#I don’t gotta apologize for COMEDY

[this-aint-massachusetts]

There’s a hole that you fill, that you fill 🎶 (that hole being the soft spot on Derek’s skull)

[tragedy-of-commons]

killjoy

childe x gn!reader | wc: ~1.6k

You catch your boyfriend setting up the cake.

tags/warnings: bday fun, modern & college au, based off of the American College Experience™ sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, teucer is a national treasure, comedy, possibly ooc, reader has hair

notes: for @staarri's 100 followers & bday event <3 trying to write childe was a nightmare but the wheel of doom has spoken. chosen prompt "cruel summer" :)

It has been one hell of a day.

Pop quizzes in two of your classes (that you are now tanking), getting heckled by that same group of protesters, slamming head-first into a glass panel like a pigeon, and then getting splashed by a puddle via a speeding car. 

To give credit where credit is due, you’ve suffered through every incident with class and poise. Despite how you drip with murky street water, the saving grace that is the promise of your warm bed keeps you from inventing new profanities and falling to your knees in the student parking lot.

It’s almost over with, it’s almost over with—

The splintered door of your dorm unit has never looked more welcoming. When your keycard is approved with a click, you heave the barrier between you and uninterrupted sleep wide open. However, what you don’t expect is the little spectacle unfolding in your kitchenette.

Who you belatedly realize is your lovely boyfriend is sticking candles into something - it being quickly shielded from your view as he reacts to your arrival.

“You just had to be early,” he grins, revealing those pearly whites, “Maybe I’ll start calling you ‘Killjoy’.”

“Ajax?” He’s here? Today? But he said— He must notice your sorry state, but he’s wise enough not to mention it. “You really think I’d miss celebrating your birthday in person? Seriously, what kind of partner would I be, just sending you a text? Babe, you gotta start setting some higher standards.”

“Rotten liar,” you mumble, growing smile threatening to split your face in two. 

A small flash of copper peeks around the bedroom-adjoining hallway, hyper. Teucer rushes up in front of his brother, the latter ruffling his hair. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here yet!”

You snort, wondering if anyone else is planning to jump out of the shadows. “My sincerest apologies. I could always leave—”

“No need,” Ajax dismisses the notion with a cavalier wave. “I think we’re all ready, huh Teuce?”

He huffs in agreement, beaming up at you like you hung the moon. “One second!”

Teucer scampers off faster than you can blink, making you bellow a laugh. His energy knows no bounds, necessitating many hours of entertaining his whims. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Happy birthday,” Ajax says softly; wistfully.

You stalk over to him, embracing your boyfriend like he might disappear into thin air without a moment’s notice. “If you broke in, I will be calling campus security.” “You’d never turn me in! Also, we just so happen to still be on the guest card from last week.” You part from his warmth so you can kiss him. He tastes of sugar, the bastard.

“Buttercream?” you place, peering over his shoulder. The sight of a round cake on the counter confirms your suspicions, and your heart swells. He would’ve had to bake and decorate it somewhere else, given that ovens are a luxury you do not possess in college hell. You picture him in his too-nice apartment, piping frosting in the familiar loops of your name. “Yes!” Teucer rushes back in (you note that he’s hiding his hands behind his back), while Ajax pokes your nose. “Big brother spent soooo long on it!”

You snicker deviously. “Really?”

“No reason to lie,” your boyfriend pouts, “Though I’m a bit hurt that you’re both trying to embarrass me, after I went to all this trouble..”

Teucer sticks his tongue out in disgust whenever you console Ajax with another kiss, likely wanting you both to hurry up your gross couple stuff so he can show you his gift. It’s presented to you ceremoniously, and you honor the splendor by pretending not to know that it’s definitely one of his toys. 

Your acting is award-winning, perfectly ignoring the obvious ridges and appendages of a Transformer. After tearing open the paper, you’re told that his name is Mr. Cyclops and you have to take good care of him - your sworn oath.

(Of course, Mr. Cyclops will mysteriously end up back in Teucer’s bedroom if you can count on your partner in crime to help you out. You and Ajax share a Look that hints at conspiracy.)

Speaking of your boyfriend, you don’t think he is governed by even one modicum of shame. During the Happy Birthday song, he performs with his whole chest, much to your chagrin. You think that Ajax lives the most for other people; even if it shines brightest whenever he teases and flusters. His camaraderie is most genuine when he’s this comfortable - when he knows that the present moment is all he needs to focus on. 

When did he start letting his guard down? You find yourself unable to recall among past memories of trudging to the local diner at ungodly hours, cramming for finals at the library, and responsibly talking him down from any antics that would surely get him in trouble.

(Maybe it was when you first held an ice pack over his eye, swollen shut from a punch he shouldn’t have taken just for the thrill of it. Your admonishment must have been jarring, because without any teasing remarks whatsoever, he promised that he’d dial it down. You remember lacing your fingers with his - and promptly threatening to “embalm him with jet fuel” if he ever got hurt again.)

Now your relationship has progressed to the point where spending your first birthday together feels natural. It feels so natural that shitty paper plates stacked high with slices of cake is enough to make you forget that you look like that one damp owl picture. Ajax, as per his boyfriend duties, has to remind you, of course.

“Bad day, huh?” 

You rest your chin on your fist, elbow supported by the armrest of your (comically small) couch. In retrospect, the fleeting illusion of a living room probably wasn’t worth it. Squished into a corner by a dozing Teucer and an awake Ajax, you yawn. “The worst, actually.”

“Well, we can’t be having that,” he tips your chin up to meet azure hues, “Maybe my gift will make you feel better.”

You blink. “Gift? You don’t have to, you know. The little guy’s was plenty enough for me.” 

Ajax spares a fond glance at his little brother, whose head is resting in his lap, legs thrown over the opposite armrest. “Nonsense! If you’re worried about me having bought out a whole store—”

“Don’t tell me you—”

“—Then you have nothing to fret over, Killjoy,” he laughs. “It’s pretty small.”

You don’t suppress the smile that breaks out on your face. “Okay, I’ll bite.”

“Hopefully not too hard.” He’s so annoying. You want to kiss him stupid.

From what you assume is from his back pocket, he removes a black silk pouch before dropping it into your awaiting hand. He was right about it being small, that’s for sure. Toying with the material of it for a moment, you pull open the bag delicately. Ajax tenses. “So.. whaddya think?”

Inside is a brass key that fits into your palm nicely. Of course you’ll love anything he gives you, but you’re unsure of what this could mean. Is it symbolic? Literal? You thumb over the grooves, unsure of what they could possibly unlock. Your head swims with a fuzzy feeling that you don’t entirely hate.

“What’s it to?”

“Our place.”

It’s perfect. You turn the object this way and that way, swallowing. “Giving me my own copy? You realize that you’re gonna be stuck with me crashing at yours way more often, right?”

Your boyfriend wraps a sturdy arm around your shoulder. “It’s not there for you to crash, it’s there for you to stay. I want you to move in with me.”

The following awed silence from you is clearly taken as something else, because Ajax backpedals in that flippant way that belies the panic he’s actually feeling. You need to tell him that it’s okay; that it’s more than okay.

“Of course you can say no, but the rest of your birthday plans kinda hinge on the possibility that you’ll make me the happiest man in the world and say yes,” he amends.

You pay no heed to his theatrics, because all you really need is him. Gross. “Duh, idiot. As much as it kills me to say this, I’d want nothing more.” Ajax glows. “Because you’re head over heels in love with me?”

“No, because I won’t have to drag my ass to the laundromat anymore.”

The offended sound he lets out is muffled with your mouth against his once more, and the tears that roll down your cheeks are obviously not because you’re ecstatic to be so involved in his life. What a preposterous idea.

His hands cradle your face, a little awkward because of the position, but he’s so warm. 

“Killjoy, I have something to confess,” he breathes, pulling back enough so you can see the faint constellation of freckles dotting his features. “You need to start packing immediately, or else the flowers will wilt before you’re able to see them.”

You sigh, happy-sniffling. “Flowers? Is a bouquet perhaps part of these ‘birthday plans’?”

Ajax dries one of his hands stained with your tears off onto his shirt before raking it through Teucer’s curls affectionately. He stirs but does not wake. “Try thirty!”

“Ajax..” The horror in your tone barely disguises the admiration.

“I love you too, Killjoy.”

That night, when you’re both alone in his apartment, tangled in each other’s arms, your overnight bag on the floor - you tell him the same. The few tears he sheds into your hair are also definitely not because you’re finally comfortable enough to say it back. Ridiculous.

taglist: @hanyi-writes, @karagatan02, @bfajax, @aphrodict, @nomazee

[drivinmeinsane]

Give Me the Night

※ Holland March x Jackson Healy ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 }

※ Summary: Like most jobs involving stakeouts, the night is going by slowly. That all takes a turn, however, when March finally pushes his fellow Nice Guy too far.

※ Rating: 18+ for explicit mature content

※ Content/Tags: Idiots in Love, Blow Jobs, Tit Jobs, Inappropriate use of a Semi-Public Space, Excessive Cum, Internalized period-typical homophobia, Emotionally Constipated Jackson Healy, Typical Idiot Holland March, Porn with Comedy AND Feelings, Collaboration

※ Word count: 7,759

※ Status: Oneshot/Complete

※ Author's Notes: This fic was written in collaboration with @danime25. We worked up the outline together and she kindly took the reins and wrote Holland's POV after our good pal Healy makes a break for it. It was wonderful working with her on this!

Yellow light filters through the windows of Holland’s car. The streetlights have been on for hours now, illuminating the sleepy street just enough to make out the shapes of shrubs and mailboxes. The two detectives inside the car are not concerned with the small details. They are looking out for the comings and goings of a man located in house number 1438. It’s a rather plain ranch style home with new porch railings.

The Nice Guys Detective Agency had been called the day prior by a woman who was concerned that her husband of three years was stepping out on her with another lady. It was the same old story that Holland March had handled his entire career as a PI. He gets a new one about once or twice a month. More over the holidays since the offending partner claims overtime at their place of employment to explain the sudden absences at home. The cases pay well enough, easy work to boot as long as the survailed party stayed none the wiser.

Holland shifts uncomfortably in his seat, drawing Healy’s attention. The bruiser eyes him with a passive curiosity. His back is stiff from being confined in the vehicle for so long, but he knows that his investigation partner must be feeling worse. Instead of breaking Holland’s left arm like he had planned, he had fractured the radius in Holland’s right. As fucked up as it sounds, he hadn’t wanted to risk damaging whatever issue the other man has going under the bandage of his left. The result was that the PI was down to limited functionality in both arms. The left is still full of stitches while the right is weighed down by a palm to elbow length cast. Still, the arm situation does not directly correlate to Holland’s current bout of bizarre behavior in any way that Healy can discern.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, March?” Healy asks, aiming for politeness. He misses by a mile.

“Excuse me? Why the fuck are you looking at me like that for?” Holland retorts with a disgusted tone. 

“Because you’re acting weird.” 

“I’m not acting weird. You’re the one acting weird.” Holland’s voice is shrill, and a bit defensive.

“I’m not the one squirming around like I gotta take a piss.”

“Fine! You really want to know?”

“No, March,” he throws up his hands, “I asked because I don’t want to know.” His tone is sarcastic.

“Well… it’s been a while since you broke my fucking arm .” He flings the affected limb in a sweeping gesture for dramatic effect, narrowly missing Healy. 

“I said I was sorry.”

Holland scoffs and pulls a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket along with his lighter. “Well, your apologies are worth shit to me when I can’t crank one out in the bathroom.”

