#I just get to complain on public diary

[couthbbg]

I am one more AI written assignment away from kms if anyone was wondering

[seventh-district]

i’m not like other girls, my “Rest” stats are a heart rate of 110bpm and a HRV of 14 fucking milliseconds. :)

[phagodyke]

maaan I love my family but christmas is very much something I Endure for them lmao

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Found Pt. 2 | 141 & Reader

Summary: Your second day at the new foster home is eventful, to say the least. Kyle shows you the chickens, and teaches you some harpy biology.

Word Count: ~ 5.9k

Warnings: old religious trauma (homophobia), reader having a lil girl crush, implied gazsoap, past trauma, baths, stealing, little panic attack, non sexual shirtless kyle, trauma, mentions of old parents and counselors

A/N: well, here’s part two, a very gaz-centric one. i think the next part will have more of the other boys, but pretty boy kyle is too temptinggg, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

You didn’t sleep well in new places.

It was a common thing you’d come to accept by now, the fact that you never slept well in new homes. Whether it be the little grandma who’d welcomed you into her warm and stuffy house full of cats, and the thick blankets she’d ushered you under, or the lawyer-man who’d been looking for a child to replace his late wife. It didn’t matter who it was.

The walls still felt like they were closing on, hot breaths still felt like they were behind you, whispers and creaks in the night that you weren’t sure if you were imagining or not. Houses all seemed to have a life of their own in the night.

The animals, wandering around, the windows breathing while the floor groaned and rubbed its aching bones and joints. The doors muttered to themselves as the fans spun round and round, singing their own clunky melody. ACs or heaters hummed to themselves.

Every house had its own chorus of sounds in the night when things that were too shy to come out in the morning dared to venture out. It was just a matter of how long it took you to get used to it without being frightened. Without thinking someone was in the walls or floors.

You had curled up in the corner of the bed, blankets thrown haphazardly around, an old hoodie that still dwarfed you even now on your figure as you’d glanced around until your eyes closed on their own. You hadn’t slept well. You blamed it on the house.

People you’d seen a long time ago drifted through dreams, with strange things accompanying them. A flying fish. A man-sized axolotl with a talking triangle. A strangely round man in a jumper. A ghoulish mask that had been worn before in completely different parts of the world, but the two had never met.

Your dreams were always vivid. Maybe that was why you kept a dream journal still, if not inspired by the strange movie you’d seen in the cat-queen grandma’s house with a girl dressed in red and a boy with sharp, spiky hair. Your old school’s counselor had also suggested it.

“For processing old traumatic memories,”

She’d tried to explain, but you’d been more focused on the framed pictures on the wall. Faces. Bodies. Her family, probably.

They weren’t pretty.

But you’d remembered that one sentence, and so, opening the little book while the sun began peeking through the window’s curtains, you’d pulled a black crayola marker from your backpack and began scribbling down in the worn, tattered book. It was small, smaller than your average little diary, but not small enough to where you needed to get a new one because of filling it up. You could squeeze words in somewhere.

As you put down all you could recall, you wondered what school you’d be going to next. The switch was always somewhat jarring, and most of the time you ended up going to the closest public school.

The lawyer-man had tried to send you to a private school. It hadn’t ended well.

Since you were in a completely new county, it would be another new school, you assumed. You might make a few new friends before you switched again. Maybe not. Friends were usually made with you when an extrovert saw you hiding in a corner and decided to pick you up and drag you along into their friend groups. Not that you were complaining.

Today was a Sunday.

They might send you tomorrow for the first day. The school year was already a month in, late enough for a few friend groups to have formed, but not too late for you to join in.

You decided to focus on today.

John and Johnny had been praying at the table, Kyle had muttered something, making you wonder if they went to Church or not. You’d gone to a Church once. It had been old and tall with lots of delicate carvings and colorful windows with the woman in blue and the man in white.

There had been a lot of kneeling and standing and sitting while they repeated phrases and things you hadn’t understood at the time. They’d given you a thin piece of bread and a small glass of grape juice that you’d eaten and drank. It tasted old.

And that had been the first and only Mass you ever went to.

Then there had been the second time you’d gone to a Church. It had been on a Wednesday, in a rectangle-shaped building that was old and hummed like a refrigerator. There had been a lot of older kids there, a girl your age named Carol, but with a K.

Karol had been nice. Her hair had been flat and short and brown, like a mouse, you thought. Her eyes had been a chocolate brown like Simon’s, but she hadn’t had the same blond lashes he had.

All the kids had gathered in a circle, holding hands. Your palms had been sweaty, but Karol hadn’t minded, giving you a reassuring smile as they began reciting verses from their Bibles, verses you didn’t know. You didn’t bother to look at the Bible Karol had borrowed to you. You were more focused on the fact that her hand was in yours, and you couldn’t stop looking at her, and you’d felt warm and fuzzy.

And that was when you understood something was wrong with you.

There was a reason you’d never seen two women holding hands in a Church, whether it was shaped like a rectangle, or tall, old, and sharp. Your then-mom had stopped taking you to Church on Wednesday after you’d told her about it.

The sun had gotten tired of peeking over the ledge of the window and fully emerged when you were done sitting and thinking. You held the journal pages up to study, to see your handiwork.

Your handwriting was messy but recognizable. The one thing that remained constant in your life. There was a doodle of the fish-man, a messy skull pattern, a triangle with a bowtie, a big axolotl head, and the fat man in the rainbow jumper. You decided you liked this page.

But the sun was up, so the journal was closed, marker cap out back on, and both were shoved deep into your backpack, covered with clothes and headphones you hadn’t taken out yet. You’d do it tomorrow, you thought, despite knowing you wouldn’t do it tomorrow. Maybe the day after, then.

The floor was a bit cold when your feet pressed against it. It didn’t creak under your weight as it had under Johnny’s, which made sense since you were considerably lighter. You took light steps, feet rolling to be quieter. You wouldn’t want to wake any of them up.

The smell of something hit your nose as you opened the door, it quietly creaking. Eggs. Bacon, maybe? Some kind of meat. With how large they were, they probably ate a huge amount of food. No wonder the fridge was so large.

You heard voices from the kitchen as you slowly padded down the hallway, sticking close to one wall, hoping they didn’t see your shadow or notice you.

“I wanna do it—“

“You’ll scare her, Soap.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you wanna wake the lass up!”

“No, I’m just concerned for her best interests.”

A low growl that made you stiffen. You couldn’t tell whether it was friendly or aggressive.

“Ye sayin’ I ain’t in her best interests?”

He was mad. You heard Kyle’s exasperated sigh, you could’ve heard it from a mile away.

“You know that’s not what I meant. You’re just…”

A beat of silence.

“Just what?”

Another beat of silence.

“Loud. Really loud. I’m just scared you’ll scare her off, okay? I’ve gotten her to warm up a little bit—“

“—I’ve helped too—“

“—right, like your claws are so heartwarming—“

“You’re burnin’ the bacon and scarin’ the kid.”

The newspaper rustled after Simon interrupted their argument, and you felt blood rush to your cheeks as Kyle peeked out of the kitchen from the stove where he’d been standing, seeing you standing in the hallway, just around the corner from the kitchen.

Johnny peeked over next, seeing the slightly guilty look on your voice, and exchanging a reluctant glance with Kyle. How Simon had noticed you wasn’t clear.

“Nosy,”

Kyle said in amusement, a glimmer of worry in his eyes as he took in your tired look.

You walked into the kitchen, seeing Simon and John sitting at the table, the wraith giving a little grunt in acknowledgment as he read the newspaper next to John, the bear-hybrid working on a crossword puzzle with an old pen.

John raised his brows, patting the seat next to him in an invitation, and after glancing at Kyle, who gave a little nod, you padded over and crawled into the wooden seat, settling, eyes going to the crossword.

“How’d you sleep?”

He rumbled.

You made a little sideways thumbs up. Or a sideways thumbs down. Same difference, really.

The crossword had lots of names of celebrities you didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Random things, too. There were a few in Morse code that John had filled in.

“Figured. No one sleeps too well in a brand new place.”

He answered, chuckling at something he found funny that you didn’t. Johnny and Kyle were now speaking in hushed whispers over at the stove, seemingly having gotten over their earlier disagreement, Kyle standing behind Johnny, his arms wrapped around the werewolf’s hips, chin resting on his shoulder.

They looked like a couple.

You must’ve been staring too long, because John glanced over, letting out a hum at the sight. Johnny flipped the pieces of bacon, the plate of cooked pieces lying to the right. Simon glanced over as well, and you couldn’t tell whether he was jealous at the sight, or happy. Maybe both.

“We gonna show ‘er around the farm today, Cap?”

Another pet name. They seemed to have a lot of them around here. Simon was occasionally called ‘Lt.’, an abbreviation you hadn’t figured out yet. Kyle was ‘Gaz’. John was ‘Cap’ or ‘Price’. Johnny was ‘Soap’. You assumed they were just inside jokes.

John seemed to consider Simon’s question before nodding.

“Don’t see why not. Kyle can show her the chickens.”

You perked up at that. Simon noticed.

“You like chickens?”

He asked, his gruff tone holding a mild amount of curiosity. You gave a little nod. They might be a little bit stupid, but you liked all their feathers and their beaks. You’d had a few friends that were chicken hybrids, they’d been very social and been followers and not leaders, but you’d liked them.

Pack animals were usually the friendlier hybrids.

Johnny carried two plates in his thick hands, one full of sausage, the other full of eggs. Half of the eggs were fried, and the other half were scrambled.

Kyle came next with the bacon and toast plates. Some of the toast was buttered, some bare.

The plates were set out on the table, as well as fresh ones for everyone, silverware, and cups. They had their usual tea, Johnny preferring his morning coffee, you having a glass of water.

Everyone grabbed their food, Johnny and John getting a large serving of fried eggs, buttered toast, and sausage. Kyle got himself scrambled eggs, a helping of bacon, and buttered toast.

You and Simon were the last to get food, waiting for everyone else to get their food. Willing to take the scraps that were left. It was just something you did without thinking now, not wanting to look rude or selfish.

He made eye contact with you across the table, glancing down at the plates of food to gesture for you to get something. He was bigger. He’d need more food. You were human and hardly even up to his ribs, you could survive with the leftovers. You glanced down at the plates to gesture for him to go first.

Both of you recognized the strategy. Maybe you and him weren’t so different.

John shared a glance with Kyle, before Kyle elbowed Johnny, giving the werewolf a look. Johnny quickly began filling Simon’s plate up at the same time as Kyle, who started filling your plate up.

The next glance you and Simon shared was one of bewilderment as the food was piled on high.

“Never thought I’d meet a lass as stubborn as you, Lt.”

Johnny said with a loud chuckle, while Simon didn’t look amused, giving him the look only an angry wet cat could muster.

You looked at the bacon piled on your plate, picking up a piece and maintaining eye contact with Simon while nibbling on it, the wraith picked up a sausage, took a bite, and slowly chewed, staring dead at you, slowly blinking as you did it back.

“Like two kittens, they are.”

John muttered while Gaz let out a hum of agreement, chewing on some sausage.

They eventually moved on, laughing about a joke you didn’t understand, something about missions, and a lot of code words you didn’t even bother to decode. Maybe you’d figure it out the longer you stayed here. If you stay here long.

Everyone devoured their food, plates being deposited in the sink with silverware, Simon wiping the table off with his superior wingspan.

