Sun comes out again and…The lightnings go away. They are approaching…And very fast.”

”Home?” She echoed, covering his gulps with her suspended reticence.

”Yes,” As if not wanting to let her be carried by the mistral, he grabbed her hand before bending to pick the umbrella up. “I will prepare a good hot chocolate for you. To be honest, I can’t read maps that well, but I‘m not lying I’m good at preparing those. Someday I want to bring a whole tray for the society ah ah.”

…

Chi mi salverà ?

Who will rescue me?

…

I will, no, we will. Wait for us, endure, wherever you are. Give me a little time to…To…

…

Through storms, rain and black nights, never fail to do what’s right.

But ,why not, let yourself sip a good mug of hot chocolate while looking at that mess from the window, as well.

[zethsdumpster]

Decided to have some fun with those "Rate the Ship" memes, I'm going to start with Acechiji and go from there, I'm also open to ship suggestions (preferably sent to my ask box)

Rate the Ship - Portgas D Ace x Vinsmoke Ichiji

NOTP | Ew/uncomfortable | Eh |Alright | I like it! | They look nice together| Let’s do it! | OTP | OTP of OTPs

Who realized they were in love first- Ace

Who said “I love you” first - Ace

How did they fall in love? – They find the other intriguing (and also attractive), Ichiji's coldness makes Ace want to dig his fingers under his skin and find the human hiding inside the robot, while Ace's everything makes Ichiji want to pull out his brain and study it, especially when Ace "makes him" bring out things within himself that not even he knew he was hiding, leaving him unstable on his feet and even more annoyed and curious about Ace, shifting their perspectives of the world irreparably.

How was their first kiss? – A moment of impulsivity that takes them both by surprise, is chaste and short, little more than a peck on the lips.

Who proposed? – Ichiji

Who is the best man/men? – Sabo, Luffy, Niji, Sanji, Yonji

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? – Reiju

Who did the most planning? – Ichiji

Who stressed the most? – Ichiji

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? – Judge

Who is the one to instigate things? – Ace

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? – Ace

Who is the stricter parent? - Ichiji

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - Ichiji

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? – Ichiji

Who is the more loved parent? – both

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? – Ichiji

Who cried the most at graduation? – Ace

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? – Ace

Who does the most cooking? – Ace

Who is the most picky in their food choice? – Ichiji

Who does the grocery shopping? – Ace

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? – both

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Ace

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? – Ichiji

Who cleans the room? – Ichiji

Who cleans up after the pets? - Ichiji

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - neither

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? – Ichiji

Who takes the longer showers/baths? – Ichiji

Who takes the dog out for a walk? – Ichiji

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? – Ace

Who plays the most pranks? – Ace

Who would have the others’ picture as their phone background - either neither or both

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror- both

Who buys the other cheesy gifts- Ace

Who initiated the first kiss- Ichiji

Who kisses the other awake in the morning- Ichiji

Gives nose/forehead kisses – Ace

Who starts tickle fights- Ace

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower- Ace

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch- both

Who was nervous and shy on the first date – Ichiji (but you wouldn't have known by looking at him)

Gets jealous the most- neither

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day - Ace

Who kills/takes out the spiders- Ace

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk- Ace

When I started shipping it- I was writing a fic where Ichiji ends up with Whitebeard and is there to save Ace and Luffy at Marineford, I wrote a grand total of 1 interaction and my brain went "It's free real state" and they've been growing in my brain like black mold ever since

What makes me happy about them- everything uwu (they're both doomed siblings, two sides of the same sibling-shaped coin, hot fire vs cold fire, "believes themselves unlovable" x "isn't supposed to have feelings/emotions but falls in love anyway", and there's more, they have a lot going on ur honour)

What makes me sad about them- ... canon ...

Things done in fanfic that annoys me- Top Ichiji/Bottom Ace (doesn't really annoy me but I won't read it + there's only, like, 1 fic/1shot with that too so)

Things I look for in fanfic- the fic T.T

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other- Masked Deuce and Shuraiya Bascud, with either is good

My happily ever after for them- Together with their families by their sides (and with Judge out of the picture)