#Listen his ex was referred to with THEY/THEM PRONOUNS

[darlingcloudie-9]

HAPPY PRIDE MOTNH GUYS!!! SHOUT OUT TO THE GAYS THE GIRLS AND THE THEYS !! ‼️‼️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

(also because I’m bi here’s these sonic mfs i hc as bi/other lol)

[ponett]

there have definitely been a lot of nerd boys who missed that you aren't supposed to want to be like scott pilgrim, but i don't really see where the claim that there are specifically droves of incels who see scott as a role model came from

if anything, i see a lot of hatred for the series - and particularly the movie - from incels. their prevailing meme is "scott pilgrim vs. the world ruined an entire generation of women." they HAAAAAAAATE ramona. of course they do. she literally has blue hair and pronouns. many of them have convinced themselves that all the left wing women they hate who dye their hair and listen to indie music have literally modeled their entire lives after ramona. they believe that this apparent mass brainwashing of millennial and gen z women by ramona flowers is why they can't find a date

i would explain more but some loser literally wrote a whole fucking "incelcore" song about this

they also seem to hate scott, particularly as portrayed by michael cera in the movie. they think he's a lame, scrawny nerd who's constantly emasculated next to ramona's bigger, stronger, more conventionally handsome exes. they do not want to be like scott. they think he's a soyboy. they think he's gay. they think that in real life ramona would choose a "chad" like lucas or todd over scott, because that's their understanding of how relationships work

i would say more but some of the comments i've seen are truly heinous so i'll spare y'all

really i think folks have just forgotten that "incel" describes a type of guy with a very specific, very extreme, very hateful ideology. it is not interchangeable with your typical "tfw no gf" type nerd guy who just really liked all the video game references and writes in his tinder bio that he's looking for his ramona

[kamaluhkhan]

ours are the moments i play in the dark

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: ANGST (im so sorry in advance...); flashback is from conrad's POV and the rest is from reader's perspective; mentions of sex + losing virginities (nothing too detailed/graphic); reader has an ex who's referred to with gender neutral pronouns; reader and other characters drink alcohol (pomegranate margaritas ;) ); hints of alcoholism (reader's mother); jealous reader who's trying her best; pining conrad who's a bit of a jerk; reader and conrad fight A Lot (they will make up eventually i promise!!)

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije, @drikawinchester, @maybankslover, @junnniiieee07, @elcpsstuff, @fangirl-kimora, @redbierd, @starkeylover

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on my conrad series so far! i love these characters and writing their stories, and it means so much that others are enjoying reading my work. there is one more part left and i promise it will be happier so stay tuned :)) i haven't watched the last two episodes of season 2, but i'm planning on writing a bit for that, too!! thank you x infinity ♡

part one | part two

i lost a friend / like keys in a sofa / like a wallet in the backseat / like ice in the summer heat (finneas, "i lost a friend")

now — summer, age 18

“you know, you guys aren’t fooling anyone.”

“and what exactly do you mean by that, steven?” you challenge, taking another sip of your soda. 

it’s the fourth of july and susannah invited you over for her annual celebration. susannah always hosted fun parties, so you were more than happy to accept because it meant eating some good food, listening to an upbeat playlist, watching some fireworks, and just relaxing. essentially, susannah always delivered the best of summer, rolled into a carefully planned event. 

the sun was shining, and everyone was having a good time, including you — at least, until you saw conrad and nicole in the pool, engaging in some serious PDA. you immediately got out of the pool and went to sulk near the drink table, where you were happily alone until steven came over to join you.

“i’m just saying, man. you and con are definitely going out of your way to prove that you’re mad at each other,” steven explains. “but we all know how much you care about each other.”

steven is right about the first part: you and conrad had done your best to avoid each other since the incident at nicole’s party and its fallout. if you and jeremiah had planned to go surfing and he invited conrad, you would always back out at the last minute. if you were over at the fishers helping belly pick out an outfit for a date with cam, conrad would conveniently stay in his room. not to mention, any time the two of you did cross paths — which was rare, but jeremiah and belly were persistent in requesting that all five of you spend time together, like the old days, they would say — it resulted in meaningless, petty arguments. the two of you had always been competitive and very comfortable teasing each other, but the difference was that now, your interactions were no longer good-natured.

you thought steven, belly, and jeremiah hadn’t noticed, but you should have given them more credit. to anyone who knew you, it was pretty obvious that something was up between you and conrad, even if they didn’t know what exactly it was.

“there’s a thin line between love and hate. and right now you guys are that line.”

“thank you for your insight,” you say sarcastically. “be sure to include that in your college essay — i’m sure princeton would love to have you.”

steven rolls his eyes at you, just as nicole arrives at the drink table.

“hey guys,” she greets. she reaches over to grab two cans of peach iced tea before you stop her. 

“conrad’s allergic to peaches,” you say. “so you might wanna get him something else.”

nicole looks at you for a second before nodding and reaching for a can of sprite instead. 

“thanks,” she says as she walks away. 

once she’s gone, steven gives you a pointed look.

“what?” you scoff. 

steven just shakes his head. “love and hate,” he muses, leaving you to join his parents and shayla near the pool. 

you then decide to go inside briefly, where you find belly and jeremiah, pouring vodka into a blender.

“we’re making pomegranate margaritas!” belly exclaims, practically giddy. 