You lingered, not sure whether to help with dishes or not. John was on them.

Kyle took one look at you, before waving a hand for you to follow him out the door. You followed.

The air outside was crisp but also a bit cold. Winter was coming in. You wondered if they got snow around here, you hoped so.

His wings tucked in as he led you out of the crunchy grass and into the chicken coop, where his feathered friends were clucking and chirping away. There were a few little ones, but most were large and fluffy, different colors from white to black, some a brown like Kyle’s feathers, some had speckles of color and some had gradients.

He watched your eyes light up before you crouched down and picked up some seed from the ground, holding it out in your hand until a few of them approached. They were friendly; and well domesticated after years of providing eggs. You winced as their sharp beaks reached your skin, picking up the seeds through the process, but didn’t move to take your hand away.

Kyle smiled warmly in a way that almost made you sick, before moving into the actual coop area. He shifted the chickens that were warming their eggs up gently, picking up the eggs as quickly as he could to place them in the little basket he held. He managed to gather a total of 9 eggs, a good amount for the day.

When he emerged, you’d managed to get a chicken on your lap, now fully sitting on the ground despite the sawdust and droppings there. It was one of the older chickens, more docile than the rest, who’d decided to plop down on your lap. Her beady eyes blinked while you let gentle fingers smooth through her white speckles feathers.

“You like her?”

Kyle asked, glancing down at you.

You nodded.

“Fluffy.”

You stated, tone too matter-of-factly for him to keep a straight face as he laughed a bit, head tilting back.

“We’ve got some cows and goats if you want to see them?”

He offered, watching as you thought the offer over, gears turning in your mind. You gave a nod, giving the chicken one final pat until you gently picked her up, placing her back on the ground and getting up.

The sawdust and strands of hay clung to the backs of your thighs and shorts, but you didn’t seem to care. It we then that Kyle realized you hadn’t changed out of the clothes you’d been wearing yesterday. As he took a look at your matted hair, hay, and feathers also in it, he realized that they hadn’t done the greatest job of ensuring your hygiene.

But that was something to worry about after the cows and goats.

You followed eagerly as he walked to the barn. It was a good fifty feet from the coop, not too long, nothing you seemed to mind despite the chill in the air.

The chill.

You were tiny. Of course, he hadn’t noticed it, his feathers keeping him warm. But you were in shorts and that thin shirt and raggedy jacket couldn’t be doing much.

He didn’t want to push boundaries, but he didn’t feel like he had much of a choice.

You didn’t notice when he slowed down the pace of his walking, long strides shortening to keep up with your tiny ones. But you did notice when his wing slowly began to extend, feathers puffing out a bit and flattening, stretching out until the first feather brushed your shoulder.

It didn’t make you uncomfortable like most touches did. It might’ve been because instead of the skin-to-skin or fur-to-skin contact you usually had bad memories with, it was just fluffy, silky feathers.

The wing curled slowly around you, Kyle watching as you tensed at first, before relaxing into it.

You both reached the barn, hearing the goats bellowing as the smell of wet, soiled hay and animals reached you. Familiar. Too familiar.

You stopped.

Kyle’s wing immediately retracted, thinking it was him. He thought he’d overstepped boundaries and pushed too far too soon, but when he looked into your eyes he saw the look. One he’d seen before in one or two of their past fosters, some of the more “damaged” ones.

Something was reminding you of something unpleasant. He’d been there before. Whether it was the barn, the animal sounds, the smell, or anything else, he didn’t care, he would let you process it, and get away from it if you wanted.

A beat of silence.

When you took a hesitant step back, he went into action, trying to redirect your thoughts. His wing flexed to cover the sight of the barn from your eyes, your vision being that of golden brown feathers speckled with blond parts instead.

“How about we go inside and get cleaned up?”

He asked, voice smooth as butter, purposefully a bit deeper than normal, just barely, an instinctual thing that only worked to soothe other hybrids. But it seemed to work well enough on you, as you dazedly nodded, stumbling to follow him when he turned.

His wing slowly spread again, curling once again around your shoulder to guide you, steps slowly growing more certain as you two reached the house. Johnny was out digging in his garden, Simon was tending to the cows in the fields (cuddling with them), and John was taking stock of everything for the next grocery trip.

Kyle opened the door, letting you step in, watching as you almost tripped over the step, catching yourself, and continuing to walk.

“Careful,”

He murmured, walking up and carefully closing the door to not let it slam. The hinge had broken a few days ago. He really should remind Price to fix it.

His wing continued guiding you until you both reached a bathroom that was next to Price’s room. The one that the older man usually used. His talons clicked against the floor as he walked into the room, hands reaching for the tub’s knob to turn on the water before realizing he didn’t know what you wanted.

“Shower or bath?”

He asked. You pointed to the shower head. Fair enough.

“Alright,”

He replied.

“This is for the hot, this is for the cold, but the cold can be a bit finicky during the colder seasons, so you might have to turn a bit harder.”

He explained, watching as your eyes slowly took everything in. All of John’s beard care products were in the shower in one little shower rack that was in the corner. The second layer of the shower rack held shampoo and conditioner. The third held all the body wash components with a rag and sponge hanging from it.

“Here’s shampoo, conditioner, and the body wash. You got it?”

John was usually the one to give all the bathroom tours, considering he was the more fatherly figure in the household. But Kyle didn’t mind, it was just new, was all.

“You want me to wait outside?”

It was a basic assumption that you wouldn’t want him in the bathroom with you showering, but he didn’t want to leave you completely alone. What if you fell, or had some sort of accident? He could wait behind the door.

You nodded, watching as he stepped outside, closing the door. You turned the handles of the faucet, the colder one being a bit stiff like he’d mentioned. But after putting a good bit of muscle into it, the thing obeyed and turned, and you turned the hot water knob as well. They mixed into a good warm temperature that rained down from the shower head.

You quickly stripped out of your old clothes, covering your underwear and little bra with the other clothes. It wasn’t like someone would be digging through your things, but still.

Stepping into the shower, the hay and sawdust and everything that had been clinging to your skin and hair began melting away and falling off, meeting the drain and washing down if not just getting stuck there. You’d pull it out later.

You pulled the shower curtain out and used it to cover yourself, feeling just a bit too exposed without it, and you didn’t want to get water outside the tub, anyway.

You reached for the shampoo first, wanting to get the nightmare of a hair cleaning over with. Your hair was matted and knitted and hadn’t been brushed thoroughly in at least a week, but you’d at least try to wash it.

Clicking open the bottle, you squirted the thick product out, rubbing it together in your hands before moving the lathered-up product in your hands to your hair, rubbing it in, before letting it dissolve away under the water. The conditioner was next, being put in the rest of your hair, and you let it sit there as you used the liquid soap from the bottle and scrubbed it into your skin, washing it away.

The shower hadn’t felt long.

You washed the conditioner out, turned the water off, and grabbed a towel that Kyle must’ve put on the bathroom counter right before stepping out. You unfolded the towel, wrapping it around yourself, before opening the door.

Kyle was there, holding some clothes that had been in your bag.

“Here, I just grabbed the first ones I saw, I didn’t go through it.”

He reassured, probably having seen the way your face had soured slightly, before relaxing again. It still wasn’t the greatest knowing this man had been touching all your personal belongings, but you could get over it.

Stepping into the bathroom, you changed into the much warmer clothes he picked out. A pair of grey sweatpants, and a shirt that had thicker material. Hell, even the bra was one of your thicker ones.

When you were done, you opened the door again, and he made a little happy bird noise, almost like a chirping purr, at seeing you all bundled up and cozy. Johnny, whose hands were covered in dirt, claws out, had been walking past and heard the noise. He’d poked his head around the corner, grinning when he saw the scene.

“Mother hen!”

He called as he continued down the hall, hopefully, to wash himself off. Kyle rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it, particularly because he knew it was true.

He was a mother hen, but they had bigger issues to be handled.

Such as your hair.

“Do you want me to help with your hair? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You figured that nothing could make your mess of hair worse at this point, and nodded. Kyle preened at the confirmation, almost literally. Something warm and gooey, like the center of a freshly baked brownie, filled his eyes as he led you to his room, practically beaming.

You figured it must be the bird in him talking. Maybe helping with hair was considered grooming and preening to him? It made sense, now that you thought about it. It could be why he acted so weird when you pulled that pin feather out after just meeting him, he’d been surprised because he hadn’t considered you family yet, and it was a family activity.

When you both arrived at the door you assumed was into his room, he opened it, leading you inside, leaving the door just a little bit cracked open. His room was warm and smelt like lavender and jasmine.

He had a lot of pictures on the walls, some being obviously family photos, others being him in a military uniform with other men in uniform.

He led you over to a little chair in the middle of the room with a low back, having you sit in it, and he pulled out a detangling brush from a bag on the floor full of jars and brushes and razors that he used often. He pulled out a jar next, taking a scoop of the thick white cream and spreading it across his hands, before applying it on the outside of your hair, trying the best he could to get it all in there.

“My mom used to do my hair like this when I was little.”

He said, talking to you, but also somewhat to himself. You weren’t much of a talker, anyway. He knew that.

He began using the detangling brush, starting at the ends of your hair, immediately meeting resistance and melting right through it as he worked his magic with the brush and cream.

“I could never sit still, though, so she’d always have to talk to me or tell me a story while I sat down to keep me there long enough.”

Oh. So that was what he was doing.

His hands worked through your hair, applying more cream, rubbing it in, and brushing through the matted and tangled areas of the damp hair. Soon enough, he was in the middle of it. Then, he had reached your scalp. Then he was brushing out all of it.

He’d been rambling on about something the entire time. You hadn’t minded. You might not need the entertainment or distraction, but he was just doing what he’d seen his mother doing before.

“It was worse when she had to help me clean my wings, it was too ticklish at the time. Of course, I’ve gotten used to it now, and well—I guess I should clean them today, huh?”

That caught your attention.

You’d heard your hybrid friends mentioning preening and grooming their wings before, but never actually seen it. You swallowed, hoping to not be rejected, as you spoke.

“Can I help?”

His heart nearly melted in his chest at your tiny little voice, or it was at least tiny compared to what he was used to. He wouldn’t mind an extra hand in cleaning his wings, he usually had Price or Soap help, but the way they touched his wings was certainly not a way he wanted you touching them.

There was a joint bathroom connected to his room for this exact reason.

He closed the lid on the cream, placing it and the brush back into what you now thought was probably a makeup bag. You followed him into the bathroom, letting out an undignified squeak when he pulled his shirt off. Your hands covered your eyes, and he giggled for a moment.

“I’m just taking my shirt off, honey, you can open your eyes.”

You peeked out, still trying not to let your eyes wander to his now-exposed chest and torso. Hell, he had a bigger chest than you. His honey-brown skin was muscled despite how lean he was. You’d seen boy’s bare skin before, like when they would pull their shirts up to wipe the sweat off of their foreheads in gym class, but you’d never exactly enjoyed it.

His wing bases looked exactly how you thought they would under the shirt. Feathers spread over the base, fanning out slowly as it melded into his normal skin.

He got in the tub, turning around to have his wings face you as they untucked from his back and slowly relaxed. He pulled the shower head down, turning on the water but to a very low pressure so it wasn’t spraying everywhere, and offered it to you.

“Just spray down my wings, from the base, then the top, then the very bottom.”