The look on Healy’s face is incredulous. “Seriously? That’s it, asshole?”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘that’s it’?” He places a cigarette between his lips and lights it, letting it rest loosely in his mouth.

Healy is almost upset enough to snag the cigarette right out of the other man’s mouth. He has no reason to be this bothered by their conversation. His skin feels too warm, the collar of his shirt too tight.

“What the fuck do you want me to do about it? You want me to give you a little handy between partners?”

“Well, for starters, don’t look at my crotch like you enjoy it,” Holland snarls back, using his more functional hand to block Healy’s view. “I just need something to get myself off with.”

A light turns on in the house closest to them. The porch light follows shortly after. Their shouting must have been loud enough to wake the occupant. The last thing they need is the actual police getting called and thrust into their business. 

“Shut up and stop thinking with your dick. We’re on a job,” Jackson responds, irate. 

Turning the key in the ignition, Holland starts the car and floors it. They pelt out of the neighborhood in an obnoxious screech of tires on pavement. If their yelling hadn’t woken the entire block, Holland’s maneuver certainly finished the job. He pulls into an empty lot. The only source of light is the vehicle’s headlights. 

“Real subtle,” he mutters under his breath, still ruffled. 

The other man hits the steering wheel with the palms of both hands. He lets out a gasp at jostling his injured arms unnecessarily. He turns on the man seated beside him once he shakes off the pain. “Great, we’ve lost at least three days on that lead thanks to you.”

“‘Thanks to me’,” Healy repeats, “Do you even hear yourself sometimes?”

He fumbles for the door handle and gets out of the car. He slams the door hard enough to rattle the entire machine. The bruiser needs a moment to cool down or he will do something that they will both regret. He is almost shaking. From what? He doesn’t know exactly.

Holland doesn’t leave well enough alone and exits the car in pursuit of his partner. He stops with the door ajar and his hand on the roof. “Yeah, I do hear myself. I have a pretty voice, thank you very much.”

The shorter man shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and walks further away from the Benz. He forces himself to accept the PI’s words with equanimity. He’s struggling with it. Does the other man ever stop running his mouth? 

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Holland slams the door, shutting his blazer in it without realizing. He tries to set off after him, but comes to an abrupt halt when he gets yanked back by the caught jacket. He struggles out of it, leaving it hanging sadly in the door and gets up in Healy’s face.  

“See that? You just cost me my favorite jacket and for what?”

“Get out of my face, March,” Jack says calmly, too calmly. His tone is a warning of an imminent punch to the face if the detective doesn’t comply. He puts a hand on the other man’s chest, cautioning him. 

“Or what?” Holland sneers, “You gonna kiss me?”

Healy doesn’t say anything, He drops his hand from Holland’s chest and takes a step back, turns partially away. Nausea rolls through his stomach. 

“Hey, hey, Jack, I was just kidding.” Holland sounds a little softer.

He waves a dismissive hand with forced casualness and starts walking back to the car. “Let’s get back to work. Don’t want to waste the time here.” 

The detective purses his lips and follows after him only to stop a few feet away from the vehicle. He has a calculating look on his face. It’s the kind of look Holland gets when he is about to make a decision that is going to make whatever partner of his want to tear their hair out. Healy opens his mouth to ask him what he is about to do right as Holland throws the keys. All he can do is watch in speechless horror as they go sailing into the darkness and clatter noisily somewhere onto the ground. He’s damn near blind during the day with his reading glasses on, much less at night without any aid whatsoever.

“What the fuck , March?” He growls once the initial shock has worn off. 

Holland gestures at him, equally upset. “Enough of this. Just say you want to fuck me or something.”

The nauseous feeling grows more prominent. It feels like his stomach acid is trying to crawl up his throat. Why the hell was his partner doing this? Healy had tried hard to be normal around the other man. He had not let his eyes wander because that was the kind of shit that got your ass beat in an alley. 

“Yeah?” He lets out an unconvincing laugh, “What makes you think I wanna fuck you?”

“I mean, look at you,” the PI scoffs despite having to adjust himself so his erection isn't so obviously tenting the material of his white slacks. 

“Me? You’re the one panting over there like a dog. You can’t control yourself, March.”

That spurns Holland into crowding against him. Healy holds his ground, he’s not going to be bullied around by his partner. The other man leans down to speak, but he misjudges the distance in the dark and his lips brush against Jackson’s mouth. They recoil from each other like gunshots had been fired in their direction.

“I knew you wanted to fuck me,” Holland says, laying the blame for his own error onto Healy. He makes a show of looking him up and down.

Impulsively, he grabs the collar of Holland’s shirt. He twists his broad hand into the expensive fabric and jerks the taller man forward until they’re nose to nose. “I never said anything about wanting to fuck you. Sounds like you’re making excuses to fuck me.”

“As if,” is the response he gets, but Jackson does not miss the considering way March eyes his mouth. The detective adjusts the angle of his head, aligning their mouths, mere millimeters between them.  

At the feeling of Holland’s mustache brushing over his upper lip, Healy makes a small sound. A whine? A moan? He panics, and his fist swings up without his permission and collides solidly with the face of the man coming onto him. His hand slips off the other man’s shirt, and Holland takes a few staggering steps backwards. 

“What the fuck?” March whimpers and looks up at Healy, “The hell was that for?”

Healy refuses to look at him and instead starts fruitlessly scanning the ground. “Shut up and help me look for the keys.”

He hears the other man rub his face with a groan. The bruiser knows his partner has a good chance of sporting a black eye tomorrow. This entire night is turning into a nightmare. He has not felt this unsteady since Joanne had admitted that she was fucking his father. The scuffle of shoes on the ground is the only warning he gets before Holland grabs ahold of him. Before he can protest, the taller man kisses him. It’s an awkward clash of mouths, too much teeth, but Holland is making up for it by sheer enthusiasm. 

Healy stiffens, but then he is grasping desperately onto the PI. He kisses him back like a man lost in the desert who has just been given a glass of water. He chases after the other man when he pulls back for air, capturing his mouth once again. His hand rests heavily on the nape of March’s neck, worked in the short hair. They shouldn’t be doing this. They’re old enough to damn well know better than to do this.

That line of questioning does not stop him from wedging a thigh between Holland’s legs, rubbing it against the taller man’s clothed erection in the process. His partner catches on quickly and chases the friction. Healy wraps a hand around March’s narrow hip, encouraging him further until the detective is all but humping his leg like a dog in heat. They’re panting into each other’s open mouths, eyes closed.

Holland moans out a soft little, “Fuck.”. He sounds almost as though he is begging for more, even as his hands grab desperately at the back of Healy’s jacket. 

“Yeah, you would like that, March,” he mutters against the side of the PI’s neck. He slides the hand cupping the back of Holland’s neck to his front and works at pulling the other man’s shirt free from his pants. Healy almost feels drunk despite turning down his partner’s offered flask more than once during the stakeout. A shiver courses through him when he feels Holland start to return his interest by putting his hand underneath his jacket, not seeking bare skin yet, but the heat of his touch through the tropical patterned shirt is enough to get Jackson to grind his own hard dick against his partner’s hip. 

He feels the wet pressure of Holland’s lips connecting with his cheek and has to swallow. This is more intimate than he had ever dared to imagine in the most repressed corners of his mind. Maybe Holland had bashed him over the head in the car with his cast and this was all some kind of fucked up wet dream. The twitch of the other man’s cock against him feels real enough though. 

“Whaddaya want, huh?” Jack dares to ask.

“I want…” Holland trails off, clearly contemplating, but instead of coming up with a response, he shoves his face against Healy’s shoulder. All traces of his bravado are gone.

“You’re never this quiet, March,” he grumbles. He drags his thick fingers down the detective’s stomach to right above his belt. “If I knew this was all it took to get you to shut up… Look, do you want me to give you a handjob or what?”

“No, I want,” Holland makes a gesture with his hands that suggests he’s cupping a pair of invisible breasts, “you know, that .”

The look Healy gives him is flabbergasted. “March, you… you know I’m not a woman, right?”

“Yeah, I fucking know that.” Holland looks down at where he and Healy are pressed together like a pair of randy teenagers, “I’m not a fucking idiot.” 

Shaking his head, he opens his mouth to say something in response to him, but just shakes his head instead. There’s no use in arguing with him. Healy knows that the other man is a fucking idiot sometimes and that knowledge is enough for him right now. He decides to humor March and strips off his jacket and tosses it onto the ground behind him. He makes short work of the buttons on his shirt and leaves it hanging open to reveal the white wifebeater he wears as an undershirt. Jack fights the instinctive urge to cover himself, knowing that his body is not in as good of shape as his companion’s.

“We’re actually doing this?” Holland asks despite already beginning to work his belt off with the hand not encased in a cast. He’s doing such a poor job of it that it prompts Healy to swat his hand away and undo it for him. 

“Whatever ‘this’ is,” he says with a shrug of his good shoulder. He pulls the detective’s belt free of the loops and tosses it in the vague direction of where he threw his jacket just moments before. They’ll have a considerable scavenger hunt on their hands at the end of this. 

Holland undoes the zipper on his dress pants and unceremoniously pulls his dick out. “Okay, I’ve never done this before.”

Healy watches as March closes his eyes in preparation. For what? He doesn’t have the faintest damn clue. “Why fuck are you closing your eyes. This isn’t jumping off the diving board,” he says incredulously. 

“ Jesus! Just shut up,” Holland snaps back, opening his eyes reproachfully. He puts a hand on Healy’s shoulder and tries to encourage him onto his knees. Jack doesn’t budge. “Just… let me use your chest.”

“For what?” He grumbles. He decides to humor Holland’s cues and lowers himself to the ground. A rock digs uncomfortably into his shin and he mutters a complaint under his breath, shifting his leg into a spot with less gravel. He tries to tune out how hard his dick is in his own pants. The kneeling position has pulled the fabric taut over his crotch, and he has to suppress a groan that’s more arousal than discomfort over this indignity. This is right up near the top of the most asinine things his partner has asked him to do since they met about a month ago. He’s gone along with the other man this far though, and he might as well continue. 

Holland moves to get onto his knees, but he pulls up short of actually doing it. “This isn’t going to work, let’s go to my car,” he says, offering a hand to Healy and helping him to his feet without bothering to tuck his dick back into his pants. 

“You have to be fucking with me,” he protests but follows the taller man back to the car all the same. He hovers awkwardly next to the rear tire on the passenger side. He’s really starting to be on the verge of regretting this. Holland has to be playing some kind of joke on him. His hands hover over the buttons of his open shirt and he’s about to start doing it up when March pats the top of the trunk.

“Come on,” he says encouragingly. The PI sheds his own over-shirt, stripped down to his undone pants and sleeveless undershirt. 

He instantly follows Holland’s lead and lets his own touristy shirt fall from his shoulders and onto the ground. This entire vacant lot is going to look like some type of crime scene by the end of night. He heaves himself onto the trunk, heels briefly making contact with the tire. He’s perched on the edge, tense as though he’s ready to fight. Jack is not given much time to work himself into abandoning this whole ordeal because Holland steps up into his space, forcing a home for himself between his legs. Desperation and arousal is written all over the taller man’s face. Either Holland is a surprisingly good actor or he’s actually not yanking Healy’s chain.

The detective puts his full weight into the kiss. Healy’s breath hitches when March’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. He feels the other man grin in response to his reaction. It’s all Jackson can do to put a calloused hand on the back of his partner’s neck and hold him close. Holland’s facial hair is surprisingly soft against Healy’s stubbled face.