“well, you gotta use the good blender for that.” conrad seems to appear out of nowhere from behind you, instantly reaching for the aforementioned good blender and placing it on the counter.

you were already in a sour mood from seeing him with nicole earlier, but belly looks at you with hopeful eyes, and you remember what steven said earlier, so you mentally promise that you would play nice with conrad. you owe belly and the others that much after being absent for so long: a carefree summer, just like the ones you used to know. 

you imagine that jeremiah sent conrad a similar pleading look because, miraculously, you and conrad don’t argue with each other as you help mix pomegranate margaritas for everyone. you actually engage in playful banter and laugh at the other’s jokes. you even feel sorry for him when his father, who wasn’t supposed to be here, walks in. you can feel the good mood slipping, so you suggest heading to the beach for a change of scenery.

belly had invited cam and a few more girls who are doing the debutante thing with her, and with steven bringing shayla and conrad bringing nicole (which, you are totally fine with, of course, especially after a pomegranate margarita), you had a pretty solid party forming on the beach, away from the adults. 

of all people, belly suggests some drinking games. it’s all a blur of sand, laughter, and vodka spiked fruit juice. once you were all the perfect amount of tired and tipsy, the group settles down, and gigi suggests a different game.

“we should play truth or dare.”

“oh my gosh we should!” belly smiles, tapping your leg enthusiastically. “remember? we used to play it all the time!”

you smile back. “of course i do.” 

when you were kids, you, belly, steven, jeremiah, and conrad would play truth or dare any chance you got. it was never very serious, mostly goofy pranks and harmless questions. you had all grown up since then, and somewhere along the way, truth or dare had become less innocent than it used to be.

“y/n,” one of the debs — dara, if you remembered correctly — turns to you. it was the first time your name had been called, and in all honesty, you were perfectly happy just sitting back in the sun and sipping the rest of your drink. “truth or dare?” 

you choose truth, mostly to avoid having to get up from your very comfortable seat on the sand.

“are you a virgin?”

your mouth suddenly feels dry. you’re not ashamed of your answer, but it doesn’t help that you can see conrad glaring at you from the corner of your eye. you take another sip of your drink before answering. 

“um, not really.” 

“it’s yes or no question,” nicole says. 

“then my answer’s no,” you declare.

“what?” belly screeches. she sits up straighter to turn towards you, and in the process spills some pomegranate margarita on her dress. “i can’t believe you had sex and didn’t tell me? when? with who? what was it like?” her cheeks are slightly flushed. a sober belly would have likely asked you in private, or at the very least, not in front of people you barely knew. in that moment, you almost regret the pomegranate margaritas.

almost. because maybe it’s the silence and everyone’s expectant stares, or the adrenaline you feel from winning most of the drinking games, or the effects of the drinks themselves, but you convince yourself that it’s as good a time as any to tell the story. a sober you would have known to tread more carefully given the context; that would have been about three pomegranate margaritas ago, though. 

“it’s kind of a cliche story, honestly,” you start. “it happened last summer. it was raining that night, so we were hanging out in the back of my teammate’s van, just talking, and one thing led to another….we didn’t plan to do anything, but we got caught in the heat of the moment.” you choose your words carefully, deliberately avoiding eye contact with conrad.

“how was it though?” belly asks, leaning in closer.

you shrug. “a little awkward, i guess? neither of us had sex before then, and we were both figuring stuff out. like, he couldn’t open the condom wrapper because he was so flustered, so i had to help him. it was nice, though,” you admit. “when the rain cleared, we went out to stargaze and fell asleep on the beach.”

belly sighs. “so romantic.”

“you’re right about it being cliche,” steven laughs. he has an arm thrown around shayla, and uses the other to gesture towards conrad. “conrad, man, that sounds almost exactly like your first time.”

you feel your entire body heat up, and it's not because of the sun shining down on you. conrad’s gaze finally meets yours — for a split second only, but it’s enough for steven to notice. 

“holy shit! it all makes sense now!” steven exclaims, suddenly standing up.

jeremiah frowns, looking between you, conrad, and steven. “what makes sense?”

“i’ve been trying to figure out why y/n and conrad have been so weird around each other this summer, but it’s obvious now: they lost their virginities to each other. they had sex!”

nicole stiffens and narrows her eyes at conrad. “you told me you never hooked up with y/n.”

“well, that’s definitely not true.”

“belly,” you warn, looking over to conrad once more. his cheeks are turning red, and you imagine a storm brewing beneath his dark blue eyes. 

“i don’t know about last summer,” belly continues, completely oblivious to the tension building. “but i do know that they kissed at your party.”

“i knew it,” nicole scoffs, pushing away from conrad. “i knew it.” with one last poisonous glare towards conrad, she storms off.

conrad sends you an equally poisonous look before chasing after her. the party dissolves shortly after.

feeling defeated, you lie back in the sand, close your eyes, and let the sun shine down on you once more, taking deep breaths to slow down your heart rate.

call it karma or a cruel twist of fate or just a really shitty coincidence, but you’re finally the one left alone on the beach.

then — summer, age 17

conrad was more than a little surprised to see your name appear on his phone. it wasn't like you were completely off the grid — you texted, though infrequently, and followed each other on socials. he scrolled through his instagram feed and saw the occasional picture of you wearing a costume at a halloween party or sipping hot chocolate on a snowy day. photos that never quite fit the image he had of you in his mind: in cutoff denim shorts and a swimsuit and layers of sunscreen, with sand in your hair and popsicle stains on your lips.