He instructed. You took the shower head and tried as he said, starting at the base, where the feathers were reluctant to get wet, but eventually obeyed, then slowly moving to the top, watching as he shuddered slightly when the warm water trickled down to the bottom of his wings. The feathers looked almost black when they were wet, and his wings looked much skinnier now. Still pretty, just a lot less dramatic now.

After a few minutes of soaking the feathers, he nodded, hand reaching for the shower head to turn it off and put it back up.

“Good, now we can dry it off, then apply the oils.”

You didn’t really know what he was on about. You were just happy to know you’d done a good job.

“Grab the hairdryer out of the cabinet. It’s bright pink, and has a few doodles on it.”

You moved over to the cabinets under the sink, opening it, and shuffling around before finding a bright pink hairdryer just like promised. It had a few stains from past hair dye, which made you imagine the men in bright pink hair (an image you quickly tried to forget). There was a doodle of a little skull face and a rectangle with a few bubbles next to it.

You plugged it into the outlet next to the toilet, and turned it on low heat, not wanting to accidentally burn or hurt Kyle. You started with the top of his wings, figuring that it would be most efficient. Next, you made sweeping motions over the base of his wings, gradually moving to the bottom of the wings, the feathers puffing back up fluffier than ever before.

You watched as he gave a few test flaps, deciding that it was good enough, as he nodded once again. He was smiling again.

“Good, now I’ll help you with the oil part. You can put the hairdryer on the counter.”

You unplugged the hairdryer, setting it down on the pearly white counter, watching as Kyle got up and opened the secret cabinet that was behind the bathroom mirror. There were jars and medicines inside, and the harpy grabbed a jar saying something in a cursive font you couldn’t read.

“See,”

He began.

“Normally, a harpy has a gland that produces the oils for them, it keeps their feathers waterproof, clean, and healthy.”

You understood the basic concept he was explaining. He sat down on the edge of the tub, and you sat down on the carpet, ignoring the wet fuzz soaking into your knees.

“But mine is damaged, and doesn’t produce those oils, so I have to manually do it, which is very….annoying.”

You cocked your head to the side, wondering what had damaged his special gland so badly, but he didn’t answer your silent question. Instead, he opened the container, which had a sticky, thin brown fluid in it. It almost looked like a thinner, stickier version of Vegemite.

He dipped two fingers in, rubbing it over both hands.

“I’ll show you how to do it first.”

He said, as his hands began fluffing up and rubbing the feathers nearest to the base of his wings first, rubbing the thin substance in, patting it to ensure it wasn’t still sticky, before moving on to the next round of feathers. You thought you understood the basics of it.

Dipping a finger into the strange thing, you also rubbed it on your hands, tentatively rubbing and fluffing it into the bottom feathers of his wings like you’d seen him doing. He let out a hum of approval, and you continued, slowly getting more confident.

A few minutes of silence passed, all of his feathers being oiled appropriately until your hand moved to his inner wing, and this time he was the one to let out a squeak.

You pulled your hand away almost immediately, and he turned a shade of bright red in the cheeks.

“Don’t touch there, that’s really sensitive.”

He said, trying to wave it off with a grin and a little awkward laugh. You raised a single brow.

“Johnny touched you there.”

A single statement, but one that was correct. Johnny had his hands all up in Kyle’s inner wings this morning when they’d been making breakfast together. You had noticed.

Kyle turned a brighter shade of red. He didn’t seem to know what to say.

“It’s…different, for different pack members—“

“Dinner!”

“Yup. Yeah. Dinner time, let’s go, kiddo.”

He led you out of the room, newly washed and oiled feathers puffed up in what you assumed was mild embarrassment. You didn’t know why he wasn’t explaining it to you, considering you were just going to look it up later.

John raised an eyebrow at Kyle’s behavior, watching as he sat down while fidgeting, staring into his plate. Simon and Johnny both took one look at Kyle’s fresh wings, then at you and guessed what happened. A smirk pulled at Simon’s lips. Johnny snorted. Kyle had forgotten to put his shirt back on.

Dinner passed quickly. It was the leftovers of the pot roast. They were tired from whatever work they’d done today but still lively. You watched.

When it was over, you slid your plate into the sink, not sure what activity was coming next.

“Bedtime for you, cub.”

John rumbled, leading you back to your room, listening to Kyle accuse Johnny or Simon of stealing his shirt, not able to find it after taking it off in the bathroom while they both insisted he’d lost it.

You crawled into your bed, with clean hair, a clean body, and mildly clean clothes. John took the blanket and tucked you in, even as you lay down in a strange position.

“Sleep good, and sneak me that shirt in the mornin’, I’ll tell Kyle I found it in the bin.”

He said, smiling with a wink, giving you an Eskimo kiss while his beard tickles your face. You found that strangely, you didn’t mind the closeness. You smiled back at him, returning the wink, pulling out Kyle’s missing shirt that was bundled under your shirt, and bunching it up.

You held it against your chest, curling up around it and the familiar scent of honey and apple pie that it held. The scent of Kyle.

No, you didn’t usually sleep well in new places, but as the light turned off and John closed the door behind him, you found that you couldn’t help but drift into a surprisingly peaceful sleep.

Tags:

@theartgremlin

@thriving-n-jiving

@simonrileysown

[animementrash]

AOT veterans headcanons

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe

Tags: just random thoughts on the main three vets, they/them pronouns for Hange, some may be ooc?, SFW only

A/N: Here are my headcanons based on how I percieve them, I have some more for the rest of the characters but I'm posting only three for now because they are longer than expected. (I also have NSFW ones but I'm waiting until I get more comfortable with sharing my thoughts before posting those) Hope you like them and thank you for reading!

Levi Ackerman:

Washes his hands constantly, almost too many times a day.

Would rather fight a titan with an arm tied to his back than do the dishes. The mere thought of soggy leftovers sticking to his hands makes him gag.

Avoids going out to public places because he’s aware of his popularity inside the walls and doesn’t know how to act when he’s the center of attention.

Following the previous topic and contrary to popular beliefs, this man would never reject a gift/letter/trinket given to him by a local. It can be the most random thing but he will always accept them with a small nod, he’s deeply thankful for their blind trust in him.

Yawns and stretches ALL THE TIME, he is known for sleeping as little as 3 or 4 hours per night and while he’s able to go on with his day without problems, this doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling drowsy all the time so he’s almost always letting out quiet yawns and stretching his arms to ease the soreness of his body.

Sneezes a lot when cleaning. It’s not rare at all to hear him sneeze when he’s dusting or sweeping, if someone says “Bless you” to him he’ll quietly mumble a “thanks” before getting back to cleaning.

Has a favorite seat at the dining table and gets grumpy when someone takes that place before him.

Speaking of dinner, this man eats SLOW AS HELL, he’s usually one of the last to finish his meal.

Is constantly thirsty because he refuses to drink anything but tea.

Has memorized everyone’s footsteps and knows who’s coming to his office before they even knock the door.

Cleans and calibrates his ODM gear daily even when he’s not planning on using it.

Doesn’t like to be in new recruit’s trainings because he gets anxious when most of them hurt themselves while getting used to work with the ODM gear.

Trims his hair weekly, most people believe he shapes his haircut and has hairdresser-like skills when in reality all he does is trim it to avoid losing the shape it already has.

Can’t read cursive even if his life depends on it. One time Erwin handed him a memo written in cursive and he got so frustrated because he didn’t understand what it said that he ended up ignoring the memo. Turns out Erwin needed him to turn in some reports earlier than usual and got scolded because of it.

Loves eating fruit. Fruit was considered an ultra luxury item in the underground so when he realized how much fruit he could eat once he was in the scouts, he got obsessed with it.

Whines and complains a lot for a person who’s known to be grumpy and stoic. Ask him to do something he dislikes and you’ll hear a bunch of huffs and puffs before he goes to do it.

Talks with his horse. A lot.

Wanders through the empty halls when he can’t sleep and doesn’t bother to bring a candle to light the path, the cadets now believe there is a ghost haunting the headquarters.

Erwin Smith:

Hums and whistles a lot, he’s always making some kind of noise while signing reports or walking down the halls. You can hear this man before seeing him.

Takes more time than he’s willing to admit in styling his hair every morning. He is a firm believer that appearance matters a lot so he puts a lot of effort on his.

 Has a specific pair of glasses he uses when reading, almost no one knows about it besides Hange who helped him choose the right ones.

Talks in his sleep, it can vary between mumbled nonsense to full on speeches.

Has a journal that is more like a diary because he writes all his thoughts/hopes/fears on it but he’d be damned if someone refers to it as a diary and not a journal.

Is lowkey afraid of insects but plays it cool when he comes across one because he doesn’t want to come out as “weak”.

Snaps his fingers when trying to remember something.

People think he’s a very wise and smart man because it’s very common to find him “deep in thoughts”, truth is he just tends to zone out and disassociates like crazy.

Loves dogs, he’s the biggest dog person in the scouts. Often stops and pets dogs he finds while taking a walk downtown.

Cleans and polishes his shoes every night before going to sleep. Whenever his face gets reflected on the shiny shoe a smile appears on his lips.

Not always but sometimes sneaks out behind the barracks to smoke some cigarettes, tries to hide all evidence afterwards because Levi will start complaining about the awful smell.

Would rather be late to an early meeting than go without shaving, has to shave daily because by the end of the day he already has a shadow beard.

Is well aware of his attractiveness and uses it to his advantage when needed.

Visits his father’s grave every Sunday and spends most of the day there. Sometimes brings a book and reads it out loud.

Smacked his face after trying to see through a clear glass Levi had cleaned earlier, after laughing for several minutes Levi scolded him for dirtying his glass.

His wardrobe is full of neutral-colored clothes, he sucks at matching outfits so goes with the safest options.

Knows very well Levi can’t read cursive so when he’s bored, he scribbles gibberish on a paper and gives it to Levi saying it’s important to get it done by end of day just to get a laugh.

Has relatives living inside the walls who refuse to acknowledge him, some of them even pretend he died the same day his dad did.

Has an ongoing bet with Hange to see who makes Levi laugh the most, so far Erwin is winning by one but only because he accidentally fell from his horse and Levi found it hilarious.

Arm-wrestles with Miche a lot, especially after they had a few beers.

LOVES dancing, this man knows how to dance and isn’t afraid to show it. (Sadly for him he also loves to clap when dancing and this makes everyone laugh)

Hange Zoe:

Is both street-smart and book-smart, is the only person who has beaten Erwin in a chess match and also beaten Levi in a wrestling match.

Almost always has pencils sticking out of their hair, they place them there for a moment and totally forget about them.

Levi restricted them from using fountain pens because they would spill ink and stain everything and everywhere.

The reason why their glasses have straps on is not only because the risk of them falling off is smaller but also because according to them “it makes them look cooler”.

Wanted to join Erwin in giving instructions to Levi written in cursive but since their handwriting wasn’t as good as Erwin’s they opted for giving instructions in riddles, this makes Levi even more furious than the cursive ones.

Just like Levi, Hange takes a long time when eating dinner but the reason for this is not because they eat slow but because they talk a lot. By the end of the meal their food is either cold or soggy.

Tried to bite a titan once just to show them how it felt to be “on the receiving side”.

Their horse has tiny braids on its mane made by them when they were nervous.

Refuses to brush their hair because their ideas may “fall off” if they do it.