“Fuck,” Holland says softly and drags his pants over the curve of his ass, down far enough to be able to kick  them off before crawling onto the car. 

The bruiser lays back across the trunk, the metal is cold against his skin, but Holland is blazingly warm against his stomach as he gets into position on top of him. He takes the hem of Healy’s shirt in his hands and encourages it up and over his head to get discarded somewhere on the ground by the driver’s side of the car. Holland shifts so he’s properly straddling him, knees bracketing his sides. The detective’s cock rests in the divot between Healy’s pecs. 

“The fuck you doing, March?” It comes out as a near whisper in the darkness. 

“What I wanted,” Holland says and spits, slicking the space where his dick rests just enough that it glides smoothly on the first few thrusts as he begins to rub himself off using Healy’s chest.

Suddenly, Holland’s comments about using his chest to get off are crystal clear. Taking a deep breath, Healy pushes his elbows against either side of his chest, forming a tighter passage for his partner to fuck against. It was like something he’d seen women do in pornos sometimes. His chest is quickly made slick by the copious amounts of precum leaking from the man on top of him. 

Above him, Holland lets out a broken whine as he chases his release. He’s thrusting against Healy like both their lives depend on it. March’s hands are firmly planted to either side of his shoulders. Jack can’t hold back an answering groan, so uncomfortably hard in his jeans with no relief in sight. His chest hair is going to be a sticky, matted mess. All of this shouldn’t be as appealing as it is. The only thing that could make it better in this moment is if he could just see his partner a little more clearly. He wants to know what Holland’s face looks like when he cums. 

“C’mon, March. You wanted this,” he says, spurring him on. He has a good, if a little blurry, visual of the other man’s upper body with their current position. If he were not occupied with holding his amble chest together for Holland to use, his hands might be tempted to wander. 

In response, Holland whines and picks up the pace, nearly rubbing them both raw as he brings himself to the finish line. Jack swears he catches a glimpse of tears in Holland’s eyes as the man finally orgasms. He releases the pressure against his pecs and catches his partner as he goes limp on top of him. Healy feels like he is getting sprayed down with a hose. The other man’s cum floods in the valley of his chest, pooling at the base of his throat and trickling down either side of his neck. A stray shot or two catches him in the face. He tastes bitter saltiness on his lips when he reflexively licks them. It’s a lot of cum, way too much really.

“Shit,” the PI sighs and gingerly scoots out of his hold, further down his body. His dick twitches and a few stray droplets of cum fall onto Healy’s stomach. His own dick is throbbing in his pants when Holland unintentionally makes contact with his crotch.

Healy continues to lay back across the trunk, slightly dazed as his partner shimmies off the vehicle and pulls his boxers and pants back on. He had just let another man rub himself off on him and he hadn’t hated it. He’d enjoyed it even. Near his feet, Holland zips his trousers up and Jack feels himself tense at the crisp sound. He braces himself for the punchline now that the other man has had his fun and gotten his rocks off. He did not particularly think March would be cruel enough to mock him, but this… he didn’t have a script for this. 

“What do you want?” Holland asks after a moment of awkward silence, cutting right to the chase. 

“Surprise me, March. You’ve been doing a real bang up job of it tonight.” Healy responds, a little hoarse. He doesn’t know what the hell he wants. 

“Okay… uhh… sit up, I guess,” he replies, getting onto his knees. His eyes are level with Healy’s crotch.

He obliges him, ignoring the pop in his back as he does. Holland’s cum slides coldly down his chest before stopping somewhere on his stomach. He’s too struck dumb by arousal to care. The other man is on his knees for him, how could he have any rational thought? This has gone far beyond Healy’s wet dream hypothesis and the handjob only gay porno he’d dared to sneak a look at once.

Encouraged by Holland’s hands on his knees, he spreads his legs further to make room for him to shuffle in between them. He manages a reassuring nod when his partner checks in on him with a raised eyebrow that he can barely make out in the dark as he feels the kneeling man slide his left hand up his thigh to get at the front of his pants. Holland has no trouble with the zipper and button on Healy’s jeans despite the fumbling of his own belt earlier. There’s no underwear to tug out of the way. Jackson can’t be bothered to do any more laundry than strictly necessary. 

“Shit, I thought I was big…” Holland mutters under his breath and puts his mouth over the head of Healy’s cock. 

It was a line straight out of a skin flick, but damn if it didn’t send a hot rush of arousal down Jack’s spine all the same. His head falls back and he lets a guttural noise in response to the way his partner is tonguing along his shaft. Shakily, he puts a hand on his shoulder, gripping firmly. His thumb rubs back and forth against the side of Holland’s neck. He can feel the other man’s throat working as he gives him a blowjob. 

A Holland-esque whine almost bursts from his lips when the detective pulls off of him with a wet sounding pop. “Good?”

“Yeah, yeah, real good,” Healy admits, breathing heavily. “Now, please shut up and y’know…”

“Keep going?” Holland finishes with a smirk that’s blinding even in the dim light, and then his mouth is back to work doing something other than engaging in his usual vices of smoking, drinking, and talking way too fucking much.

He tightens his fingers on March’s shoulder like he’s a dog gripping onto a squeaky toy. As inexperienced as the PI clearly is at this kind of thing, it’s almost more than Healy can handle. He’s torn between shoving the other man away or pulling him closer. It has been so long since he’s gotten off. He hadn’t even wanted to touch himself after his wife admitted to cheating on him with his own father of all people. There had not been a single pair of pretty legs that had gotten his attention until Holland came along. Hell, if he admits it to himself, even his wife hadn’t really done it for him. There had always been an undercurrent of wrongness to the whole situation. He’d chalked it up to the fact that she was cheating on him during their marriage, but upon reflection, he hadn’t exactly been performing in the bedroom before that whole relationship started.

“Fuck,” he groans, fighting to keep from thrusting up into his mouth. He’s close, too close. He’s about to- “Holland… Holland .”

The other man moans around Healy’s cock. He’s doing his best to swallow down what he’s given, but some of it leaks out of his mouth and onto his goatee. They make eye contact as he proceeds to milk Jack dry. He pushes against Holland once the suction becomes too much around his softening dick. The other man lets him slip free and while Healy hastily tucks himself, oversensitive, back into his jeans, he leans against his car.

“That was… good,” Holland offers into the silence between the two of them.

Healy takes a moment to respond, busying himself with zipping up his pants and sliding the button home. The turmoil of feelings that he was experiencing earlier is back in full force. They’d both gotten off but no… there was the aftermath. 

“March…” he starts but peters out. He slides off of the car. He’s all too aware that he’s still shirtless and covered in Holland’s semen. It’s slowly drying into his chest and stomach hair, getting clean in the dark with no water and no spare cloth is a lost cause. 

“Yeah?” The PI responds the moment he realizes Healy isn’t going to add onto the thought. His tone is hopeful, bordering on needy.

“Why…?” He's not sure how to find the words. Hell, what does someone say in this kind of situation?

“Why what?” Holland asks with a touch of tentativeness, as though Healy is going to lay into him. 

“Why’d you… this wasn't some kinda joke was it, March?” He questions, shoving his hands into his pockets and curling inward slightly. What he would give to be fully dressed right now. Not that it would help much, he hasn't felt in control since he and Holland started fighting in the car. He isn’t a feelings kind of guy. That would mean he's weak.

“No!” Holland’s voice peaks and cracks. It settles into a more normal range as he continues. “I don’t know… I don’t know how to explain it. This feels different than the way I felt about my wife.”

Healy mutely nods as the taller man starts feeling himself up for his pack of cigarettes before realizing that they’re still in his jacket pocket. Holland wanders around the other side of the car, out of his field of vision, to go after his suit jacket. 

The new addition to the Nice Guys Detective Agency can agree though. Whatever is going on between them feels different than it had with his own, now ex, wife.  For him, it had felt… right. He absentmindedly follows March around to the other side of the car and picks up his undershirt. He pulls it back over his head, grimacing as his wet chest makes contact with the fabric. The minute he has a chance, he’s jumping in the shower. In the middle of shrugging on his Hawaiian shirt, he hears what sounds like the door of the Benz being opened followed by the rustling of fabric. Incredulous, he turns to stare at the other man. 

“The door was open.” Holland says to him, not looking up from the ground.

He doesn't even have it in him to be mad, just lets out a helpless chuckle. “You have to be fucking joking.”

“No,” he sounds sheepish, “but we still gotta find the keys to get out of here. Unless you’d rather talk about what,” gesturing between the two of them, “ this is first.”

“Let’s find the keys first, then we can talk.” Privately, he wants the option for Holland to just leave his ass here if things go south. He doesn’t want his partner to feel trapped with him.

“Sounds good,”  Holland says, closing the door and slipping his jacket back on. He flashes Healy a wide smile and bounds over to the approximate location of where he had thrown the keys a while earlier.

Healy locates his jacket and pulls it on. It’s dusty from the dry soil of the lot. He squints into the darkness, scanning the ground for the keys. He almost feels like he would be better off getting onto his hands and knees like that chick in the orange turtleneck that was always losing her glasses on the show Holly’s been into, the one with the talking dog.

He moves to stand next to Holland, brushing shoulders with him in a friendly way. “Why did you have to throw the keys?” He finally comments when his straining eyes fail to see a glimmer of metal.

“I don’t know,” he admits flatly. “We had to resolve whatever that tension was between us somehow.”

Jackson frowns, shrugs. He takes a few steps forward away from Holland, kicking at the ground fruitlessly. He doesn’t get rewarded by the sound of pebbles hitting metal. “What kinda tension you talking about?”

“Y’know… Where I was up in your face and you were trying to get out of mine. That tension.”

“Right, yeah,” he grumbles. “Look, March. What are you wanting outta this?” 

“I dunno. Right now it just feels nice when I’m around you.” He shrugs, “You know what I had on my hand when we met? ‘You’ll never be happy’?”

“Yeah? What about it?” Healy tries to not sound choked up over Holland’s words. Where did all these emotions come from? He was an even tempered man, occasionally angry, but this… There was no word of the day for this. 

“When I wake up and see you and Holly on the couch… I’m happy.” Holland shrugs and looks at him.

Healy is silent for a long moment before he speaks, his words slow, measured. “You and the kid… it gives me a reason to get up in the morning. Don’t know where I’d be without you.”

“Jesus.” Holland lets out a sigh, putting a hand over his own chest, “Haven’t been this nervous since I got down on one knee… you know, for Holly’s…” he clears his throat, not finishing the thought.

He teeters on the cusp of saying something sincere, but it’s not the time. He doesn’t want to go down an upsetting path, not tonight. They had enough to think about. “Guess I’ll be the one getting on one knee then,” he jokes. A gleam of metal catches his attention when he shifts in place. Holy shit, it’s the keys. He doesn’t dare move in case he loses sight of them with his crap depth perception. He grabs the air in Holland’s direction with one hand while pointing at the keys with the other. “March! March! Keys! ”

“Yes! Fuck yes!” The detective yelps and dives for the keys. He snatches them off the ground with a flourish and crowds into Healy’s space, heys in hand. He kisses him, an enthusiastic press of his mouth against his. He’s smiling even as he pulls back and a shy look crosses his face. “I mean, thanks.”

Healy can’t help himself and draws the man back in, allowing himself to initiate for the first time tonight. He brushes his mouth gently over Holland’s. He lingers for a moment before breaking away. Perhaps if the spell doesn’t break, he could get used to having this. 

“Let’s… go home.” March rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. They stare at each other until Healy raises his eyebrows at him. “Right! Home,” he says with a nod and hoofs it back to the car. Jack follows and settles himself into the passenger seat. He feels more content than he has in years.