“hey,” he answered after only three rings. 

"hey fisher, any friday night plans?"

he told you he was working on his college essay.

“homework on a friday night in the middle of summer,” you tsked. “i never realized how much of a nerd you are.”

conrad laughed. “i mean, that’s on you for just realizing that.”

 “fair enough,” you hummed, and conrad could practically hear your smile through the phone. “if you’re in the mood for something more fun, look out your window.”

conrad wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but you standing in the driveway of his summer house was pretty low on the list. you waved at him frantically, telling him to hurry up and open his window.

he was still in awe as you climbed through. conrad tried to memorize the image of you then and there, standing in front of him in his bedroom: wearing dolphin shorts and a light jacket, with chipped turquoise nail polish and a bright smile.

"you drove all the way here?" 

"well, they haven't cracked the science behind teleportation yet," you say playfully. "so i didn't have many options."

"i can't believe you're here," conrad smiled, and that’s when you finally hugged him. he held on tightly, afraid you would leave at any moment if he let go. you smelled the same, like chlorine and vanilla sugar.

once you broke away from the hug, you pointed towards something behind him, pinned to his bulletin board. conrad followed your gaze and felt his cheeks heat up.

“i missed you, too, connie,” you teased, eyes lingering on the newspaper clipping of your swim team making it to nationals thanks to your record time. 

“mom showed it to me,” he explained, the smile on your face making his heart beat out of his chest. “she’s so proud of her little mermaid.”

your smile fell, just a bit, but enough for conrad to notice a shift in your mood. you always did a good job at hiding the weight of the world on your shoulders, at least around the others. not so much around him.

you sighed and sat down on his bed. “you know, after that swim meet, my dad lectured me about not being fast enough,” you explained. “winning by only a millisecond apparently wasn’t enough to impress college scouts, at least according to him.”

“your dad’s a jerk,” conrad said instantly. he sat down next to you. “and an idiot, if he can’t see how amazing you are.”

“thanks, connie,” you whispered. it looked like you were going to say more; instead, you picked up his laptop. “wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were working on your college essay. you really are a nerd.”

“shut up,” conrad laughed, nudging you with his shoulder and trying to grab the laptop from you.

you nudged him back. “it’s a compliment! schools go crazy for trust fund nerds.”

“yeah, yeah.” conrad waved you off. “so, you’re in cousins for the summer?”

all you did was smile softly and close the laptop, finally handing it back to him.

conrad’s heart burst with joy. because not only were you there — finally there, after all that time away — but you were staying. his mom would always muse about summers in cousins being magical, but conrad didn’t quite believe her until you were gone and he felt that magic fade away. 

“do you wanna go downstairs? belly’s watching it happened one night with my mom and laurel.”

“as much as i love susannah’s favourite movie,” you started, and conrad���s heart soared again at you remembering his mom’s favourite movie. “i thought maybe it could just be the two of us tonight? maybe we could go for a drive.”

that’s how the two of you ended up at mermaid grove — a secluded stretch of beach about an hour away from your houses. it was near the mall your mothers sometimes went to, and during one of those excursions when you were young, all the kids wandered off and found it. the only time you’d been there was during the day and with jeremiah, belly, steven, and your siblings, so it felt different then, at night with just the two of you.

it started raining on the drive over — which only took 45 minutes without traffic — so you were hanging out in the back of your van. the van actually belonged to one of your teammate’s cousin who was somewhat of a hippie, you said, which explained the smell of weed and bohemian decor — battery powered rainbow fairy lights, colourful pillows, an elaborately patterned tapestry. the space was definitely intimate, or maybe it felt that way because you and conrad were sitting as close as possible to each other, shoulders touching and one of your legs tangled with his. he was scrolling through the pictures on your phone of your last swim meet in california, where you'd gotten the chance to visit stanford, while you were peeling an orange. 

"you would love it there, connie,” you gushed. you dug your fingers into the orange peel, and the smell of citrus started to fill the air. “the beaches are beautiful and the waves are amazing. it’s like, always summer.” 

conrad sometimes felt like summer was the only season of the year that he was truly awake, truly living. everything else felt like a dream, one that he would always describe to you in mundane detail; conrad even kept a small journal throughout the year, writing things down that he needed to tell you once you reunited every june. but one journal had turned to two, almost three, and conrad was trying really hard to not resent you for that.

“anyways, i think i’m going to apply in the fall.”

conrad stopped scrolling through your phone, pausing at a picture you had taken of a lemon tree. “doesn’t your dad have princeton lined up?”

“you make it sound like he bought my way in, when it was actually hours and hours and hours of training to get that scholarship. on the national best swim team.” you mimicked your father’s patronising tone for that last part; conrad hadn’t seen him in years, and he could still recognize it. 

“you’re right, though. my dad would flip his shit. even if i got in with a scholarship, it’s so far away and i have the twins to look after, but a girl can dream, right?”

“i feel that,” conrad assured. you gave him a sad smile, knowing that his dad was as intense about football as yours was about swimming. the worst part was that you both loved your respective sports, until they became a burden. you both had other burdens to deal with, too, when it came to your families. 