Tackled Levi once when they saw an “eerie figure” roaming the headquarters halls and thought it was a new species.

Has read more books than anyone in the scouts, knows a little of almost everything.

Says “wait, what?” at least twice when talking with someone, before that person can repeat themselves, they interrupt with a completely related answer and expect the person to continue speaking as if nothing happened.

Almost all cadets go to them for advice, they take this very seriously and never joke around when listening to their concerns.

Just like Erwin, they have relatives living nearby the headquarters but they’re not interested in one another.

Has a tendency to bite their nails when nervous, all his fingernails are short and bumpy because of it.

Is very quick at math and calculations.

Always carry a pocket notebook with them and writes anything that catches their attention so they can investigate about it later.

LOVES bugs, is always trying to catch them and examinate them. One time they trapped a cockroach and created a full design of an “armored suit” based on them, when Erwin asked where they got the inspiration for it, they just placed the cockroach in Erwin’s desk and Erwin almost fainted on the spot.

Randomly goes to Miche and asks him “what do I smell like?”, Miche stopped participating on their little riddles when Hange decided to put rotting food in their pockets before asking.

All their books have little notes and highlighted parts on them. Sometimes has two or three copies of the same book because their view on certain parts changes over time.

Takes pinky-promises as a legit way of commitment.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Do they keep a diary/a journal?

Mal - yes, actually. But no gross feelings stuff, ew. Just drawings. ...Of various levels of "disturbing". (Peak being begining of D2, of course)

Jay - nah. Better stuff to do. Also lowkey paranoid it'll be stolen.

Evie - yes, technically, multiple. She keeps one journal to jot down what was when done to any potions she's brewing (the correct scientific procedure), her fashion one, of course, for whatever designs she dreams of, and lastly, one to note down orders and payments for her shop.

Carlos - nah. He's got a collection of loose papers with important and "important" info on them. His cousins still keep finding them in Hell Hall. Jay has to move them from his parts of the room regularly. Mal found papers stuck in between her journal.

Uma - no. WAY more important shit to do, and she finds it way too sentimental. She keeps records of stuff important for the running of her crew, but doesn't consider it a journal, rather a public record.

Harry - yes. To the surprise if absolutely no one, the thing he writes most about is Uma. There are several original songs and poems for her as well. He wouldn't mind if she found it.

Gil - I wanna say yes, he tries. He's not very consistent though. The only thing he writes about is his friends and crewmates – he accidentally puts it down in the common space of the ship often, and most of the crewmates picked it up once. Cos, y'know. You see, you take. If they read it, they began blushing furiously under the excited "My friends are SO cool" Gil wrote and gave it back to him without a word.

Claudine - once she stops living with her father, yes, though it took some convincing. She doesn't write regularly, though, because she just doesn't know what to write, and is afraid of putting her thoughts on the paper. Later, she writes poems in letters so small it's illegible, since poetry masks the true self a bit.

Harriet - yes. She writes regularly, though not a lot of feelings stuff. She writes poems and vague stories draws whatever comes to her mind (mostly abstract stuff) and keeps it tightly locked up in her cabin, since that shit is DARK. Smee twins accidentally found it once and Sammy kept complaining they were afraid of her drawings for two weeks straight.

CJ - ...she tries to. It never lasts more than two days in row. But she adds new disjointed entry every time she's reminded that her older siblings do so. It's actually extremely disturbing in different way than Harriet's since she has ZERO ability to self-censor.

Freddie - two. One for music and one for dreams and card readings.

Celia - one. Dreams and Cards and Friends on the other side. Though, technically, both sisters share another one, written in cryptic code and abbreviations and moved from place to place with regularity but without a set schedule. This one is about secrets of the Isle residents, the ones they bother or dare to write down.

Dizzy - I wanna say yes, actual diary, feelings and all. To utter exasperation of all her older relatives.

Anthony - no, keeping tabs on the salon is enough, thank you.

Dulcia - look, my girl deserves a Burn Book.

Ginny - not really. If she absolutely NEEDS something noted down, she tells Anthony. Exception being medical notes at the Escape but she delegates paperwork away any time she can. Also, I feel like her handwriting is borderline illegible to anyone but her and the three people she shares mental disturbances with (Maddy, Anthony, Harriet)

Maddy - she keeps tabs on the Apothecary and like Evie, writes down the shit she's synthetising. It's only correct to do.

Ivy - Yeah she gets a burn book too. She deserves it <3. It's in one notebook with scraps from fashion magasines and and some kaligrams. (Again, that's a form of self-censure. Can't read it, so it isn't there.)

I think I ran out of Isle kids, so AKs (all regarding a diary):

Audrey - canonically she does, I have nothing else to add.

Ben - he tries to, but he doesn't manage to write regularly, what with being a CHILD KING and all. It's healthy for him tho. Took the habit from his mother.

Chad - I refuse to believe this boy has a diary. He views it as "useless" and "too feminine".

Jane - yes, actual diary full of feelings. Starting each entry with "dear diary". She locks it religiously though, since her mother can and will read it if give an oppurtunity to.

Ally - yes and frankly it should be studied and/or published (with different names for the sake of privacy, but i'd pay a lot to read a diary of Ally Liddel of Wonderland)

Lonnie - ...no. she tried to, few times, but never quite managed more than few entries in a row. She doesn't particularly like sitting still, and fancies the thought of someone actually reading what she thinks about certain stuff even less.

Jordan - ...she uses her blogs and vlogs as a diary. The more private ones. Not her Drama Channel.

[myfandomrealitea]

tbh all the people complaining about "i NEED to vent in non-vent spaces" reek of selfishness and narcissism. there's a server i'm in with two vent spaces. one is 18+ because there's an 18+ section. legit watched one person vent about another who couldn't see the 18+ section. using it to deliberately hide from them. despite the fact. yknow. DMs with other people exist. small group chats can be made at any time. nope! have to vent in this subsection where the members who can see both vent chats can report me for it.

Yeah, internal member conflict is another reason why honestly things like venting channels and negativity spaces in open-access things like Discord servers are just.... Not a good idea, no matter how therapeutic or helpful or easy to ignore you think they are.

Allowing members to just spew out negativity and complaints and toxic thoughts just allows other people to respond to them. I've lost count of how many times I've seen someone venting and someone else has started commenting lashing out at the original person or accusing them of bad behavior or blaming them for what happened. Then other members pile in to agree or disagree and before you know it half the server is at verbal war.

Its just not healthy for anyone involved. If you try to outlet your emotions and get shut down, its going to impact you worse in the long run. It is absolutely more beneficial to privately release your thoughts and use those public spaces in order to farm more positive outlets and distractions.

E.g; keep a diary. Write down all your bad shit then go to the Discord server and say hey, I've had a bad day, spam me with fun shit to cheer me up. Find something worthwhile to engage with. Have a fun, dynamic conversation with other people.

I think far too many people think the only proper way to process and move on from negativity is to involve other people and actively dissect it and honestly, it really isn't. Especially when other people already have their owns shares of misery and suffering.

[fromtenthousandfeet]

All Cash and No Credit

Let's talk about HYBE's strategy for Jimin's MUSE. It's pretty simple

Maximize Profit - Minimize Success

Let's break down how they're doing it.

Goal #1 is to get as many customers as possible to buy from Weverse instead of regular retailers like chains (Target, Walmart, Barnes & Noble) and online sellers like Amazon. When fans buy on Weverse, a HYBE subsidiary, the company keeps not only the wholesale portion of the album sale, but the retail portion as well. This is obvious, right? If not, I'm happy to explain. The company likely makes twice the profit (give or take) on albums purchased via Weverse. AND, they can control when those albums are shipped, and how, when, or if the sales are reported to the music charting agencies.

The fact that Target pre-sales of MUSE is sold out within hours is suspect. This indicates limited stock, just like the strategy used for Like Crazy CD singles. Meanwhile, Geffen is very slow to release the pre-sale links for other retailers. The Walmart presale just went up. Where are B&N and Amazon? Will they have limited inventory, too?

Putting Jimin's Production Diary on Weverse only was a conscious choice. The cost of the documentary was expensive - more than the monthly fee for streaming services, the company kept all the profit (didn't have to share the costs with Netflix or Disney+), and limited his exposure to the general public. I suspect they will operate the same way with MUSE.

Goal #2 Keep Jimin as low as possible on the charts. We've seen this over and over. First, by splitting Like Crazy versions and disappearing sales, no CD restocks. Then we saw the same behavior from BH/HYBE again with Closer Than This being released on the worst possible day of the year and almost zero promotion. You know the details.

HYBE will limit stock. They will likely not report all sales.

MUSE physical albums will not be eligible for UK charts because of a random inclusion. The previous four solo album releases have had specific UK versions with no inclusions. UK fans will have to rely on digital sales for charting purposes unless BH provides a new version. Dirty.

Goal #3 Promote the album just enough to garner sales from fans while minimizing advertising to the greater public. The announcement of the new album is also strange. The teaser video was only on Instagram and only on the BigHit/BTS channel (this didn't stop anyone, though, as far as I can tell) as well as Weverse (I'm getting tired of that platform). TikTok is a far more effective advertising tool when it comes to targeting young people. Why wasn't the teaser posted to TikTok? Either way, "Jimin Jimin" was trending on X/Twitter with over 1.7 million mentions many hours after the announcement of the new album. There's only so much BH can do to suppress Jimin now that fans have taken marketing him into their own hands.

Let's keep an eye on this.

What's different this time around? This time the fandom knows who is behind thwarting Jimin's success. Precious time was lost during the FACE era when everyone was blaming Jimin's sabotage on Billboard and Spotify, rather than the rightful villain - HYBE/Big Hit. This time the fandom knows to watch their every move and call them out on their shady and unequal treatment. That said, tagging Geffen, Big Hit, and HYBE on X is pretty much useless. They have shown they won't change their behavior when fans complain. Instead, fans must start tagging Billboard, Spotify, and media outlets. Media outlets are the most important. HYBE does not care about the fandom, but they do care about their public image, especially after all the damage that's been done to the company and the stock price due to the ADOR controversy and court case.

I think Jimin is going to a different label for his solo work. That's my hunch. The company is going to squeeze as much profit out of him as possible before he goes, but it's a balancing act because they don't want him to outshine Jungkook. Of course, I could be completely wrong.

[80s4life]

No Time For ‘What If’s?’*

Word Count: 5,096

Status: Requested!

Ask: can I get a SFW/NSFW whatever. Cobra Kai John Kreese x f! reader student (who's 20+ and not in highschool) who sometimes looks at him a certain way but always looks depressed and Kreese took notice... {There's more, but I'm not giving away all the goodies}

@: @harlequinautumn​

Summary: I decided to make this somewhat of a song inspired prompt. This is based off of the song "Daddy Issues" by The Neighborhood. I think you can see where this us going...

Warnings: some angst, fluff, smut, dd/lg type of energy, age-gap, master/sensei/daddy kink, teacher/student kink, READER is in her 20′s, self-consciousness, self-hate, uncomfortable with body issues, appearance, etc.

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist Cobra Kai Masterlist

{Gifs are not mine, credits go to @sensei-venus & @danlarussc​}

Had to put this last gif here because GRAND DADDY...