The drive back to Holland’s house is free of any drama. Holland spends the time aimlessly chattering. It relaxes Healy. He’s nearly asleep by the time they pull into the driveway. 

“Huh,” he hears Holland say, and he opens his eyes to see the light of the television flickering from the living room window. 

He gets out of the car with a groan and the two men make their way to the front door. Holland fumbles his house key into the lock. Opening the door reveals Holly and Jessica standing in the living room in front of the tv, clearly surprised at being caught still awake. 

 “Jessica, what are you doing in my house?”

“Sorry Mr. March. My sister’s busy,” she apologizes.

“Yeah, I bet she is.” Holland scoffs. Jack resists the urge to kick him in the back of the leg.

Jessica looks at the men and blurts out. “Oh! Do you go to the same nighttime baking class as my sister?” Holly makes a noise like a stepped on mouse. 

Healy is ready to shrug it off as one of Jessica’s eccentricities and Holly having a hiccup, but a cold knife of cognizance suddenly impales him. He remembers that he and Holland didn’t wipe off their faces. He can feel the mostly dried jizz so clearly on his neck and lower half of his face. Oh fuck.

“What…” Holland starts to say before looking at Healy. His eyes go wide in his own realization. “Yeah. Baking. Baking class.”

“Yeah, cinnamon rolls tonight. The icing is real. Uh… real tricky. Gotta make it from scratch. Gets messy.” Healy manages. Why can’t he shut up? He’s sweating. Holly is staring a hole into his soul. Oh, god, she knows he and her old man were doing the hanky panky like a pair of teenagers while they were supposed to be working. If she looks at them any harder, they are both going to catch on fire and burn into two piles of ash right here in the entryway. 

Making things worse, Holland dips a finger into the mostly dried cum on Healy and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on the finger. “Wow. Um, really good icing.” 

“March, what the fuck are you doing?” Healy questions as nicely as he can manage given the circumstances. Holly makes a retching sound. Jessica as always is oblivious to anything going on around her. 

“Just… getting the last bit off you,” the man says with a shrug. Healy watches in fascinated horror as a bead of sweat rolls down his partner’s face. He can see his own release dried into Holland’s goatee. This is too much. 

“Well, uh. I’m going to use your shower. If you will please excuse me,” Jackson says politely, too politely, and tries to pretend he isn’t fleeing the scene of a crime. He leaves Holland to deal with the fallout and ducks into the master bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. What a mess. His undershirt is ruined, but he should have enough clothes to get back to his own apartment after this. 

───※ ·❆· ※───

“Well then, let’s get you home Jessica.” Holland clasps his hands together and keeps his lips pressed tight to one another to avoid the awkward smile that was creeping across his face. He feels the cold, sharp daggers that his daughter’s eyes are shooting at him and he turns around to pull his coat back off the hanger. Holland is looking for any excuse to avoid the lecture that he knows Holly has in store for him when he gets back. Unfortunately for him, Jessica has one of the first rational thoughts in her life. She digs her heels a bit into the shag carpet as Holland attempts to push her out the door and says,

“Wait, Mr. March. I live just across the street, remember? I can just walk home.”

Holland’s eyes go blank. He didn’t remember, honestly. “Right. That’s right,” he repeats to himself mostly

“Anyway, bye Holly. I’ll see you at school!” Jessica walks out of the house like she’s a member of the Brady Bunch. That’s the show Jessica liked, right? He shakes his head. It doesn't matter now. What matters is how the hell Holland is going to get out of the scolding that Holly has at the ready for him. He puts the poor coat back onto the hook before slowly turning around to face his daughter. What could he say? She already looks more disappointed in him than the first time she had to drive and pick him up from the bar. 

“Hi, honey.” He waves slowly at her, hoping to diffuse some of the tension in the air. This does not work. While he was trying to skirt on out of his own house, Holly had stood up from the couch and crossed her arms in front of her.

“Did you and Mister Healy have… sex and stuff?” She gets right to the point

“Don’t say ‘and stuff’...” Holland starts on his usual spiel. He zips his lips back up when he can see the look in Holly’s eyes getting even more venomous.

“Were you and Mister Healy having sex and stuff ?” She doubles down, making sure to punctuate every word as she repeats her question. She is not about to let her father out of this.

“Fine, we were… having sex.” Holland rubs the back of his neck as he says this. He looked like a teenager caught having a house party while his parents were out of town. Holly rolls her eyes at him and sighs, the gesture laced with disapproval for her dad’s carelessness. She sits back down on the couch before looking back at him and telling him,

“At least clean him up next time, Dad.”

“Fine. I will.” Holland huffs a little bit. His chest puffs up defensively before asking, “Why do you care?”

“Parents should treat each other with respect,” she shrugs. “Also maybe you don’t need to soil the eyes of your teenage daughter by bringing him back looking like that.”

“Okay, fine. You’re right.” He looks away. Up, down, anywhere that wasn’t the direct gaze of his daughter’s judging eyes. He begins doubling down on himself, “I just thought you’d be in bed.”

“Whatever. Just go check on him.” She settles in and watches the tv. She’s going to push her bedtime because her dad is the bigger problem right now. He had no room to judge when his own house wasn’t in order.

“Fine.” He walks to the bathroom with his tail tucked between his legs. He holds his ear up to the door for a second before knocking on the wood. “Hey, Healy?”

“Yeah?” Healy calls back over the sound of the water. He had barely set foot in the shower. It had taken him an age to peel himself out of his undershirt, his hair sticking uncomfortably to the cloth. How the hell did Holland cum so much? The other issue at hand was trying to figure out how to use the shower. After a couple of false starts, he managed to switch the water to the shower handle instead of the bath faucet.

“You mind if I come in?” Holland asks, his voice soft again. He doesn’t want to intrude on the other man if he isn’t welcome, but he wouldn’t be upset if he got a full look at Healy. With Healy’s permission, of course.

The other man hesitates for a moment but decides that it’s fine. He replies with a quick, “It’s your bathroom, March.”

“Yeah, but…” Holland lets out a quick sigh before he opens the door and walks in. He manages to undress himself quickly and glances over at the mirror. He uses his hand to run over his facial hair and mentally mark down where he needs to clean himself up. That was a problem for another day, however. He tugs gently on the shower curtain before asking, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” The bruiser moves to the side to make room for the lankier man. It’s become second nature for Healy. As of late, his entire life has somehow molded around being a part of Holly and Holland’s little family. Not that he’d complain about the recent lack of loneliness.

“Hey.” Holland grins. It’s a quirky little half smile where his lips are almost hidden but there’s just enough there for Healy to see just how happy Holland is. He almost looks like a golden retriever. That’s before he asks the other man, “Can I… kiss you again?” He closes his eyes firmly, fully expecting a ‘no’ or ‘that’s too much’ from Healy, but Healy seems to have no problem with this. He leans in, taking the dive yet again. He pulls Holland into his arms by his waist. He kisses the other man in a way his probably shaky voice could never begin to explain. After they break their contact Holland just kind of laughs, “I was just gonna do this…” he explains. His lips meet with the crown of Healy’s head. His arms work their way around his kind of boyfriend and rests his chin atop the other man’s head. They stay still in the water like this for a moment together. It was oddly intimate, even though a mere hour ago the blond was using the other man’s chest to get himself off. Healy lets a soft pleased moan slip from his lips while Holland cleans off his mess from Healy’s chest. He reaches up and gets some shampoo lathered in between his fingers. His fingers work their way through the blond’s hair. This is a moment of intimacy Healy hadn’t had with someone outside of sex before.

A couple minutes later, after the two were clean, Holland reaches behind Healy’s back and switches the water off. He carefully pulls the shower curtain to one side and reaches for a towel, offering it to Healy. He steps out of the tub and starts to rummage through his bathroom closet. It shouldn’t be this hard to find a damn towel. After he finds one he starts drying himself off and looks over at Healy, who offers him a quick, “Thanks” in return for the shower. Jackson picks up his pile of clothes and forces himself back into his jeans. At this point, he’s sure that Holland’s sick of him and is just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Before that can happen Holland interrupts his thoughts.

“You wanna… sleep in my bed?” Holland asks, again expecting that it’s at this point Healy’s gone along for the ride for too long, and he’ll finally want to stop. He offers further, “Or if you don’t, you can sleep on the couch. Just kick Holly out and back to her room. She should be asleep anyway.” His sentence continues to trail as he fills in the silence that had settled between the two of them. Healy sighs and runs the palm of his hand across his face before saying,

“I didn’t know staying was an option.” His words are soft, and a bit hesitant. “Where do you want me?”

“I…” Holland starts to stutter. He takes a breath to calm himself down before finally saying, “Honestly? I want you in my bed.” He scoffs to himself. If he hadn’t done it before, Healy was sure to get off now. It was really an outlandish thing for Holland to ask of the other man.

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that. Forgot to bring my pajamas though. Wasn’t expecting a sleepover,’ He jokes, using this opportunity to zip up his jeans.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Holland rubs his eyes as he starts getting tired. He walks over to his dresser and scans through his clothes for something to wear. He settles on an undershirt that’s clean enough for Holland’s standards and a fresh pair of boxers. He lies down and sprawls across his bed before making room for the other half of Nice Guys Agency to lie besides him. 

Healy uses the blanket on the bed to cover himself up a little, but lets his hands rest on top of his still bare stomach. He’s trying his best not to break some unspoken boundary between the two but he can’t help but feel tempted when he sees the way Holland takes up the space on his bed. Holland’s no better than him, not with him sliding a cautious arm around the other man's back. He lets that hand lean against Healy’s side, fingers running through the other man’s body hair ever so slightly. Healy seems to notice this discrepancy and looks down at Holland’s arm.

“Thought your left hand was too fucked up to stroke anything, March.”

“I… yeah it is.” Holland slides his hand back, doing his best to pretend that it was still screwed up. His face was bright red, not that anyone would be able to tell. He didn’t want to admit it, Healy hadn’t really caught him, had he?

Without a thought, Healy catches Holland’s arm before it gets too far away. He moves it back to its previous spot. “If you wanted attention, you could have just said something. Woulda saved us some trouble.”

“And say what?” Holland snarks back at him, “ ‘Hey, Healy, give me a handy will ya?’ No thanks.” Jack shakes with a silent laugh.

“I did offer you one, y’know. In the car.”

“Yeah. I know.” He rolls his eyes, “I was probably thinking more with my schwantz than I want to admit.”

[stxrmylxve]

First: I'm sorry, I know you just stated an event and I've been sending a bunch of requests, so PLEASE take your time and put off anything you need to! Never feel obligated to fulfill a request if you've got other stuff going on, I promise I'm understanding of the fact that we all have lives and other things going on in them.

Second: Apologizing a second time, because I decided to send this one in (I had it saved in my drafts and was going to scrap it) because I got really sad and needed some comedy.

Kazutora, Mikey, Chifuyu, Baji, Kokonoi, and Draken with an S/O who playfully runs away from them when they're about the be questioned regarding pranks being pulled on them (I.E. hiding Draken's tools in unusual places, putting sticky notes on their clothes with funny messages that make others giggle, drawing cat whiskers on Chifuyu with washable markers but while he sleeps) S/O be like: "Wha? WHO DID THAT? Uh-uh, not me, NO sir! Innocent till proven guilty," and if they chase S/O: "AAAAAH IT WASN'T MEEEE!"

A/N: sorry for the late answer, life hit and holy fuck it is unnecessarily stressful sometimes huh?