“in an ideal world, the two of us wouldn’t have to worry about anything else. we’d live in a place by the beach, surf every day, and hang out in the sun while sipping ice-cold, fresh lemonade.” just like we used to, conrad added in his head.

“in an ideal world,” you agreed. “we’d also adopt four dogs, each named after one of the beatles. you can teach them how to play the guitar.”

conrad laughed. “if i couldn’t teach you, there is no way i can teach one dog, let alone four.”

“well, they wouldn’t get distracted by your dreamy blue eyes like i did.” you winked at conrad, and handed him the freshly peeled orange before he even had time to blush.

“take it,” he protested. “you drove all this way — you should eat something.”

you shook your head and placed the orange in his hand before you pulled out another fruit from your bag. “i picked some of these up on the way here — best peaches on the east coast.” you took a big bite. “remember the summer we found out that you had a mild peach allergy?” you asked, juice dripping down your chin. you wiped it with the sleeve of the varsity jacket you wore.

conrad laughed at the memory. belly and steven had brought back candy from their trip to toronto. conrad practically inhaled an entire bag of fuzzy peaches, and didn’t realize that they weren’t supposed to make your mouth itchy — the “fuzzy” part wasn’t literal. that felt like so long ago, but there you and conrad were, settling back into each other like no time had passed.

as the night grew darker, you and conrad shifted closer to each other. conrad ate orange slice after orange slice as you devoured your peach, all while looking through the photos on your phone. you’d occasionally interject with a short story or comment, and there were still raindrops falling on the roof, but for the most part, there was nothing but a comfortable silence between you. 

you moved to wrap the orange peel and peach pit in a napkin, just as conrad swiped onto a photo of someone kissing your cheek.

“who’s that?”

you leaned over to check. “oh. that’s sam.”

“are you dating?” conrad asked, trying to seem casual about it. just a friend asking another friend about their romantic situation. as a friend. 

“we were,” you explained, sitting back next to him. “they broke up with me a few months ago.”

conrad sighed in relief, which he hoped you didn’t notice. “sorry.”

you shrugged. “it’s fine. apparently i’m emotionally distant.”

that wasn’t much of a surprise to conrad. sam might have been an idiot for breaking up with you, but they were spot on with the emotionally distant part. out of all the time you’d known each other, conrad had only seen you cry once, maybe twice. you were usually the one wiping away tears and putting on a brave face, inadvertently, or maybe purposefully, hiding your own vulnerability. 

still, that wasn’t something conrad was about to stir up.

“what? you?” he joked instead.

“shut up,” you said, rolling your eyes, but the wry smile on your face gave you away. “how about you? broke any hearts this past year?”

conrad thought for a moment. there was aubrey, who his football teammate said had a major crush on him. they had been texting for a while now, and were on the edge of maybe becoming something. but then, there you were, stirring up feelings conrad had long buried — or, at least, tried to. if part of his head was always in summer, then part of his heart always belonged to you. 

“no.”

“got your heart broken?”

he thought back to a few weeks ago, when he ran into your mom at the grocery store, and she said you wouldn’t be coming to cousins again that summer. you hadn’t spoken at all to each other for a month or two before that.

“no,” he lied.

you hummed, and took your phone away from him. 

“wanna hear something trippy?” you asked suddenly. you always had a knack for changing the course of a conversation to where you wanted it to go.

“what?”

“well, since it takes a while for light from space to reach us, when we stargaze, we’re actually looking back in time. like, the star that’s closest to earth — other than the sun — is four light years away. or is it five?” you paused. “anyways, if the sky was clear and we could see that star, it would mean we’d actually be looking at that star from summer, five years ago.”

“very trippy,” conrad agreed. “it’s like a cosmic time machine.”

you hummed. “do you ever wonder what our past selves back then, at like 12 or 13, would think of us now? i think about those summers and how magical they felt.” 

magical. you turned to smile at him softly, and conrad couldn't help but agree.

“i always thought you’d be my first kiss,” you whispered. 

that threw conrad off guard, and it took him a few seconds to regain balance. the van suddenly felt too small and the lingering scent of fruit shared between you two, mixed with the familiar smell of chlorine and vanilla from how close you were sitting to him, became overwhelming. his heart was beating out of his chest — not because he didn’t feel the same way, but because he did.

conrad knew what his 13 year old self would think of him now: he’d be up in arms over his awkward pause, screaming to finally tell you how he felt then, and how those feelings hadn’t really left. how you made him feel safe, excited, confused and angry. how there was a space in his heart just for you, and it was painfully empty when you left, but now that you’re there again —

“sorry,” you said, cutting through the silence. you subtly shifted away from conrad. “i didn’t mean to make things weird.”

“you didn’t,” conrad answered instantly. he registered how you were now slightly hunched over and brought your knees to your chest, how you bit your lip and avoided eye contact — a few hints that you felt uncomfortable, deflated even at his lack of response. 

so, he moved closer to you and gently placed a hand on your knee. 

“you didn’t make things weird,” conrad assured once more. you were brave, he decided: for a lot of things you did, but right then for being so honest, so vulnerable. it inspired him to do the same. “i mean, this might make things weird, but i always thought you’d be my first…you know. at least, ever since i knew what sex even was.”

you finally turned towards him, your lips slightly parted. 