Scribbling in the notebook, you try to hide the blush on your face with the final thought you write into it. ‘He touched my arm during practice to help me keep my balance. His hand was warm and comforting, yet strong and held the promise of security,’ you smile. It’s childish, you know that, but unlike most of the kids in Reseda, Kreese, or better known as Master Kreese in your diary, was a man. He held a great promise with his status and a stern maturity in his movements and emotions. 

What’s more, he can manage to keep it in his pants, to both your comfort and frustration.

You look up, feeling his eyes on you and your smile instantly drops into a numb pout. You’ve loved him for as long as you could remember. It wasn’t your fault however, as it was never planned. 

He was your Sensei in the beginning, knowledgeable and strong, stoic with knowledge. Somehow, you’d find as the more time you’d spent in his class and in the higher rankings, you grew tired of his teachings and more interested in him as a person. He kept his personal life private and away from public eyes - most certainly the cool teacher you could sneak into a bar or eat at a fast food restaurant with just to hang out. Soon your innocent interest had faded into something carnal, sinful. There was nothing you could do to stop the mind of a young adult, much less one that still held the feelings of her teenage years.

He made you feel like that little 15 year old girl every time he looked at you, unable to see his feelings through any aspect of his body. You could never tell if he was scrutinizing you or just plainly looking. 

“Break’s over guys. Back to the mats!” he commands, eyes sliding from yours to encase the room through a tactical sweep.

Clasping the tiny lock through its metal bearing, you lock your diary with a click and shove it into your drawstring back, hurriedly shuffling back onto the mats to endure your next beating.

After about an hour of endless training without any breaks, Kreese glanced at the watch embracing his veined, muscular wrist, checking the time. Without a word, the class is ordered to do another set of push-ups before he calls it a day. 

Huffing, you grab your tiny towel and lay it across your shoulders, using one of the ends to dab at your forehead. The boys pat you on your back as they start to gather their things, some heading to the showers to wash up quickly, others complaining about the homework they haven’t gotten to yet.

“God am I glad I don’t have to do that shit anymore,” you murmur, giggling as you could hear Tommy groan.

“Can I give you a call later, Y/N? Help me go over my essay for Mr. Whees?” Johnny asks, breathy and miserable.

“Sure Johnny Boy, but you’ll owe me an ice cream cone next time we head to the beach.”

“Sweet! Deal!” he punches your shoulder, speeding out of the dojo to get a headstart on finishing said writing that’s due tomorrow morning.

Giggling, you wave your goodbyes to some of the other guys as you grab your bag, walking slowly towards the showers, feeling the extent of your workout in your calves and knees. Stopping just short of the room, you peer into Kreese’s office, “Sensei?”

“Y/L/N,” he answers, the rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna head to the showers. It’s going to be a while, so if you need me to lock up, I can.”

“No, you’re fine, Y/L/N. I’ll be working on some paperwork for a while also.”

“Okay, thanks,” you blush, a small smile spreading on your lips as you slink off of the doorframe and continue your way to the showers. 

In your drunken haze of lust, you had seemed to miss Kreese’s eyes slip to your bag, shiny pink diary having poked through the jagged holes in the old drawstring bag. He couldn’t help his curiosity, having taken notice to your attachment to the small object, always writing, always peering over its covers to see if anyone was watching. It was peculiar, and though he had been caught a few times, your reaction and apparent nervousness is what made him want to know exactly what was in that book.

Hearing as the soft hums of pleasure radiates with the heat of the streaming water, Kreese keeps a close eye on where your book lied, checking to see if any of the boys were left in the dojo. Walking towards the chairs at the front of the dojo - where you had last left your drawstring bag - Kreese closes the blinds of the dojo; the appearance of it being closed a small comfort and reassurance of another day spent and gone. No one else will try to come back in, no one will bother him.

He turns to leave and go back to his office, but his feet won’t carry him. Peering down at the loose drawstring bag, pink book still peeking out of its covers, he debates whether or not he should satiate his curiosity or infiltrate your personal space. Choosing the latter, he pulls the book slowly as to not mess with the bag’s positioning too much.

Walking back to his office, he leaves the door open a crack, the sound of the shower humming prompting him to see what’s been eating at him. What has been making you look so enthralled and sad at the same time. What’s been making you so mysterious. 

Kreese almost doesn’t even want to open the book. He knows everything about his students, but you? You’re a mystery. A chase. He almost doesn’t want the high of the cat and mouse game to end. However, he just rolls his shoulders, prying the key to the lock from the bindings you had not-so-subtly tried to hide.

‘Silly Girl. So mature yet so naive,’ he thinks, unlocking the small metal that kept him from his answers.

Leaning back in his chair, he props his feet on his desk, opening the book at last. Shuffling through some pages, he comes to find this pink book as your diary. Delving deeper, he flips through some random pages, the headers and dates catching his eyes and honing in.

January 21st: The Reckoning

This date isn’t far different from any other day, just a date. However, the header is what piques his interest.

‘Another day at the dojo. Another array of cuts and bruises. Johnny and the boys are just finishing their first year as freshmen in highschool and I’m stuck here. 22, young, single, graduated, andddd no life plan ahead of me. I realized that my interest in Sensei Kreese is starting to feel different. I no longer want to know about him, I want to know everything. What type of coffee he likes, if he even likes coffee, what he does in his freetime, what does he like most in a partner? Ugh.’

January 22nd: The Realization

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT! Rereading what I was feeling yesterday and watching it bloom tenfold has finally made me come to my senses. 8 years of practicing with this man and I finally catch whiff of what my so-called “interest” was and I finally come to my senses now? “Stupid Girl” as Kreese would say. Stupid Girl is right!’

A bemused smile perches on Kreese’s lips. It’s like high school all over again, and he’s the center focus. He flips a few pages more.

February 3: Valentines Sluts

‘February has just came around and so has my birthday. However, I keep seeming to find myself going into a Valentines craze. Almost as bad as high school. I stared at Master Kreese for a while during break today (thank God we got one). He was wearing his signature black gi with yellow accents, his arms string with veins of hard labor drawn into them. His hair was a bit scruffier and his eyes were a tired blue. God, how I could get lost in them. My eyes trailed down a bit though. Sorry...not sorry. I used an excuse that I rolled my ankle and needed to rest for a bit, but I only ended up watching him. How he helped the boys stretch and train. He worked so hard that his skin turn a light shade of red, sweat droplets sliding down his forehead to his cheekbones, jaw, down his neck, on his collar bones, and sadly, disappeared down his shirt. Oh what I would give to be that droplet of sweat. Almost as exciting as it would be if I could get him that riled up. Happy almost Valentines Day *winky face with heart eyes drawn on the side of page*’

Kreese lets out a low whistle, chuckling a bit. Suddenly, things were getting steamy. He’s a bit surprised by your diary; such a pristine, put together, grown woman, and here you are, displaying your thoughts like a horny teenager. 

Skipping through more dates, Kreese finds more and more sinful readings, something small turning much greater. However, there were undertones of regret, sadness, and...lack of self worth. Not only have the thoughts gotten increasingly dirtier, but they also grew more insecure and sad. And, as the dates grew closer to present day, it seemed that all confidence and harmless thinking were starting to take a toll. You were no longer happy with yourself, however, you kept writing all your fantasies as if they would make you feel any better.

Finally, Kreese nears the end of your diary. 

Today: Confusion

‘Again, I found myself staring at him. Again, I snuck away to write about him not even 10 feet away. And, again, I find myself no closer and so much farther away from the man I thought I was getting to know. I’m 25 now and still have the mental and physical strength of the lowly 14 year old that met him in high school. I’m starting to fear I will never get to tell him how I feel. Never get to live and explore. Never be enough for him. I almost got caught writing about him today and I couldn’t care less. If anything,  maybe it would be a gateway to romance? Those hot scenarios I’ve built up, gotten off to, and scribbled down in these old pagers. But, those are all just more scenarios and fantasies never lived. Maybe it’s time to move on.’

You go on to think of your past, future, and present, and how any of it was either worth or waste of time. He wants to keep reading - wants to delve deep into your wondrous mind.

He didn’t hear the shower stop, too caught up in the insecurity you call yourself.

“Sensei?” your light voice calls out, hair damp and pinned in a clip. Rugged jeans with rips, converse, and a white cropped tee with black sleeves adorning your delicate features. Your brows are furrowed, a mixture of confusion, loss, and fear flashing in your E/C orbs; rounded by the initial surprise and emotions that cross you in such an unexpected predicament. “W-What are you doing?”

For a moment, Kreese just sits, book still open with the presence of his thumb on the page he’s left off on. He’s silent, studying you as he recounts all that he’s read from your book and more. “Reading your diary,” he states plainly, obviously. Truthfully.

You crumble on the spot, wanting to dig a hole and die in it. “Where’d you find it? Wait - How’d you unlock it?” you all but screech, going straight for your bag. 

Kreese slings out of his chair and around his desk instantly, catching your wrist in the middle of the dojo. 

“What are you doing, Sensei? Can’t you see I’m already embarrassed enough? You’re just making it worse-”

“Is all of this true?” he asks, holding the book up, now closed. His thub no longer holding his place. ‘Shit,’ he thinks, shaking his head.

“It’s a diary, isn’t it?” you try to lighten the mood, scratching the back of your neck and nodding to the front cover plainly stating, ‘DIARY’.

“Yes, but everything inside?”

“Every page, every day, for the past 8 years.” You figure it’s time to come clean, no matter the consequences. This has gone on for long enough, and by the looks of it, he’s not too mad at you. Or happy, or sad. In fact, now that you look at it, he looks as if he feels nothing.

You take a step back, your hand limply being allowed out of its hold, and briskly walk for your bag. Just as you go to walk for the door this time, the same warm, calloused hand wraps itself around your much tinier wrist, yanking you back the other direction. “Sensei, please,” you beg, “Just let me go home! I’ll never bother you again, and you can forget all about this ordeal. It’s really not that big of a deal!”

Pulling you through to his office, he turns and locks the door with a key. To ensure your inability to get out, he takes the key and places it in his front jean pocket and sits down on his side of the desk. Motioning for you to follow his lead, you just stand there.

Almost annoyed, he states, “Well, I’m not going to tell you again,” pointing to the chair opposite him.

Eyes rounded, you stare blankly from his face to the chair and back again. ‘Is he serious?’

Sitting down, you watch in horror as Kreese opens the book back up again, finding a specific page in your novelty of recountments. “Ah, here it is,” he chuckles.

Reading the page out loud, he starts with the header:

“June 11th: Midnight Blues

‘I took some time alone today. It seems everyday is getting harder and harder. Not only am I trying to finish my senior year, but I’m trying to find my way - my path. Sitting on the hood of my car, somewhere tucked behind the Hollywood sign (my hiding spot), I looked up and watched the stars and tried to get my plans in order. 

Mom wants me to go to college in Charleston, SC with her, but Dad wants me to stay somewhere close and doesn’t care if I go to college or not. Mom’s got family down South, Dad has just me. Both are choices I don’t want to make; I don’t want to hurt either or’s feelings.

Then there’s Kreese. God how I love him. If I were to choose to leave or which parent, it would be a choice solely on where he will be or how he feels. But, then again, what does he feel? I mean, he would never look at a little girl like me. It’s disgusting, though I’m legal, and a big inconvenience. A little girl following a man who has seen all parts of the world with her tail wagging and eyes bugging out of her head at the sight of him. He’s grown, experienced, and independent. He would look for someone way older than me for sure. It’s only right, given they would share similar aspects to him. 