Kazutora:

What you did: Left a funny note on the back of his shirt

okay kazutora wants a good start back in life, and when people start laughing at him it makes him a little suspicious again

he has no clue what he is wearing half the time, muchless cares to looks for a message

…why do i feel like he might get a little mad?

in private, ofc

he would rant about it to you for a good while and it is hard to keep your composure

“…you wrote it on my back?”

… he chases you for hours, beware.

Mikey:

What you did: Didn’t give him a flag on his food

you’re his flag person, how could you forget a flag for him?!

throws a damn tantrum and calls up draken so that he will come to bring the flag for him

”you don’t have my flag? …why.?”

he gets so sad oml

“I just forgot it, that’s all. It’s in my bag at home…”

he glares at you for a good day or so (or more)

Chifuyu:

What you did: Drew a cat in sharpie on his chest

chifuyu shows his chest at meetings. okay that sounds weird. he goes on rants and for some reason breaks out his chest and wabam, there is a huge cat face he didn’t know about on full display

mikey has to stiffle a laugh since this is an official meeting, but chifuyu flat out leaves

”did you seriously draw on my chest last night?”

”me? noooo, I would never. Hey i gotta go walk peke j outside to go swimming, i gotta go-“

poor baby

Baji:

What you did: Hid his favorite hairbrush

this man is a DIVA and will FIGHT for his hairbrush

anyways, hr gets so pissed and reminds me of inosuke randomly yelling

”WHO THE FUCK TOOK MY HAIRBRUSH”

… you’re the only one in the house. obviously it was you. duh.

he questions you day in and out trying to solve the ‘mystery’, but when it shows up mysteriously the next day, he tackles you again for questioning

no literally, tackles you onto the bed and asks you sm 💀

Koko:

What you did: stored a wad of cash for tonight’s dinner/shopping elsewhere

he doesn’t really care until you throw a fake fit saying how much you had been looking forward to paying in cash for your stuff

then he perked up, but got nervous instead

he often misplaces things, but never his money. thought it wad a robbery and checked the cameras, only to find you snooping around

he is fine w it though, he even plays along and acts dumb

”you know i saw you on the cameras, right?”

”me? no. that was my.. sister, koko. we looks identical heh.”

Draken:

What you did: ‘Accidentally’ misplaced a few of his tools

you can not be playing games the man is on a TIME CRUNCH

he flips the whole shop upside down before you rush in to stop with panic

”baby it was just a prank! they’re over there.” you usher him to a corner where everything was neatly places, and a huge sigh escapes his lips

not only was everything there instead of robbed, it was all still organized neatly enough to his liking

he has a different approach and pecks your lips with a small ‘thanks’ before going back to work

a total mystery 💁‍♀️

[i-just-needed-a-place-to-ramble]

Okay I have to say that it bothers me immensely how this fandom treats the Donnie’s Gifts episode.

Specifically the shock collar.

I know, I know, it’s an incredibly old topic that’s like poking a sleeping bear to bring up again, but if you may feel the same I do, then hear me out.

On one side, we have people who see it as Donnie being deliberately cruel and actively wishing to control his brother through force if need be.

On the other side, we have people who see it as something good, and poor Donnie didn’t mean to hurt Leo! He didn’t mean for his gift to cause harm! He just wanted to create something to make Leo focus more, he just doesn’t understand that what he did was bad! But it’s okay because he doesn’t get it!

Both these readings suck, in my opinion, though one I see more often than the other.

Now, I love Donnie, I do, he’s so, so fun and interesting and a fantastic character…but the shock collar was an incredibly messed up thing to make. Obviously, he loves his brothers, and he just wanted the best for them, but it was still an objectively awful thing to do to your brother. (Don’t get me wrong, Mikey and Raph’s gifts were also not great, but let’s focus on the collar.)

See, making a collar like that, and having your brother wear it, knowing what it does…that’s not a good thing. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t get to explain it first. It doesn’t matter if it was meant to help Leo in the long run. That ‘help’ is forcing Leo to endure painful shocks until he’s conditioned to, what, pay attention? (And that’s a funny thought, considering it was the shocks that distracted him in the first place.)

Good intentions don’t automatically make things okay.

There’s also an admittedly ableist tone to the reading of Donnie simply being let off the hook because he “doesn’t understand why it’s bad.” That’s- that’s so infantilizing. Donnie is more than capable of knowing when he messes up! And he did mess up here! I hate when people use his autism as an excuse, it feels so ableist to me. Just let him own up to it and apologize! He’s not a bad guy, and it’s okay for characters to mess up! So long as they own up to it! Donnie’s a person too, and he has flaws, let him own them, please.

However, this is not to say that Donnie is evil or abusive for doing this, not at all. While he should not be absolved of guilt, he clearly isn’t intending for his gifts to come off the way they had, and he clearly made them out of concern for his brothers. It’s understandable that he would go about it the wrong way - it’s just not okay that he did. And what he did warrants an apology to the others, especially Leo, even if they themselves shook it off.

So, yeah. The shock collar is incredibly messed up. It was painful enough to affect Meat Sweats- and Leo had it around his neck. It’s a comedy, so I know we gotta take these things with a grain of salt, but whenever I see this episode tackled in a more serious way, it almost always either 1) makes Donnie out to be the Worst, as though we aren’t constantly shown him caring immensely for his brothers, or 2), admittedly more prevalently and annoyingly, it chooses to focus on how sad and misunderstood Donnie is, rather than the very real harm he caused. Like. LEO IS THE ONE WHO HAD A SHOCK COLLAR ON HIM. Put there by HIS OWN BROTHER. And no one cares about that??? Leo’s pain is dismissed??? Donnie’s feelings matter more??? What????

I think that’s what gets me most here, honestly. Not that Donnie is presented as evil, or innocent, but that Leo’s experience doesn’t matter in comparison to Donnie’s reactions to it. It leaves a horrible taste in my mouth to see time and time again.

Again. It doesn’t matter what the intentions were. It also doesn’t automatically make Donnie abusive or evil.

But it was a shock collar, made to hurt, made to correct, and if you look at it outside of the comedic lens it was established in…it’s not okay.

Donnie’s not a bad person, and he’s actually a pretty great brother, a hero in his own right…but he really messed up here.

And that’s okay to admit.

[kmoplq]

‘Is it really you..?’

Captain Price x ‘Hostage’ & FEM!Reader

(Special thanks to @overthetopobsessed for the idea!!!)

Warnings: HEAVY Angst, Mentions of kidnapping, Mentions of torture, Mentions of drugging, slight signs of insanity, but teeth rotting fluff as my apology with tears☹️☹️, also me being goofy in parentheses 🥳

WC: 2.1k

All you remember is spending time with your crush before anything.

You couldn’t even remember anything after that, the only thing stuck in your mind was John Price.

It was your senior year of high school. He had just told you that he was planning on going in the military.

You didn’t like the idea of him going out there. The Price you knew wasn’t always hard and demanding.

He was a average guy. He was the guy to enjoy a nice movie, nothing to scary, or boring. Just a nice comedy.

“Your really thinking about it, aren’t you?” He looked ashamed. It wasn’t a painfully obvious look, he tried hard to hide it but you’ve known him long enough.

“I just.. I don’t know! I know the risks and the training will be hard to take, but thats the whole point.

(Innit?) Isn’t it?”

You sighed. When John had something in his mind, he wouldn’t let it rest until he found out what to do with it.

“I just want you to be safe, I don’t wanna lose you, too.”

“Why? Do you think I’ll die that easily? Y/N, You know that if I died before I saw you again, I’d come back just to say goodbye.”

“Thats what im afraid of! I don’t want you to say goodbye! I don’t want to see your mother in tears on my porch!”

“Do not bring my mother into this.”

“Why? Is it because you know she’ll care? Honestly, isn’t it enough to know that you have actual family that will keep and touch with you and will actually sort things out?!”

“I know thing are hard for you right now-“

“No, you don’t get it. You don’t get it, not even in the slightest. I can barley have you come over without my parents yelling at each other over the phone or at me. Hell, my mom even whopped my ass in front of you! Is that not enough proof for you?”

At this point he was speechless. He didn’t know who to respond. So he left. Didn’t call, Didn’t show up at school, Didn’t even send a letter.

You trace 3 soft knocks at the light pale blue door in front of you. You had on John’s hoodie. You were giving it back, but you just wanted to make sure he was ok.

“Oh! Hello dear! Come in, come in!” You stepped in to see the dining table set up so perfectly. Nothing out of place or mismatched. All perfect.

“Uh, Ms.Price?” “Yes, dear?” “Where’s John?”

Her faced pulled a frown from her normally bright smile.

“He left, and I thought you’d be the first he’d tell. That stubborn boy.”

You looked like you had just witnessed the most gruesome thing imaginable.

“W-What do you mean ‘He left’?”

“To the military. Did he really not tell you, dear?”

Your heart dropped, you stopped breathing. Tears wound up on the edge of your eyes. You lost all feeling in your body and went limp.

This. This was all your fault. That stupid argument. That stupid comment. If you had kept you big ass mouth shut, you probably would have gotten a call.

You started weeping into Ms.Price. You didn’t understand why you were crying. Ms.Price should be in your place right now, seeking you for closure. Knowing that her son, her only child has left her.

“Its ok, dear. I get that it hurts, but at some point you gotta let them go.”

Letting go. Letting go sounded to sweet for your ears. You pulled away after some time, seeing that you had completely ruined Ms.Price’s shirt.

“Im sorry Ms. Price.”

“Please dear, call me Hazel.”

“Ok, Ms.Hazel.”

She let out a chuckle. So sweet and soft, almost lulling you to sleep.

“Dear, you don’t have to add the Ms, Its completely fine, I pinky promise.”

She held out her pinky, looking at you like you were her own child. You held out your pinky and intertwined them.

TIMESKIP!

It had been 19 years since that whole shit show. You barley remembered it.

You walk around your decent sized apartment, finding something to keep you busy with.

You still had John’s hoodie on. It still being to big for you.

Your cat, Mews, purrs against your leg. You look down to see a pretty orange-brown, coat of fur.

“Look at my little chaos baby. Alright, time to feed you.”

You had found Mews at a animal shelter that was obviously wasn’t in the right condition.

You and the feline had bonded instantly with the look of an eye. She was a very friendly cat in general, but she was especially cuddly with you.

And thats why you instantly got her.

You heard a knock at the door. Turning around from the window, you walked towards the door

You open the door, looking around before closing the door.

As you turn around, a man in all black takes hold of your mouth and throws you against the previously opened door.

Your muffled curses hitting the gloved palm of the shadowed man.

You think as fast and smart as you can. Coming up with a solution, you throw all your weight onto the man, sending you both tumbling to the ground.

I guess the martial arts class paid off after all. Maybe your mother was finally right. Sure, she wasn’t right about you being a whore, but that martial arts really did teach you something.

You get up quickly, getting into a fighting stance. The man groaned and massaged the back of his neck.

“And what are you going to do little girl? You don’t know anything.”

The heavy russian accent flows through the wind, the broken english made it even clearer somehow.

“Come here and I’ll show you?”

He pulled out a knife, which made you flinch a bit.

He came running towards you, knife at the ready to stab or slice some part of you.

You dodge and hit him in his throat and he falls to the floor. You thought he was the only one.

Hell maybe he was a robber. But you were mistaken when you felt a sharp pain in the side of your neck.

You left hand quickly held that spot the pain was erupting with. You turn around to see another masked man, holding a syringe with liquid in it.

You’ve been drugged. You cant do anything. Your visions goes blurry, colors flashing around and polkadots painting a picture in your vision.