“yeah,” you breathed. “me too.”

conrad’s eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“do you still want to —”

“yes. i - i mean, no pressure, but if you still want to —”

“i do.”

you smiled then and conrad felt himself do the same. 

when you kissed for the first time, it was like rainclouds parted and the stars came out, shining bright in infinite darkness. the two of you became tangled up in each other: you sat in his lap, legs on either side of his waist, your chests pressed together and your fingers tangled in his hair, which drove him crazy. conrad let his hands explore your body, gently grazing the skin under your shirt. his lips tingled from the remnants of peach juice on yours, but he kept kissing you. 

it was awkward and exhilarating at the same time. you asked each other if what you were doing felt good and right and were slightly embarrassed if the answer was no, but still adjusted if needed. at one point, conrad was fumbling with the condom wrapper and you had to open it with your teeth; he jokingly pointed out how you used to do the same with packs of sour patch kids and you giggled before kissing him again.

the two of you lay down on the floor once you were done. your head rested on conrad’s chest and he had his arm around you, idly tracing shapes on your skin with his fingertips. he craned his neck down to look at you.

even in the dim lighting and after years apart, you looked the same. even if you’d never been that close before, at least not in the same way you had just been, you felt familiar. 

you tilted you head towards him and smiled. 

“what?” 

there was something about the way you looked at him that still made him blush, and conrad hoped that with the lack of bright light, you wouldn’t notice. 

“sounds like the rain stopped,” he said. “wanna go stargazing?”

it was slightly chilly, so you let conrad borrow your varsity jacket, even if it didn’t fit perfectly. the sky was clear and full of stars. you spent the rest of the night there together, on the beach. 

in the morning, conrad woke up before you. he watched as you took slow, deep breaths with your eyes still closed. you looked so peaceful — until the sound of your alarm prompted you to wake up.

“shit,” you exhaled, your eyes wide once you noticed the sun had risen. “what time is it?” 

you searched frantically for your phone, only to find it right next to you.

“shit,” you repeated once you checked the time. you stood up right away, sand kicking from underneath your feet. “this is bad.”

“what —”

conrad didn’t have time to even ask you what was wrong because you bolted to the van. he followed you.

“what’s wrong?”

you looked at conrad, brows furrowed. “i have to go. i don’t want to leave you, but i have to go.”

“it’s okay,” conrad reassured. he stepped closer to you and placed a hand on your cheek. “i’ll be here when you get back.”

“i’m…” you step away from him. “i’m not coming back.”

“what do you mean?” he tried to steady his voice, but a dangerous mix of hurt and anger threatened to wash over him. conrad’s heart dropped, knowing all too well what was likely coming next, but he hoped, wished, that it wouldn’t be like before.

“i’ve got a swim meet in boston,” you exhaled. “but i can drive you home on my way there.”

“you’ll come back to cousins after,” conrad declared, as if saying it out could change what would happen next. “you said you’d be here for the summer.” 

you shrugged, stumbling over your words. “technically, i didn’t say that. you just assumed and — ”

“and you wanted me to believe it, right?”

you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “just — let me drive you home, connie.”

the use of his childhood nickname — the one he secretly despised, except when it came from you — was what made him snap.

“i should have known,” he snarled. “god, i should have known. you don’t care about me, about us. swimming over everything, right?”

“that’s not true.” your eyes opened, but you still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “i do care, but you know the pressure i’m under —”

“fine. you want to talk about pressure?” conrad laughed, bitterly, all his frustration bleeding out and pooling at your feet. “my mom had cancer, and you couldn’t even be there for me. texts and phone calls only do so much when you’re watching the woman who raised you wither away to nothing.”

your eyes softened slightly, finally looking at him. you took a step forward, but conrad took another two back. 

“conrad —”

 “no. don’t,” he snapped, making you stop. “why did you even come here?”

“i was close by and…” you paused. “i guess i just needed to come back, even just for a bit.” 

"figures," conrad scoffed. “you only care when it’s convenient.” 

“that’s not true,” you repeated. 

conrad waited a second for you say something more, but you didn’t. 

“well, i’m really glad you got what you needed,” he mocked. “tell me, does nostalgia and sex help you swim faster? impress college scouts? make daddy proud of you?” 

you stiffened slightly. “don’t be an asshole.”

“no, no. congratulations!” he clapped to emphasize his point. “i’m so glad i could help you! guess you just needed a quick fuck before your big competition for some good luck. hope it works out in your favour.”

there was so much venom laced in his words, and he could tell you noticed. you looked at him like he was a stranger. 

“fuck you,” you finally said. your voice was shaking slightly and it looked like tears were forming in your eyes. “you can walk home, for all i care.” 

without another word, you got into the car and drove away. conrad watched your car become smaller in the distance as he stood alone at the beach, wearing your jacket and replaying every word he said.

now 

it’s hours after susannah’s fourth of july celebration. the adrenaline and alcohol from early wore off, and you’re sitting on your front porch, sipping tea from your favourite mug. you were hoping to relax, but the sight of conrad fisher storming up to you threatens that.

“where do you get off, saying what you did earlier?” 

even under the low light of the porch, you can see that his face is red with anger. he came here to argue, but you’re too tired to really care.

“well, shit, conrad,” you sigh. “don’t blame me. blame — blame truth or dare and pomegranate margaritas and steven for being so goddamn perceptive.” 