No one ever looks at me. And neither will he.’”

“Ring a bell?” he asks, finishing off the page.

“It was the end of senior year and there was a whole ton of shit going on. I don’t remember much, i-it was 4 years ago. All I remember was being diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression sometime afterwards. Though, if I can add to that, I’d had it for years, but neither mom nor dad wanted to get me examined since I was 14. It was a shitshow that summer.”

“Do you really think such heinous things of yourself?” he asks, brows furrowing as he stands, looping around the desk slowly as he assesses you.

“Yes. There’s always been that little voice in the back of my head...” you trail off, fingers interlocking and fiddling to try and ease said stress, eyes locking with his in a trance. 

“Where do you get that shit from?” he almost snarls, making you bow your head in shame. “Ah. Ah. I want to see those pretty eyes.”

“Why’s you read that page to me?”

“I wanted you to feel exactly as you felt then and try to sum up your thoughts and emotions. You see, I study you, and now, I’ve read you. Those feelings were never resolved...Why do you hate yourself so much, Babygirl?”

“I-I.” you stutter, trying to form some sort of answer. “I’ve never sought the validation I’ve needed.”

“And, why not?” he asks, arms splayed behind him and hands propping him up as he leans on his desk before you. Staring down at you.

“Because the only person I’ve ever needed validation from was you.” This time, you stand to meet his level, “I’ve never cared for what my parents thought because they only cared to one-up each other with me as their weapon. I never sought the validation of teachers because they only said what would get them more money in the end - once again, using me. I never sought validation from the girls or the guys at school because I’ve always been the odd one out. The only person I’ve ever sought validation from was you. You because you treated me as equal with the rest of the boys. You saw something in me that made me feel like I shined like a brand new corvette. So, you tell me: why have you always done that, knowing damn well I could’ve gone without it?” You got so close to him that you hadn’t realized the inches between you two, breath heavy with the long-held exasperation. 

“That,” he points at you, “That fire. You’ve always had it. You shined through everyone else and paved your own way without making any noise, or causing any destruction. You’re a strong, beautiful force that somehow has managed to fall over and over again, yet always got back up and never sought anyone’s help.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you’ve finally heard what you’ve always waited for. He’s watched you all along, guided you. He’s ensured your safety since he had met you - 14 years old, scared, weak, and hopeless. You thought you’d never get out of that shithole you were stuck in, but you had Kreese.

Sniffling you couldn’t help your actions, hand grasping his black T-shirt and pulling him in. Your other hand goes for his cheek, cupping it and pulling him down to your height. Slowly, you allow yourself the reprieve of almost a decade with this man, lips just hardly touching each other. You’re waiting - waiting for him to turn his back and pull away, but it doesn’t come. 

His huge hands grasp your waist to pull you in close, one hand leaving your hip to brace the back of your head, connecting his lips to yours. He pulls you as close as he can, your body getting up to straddle him on his desk, his arms crushing you chest to chest.

Your tears mix in to your kiss, the salty droplets of water mixing with the dancing of your tongues and you feel him squeeze. You grab at his shoulder, neck, chest, and soon grasp the hairs at the nape of his neck tenderly; starved for the attention and connection you’ve wished for ever since your teenage years.

He happily obliges, his own hand tangling in your hair at the base of your head and yanking it back - not hard, but strong enough to make you gasp at the excitement, sudden movement, and slight pain it had caused. His lips are on your neck now, suckling and licking at the coloumn of it, growling like a crazed animal about to eat its next meal.

You moan out, the action causing you to gasp again, eyes wide and mortified.

You can feel his cheshire grin on your neck, suckling a huge hickey into your collar bone with pride. Pulling back, he takes a good look at you, breathless, chest bouncing at the force of it, straddling his hips with your slimmer, toned ones - both from young age and practicing in the dojo. 

His hands move from you head and back down to lay on your hips, “Tell me how you want me to take you. Or should I look at one of your excerpts? Hm?” he teases, hazely green eyes turning to dark, mossy embers.

“I’m sure you’ve read enough,” you tease back, breathing out with defeat and humor.

“I can think of something,” he assures.

Standing up, his hands supporting your weight by your thighs, he loops around the desk, placing you to sit on it. Slowly, he traces your thighs, then your hips, waist, outline of your breasts, collar bone to your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your eyes are glued to him, his arm slipping from your hand back up to the sleeves of your T-shirt, tugging at them, signaling for you to lift your arms.

He pulls your shirt off slowly, tantalizingly, taunting you as it is lifted over your head and thrown to the floor. He sucks in a breath, the sight of you leaving him silent. No words were spoken, but his lips were on your once more, forcefully taking you in like it’s his last time. ‘Impossible.’

Unbuttoning your jeans, he helps you off the desk to shimmy out of them, pulling you close to him once they’re thrown somewhere, too. He kisses in between your thighs, one for each, going to trace up your stomach. You stop him. 

Looking at him with uncertainty, you’re hit with embarrassment and uncertainty.

“What’s wrong, Sweetheart?”

“It’s not you... I-It’s me.”

Deeply, he searches your eyes, already knowing the answer but searching for the confirmation. Sighing, he places a knuckle under your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, you’re gorgeous, Baby Girl.”

You still look at him hesitantly, which causes him to sigh again.

“Let me show you what I see,” he smirks, a softness in his eyes that tells you there’s nothing to be scared of. Just as he had throughout your highschool years: the drama, bullying, home life, and all.

You nod, hands grasping both sides of his face and pulling him in, kissing him sweetly. He whimpers a little bit, hoping you wouldn’t catch it, but you did. It ignites a fire deep within your gut.

He teases you, a finger sliding your underwear over to the side, fingers playing with your clit. You suck in a deep breath, back arching as you support your weight behind you, on your hands. His hands lays on your sternum, pushing you down further until your resting on your elbows.

Refusing to be pulled down, you sit back up, allowing him to play with you while you attempt to lift his shirt above his head, shakily. He watches you with amused eyes, liking the struggle your body portrays under the heat of his pleasure. He allows you to fumble around a bit more before he helps you out, lifting the bottom of his shirt and taking it off over his head. Hands going back to what they were doing prior.

Your eyes are glued to him, drinking him in as the fire burns brighter and hotter within your core. Greedily, you go for his belt, able to take it off with want and newfound strength as you grow more impatient.

You can hear him chuckle under his breath, pressing you back down by the sternum again, helping finish your goal. He removes the belt with one hand, pulling you off the desk and forcing you to face it. Taking the belt, he ties it around your wrists, tucking it into a drawer like a leash, too thick and sturdy to be able to pull it back out. 

Whining, you look at him over your shoulder, begging him with your eyes.

“You’ve been a bad girl. Good girls don't get tied if they do as they’re told. You keep moving without permission, so I had to limit you. Now. If you use your words, you’ll get what you want.”

You moan in frustration, head spinning back to lay against the desk, arching your back and attempting to wiggle your ass against his crotch. But, to your disapproval, he takes a step back, watching you squirm.

You groan again, giving in, “Please, just fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Pulling your panties down to your ankles, Kreese teases and taunts you with a finger, sliding it through your folds and occasionally at your entrance, but as quickly as the finger is there, it’s off and somewhere else less needy. 

“Goddammit! Fuck me, please!!” you grit out, growing antzy and frustrated with your head laid against the hardwood. If you weren’t tied down to the fucking desk, you’d take matters into your own hands by now.

He yanks your hair by the back of your head, pulling you up, the back of your head against his shoulder. His mouth nips your earlobe, whispering, “I’d watch your tone if you want me to give you what you want.”

“Yes, Master,” you grit out, smiling as you feel his whole body grow still.

Letting go of your hair instantly, his pushes your head down into the desk, taking his member in one hand as the other makes sure you are fully prepared. Without warning, he plunges in about halfway, giving you time to adjust, although surprised by the intrusion. 

You groan loudly, your voice echoing off the desk with force. You can feel him shake with pleasure within you, a loud, breathy moan releasing from his lips. Nodding your head weakly, he starts to set a pace within you, making sure he’s arched enough to tease your G-spot. 

You moan again, hands clutching the vice he’s got you trapped in. “Say it again,” he yells, starting to thrust deeper, the pleasure building.

He’s starting to go off the edge quickly, but you can’t let him. Not yet. “Untie me first,” you order plainly, refusing to give him what he wants just yet. “It’s my turn.”

He shuckles with a little annoyance, but otherwise pulls out, slightly shoving you out of the way so he can quickly untie the belt. Because of the force he’d given you at a simple command, you decide to give him just as much of a hard time. 

Once untied, you turn to face him, a sultry smile on your face, a devilish look in your eye. Using the same force he had applied, you shove him into his desk chair, forcing him to sit when the chair hits the back of his knees. Slowly, you go to straddle his hips, your raises above him, teasing him. 

“Masters aren’t supposed to be so mean if they are promised to get what they want, are they?”

“N-No,” he stutters, the change in demeanor so delicious to soak in. You have him wrapped around your little finger.

“’No’, what?”

“No, Ma’am.”

“Good enough,” you giggle, grinding down into him, bottoming out inside of you.

He whimpers out again, the sound music to your ears. Slowly you set a pace, his hands coming down to grasp your hips and help you grind in perfect tandem. Together, you bounce, while he charges up to meet you, slowly grinding you forward and backwards a bit, too. The motion makes you gasp, the perfect mixture of friction and being full of him. You moan out, your hands laying on top of his tightly as you feel the edge creeping slowly.

“Call me again,” he groans out, head leaning back onto the headrest of the chair. 

“Look me in the eyes.”

Doing as you asked, he looks at you fully, a bit of heat rising to the surface and making him a tint of red from the chest up. A sheen of sweat covers the both of you, making you both shine in the dim lighting of the room. “Master.”

His head throws back into the shair again, his thrusts intensifying in speed and force. You whine out, grabbing his biceps now, nails digging. “Master, make me finish. Please.”

His hands dig into your hips, forcing your body down as he charges faster, the chair squeaking. Your moans get louder and louder, more frequent with the force applies. “I-I’m gonna cum,” you warn, too close to wait for permission.

Just as you feel the tight knot snap, you’re filled with his warm seed, one hand moving from your hip to yank your hair again, his lips capturing the colum of your neck as he bites down, a deep growl releasing as he fills your with his potential kids.

You ride your high until there’s nothing left, jumping at the overstimulation or any contact at all. Finally releasing his hold, his hands lay on your thighs as yours rest on his shoulders, catching your breath. 

You giggle, opening your eyes after a moment to look at him. You kiss his lips sweetly, a grin on his face as well as he admires you. “I love you, Kreese. Always have.”

He chuckles as he tucks your head in the crook of his neck, hands rubbing your back, fingers playing with the clasp of your bra. “I love you, too, Y/L/N.”

“Y/N.”

“John.”

“John,” you mimic.

“Y/N,” he copies, chuckling as he plays with your hair.

“’February 14th: Valentines Day’,” Kreese recounts the page he had engraved in his head. That was one of your dirtiest of fantasies.

You gasp, swatting his shoulder as your cheeks burn with the reminder, “You Devil!”

May 28th: When Two Hearts Intertwined.