Everything goes black quickly. Your woken up by a harsh slap. It definitely hurts more then it’s supposed to. You’d know.

Your voice hoarse, you try speaking but all that brings you is pain.

“What..What do you want?”

“You have information that can help us.”

You looked at them, almost laughing. It was a scary moment, but hell all you could do was laugh.

“Me? Having some sort of sensitive information? Your fucking crazy.”

“You know a ‘Price’ , yes?”

That made you shut up instantly. You almost wanted to blame Price for this, but you know that it can’t be helped.

“Whats it to you?”

“Thats none of your concern.”

“For fuck sake. How am I gonna give you information if your not even gonna tell me-“

Another harsh slap to face. But this time, instead of it hurting more than normal, It hurt like a fucking bitch.

It felt like someone had sliced your cheek open,

but it hit you. If you were slapped, just a normal slap to the face, it would sting. So why the hell is your face bleeding?

“Did you just slit my cheek?” “No, I kissed your cheek.” “Oh wow, you have jokes.”

The man pulled you by your collar, making you jerk forward.

“Listen, just give me the information about Price, and we can let you go.”

“Well kill me then cause im not giving you shit.”

“Didn’t think i’d have to do this the hard way. What a shame.”

He let go of your collar while walking over to a counter that held shit that you’d see in movies.

Your heart sunk to your stomach. You had thought this whole thing was just a fucking dream.

But your life is at stake here.

It had been weeks. You had started keeping track of the days, but had slowly lost count.

The stab wounds, scars, burns, and everything else had just became numb.

Is this where I die? I’m m not ready to die. I can’t t die. Please.

You cant feel anything. Not anymore. So is there even a point to cry anymore?

You feel yourself go crazy, seeing thoughts. Until you heard a loud bang. Your head shot up like you were just fighting sleep.

I mean, you’re not wrong, are you? You hear gunshots, you don’t know what else to do besides stare at the iron door.

Feeling absolutely nothing knowing that you’d be dead by time anybody got to you.

“Is there anybody in there?” You heard a all too familiar voice behind the door.

“Hello.” You barely even heard yourself and was even more surprised when that familiar voice came back to you.

“Step away from the door, Im coming in!”

You crawled away from the door, unfazed by the loud banging ans just stared into the dents being made into the cold metal.

Once there was a big enough hole, a tall man stepped through scanning the room before he landed on you.

Price. This bastard is Price.

You sat up on your knees looking up at the man. Admiring his physique and his bearded face.

‘Is it really you..?” You felt all the emotions flood back too fast and started letting out tears.

He thought you were delusional. He can’t blame you though since you’ve been trapped here for who knows how long.

“I’m sorry miss, but I’m not the one your looking for.”

Your heart broke into billions of fucking pieces.

“No, no no no no.. You have to remember me theres no godamn you can’t. John please.”

He was shocked when he heard his name come out of your mouth. He didn’t know how to react. He saw you eyes widen, your eyes behind him.

“What-“

“Get down!”

You pulled him to the ground with you and you heard a strangled cough right after.

(gunshot. gunshot to the head. he’s dead 🤯)

“Oh, um, thank you.”

“Your welcome, Sir.”

Now he was really fucking confused. First you were calling him by his name and now your calling him sir?

“We’ve swept the floor, Cap.”

“Alright, let’s head out then.”

He offers his hand for you to hold for support and you feel yourself fumbling over your feet.

“Woah, careful there.”

Then he notices the one thing he forgot. His hoodie.

You both began to walk as the new proclaimed man, Gaz, leaded you both outside. Checking every corner.

“Hey, I had the same hoodie in high school. Where’d you get yours?”

“Just a friend. What’s it to you?”

“When’d they give it to you?”

“2 days before he left for the army. We went out to the skating rink. The fucker didn’t know how to skate at all, had to help him regain his balance every time. He even fell on his ass, I think.”

You let a gruff giggle, but to him it sounded angelic.

Then he realized. He finally fucking realized.

“Y/N?”

You stopped admittedly, your breath hitched so hard you started coughing.

He started laughing and patted your back with the right amount of pressure.

Gaz noticed and stopped to turn around.

“Are you two seriously flirting? You guys just met like, 10 minutes ago.”

“Gaz, I’ve known her since birth.”

“WHAT.”

You started coughing more with the tiniest hint of laughter.

“His mom basically took me as her daughter.”

“Speaking on my mother, how is she?”

You glared at Price.

“I don’t know Price let me think… Oh wait, i’ve been locked up for weeks!”

You playfully hit his shoulder. He playfully hit you back.

“Your not supposed to hit a woman, Price.”

“But your not any woman, your my girlfriend.”

You looked at him, taking a second to register what he had just said.

“What did you just call me?”

“I don’t know what your talking about.”

“John.”

“Am I technically wrong though?”

“Yes!”

“How?”

“Because you didn’t let me say yes yet.”

“What-“

You cut Price off by pulling him into a passionate kiss.

“But yes, I am your girlfriend. For now at least.”

“Now what’s that mean?”

“You’ll know when I show you.”

“You guys suck at flirting and im going to throw u both off a cliff.”

“Gaz, your just mad you don’t have anybody.”

“I DO! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND TOO(HINT HINT 🤭).”

“Whatever, loser.”

I actually don’t like this a wee bit ngl, but i hope u guys liked this ☹️🫶

[trashexplorer]

BLCD Review: Unmei no Tsugai ga Omae da Nante

Title: Unmei no Tsugai ga Omae da Nante (運命の番がお前だなんて)

Author/Artist: Haruta

Release Date: 2021/06/25

Cast: 

Okitsu Kazuyuki x Masuda Toshiki

Taito Ban

Tsuchida Reiou

Kobayashi Kousuke

Matsuura Yoshiyuki

Tanaka Tomomi

Watanabe Yoshimi

Synopsis: Free-spirited omega Shishikura and straight-laced alpha Kotani have disliked each other since middle school, so neither are pleased to learn they will both be working at the same company. Shishikura is even less thrilled when he discovers that he and Kotani are a fated pair! The two men take verbal swipes at each other every chance they get, yet still wind up in bed together again and again. Both chalk it up to biology and refuse to admit that deeper feelings might be involved, and Shishikura begins looking into other potential marriage partners. Will this tsundere couple ever get their act together, or will destiny be derailed by their own stubbornness?

Review Proper

Finally, the thing I mistook for Yukyuu Omega is here. *exhale*

If y’all know me, you’ll know that I absolutely abhor omegaverse (you can thank Kurui Naku Ban Beta, Sayonara Alpha, and Erito for that). Literally everything you could do in an abo has already been done. I don’t see a point in making more of these. Mangakas: Okay, let’s do domsub instead But hey, am I not a Okitsu whore? No. Anyway, even though I was excited about listening to this, I knew I was going to hate Kotani because he was an asshole. 

There’s only one thing worse than an abo.

AN ABO WITH AN ASSHOLE CHARACTER.

But, in spite of myself, I actually enjoyed this. 

I’m having a moral crisis, help.

JK. Unmei no Tsugai doesn’t sell itself as a serious plot, so it shouldn’t be taken seriously either. Unlike our deep try-hards. I mean, it’s your pretty run-of-the-mill dumbass gets an excuse to fuck the asshole, falls in love with him, the asshole becomes more of an asshole, the dumbass drags a third party to make him jealous, the asshole becomes more of an asshole, poor third party gets led on and dumped, and the dumbass and asshole finally gets together without the asshole even apologizing, medetashi, medetashi. But the way that Haruta wrote and movic set it all up was fantastic. 

Now this is how you do comedy. I initially had some doubts ‘cause the narration in the first track was kind of strange lmao. It went from medieval style to traditional Japanese and it was narrated by someone who sounded like a news broadcaster wth. Is this a densetsu??? The CD later turned out to be a whole vocal flex for Massuu and Okitsu ‘cause goddamn. 

Massuu, for starters, used a tone slightly above his Hirokuni but slightly smoother. I haven’t read the manga before, so I wasn’t sure how things were going to go, so I was very surprised that he pulled his shounen (aka his Kirishima) voice later! I loved it. His changes were dynamic, chaotic, and very fitting for Shishikura. AND! AND! JESUS CHRIST HIS SEXAY MONOLOGUES!!! HELLO??? WAS HE PAID EXTRA??? Y’ALL GOTTA HEAR ALL THE BEDROOM SUBJUGATIONS!!! I didn’t know he had that in him tbh. I was just blown away. He has never bottomed this chaotically before, if I recall correctly. It’s evident that he had a lot of fun recording this (as did Okitsu as per the cast talk) and I love that! It makes me wish this had a second volume so we could hear more of this kind of Massuu.

Onto Okitsu,

Y’all already know what I’m gonna say. 

Is my bias over Okitsu making me like this? Who knows? But it’s undeniable that my man has, once again, slayed this role. I won’t talk about his perfect performance much ‘cause I’ve already run out of praises years ago, so just know that if you’re not an Okitsu bitch by now, you’re really missing out lmao.

ALSO

I CAN’T BELIEVE THAT WE’VE WITNESSED OKITSU PLAY TWO BETAS, A PRETEND OMEGA, AND NOW FINALLY AN ALPHA!!! We don’t count the disrespect that was Shounen no Kyoukai

-Chesk, 25, hates abos but will listen if Okitsu’s in it

Anywho, these two also had great chemistry with each other. They’re more or less in sync during their mattress mambos, so I really wasn’t spazzing out during Smoky Nectar. I was thinking maybe I was asking for too much. 😂 Idk what to feel, knowing that this is Fatgum x Kirishima

In conclusion, get this. Get this if you’re a fan of the series and abo in general. And if you dislike abo like me, this still is worth getting if you’re an Okitsu/Massuu stan. If you want to see just what makes voice actors good, you’ll be in the right place. As for those who want to read the manga along with the BLCD, it is doable, but bear in mind that there is added and cut dialogue. I only have the magazine releases, and I’ve noticed that the narrations are rearranged, so do try buying the tank if you can (reading the Chrima release with it is doable too tho). Gosh, I really wish this wasn’t an abo lmao. Anyway, I’m afraid there aren’t a lot of gag abos like this out there, so I wouldn’t be able to recommend anything similar. Go Kashikomarimashita: Destiny and Re:birth for more Okitsu tho

[griffmstr]

There’s a lot of things I don’t really care for or maybe straight up dislike. As I get older I’ve tried to adopt the mindset that if you dislike something that’s fine, but you don’t have to preach about it because at the end of the day, who the fuck are you and why does anyone even care what you think?

However a very close friend of mine suggested I should watch a show coming up recently called Oshi no ko. A show about an idol who gets pregnant and the reincarnation of a huge fan of hers somehow becomes her child. The premise of this show has several things I dislike or at the very least I have several reservations on. The only things it had going for it was the writer previously did Kaguya sama which is one of my favorite comedies and the studio was doga kobo one of my favorite slice of live studios.

Everyone I asked about the show continued to say how great the manga was but nothing was very clear as to what made it so good. I came to the conclusion it’s gotta be one of those “you just gotta see it to understand” type of shows. The ones that are like an experience more so than just a good story or whatever. I wont give any examples as this is extremely subjective but I’m pretty sure most people have a show like this.

Needless to say everyone was right. Oshi no ko manages to be one of the best anime I’ve seen in a long time. It didn’t really subvert my expectations as the show is very much still about what the premise sets out but the show doesn’t sugar coat it’s themes but it also doesn’t bog you down with it. You’re not constantly having the themes I’d rather not see much of shoved down your throat. Instead it manages to be a show that pulls back the curtain so to speak on the entertainment industry. Despite the ludicrous plot it manages to be very grounded in reality.