“you lied,” he accuses, crossing his arms. “you said you didn’t tell belly about us kissing at nicole’s party.”

“at least i didn’t lie to my girlfriend,” you point out, your voice dull from exhaustion. conrad is momentarily at a loss for words, furrowing his brow even further, so you decide to steer the conversation in another direction — away. “look, i just had to pick up my drunk mother from the bar, so i’m really not in the mood for this conversation.”

you move to leave, but conrad grabs your left wrist before you reach the door. the sudden action startles you, and you release the mug you were holding in your right hand. it falls to the ground, the break clean, and the rest of your tea spills onto the porch. you exhale sharply, turning back to face conrad.

“i don’t care,” he snaps. “you fucked up earlier today. you never should have mentioned that night. talking about it like it actually meant something to you.”

“you know what, conrad? maybe it’s hard for you to believe, but that night actually meant something to me.” you laugh bitterly, feeling more awake than before. “and, yeah, now i’ve spent so much time regretting it. because maybe i hoped that we’d start dating, but even if that didn’t happen, i never expected to lose my best friend.”

conrad rolls his eyes. “i don’t know how you can stand there and call me your best friend. best friends don’t leave each other —”

“fine, i did leave,” you interrupt. your voice is slightly raised, and you can’t help but feel a new rush of adrenaline flowing through your veins. the fact that conrad is standing in front of you, suggesting that you were the one to blame for the hostility between you — that made you frustrated, angry, even. 

“i had other shit going on,” you continue. “and maybe i didn’t handle the situation well at first — that’s on me, sure. but i wasn’t the one who ignored texts and sent calls straight to voicemails. i’m not the one who’s spending the summer avoiding everyone who knows them because they’re too scared of others finding out the truth. i don’t know who you are this summer, but i know the real you, conrad.”

“no, you don’t.”

by now, you’ve walked closer, standing only a few inches in front of him. if you reached out, you’d be able to brush the bangs away from his forehead, but you don’t. 

“i do know you,” you assert. “in fact, i hate how much i know you. i know that “yesterday” by the beatles is your favourite song, and the first one you learned on the guitar. i know that you’re crazy good at chess, but let jeremiah win sometimes when your dad is watching. i know that you love playing football, but hate that you’re expected to play it. i know that i hurt you last year, so you had to ignore me because that was easier than admitting how you really feel because — because you’re scared.” 

“you’re wrong.” conrad stares at you, his gaze heavy on yours. 

you shake your head. “i know that you didn’t tell anyone about what happened between us because it meant something to you. and that really scares you, too.” 

“you’re…you’re wrong.” conrad’s voice wavers a bit, his eyes soften ever so slightly, and you know you’ve struck a chord. 

“i’m not,” you say. “and, honestly? i’m so fucking tired of waiting for you to realize that. i don’t care anymore. whatever was between us during all those summers, it's obviously not here anymore."

“you’re wrong,” he’s like a broken record, stuck on the same lyric. 

"stop blaming me for fucking this up," you continue. "it's your mess, too, conrad. and i’m so fucking tired."

it’s late, and it’s dark, and you can’t bring yourself to stay here anymore. without saying anything else, you step over the broken porcelain of your favourite mug and into your house, leaving conrad alone on your poorly lit porch.

when the sun rises and you go outside in the morning, the pieces are gone. 

[thus-spoke-lo]

A Ride for a Ride // slimeball taxi driver!Zoro x f!reader // NSFW [minors DNI] Written for @bastardblvd's Slimeball Collab

Summary: It's 3am and walking home from your shitty job at the diner seems like a drag, so you call a cab, hoping for a quick trip back to your apartment so you can finally catch some sleep. Your moss-haired, muscle-bound, directionally-challenged cabbie definitely gives you a ride you didn't expect. CW: scumbag!zoro; afab!reader [no gendered pronouns used]; references to sexual harrassment from a certain curly-browed co-worker; dubcon elements [reader under duress]; degradation [ex. use of slut, whore, etc]; oral sex [m receiving]; vaginal sex; creampie WC: 3.3k

It’s 3:00 a.m, and your shift is blessedly over. The crisp air outside Franky’s Flapjack Shack is nipping at your skin; your head aches and your feet are throbbing, your unsupportive sneakers that are close to falling apart barely able to keep up with the demands of the late-night post-bar crowd combined with avoiding the gropes and glances of that damn curly-browed line cook who can’t seem to keep his hands to himself.

The walk home feels untenable, your ankles ready to give out and a chill quickly making its way under your sweater. You sigh and pull your phone from your pocket, dialing the number of the local cab company. It would be a luxury, and one you’d probably regret indulging in since it was still a few days from payday, but anything would be better right now than trying to propel your worn-down body through the dark city streets all the way to your apartment.

And so you wait. And wait. And wait. You glance at your phone—the cab company said the closest operator was only a few blocks away, what the hell was taking them so long? You glance back down at your phone, absentmindedly watching a video of a McDonald’s manager getting decked over a wrong nugget order, when you hear—and smell—something coming your way.

An absolute whale of an old sedan shudders its way down the block, the yellow headlights dim, the tires looking like they’re just one hard turn from falling off completely. It comes to a whining halt in front of you, as the window rolls down and smoke billows out. The stub of a cigar lands on the ground in front of you, embers scattering at your feet.