[camillesblogsposts]

How you and Ellie got together (officially)

Ellie had been attempting to make things official with you for several months. Your arrangement went as such; you’d be wowed by her, courted, and you’d give in and sleep with her. She’d ask you to be hers and you’d panic and leave. Then, you’d find yourself swiftly falling for her all over again. You were terrified. Ellie was so strong, in all aspects. She was an incredible fighter, she was brilliant at her job in patrols. She was so capable, even when experiencing the most emotionally taxing of situations she remained calm and steady. She always took initiative and made decisions. Ellie struggled with her mental health but she managed to keep it completely separate from her responsibilities. This terrified you- you were anxious and clumsy, you were weak. You slowed down your patrol partners. Whenever you were with Ellie it was obvious that she had to work overtime to protect you, literally watching you like a hawk. You were a notorious cry baby, finding yourself blubbering in public on a semi frequent basis. You couldn’t keep your emotions private, you were sensitive. You were fragile. Logically, Ellie knew this already. In fact it attracted her. She wanted you to be hers desperately. But to you, you felt like the moment it became official she would realise what a mistake she had made. And she would leave, and you’d never get the attention she gave you again. And you were desperate for her attention.

Two months into this cycle, Ellie was starting to crack under the pressure of needing you. She was obsessed with you. She had been for as long as she had known you (which had been three years at this point) but having glimpses of what it would be like to really have you as hers worsened her obsession terribly. You were all she thought about. She operated on the basis of existing close to you. When she worked, she thought of how she was protecting you. She cleaned her house knowing it would be a more pleasant environment for you the next time she managed to swoon you over. She kept her hygiene well kept, despite her struggles, because she just needed you to want her. She worked harder on her body, wanting to be stronger and more capable for you. She made sure she was eating well. She was caring for herself for the first time in her life.

She came to your bedroom door; you shared a small home with your friend, Cat. Ellie’s ex. Surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward. Ellie and Cat had remained friends, their separation was just because they realised that they preferred it that way. It was never a drama. Cat had gave Ellie her tattoo, and that made you somewhat jealous. It was permanent. A permanent reminder of a relationship that had been. But it was a lovely tattoo, it complimented the muscular structure of her arm well, so you couldn’t really complain considering you often caught yourself drooling at the sight. Ellie knocked at your bedroom door. It startled you, as you leant over your desk writing in your diary. You were writing about Ellie, you were considering biting the bullet and telling her how you feel. Communication is what you need to solve this Dina had said. So you would. Even if you knew it would end in you shaking, knees buckling, crying and blubbering and struggling for breath.

“Who is it?” You tried to make it sound like you hadn’t been on the verge of tears from anxiety. “Ellie, can I come in?” Your breath hitched. You stood and walked to the door, opening it for her. She stood taller than you, her hair partially tied back. She was wearing her blue button up. You found yourself absent of the ability to speak. “Have you been crying?” She asked, suddenly concerned. “No, I’m just a bit anxious.” She stepped into your room and closed the door behind her gently. “Will you please listen to me?” She asked, her voice stifled slightly. She sounded pained. You nodded.

“Y/N, I don’t want to keep doing this, going back n forth, y’know?”

“Neither do I, Ellie.” You sounded the most assertive you ever had, but it mostly came off as confrontational.

“I-okay, so, is this it, then?”

You were confused. You hadn’t realised that ending your situation-ship was really even in the equation. You needed each other. You both knew it.

“What? No, I don’t want to not have you.” You panicked, walking towards her. She grimaced and turned her face away from yours, “Y/N, you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Doing what to you?”

“Doing what? Making me think you want me and then, then fucking leaving like I mean nothing to you.”

“Ellie you mean everything to me.”

“Why can’t you just fucking be with me then?”

You faltered back. Your throat was constricted. “Ellie,”

“No, no more avoiding it just tell me what about me is wrong. What don’t you want.”

You started to cry hearing that, you tried desperately to hold it back, covering your face with your hands. “It’s not about you.” Your voice cracked. There was a pause, and then her hand fell on your shoulder hesitantly. “Then tell me what it’s about, please.”

You sat down together on your bed, her arms cradling you into her side. “I’m scared.” She strokes you. “Scared of what?” She asks. “Scared you won’t like me anymore, I’m not like you Ellie, I’m weak, I’m not like you or Dina or Cat.” You had cried all of your tears out seemingly, sat now stiff and hiccuping.

Ellie got up, and kneeled in front of you on the floor. She held your hands tightly in your lap and kissed them. “Y/N, you’re not weak, you’re strong in different ways than me. I couldn’t make all the shit you do, all the soaps and herbal stuff, you help out so much here. N’ even if you were weak, like weaker than Jesse even, I’d still be completely in love with you.” She managed to make you laugh, and she felt a momentary pride. Your face and chest were buzzing.

“Ells, I’m in love with you, I think I always have been.” She smiled and stood again, leaning down to hold your face in her hands. “You’re my girl now, yeah?” She teased. “Forever.” She kissed you, gently. Then again, a little more rough.

[lacasadeasterionpdf]

ok so i think im officially turning this into the complaining abt my ex diary because i can't talk about it literally anywhere else FUCK i got invited to two halloween parties one she was going to one she wasn't and i was like hey i dont feel like going to party 1 anymore i think id have more fun in party 2 and she was like um i miss you can i come AND the thing here is her Monogamous Girlfriend lets her see me but only in public and in events and such so im like yeahhh sure we meet up we go to the party we get touchier and touchier but she cant kiss me on the lips (shes kissed me once since we broke up and said it was the last one) and by the end shes like heyyy can i go sleep at your house (she lives pretty far away) and im like um i think you cant? and shes like well dont tell anyone so we Go To My House we talk on the way a whole lot abt the breakup im drunk shes on shrooms we're insane we get to my bed we cuddle but in a sort of friendly way ? like not the way we would when we were together we get three hours of sleep because i had to go do a school thing and in the morning, under the effects of Nothing but sleep deprivation, she starts kissing me all over my face, actively puts her finger over my lips to avoid kissing me on the mouth, starts scratching my back AND. MY FUCKING GOD. simulates riding me. w clothes on ?? for like 15 minutes ?? and at this point ive completely lost my mind im sort of petrified also turned on but very insane and im like are u gonna make me responsible for this and shes like noooo :3 and i do believe her but god in what way is that not cheating on her partner just because we didn't kiss this woman was like moaning in my arms i put my hands on the middle of her chest at one point and she moved them to her tits i think she should murder me and itd be better for me. and we havent kissed. and this is exactly what she did in july. and i cant tell anyone she even slept at my place not my partner not my best friend not anyone because shes insane and cant commit to the choices she made and im going to live with the guilt forever and this is obviously going to happen a couple times more until it explodes one way or another. arrrgrgghhh

[adamwarlock]

you don't post about adam enough even thick your account is bard on adam, im not complaining, but i love the comics' adam and want to see him more, so, tell me every appearance adam has had in comics, both main 616 and alternate universes!

Anon calling me a fake fan damn 😔 gonna have to resign as president of the Adam fanclub (jk I would never do that)

To be completely honest I really want to get back to more regularly scheduled Adam Warlock posting but my brain has been cockblocking me for months now so I've been struggling with all my hobbies 💀 not for a lack of trying (you should see my drafts) just the unmedicated adhd and depression or whatever tf is wrong with me lol 😭 I also want to see Adam!!! I will try to be more active I just can't promise anything, this is ultimately my public diary masquerading as a Adam Warlock blog so really I post whatever/whenever I feel like.

Now I could list every single Adam appearance ever but do you actually want that LOL I have reading orders right over here (mine is a bit out of date admittedly but @616phyla's Adam/Thanos spreadsheet is very good and thorough :3)

Instead I'll give you my favorite weird alternate version of Adam or "Thanos" from Captain Marvel vol4 (1999) #11

I love poetry ✨🩸🗡️💀 okay drama queen.

[pumpumdemsugah]

One of the most pathetic things to me is seeing BW talk down to other BW using slurs and insults and historically inaccurate ‘facts’ to defend white queer trans types. Makes me feel so embarrassed like how can you have such little self respect. Not on there anymore but the amount of times I’ve seen BW pile up other BW on twitter talking about ‘you’re hardly a woman urself wench’ etc to make sure Sock & co. know that they’re good allies is wild. Whiteness and misogyny has done a number of some people for sure.

It's mental fucking behaviour. Its desperate craven and ahistorical

We weren't seen as women the same way you don't call a cow a woman because that's not a person and because that's not a person it's property and because it's property is enslaving them really so bad ? The cows don't complain?

Using white supremacist framing against a Black woman for solidarity lol I hope they learn shame and get well. Misogynistic Black patriarchal men often speak to Black women the exact same way. They remind us how slave masters see us ( be it true or not ) and want us to internalise that as what we are.

People are going out of their way to avoid the fact the reason medical practitioners think Black people feel less pain, Black children have to wait longer for pain medication, Black boys young as 12 get described as big men and society characterises Black women as tough, so tough we have horrible maternal death outcomes in the UK and US because they think hink we're lying because we're tough is because of the legacy of slavery.

You don't mass enslave, rape and work people to death and then describe them complex people who can be hurt, you describe them as unfeeling animals and it stuck

Straight from the crackers mouths

He literally just didn't think the Black women he owned as slaves didn't feel pain even though they need to be restrained when he'd hack them open. They don't feel pain though but pin her down. Stereotypes aren't about reality but the way people on social media seem to need us to view ourselves as 3rd gender because we're Black and distance slavery from why people think of us the way they do...Black women don't benefit and whites get to pretend they aren't beneficiaries of this framing. Now it's a moral imperative to think this

Slaves masters tell you why they treated enslaved Black people that way. They had diaries. They thought we were animals and we couldn't feel pain. Being stereotyped as a wild beast doesn't lend itself to be seen as feminine. That's where it comes from . Why are so many people intent on gendering this in such a racist inappropriate way ? Because the same thing happened to Black men but no one is making the same claims about them, they recognise doing so is racist but not for us

Why are we decentring white supremacy and slavery, often for the approval of white people?

This is why when people say you can't solve how Black women are treated with solving transphobia i roll my eyes. You can talk about how you can gender peoples bodies to excuse abuse and certain ideas so it's important we don't do this, but we can solve transphobia and Black women will be seen exactly the same way because it stems from slavery and anti-Black racism.

Slave masters left diaries detailing what they thought about the negro and it's about dehumanisation in a very literal way. They were measuring skulls to prove we're just like monkeys. We were compared to animals. They didn't think we were the same fucking species as them. No one brings this up anymore because umm solidarity. It's not even enough that you simply don't agree as someone with left leaning politics, they need to humiliate you in a public racist way because of it

Sorry I think you're a massive coon if you do this and need to relearn self-respect. You can draw connections without doing all this but I'm not lying about a single historical fact because it makes for a good viral moment

[phagodyke]

I need to make a different blog where I can vent abt specific situations involving ppl who could feasibly access this one if they wanted lol

[rabbitenn]

Hello!

May I request Yuki and TRIGGER with an s/o who makes a long, passionate speech about how much they love the boys in public?

TO MY DEAREST.

Because the world needs to know your love for him.

ft. Yuki, Yaotome Gaku, Kujo Tenn, Tsunashi Ryunosuke x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, mild spoilers for part 5 of the story, slight mentions of alcohol.

Thank you for your request, nonnie, dear ! I’m very sorry this took so long, I hope you still like it <3

♡ YUKI

— Well, a public speech is definitely one way to fluster him.