Don’t listen to the troll reviews on MAL. If you like a well written drama ignore the premise. Just try the first episode. Take it at face value. It’s not for everyone, but it also shouldn’t be completely ignored just because of it’s synopsis.

Also I apologize again @megaboy335 promised neverland wasn’t for me but I really do enjoy this one.

[itlivesproject]

OKAY WOO CHAPTER 22 RUNDOWN LETS GO

(another VERY VERY long thought dump, apologies in advance for how much i talk in this one😭)

LOHA GAVE US THE DOCUMENTS⁉️

as someone on the blood path rather than shadow i am so STRESSED

LITTLE AMALIA

abel being part of the family🥹

she’s gotta stop throwing us into the void like this

this music is beautiful though

so uhhhh loha just asked ro to give herself back to the power…… please do not do this to me i will not emotionally recover

“you will shed this mortal shell and lose the identity you gained as rowan burke. you will be forever separated from your friends. you will lose the man you love.” yup ok i’m already crying

ro is not dying. i am too attached to the humanity that she has grown AND THINK ABOUT ABEL. HE CANNOT LOSE SOMEONE ELSE HE LOVES YOU CRUEL PEOPLE

this isn’t my purpose. i will find another way.

how the hell did abel’s family get their hands on an amulet that just so happens to be endowed with the power of spirits

THE SUDDEN MUSIC CHANGE JUMPSCARED ME😭

ghost rowan :( my baby :(

yet again, why am i so overwhelmed before the intro sequence even plays

i had to get my emotional support hot water bottle (we are READY)

ghost rowan has me cryin i feel sorry for her :(

THE WAY SHE SPEAKS ABOUT ABEL got me giggling through my tears

oh PISS OFF GERTRUDE

god damn you really like to make my life difficult, i know i want to keep rowan’s humanity but making the choice between reuniting with human rowan or just staying as she is took me SO LONG (i chose to merge with human rowan, but i’ll definitely play the other ending too after tomorrow!)

i am frightened

YOU’RE SHOWING ME ANNIE AT A TIME LIKE THIS?

this music is beautiful too !!!! you guys outdid yourself

“promise me you’ll try to be happy” i hope you can hear me sobbing

“you close your eyes and remember all the things you love […] you think about abel” BDJWJSJXHDH I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT HIM

HER EYES!! THEY’RE NORMAL !!!!

“Affection, fondness, late nights, early mornings. Anger, sorrow, petty squabbles, explosive fights. The pain of losing, the joy of living. Everything that makes Sadie, you remember and you feel.” this kinda shit gets me EVERY TIME i love gentle reminders of what makes us human (i’m just a very emotional person ok)

oh god does this mean we don’t have powers anymore? i am so scared of her dying PLEASE SHE CANNOT DIE

well then.

MATTHIAS GET OUT OF HERE YOU GERIATRIC WORM

the lore docs coming in useful with an extra scene💪

WE SAW HUMAN REDFIELD?? why is he kinda..

oh matthias you dirty little actor, oscar winning performance you dickhead

“Over your long life, you've learned that men are as predictable as the tides. Eager to believe they're special and different, even when they're nothing more than ordinary.” ilw said man hating rights! matthias dissing men as if he isn’t a man himself ????

YOUNG CORA??????? she is beautiful

GHOST REDFIELD ORIGIN REVEAL AND THE THEME MUSIC KICKS IN?? CHILLS.

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO COOL I AM GRINNING FROM EAR TO EAR

LUIS?????? LITERALLY THE LAST PERSON I EXPECTED TO TURN UP

NOT THE DADDY CONVERSATION????

luis i love you

everything he says is pure comedy gold

HE FLIPPED HIM OFF? this is amazing

HELL YEAH MATTHIAS GET ANCHORED YOU OLD AGE PENSIONER

this music is EPIC

“rowan?” “yeah?” “go get the bastard” HELL YEAH

i seriously cannot get over this music it is insane i’m literally just sitting here jamming to it i’m too hyped to focus

NOT LINCOLN HITTING RATTY MATTY WITH “you think mom would’ve wanted this?” EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATE THE BASTARD HELL YEAH

“It's a good thing she's not alive to see the kind of person you've become. It would've broken her heart.” holy shit man, linky you’re gonna make me cry and then who’s gonna win this fight?

“I will not kill Matthias McQuoid. I pass his judgment over to the Power, to the force he used and abused for centuries.” ok i am in tears i am just very emotional that this whole thing is ending

THE MATTHIAS CG - YOUR TALENT BLOWS ME AWAY EVERY TIME

update: upon catching up on the discord i am so glad i didn’t choose the shadow route because i am cryin a whole lot and i just know that if i played it in my own game with my own mc and her abel romance i would actually be SOBBING

OKAY!! i won’t keep you any longer, but wow the music this chapter was incredible, especially the final fight music SOMEONE INJECT THAT SONG INTO MY VEINS BECAUSE WOW i can’t express just how much i loved it, definitely perfect for that fight

-abel simp anon 💓💓💓💓

this is soooo late, i'm so sorry dear 😅 But EVERYONE should read this and enjoy dear abel simp anon's ch 22 reaction post 🙏

[xieyaohuan]

Get to know your fic writer prompts, answer however many of these you are inclined to: 22, 35, 39, 63, 64. And I think I can answer 43 for you 😂 but if you have any elaborations… please.

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

Not sure I'd rule it out on principle, but I certainly don't write a lot of fluff, and I don't think I'd want to. Don't really write any comedy/humor, either, but it's more lack of talent there.

35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain? 

This is cliché af but if I'm trying to write a villain for fic where I'm trying to make a serious point, it's "they're the protagonist of their own story" and have complex emotional lives and motives for what they're doing. That said, when I write porn, I sometimes enjoy writing characters who are fully aware they are being evil sadistic bitches and simply dgaf because uhm I can relate.

39. Share a snippet from a WIP

“You need to tell your husband,” Maeve is letting the word melt on her tongue, “to back the fuck off and leave us alone.”

“You know I ain’t responsible for the cunt just because he’s decided he wants to play beauty and the fucking beast with me, right?”

Billy still has his own place, but he likes staying over at Vought Tower more than he cares to admit. Homelander is clingy and needy and willing to do just about anything if it’ll get him Butcher’s time and attention. He’d be lying if he claimed he wasn’t enjoying Homelander serving him breakfast in the morning, pouring him tea naked on his knees or making Billy feed him little morsels of French toast dipped in milk, begging to let him suck on his fingers. He is absolutely ridiculous in ways Butcher could have never foreseen, and he's enjoying it more than he should.

“Fascinating,” Maeve says. “I can’t decide which one of you is the beauty and which one is the beast.”

“I’m the beauty. Obviously.” Butcher bends over and starts kissing her, his hands searching for her bra under her shirt.

But Maeve isn't having any of his distractions this time and pushes him away. “Tell him to back the fuck off, I mean it, Butcher.”

“Know what?” Billy says. “I’ll do you one better. You can tell him yourself, and I bet you'll even get yourself an apology.”

Maeve burst our laughing, spitting her coffee half across the table. “An apology? From Homelander? What are you smoking these days?”

This time, it’s Billy’s turn to laugh. “Oh, I promise you you’ll get one. Tell you what, if you don’t, I’ll clean for you naked for a full month. How does that sound?”

Maeve grins. “Deal.”

43. Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

LOL I mean, what can I say. I love torturing my blorbos and making them beg (and I occasionally also love exploring the psychological aftermath of the ordeal). But I don't really enjoy gore, mutilation, or anything like that. Yes, it's gotta be unbearable for blorbo in the moment and he'd do anything to make it stop, but I want no organ damage or even a character death (I've made one character death exception in a fic, but I don't enjoy seeing my blorbos tortured if I know they're going to fucking die from it; definitely a massive instant turnoff.)

63. Something you hate to see in smut.

A couple of things. First, I guess, is basic mistakes, like, no lube of any kind during anal sex unless you're in ABO verse I guess, which I actually also kinda hate for no particular reason. Basic anatomy, too. Brings out my inner Stannis Baratheon. Then I just have a ton of super specific squicks that'll absolute ruin a fic for me. For smut I otherwise adore, I try to ignore them, but it's hard because they're instant turn-offs. I am hellafucking particular about any tickle fics I read, and it's almost impossible not to ruin one for me at least a little bit lol.

64. Something you love to see in smut.

Lots of things, light dom/sub dynamics, lots of begging and whimpering, big fan of bondage. Loss of control. Las Vegas State of Mind was super hot. Also dubcon and fucked up dynamics. Big humiliation kink. Trying to decide if I should count whump as smut because some of it sure is for me lol.

[gagfadget]

i really cannot believe that this fandom within one day has turned naomi into the bogeyman that will apparently cause online race riots when armand is revealed to be terrible because of how she handled the podcast

like who is actually being irrational right now if not people making up and speculating fan reactions for something that has not even aired let alone been shot just so they can call fans illiterate and practice some good old racism and misogynoir against naomi

I just went into the tag and apparently a lot has happened 💀💀 I’m going to be as nuanced as I can just from what I’ve seen so far..

I don’t think people are blaming Naomi for future fan reactions persay, I think some people are just wary that calling loumand better can lead to misunderstandings among people who aren’t familiar with armand yet. Which makes sense because it’s not better and he’s not better. I said in a previous ask that Naomi is supposed to be somewhat of a guide for show watchers so while I’m not frustrated with her or any of the guests she had on, I atleast understand why someone else who’s more familiar with the books would get frustrated.

BUT I think people also have to keep in mind, (and this is something I also said in a previous ask) that she is also watching the show as it plays out and I doubt Rolin Jones is letting her read the script for S2 so if she does slip up, I don’t see a problem with it. She’s only human, she can backtrack on things she’s said or agreed with, nobody is gonna die if her or a guest jumps the gun or messes up. This is a fun, comedy driven podcast and I think some people just gotta loosen up a bit. It’s not the end of the world.

That’s just what I picked up from everything so I apologize if I’m downplaying anything..

[foxymoxynoona]

TMWC CHAPTER 11 HAD ME GIGGLING AND CACKLING AND FOLDING SO HARD FOR THESE TWO. First of all, i love how jk is trying to solve the enigma “how to treat best friend as girlfriend” when the solution was to treat her the same way + kisses and sex. Relationships where partners are each other’s best friends are the absolute best❤️‍🔥 I also find it so cute they are making it awkward because they have been staying away from relationship territory for so long and they’re still afraid of overstepping a boundary but really they just fucking looooooove each other.

And we see that in the smut scene FUCKING FINALLY. Just so you know, when I’m reading smut my face is usually like this “😐”, but this time I got stuck with “🤭☺️🥺”, I hope emojis will convey the emotion.

And two of my favorite moments from this chapter:

1. “Is it in?” “Are you… are you fucking with me right now?” FOXY THE WAY I DIED LAUGHING THIS IS PEAK COMEDY I’M DECEASED.

2. “A clean dick is romantic. My gift to us both.”Flux JK you know I don’t want to be petty but… take notes from the other you from another universe 🥰

Anyway, I enjoyed this story so much. Best friends to *apparent* one sided love to enemies-ish to lovers is a trope that never disappoints. There’s still the epilogue left and I can’t wait to read it and celebrate another successfully completed story!! By now you know the process: completed foxy story -> my kindle👀

🌸

Same way + kisses & sex - maybe a little of the asshole behavior LOL. God I Miss writing his stupid mouth. "If your date is ruined it's not going to be because of your arms" or whatever he said 😂😂 At least we know Alex can whip him into shape.