You cough and sputter, waving away the smoke to get a glimpse of the person you’re already regretting entrusting with your life tonight. Through the haze, a muscled arm hangs out the open window, the sleeve of a white t-shirt straining against a bulging bicep. The smoke finally clears, and you see man with green hair and a tanned complexion turn towards you, three gold earrings swaying as he does, and your eyes flit over his face. Even considering the awful, lingering cigar stench and the ramshackle car, he could easily still be a contender for one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.

“Lemme guess, you’re worried about this?” he says, pointing towards his closed left eye, a long scar running over it.

“No, I was more worried about that.” You point towards the front of his car, as streams of smoke escape from underneath the hood.

“Ah, it’s fine. Does that all the time.” He slaps the car door. “Come on, you gonna get in or did I come all the way here for nothin’?”

“It does that all the time…?” you trail off under your breath as you place your fingers on the door handle, wavering between getting on the back of this trash heap and praying to whatever gods might listen, or running back inside the restaurant and calling another cab. You glance back at the Flapjack Shack and see that idiot line cook standing at the window watching you, practically salivating, and decide to take your chances with the moss-haired cabbie rather than risk getting your ass pinched one more time tonight.

You climb in the backseat behind him and pull the door shut, giving it a few vigorous tugs before the rusty hinges will allow it to fully close. Your hands instinctively fumble for a seatbelt only to realize…there aren’t any. “Hey, so, um, how do I strap in?”

“Strap in?” He glances at you in the rearview mirror with his good eye. “What for?”

“You know what? Never mind.” You take a deep breath and press your lips together. You glance up as he fiddles with the radio, and you notice three large katanas sitting in the passenger seat, carefully secured with a pillow behind them and some sort of cushion attached to the seatbelt that holds them in place, their hilts glimmering in the neon lights from the restaurant. “Hey cabbie, uh—what are those for?”

“Call me Zoro, none of that ‘cabbie’ shit,” he grouses, loosely gesturing to the card taped to the back of the passenger seat with his name and photo. “And what are what for? My swords?”

“Yeah…”

“They’re for protection.”

“Protection from what?” you squint.

“So where am I taking you?” he asks, almost cutting off the end of your sentence as the engine revs and the car slowly comes to life again.

That’s how it’s gonna be, got it. You quickly rattle off your address as your eyes remain fixed on the swords.

“Alright, gotcha.” He chuckles, and the car stutters off into the night “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. You’ll be home in no time. They don’t call me the world’s greatest cabbie for nothin’.”

You quickly fish your phone out of your bag, distracting yourself from the low hum of some weird sea shanty playing on the radio and the fact that Zoro’s gaze seems to be focused more on observing you in the rearview mirror than it does the road, as you careen around corners and run at least three red lights (that you counted). The battery ticks down and down as you scroll away, the grip on your phone growing ever more desperate as you brace yourself on the back of his seat at yet another stop sign that “came out of nowhere.” It isn’t until you start a new game of solitaire that you realize—it’s been an awfully long ride. Your apartment wasn’t that far away—the pervert line cook gave you a ride home one time and it only had to have taken about twenty minutes before you reached your apartment and your limit for terrible pickup lines.

“Hey cab—I mean Zoro,” you ask tentatively. “Are we almost there? Feels like we’ve been driving a while.”

He glares at you from the front seat as he accelerates through a yellow light. “Oh, what, are you saying I don’t know where I’m going?”

“No, of course not!” An anxious laugh exits your lungs. “I guess we’re just taking the scenic route, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is the most direct route. I drive it all the time. They don’t call me the—”

“The world’s greatest cabbie,” you echoed. “Right, right. Sorry.”

You lean your head against the window and sigh, resigning yourself to watching silently as you pass the same streetlights, the same run-down convenience store, and the same skateboarders that Zoro almost mows down again and again. The battery on your phone finally heaves its last breath, and you toss it back in your bag, wondering if it would be bad form to open the car door and simply launch yourself onto the pavement at this point—surely you’d end up with less scrapes and bruises than you’d already accumulated from his sloppy cornering and his affinity for hitting the brakes with all his might.

“See? I told you I knew where I was going,” Zoro says as he finally—mercifully, blessedly—pulls up in front of your apartment building, the car practically convulsing as it slows to a halt, a loud knocking sound coming from the engine. He taps the meter and your eyes widen—your little detour around the city was going to cost you a pretty penny, but it was better than walking alone at night…wasn’t it?

You dig through your bag, scrounging around through wadded up receipts and half-full packs of gum, and your heart starts to race as you move items around more frantically, a sense of dread settling in your bones as you come to a realization.

“Oh god I—I don’t have my wallet.”

He turns fully around in his seat, his hot, acrid breath blowing directly on you. “What the hell do you mean you don’t have your wallet? Why’d you call for a ride if you didn’t have your damn wallet?”

“Well I thought I had it! I must have left it at work.” You chew your lip as your heart pounds away under your stained corporate-issue polo shirt. “Do you take app payments?”

“Do I look like I take apps, sweetheart?”

“Just let me run upstairs, I’m sure I have cash stashed somewhere. I-I promise, I’ll come right back.”