— Really, despite his cool exterior and at times intimidating presence towards his juniors, Yuki is easily fazed by your acts of affection.

— So you expressing how much he means to you in front of the whole television station was not something he expected to happen on his daily life.

— Moreover, given the situation going on with rumors being spread around him, courtesy of Tsukumo.

— “What do you mean you feel like you cannot trust him?” You were asking one of the staff, a rather angry expression on your face at the other’s hesitation.

— Boiling anger shines white-hot in you at such a statement, your heart rate accelerating in utter fury at people believing baseless rumors.

— And you know, you know that Yuki would tell you he’s the one who has to deny any of those, but perhaps this time (or always) your love for him overpowers your reason.

— “Yuki is a very kind person, you know? If you bothered to get to know him for who he truly is and not just believe that gossip you’d know for yourself! In all the years we’ve been together, he’s always been there for me. He’s attentive to details and surprises me when I least expect it with the sweetest gestures. I know him, I know him well. He does everything for me, from cooking my favorite dishes when he knows I’ve had a long day to running me warm baths with my favorite bath salts. I love him more than anything. And I always will. So you better inform yourself before saying anything bad about him!”

— With that, you turn tail, pace brisk as you leave the interviewer speechless and defeated, not conceding any room for argument.

— And with the adrenaline pulsating through you, you haven’t realized how the whole room has gone quiet.

— Nor are you thinking right now about the fact your boyfriend totally heard everything.

— As you make your way back to the green room, he intercepts you.

— Hand catching your wrist, he tugs you along, until he closes the door behind you.

— You stare at your lover, eyes widened, fixated on his icy stare.

— “[Y/n], close your eyes.” Yuki asks, face partially obscured by long silvery locks.

— “Why?”

— “Because I’m going to kiss you right now.” Are his words before leaning in.

— You were too good to be true. And if his shyness won’t let him express it with words, then he’ll show you this way.

— Not that you are complaining, though.

♡ YAOTOME GAKU

— He’s a simp.

— Like, seriously. Gaku is so in love with you and is ready to propose and do anything for you.

— So you giving a speech in public about how much you love him? Say no more. He’s whipped.

— Probably (definitely) you weren’t completely sober.

— See, it was the new year’s party at Yaotome Productions and you had a little bit (too much) champagne.

— And so, the sparkly liquid opened the secret diary of your heart, true feelings spilling over in words of praise for your boyfriend.

— “Gaku…” You mutter, holding onto his arm, nuzzling your head on his shoulder. “Have I told you I love you today?”

— Steely eyes look at you, expression soft. Your words are a little slurred, eyes half lidded as you look up at him in wonder.

— “I know you do.” He assures, with a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “And I love you too, my darling.”

— “But I don’t tell you enough…” You pout. “Everyone should know I love you!” You conclude, walking towards a table in the center of the venue.

— “Everyone, please could you pay attention to me for a second?” You ask, waving your arms.

— “Tonight a new year ends. And with it, new memories have been stored into our hearts, no?” You smile.

— “So, before the clock strikes twelve, I would like to dedicate a few words to someone.”

— To all of this, Gaku stands there, his expression equal parts flustered and smitten with you.

— “I want to thank my boyfriend for all the moments we’ve lived together. I love him more than anything, he’s such a gentleman to me… He’s the most caring person ever, and any who have met him would agree with me that they are so, so, lucky to have come across such a chance.”

— “So, even if I will not reveal his name, and I’ll ask all of you who know here to keep it secret, I love you, my dearest. I hope you know how much.”

— A clamor of cheers and clapping engulfs the scene, as Gaku waits for you towards the back of the room.

— Ryuu shoots him an encouraging smile, while Tenn gives him a knowing smirk.

— TRIGGER’s leader is determined to take you to the most beautiful spot to see the new year’s fireworks now.

— And, of course, with no one around. For the question he has planned to ask is reserved for your ears only.

♡ KUJO TENN

— Tenn is shy about it, but hides it with a pout and averted eyes.

— He certainly did not expect to get back to Ryu’s apartment with you rambling on about how happy TRIGGER’s center makes you.

— Don’t get him wrong. Tenn finds it adorable, and were you to be in private, he’d charm and tease you.

— It’s just that you expressing your love for him in front of his friends and manager…

— It really does make his cheeks dye in rosy hues and his heart skip more than one beat.

— See, if this was in public, he’d run to silence you.

— He’s an idol and he has fans he cannot disappoint. Plus, your relationship being exposed to the public like that would only ensue rumors around the media.

— But well, if it’s just only amongst his groupmates and Anesagi-san, your boyfriend will listen to what you have to say before revealing he’s home already.

— “Tenn is just so cute and precious, guys… I love him more than anything. He loves cats and they love him… We went to a cat cafe the other day and all the small kitties flocked around him and wanted to climb on his lap…” You ramble on.

— “Tenn’s giggles were the most adorable thing ever… And the way he cared for all the cats? It was the sweetest… He’s also so caring, you know? Even if he pretends to act cold and angry sometimes, he truly is so gentle.”

— “He loves his brother so much and he’s always so good to me, he’s super affectionate when we’re in private… And he really treasures you all, guys.”

— While you proceed with your loving speech, Gaku and Ryu are aawing, commenting on how cute their youngest member is, and how they’d like to see him acting all lovey dovey with you.

— Anesagi is fawning over you and Tenn, holding back tears as she fangirls over “young love”.

— To all this scene, Gaku comments on how he’d like to see Tenn’s flustered expression if he were to hear what you guys are talking about.

— “Oh? Is that so?” The latter asks, announcing his presence. He places a sweet kiss to your cheek, shooting a vicious glare in Gaku’s direction. “Is it because you got rejected twice in the span of five minutes?”

— “You…” TRIGGER’s leader snaps.

— “Hey, guys, don’t fight, please!” You and Ryu say in unison.

— Both light haired males sigh, averting their gaze from each other, Tenn’s cheeks not unlike his image color.

— Well, the angelic idol knows he’ll be giving you plenty of affection (and teasing you too) once you’re alone later.

♡ TSUNASHI RYUNOSUKE

— He blushes, but he’s also very happy and admires your assertiveness.

— Ryu’s a little worried about you, though.

— These are trying times for him and the rest of TRIGGER, with all the false accusations and gossip circulating around…

— For you to get involved too… your lover doesn’t want the media making up hoaxes about your private life because of him.

— And yet, despite everything, you seem hell bent on not keeping quiet in the slightest about the truth of the matter, and about how much he means to you.

— Camera flashes follow you two, paparazzi popping up in the most unlikely places, surely with nothing good in mind.

— You’re using a disguise, but well, even that way, it’s not like your partner is exactly inconspicuous.

— So, of course, you are surrounded.

— You’ve had it with them.

— So when they next ask you if you trust Ryu and whether or not you’re afraid he’ll play you, you don’t conceal the emotions burning on your face.

— “Listen here, you mindless pricks!” You grumble, taking one of the journalist’s mics.

— “Ryunosuke is just about the sweetest guy you can meet, alright? He is the kindest and most gentle, he would never betray his friends and even less so a lover, just so that you know!” You claim, determination burning in your stare.

— “Yes, go ahead and make this the next headline, who gives a damn anymore about the fake news you spread maliciously? He’s dear to many people. He loves his family more than anything. He always has a kind word for those close to him, and sweet, true smiles for his fans.”

— “And most of all, Ryu is very dear to me. All this time, all the gossip you’ve been spreading? It’s all fake constructed evidence. So pack your notebooks and go back to college. I think your degree doesn’t have much use if you can’t see something so obvious.”

— With that, you grab your boyfriend’s hand and leave the scene, a speechless crowd in your wake.

— Amber eyes look at you fondly, but a shadow of concern still lingers at the fact you got involved in all this drama.

— “[Y/n], you didn’t-“

— “I didn’t have to?” You beat him to it. “I know. I wanted to, Ryu.” Your hands cup his tan cheeks. “And I’d do it again, because I love you so much.”

— His lids flutter closed, a sigh escaping him.

— There was no helping it once you were set onto something.

— “You are too precious.” Are the words he whispers, as his strong arms wrap around you.

— “No, you!” You chuckle, with a sweet kiss to his jawline.

[strobelightstrobelast]

Part 1; MK Music HCs These have been haunting me for a while so enjoy!

Note: All these characters listed are MK11 versions, although I might make another one of these for MK1 later. Characters included are Johnny, Sonya, Jax, Liu Kang, Kung Lao, Raiden, and Kenshi. I will be posting other parts, this one was just getting reeeally long.

Johnny

He listens to a mix of 2010’s pop music and sad dad rock. You’ll hear him go from California Girls(Katy Perry) to Headstrong(TRAPT) to The Diary Of Jane(Breaking Benjamin) right back to Party In The USA(Miley Cyrus) and he will have no visible whiplash whatsoever. 

I think he’ll listen to whatever’s on as long as it sounds good, but he generally sticks to the aforementioned genres.

Sonya

She’s a Dolly Parton fan at heart, but she thinks it’s embarrassing and would rather be shot point blank than have anyone else find out. She doesn’t strike me as someone who would listen to much music in public, unless she needed to ignore outside noise to focus- in which case she would blare Breakcore music.

Jax

I don’t think he listens to music too much, but I can see him listening to club music to try and hype himself up. I think he would also enjoy a bit of classic rock(think Nirvana or Oasis), but probably wouldn’t seek it out other than changing the radio station. He seems like the guy who would rather let the radio play whatever for background noise than actually create a whole playlist.

Not technically music but it still kinda counts, I think he would listen to those ASMR videos where they pretend to do your hair or makeup- He has no urge to get his hair or makeup done but he finds them relaxing when he’s struggling to sleep.

Kenshi

He doesn’t like listening to music much, it distracts his senses and somewhat disorients him. The only time he really listens to music is when someone else is listening to it nearby. He won’t really complain, but he doesn’t care too much about it. He really dislikes heavy metal, above any other genre, although it's only because they tend to mess with his senses in a way he isn't comfortable with.

Liu Kang

He won't complain about any music that’s playing, but he only really listens to music on his own when he needs to focus. He’s partial to Vivaldi when it comes to classical music, but isn’t really picky when it comes to what he’s listening to as long as it aids him in focus.

Out of all the music that’s been played for him, he’s more drawn to music that has a sort of ‘hopeful in the face of hopelessness’ feeling to it. Songs similar to Let Go(Frou Frou) would probably be the type of music he prefers. He has a personal hatred against math rock, but he refuses to share it with anyone because he has no reason to dislike it other than thinking the time signatures are stupid.

Kung Lao

He also won’t openly complain about whatever music is playing, but he tends to gravitate towards a strange mix of sappy love songs and deceitfully cheerful suicidal songs. This Charming Man(The Smiths) and Vampire Empire(Big Thief) are definitely on his playlist, but I think he would also listen to Red Hot Chilli Peppers and Third Eye Blind, maybe even some Hollywood Undead if he was in a certain mood.

I don’t see him liking classical music too much, but he thinks the 1812 Overture is cool because of the canons. Tchaikovsky is the only classical music composer he respects.

Raiden

He pretends to not like modern music, staring off into the distance disapprovingly whenever Johnny tries to show him some of his music. I think he secretly likes 90s club music, but refuses to admit this to anyone. Unlike Sonya, he doesn’t even indulge in this he just balls it up inside because he thinks it’s ‘unbefitting’ of a god.