Flux JK is staring wide-eyed at fuckboy JK in all ways, I think 🤣 I was just talking with a friend last night about fuckboy JK being pretty upfront and open about all things sexual, so he'd b really bold talking to FluxJK about sex safety and all that and FluxJK just wilting with shame and embarrassment 🤣🤣

Sigh, that is it in moment... throat punch to JK's ego.

It's be really fun writing this trope! I'm not sure how much I nailed the expectations of it but I hope everyone has had a good time and Alex seems beloved so that's really the best outcome.

Now I gotta figure out an apology for my man Hobi...

[teamrocketmemes]

[ SONNY BRISKO ONCE SAID… ]

Taken from this video which has a bunch of miscellaneous phrases the VTuber Sonny Brisko from NijiEN has said. Feel free to change pronouns if necessary. Content warning for mild language and other stuff.

“Hello, I’m [full name] and I’m looking for guys.”

“Thank you for beating my sack.”

“You can't add loyalty to the hoe because these hoes ain't loyal.”

“Can you harvest yeast from the coochie monster to make bread??”

“I love poop.”

“It’s really good when you need to make a few extra dollars.”

“We all have a penis in our hearts.”

“Why do you wanna direct someone to your nuts when you could be telling them to have a nice day–”

“I am expecting a brutal breeding from my senpais–”

“They gotta do something else with the cow once they squeeze all the milk out of it.”

“He’s more than my homie… He’s my husband.”

“A boy and a boy can only give birth to a boy.”

“Thank you for the milk funds.”

We’ll be needing that cause neither of us can produce milk.”

“Do your fucking work, stop slacking off.”

“WHEN THE MOON HITS YOUR EYE LIKE A BIG PIZZA PIE THAT’S AMOOORE⁓”

“Shoot first, ask questions later.”

Is it better to piss in the sink or sink in the piss??”

“You’re into that, you freak??”

“AUSTRALIAN INTERNET, PLEASE!!!”

“This isn’t even drip anymore, it’s flood.”

“You wouldn’t break the law in front of a cop, would you??”

“Tell all your Twitter friends that I’m live.”

“Psychological manipulation is the highest form of comedy.”

“If I theoretically shot you in the face, you would die.”

“Let’s play fetch. I’ll throw bullets and you catch them with your brain.”

“You guys like watching me eat?? What’s wrong with you??”

“I’ll use my male urge on you if you’re not careful.”

“My boots are specially designed to more effectively kick on open doors and step on people.”

“I heard an interesting chemical reaction happens when you mix glass with a human face, namely a lot of blood comes out…”

“And you can punch them.”

“Don’t apologize… Just die.”

“Look at you all fucked up on the ground.”

“Spitters are quitters. You should’ve swallowed.”

“I’m wearing red boxer briefs.”

“I’m just as tall even when I’m not horny.”

“If you hard, then you hard.”

“I’m the best aho in the world.”

“Are you getting flustered about being told what to do??”

“Are you mad?? that you got mega-owned?? On live stream??”

“I trolled you epic-style, how does that feel??”

“After a long gay of daming—”

“First of all, words can’t describe me. I describe word.”

[jajanvm-imbi]

Hi. I understand you not wanting to interact with fandom anymore. I just point out something to your “why didn’t Blitz apologize to Moxxie and his sister in Apology Tour?” A) Most of the people Blitz “apologized” to in that episode were not genuine (Blitz even said that “sorry is for pussies” in the same episode) and he actually has respect for Moxxie unlike those people. That is why we don’t see him going to Moxxie or Millie in his tour. B) Barbie told him that “she never wants to see him” at the end of Happy Campers, so he’s not gonna go find her again after that, even if he wants to.

That is all I wanted to say. You can do what you want with Helluva Boss.

It's fine, I don't mind having CIVIL conversations about HB

Ig my point is that if the "serious plot thread" of HB was Blitz's relationships, then why haven't any of them gotten as much attention and hype as Stolitz? (I know the answer but not the point)

I would expect Blitz to attempt to fix his relationships with the people he already HAD a relationship with before chasing Stolas. And when it comes to his friendship with Fizz, that whole thing was resolved in a single episode despite them having a traumatic history together.

Instead of giving their relationship more of a natural progression to resolution, it was all chocked up to "miscommunication" which is the single most infuriating thing they could have done. We only saw them interact ONCE before their thing was resolved, and as a result it feels like it wasn't as important as the show is telling us it is.

Stolitz is very messy, not a bad thing necessarily but that's how it is. But I can't help but get annoyed when the ship is being prioritized over the other relationships in Blitz's life.

If this is the direction the show was going to take, then fine whatever. But it would have made more sense if Blitz's OTHER relationships got fixed BEFORE Stolitz drama.

Blitz still hasn't given a proper apology to Moxie and Millie for constantly invading their privacy and harassing them

He's got his whole situation with Loona he has to resolve

I already said the Fizz thing was resolved too quickly to be satisfying

We still have no idea what happened between him and Barbie after the accident

And the PERFECT way of properly establishing the current state of Blitz's relationships (the "default" if you will) would be to SHOW US THROUGH EPISODIC ADVENTURES

I would have much less of an issue with Stolitz if it didn't hijack the show and take attention away from the main cast.

It's fine if you wanna have a "serious plot thread" in your comedy show, but you if you're gonna do that you gotta make sure it's a healthy balance and progression between the two. The last 4 episodes have been nothing but Blitz and relationship drama and the rest of the supposed main cast is barely here??? There's no time to breathe

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Musings of a Cigarette Smoking Man (4x07)

He flings open the tempered glass door of Montgomery & Glick Publishing, ready to start another day of reading, and most likely, rejecting multiple writings from wannabe authors. And of-fucking-course, his publication office is a mess. Old donut wrappers, empty paper cups, and probably a hundred different discarded story drafts wadded up and tossed at overfilled trash bins litter the shag carpet of the office atrium. 

“Good mornin’, boss,” Davey Jones says with a lit Morley balancing perilously on his bottom lip. 

“No, it’s not. It’s a pigsty in here,” Albert Montgomery Godwinkle glares in disgust at the men working under him, as if that could teach them some goddamn manners. Maybe he should fire them all and hire more women. “Your editing better not look this bad.”

A chorus of apologies and excuses resound around the room. Nothing new there.

“And how many times do I have to say no smoking around the manuscripts?” Albert huffs and waves a hand in front of his face, trying to clear the fog of smoke thicker than his reading glasses. The noxious smell pisses him off almost as much as trash around here does. No wonder he’s in a perpetual bad mood. 

“Hey boss, we got a few new submissions waiting for your read-through,” Davey adds as he stubs out his cigarette. “I put ‘em on your desk. And hey, that first one from D.C. is a real doozy.”

Davey chuckles and Albert rolls his eyes. Everything’s a damn joke to that kid. 

“Get back to work, Jones,” he sighs, and shuts his office door behind him.

It’s only nine in the morning and his day is already shit. His wife hates his unyielding work schedule, his kids can’t seem to stand him, and this struggling publishing company has become his only joy in life. Though the joy has been hard to find. Reading a halfway decent manuscript for once might actually put a smile on Albert’s disgruntled face. 

Cautiously hopeful, he grabs the first printed manuscript from the top of the pile called TAKE A CHANCE: A JACK COLQUITT ADVENTURE, by Raul Bloodworth, and reads.

Two hours later, Albert skims down to the bottom of the last page, reciting its final words aloud: “I can kill you whenever I please… but not today.”

What the hell?

Albert lets the stack of pages he’d just wasted too much of his life reading flop atop his half eaten breakfast. 

“What the hell?” he repeats. Out loud this time, because silently doesn’t quite capture his frustration properly. He grabs the corded phone on his desk and punches in his publishing partner’s number. “Yeah Glick, come to my office. You gotta see this.”

When Sammie Glick finishes reading Bloodworth’s excerpt on hero hitmen, he barks out a horse laugh only a man who smokes a pack a day and drinks a bottle of whisky a night can manage. “Jesus Christ, you sure that ain’t a comedy piece?”

Albert groans. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Bloodworth is a catchy author pseudonym, though, I’ll give him that.” Glick chortles into his coffee cup. “Are you gonna write the rejection letter or am I?” 

Albert slams his hand on his desk in indignation. “This is a serious publishing house! Not a lowbrow rag idolizing some governmental conspiracy adventure with… with I don’t even know, goddamn alien ass implants.”

His partner chokes on a mouth full of dark roast. “Alien ass implants? Really?”

“No, but somehow that would’ve improved the plot.”

“Didn’t we get a similar submission a while back about some end of the world mumbo jumbo? Project Doomsday, I think it was called. By a guy named Alan Kurtzdial?” Glick snaps his fingers in recognition. “Alvin Kurtzweil. That’s the name. I remember because his story was about as whack-a-do as this one.”

Albert scrubs a hand over his face as he mentally prepares to reject this crap. Holding up the first page of Bloodworth’s manuscript labeled, “Part I: Trust No One,” he scoffs. 

“And to think, I held out hope to not look at any more trash today…”

Dear Mr. Bloodworth, I have recently had the unhappy and unfortunate experience of reading your manuscript: TAKE A CHANCE: A JACK COLQUITT ADVENTURE. My advice? Burn it! It stunk like rotten tomatoes not even my dog would eat off the floor. That, Mr. Bloodworth, is called a simile. You would do well (God forbid) not to litter your next manuscript with too many of them. In addition, I felt the plot of TAKE A CHANCE to be preposterous, the characters unbelievable, the ending lame, and the writing, frankly, crap. Needless to say, Montgomery & Glick Publishing declines your manuscript. Please, DO NOT send this piece of trash to another publishing house. Very Sincerely, Albert M. Godwinkle

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own

@monikafilefan

[misano17]

I’ve got like five pages on my new ShuMika au. It’s coming along pretty well. I’m taking longer to set it up cuz, ehe, chapter and writing flow does not function during my first chapter Lmao. I’m trying to craft something I’m proud of, and Schwanensee raised the bar significantly. I go back and look at my first chapter and I cringe lmao. So I’ve gotta put my all into this to make myself proud and deliver a lovely narrative for my dear readers.

mentions of violence and other such things below the cut.

I’m having so much fun writing this. Schwanensee was to write but I’m itching to write something good and bloody. Getting back to my roots ya know.

I’m a romance and fantasy writer by a chance, a horror and comedy writer by birthright. I was born to write comedic horror. It’s my favorite thing to write.

Some of it was present in Schwanensee from the possible cannibalism with Mika and all the death imagery but like, I need something more tangible.

Quick and violent ya know. More adrenaline. Like a good fight scene.

So anyways, fight scenes, and maybe some heavy gore and torture. Not sure exactly what I’ll do for those last two yet, cuz I prefer to plan fights as I write them to keep my flow going but we’ll see.

I’ve got a couple things already planned and I would like to apologize to Rei Sakuma. Cuz he gets the worst of it in a lot of cases. (Sorry about your ribs. Seriously, my bad bro.)

Eye gore gets to be Mika’s problem btw.

Also I’m trying to write his accent this time <<33 I didn’t have a feel for it before but it’s legit just the way I talk irl cuz, ehe American south. Seriously when I first saw the way he spoke his internal voice in my head when I was brainstorming fics had a deep southern twang. Bitch sounded like a cowboy. It wasn’t fun.

ALSO THE TITLE (I don’t remember if I shared it so here it is again if I did:

Epicedium Orfeo