“Oh no, honey.” Zoro shakes his head. “I’ve heard that one too many times. Some sweet little thing says they’ll pay and then I never see ‘em again. I’m not falling for that. You are gonna pay me for this ride”—he leans closer, your noses almost touching—“one way or another.”

Your trembling hands ball into fists, pressing firmly into the ripped seat cushions as your mind raced, trying to think of a solution. Running wasn’t an option—you didn’t expect that a man who carried three katanas did it just for show, and even if he did, someone with his kind of powerful build could easily bring you down like a prey animal in a heartbeat. Your gaze flits over his face, noticing a certain predatory glint in his eye, a hunger lingering on the upturned corner of his lips. A man like him, you reason, can be persuaded with the right type of offer.

“Alright fine,” you finally blurt, steadying yourself, “I can think of a way to pay you.”

He cocks his head to the side, his earrings swaying with his movement. “And that is…?”

You bite your lip shyly, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes in your best approximation of a seductive glare. “Well…do you wanna move those swords or do you wanna come back here with me?”

He laughs, and gives you a condescending cluck of his tongue. “So you really think that’s gonna work, huh?”

Fuck. A shuddering breath leaves your lips as you start to realize there was no escape. “It was worth a try.”

“Hey, hey, I didn’t say no, sweetheart,” Zoro says softly as his hand drifts back and paws at your knee. “Scoot over.”

You pulse starts to shake your entire body as he exits the car; he slowly creaks the passenger door open, and you catch a glance of him from the waist down, all powerful thighs and a very clear bulge in the front of his pants. The car rocks as he slides in beside you and, he pulls the door shut with little effort, the rusted hinges screaming as it slams behind him. He turns to you, a lascivious smile stretched across his lips, and wordlessly slides his trousers down to his ankles. A gasp leaves your mouth before you can stop it as you see his cock for the first time, thick and pulsing, backlit by the dim yellow streetlight. He lets out a soft groan as he strokes himself lazily with one hand, his muscled thighs tensing with every movement.

“Well?” he rasps as you watch him slowly run his palm up his length. “You just gonna stare at it, or you wanna do something with it, hm?”

“Right,” you murmur as you blink and try to focus on the task at hand—this was your idea after all, sort of. As you looked him over, his forearm tensing as he fucked his fist for you, his bicep twitching in the low light, the smooth ripple of his abs visible as he held his shirt up, you felt a spark ignite at the base of your spine

You squeeze down onto the floorboards, and maneuver yourself next to him, your chest resting against his steely thigh, one arm hooked around his leg for support. He moves his hand aside and you grasp him firmly at the base as he swells in your palm. You crane your neck to lick a thick stripe up the underside of his shaft, flicking your tongue against the underside of the head; he hisses in response, leaning his head back, his hips lifting a bit off the seat. You swirl your eager tongue around the tip, lavishing it with gentle licks and kisses, finding yourself enjoying your perverted tryst a little too much, as a heat begins to build between your legs.

You press your thighs together as you wind your tongue up and down his shaft, before finally taking him in your lips. Zoro groans as your warm mouth envelops him, and his hand grasps your shoulder to anchor himself. He swells and pulses as you slowly draw him in and out of your warm, wet mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you reach the tip; with every pull, his breaths grow quicker and more ragged, his groans deeper and longer. He slides his hand to the back of your head and holds you in place as he pushes himself down your throat, forcing rivulets of spit to dribble out of your mouth and onto his thigh, puddling on the worn upholstery under him. As breathing becomes more difficult and you begin to squirm against him, he removes his hand and you quickly pull back and gasp for air, strings of saliva still connecting you to his glistening, spit-coated cock.

His chest rises and falls with harsh and uneven breaths as he stares down at you. “Don’t think you get to stop yet, sweetheart. You still owe me, and I’m starting to think your mouth isn’t gonna cut it.”

“What do you want then?” you pant as you wipe drool from your chin, knowing full well what he expected next, but still wanting to hear it from his perverted mouth.

A debauched grin spreads across his face as he says slowly, “A ride…for a ride.”

“A ride for a ride,” you mutter back after a moment, as you start to pull your shoes off. You yank your polyester work pants down your sticky, sweat-laden legs, tossing them on the grimy floor, and steady yourself on his broad shoulders as you straddle his lap. A shaky sigh leaves your lungs as he reaches down and runs the head of his cock through your folds, collecting the slick that coats your sensitive slit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Zoro grunts as he positions himself against your pulsing entrance. “I’d almost say you’re enjoying this more than I am—aren’t you, you little whore?”

“Shut up,” you spit as you grimace, starting to feel him push into you, the head teasing your wet, needy hole. “Don’t call me that.”

“Aw, why not?” His voice was dripping with a condescension that made you quiver. “Do you prefer ‘slut’ instead?”

A sharp gasp claws its way up your throat in response as you ease your way down onto him, feeling how he stretches you as he grasps your waist and slides you down his thick shaft until you envelop him completely. You lean against the back of the driver’s seat as you start to roll your hips, feeling the car begin to rock along with your movements, gentle waves that match your rhythm against him.

“Fuck, that’s good,” you whimper as you fuck yourself on him, feeling a coiling tension building inside you as his veiny cock fills you completely with every movement, pulsing and throbbing with every flutter of your walls. There is something deliciously intoxicating about how wrong everything feels—fucking this muscled pervert in exchange for a ride in his rusted-out car, just yards away from the safety of your apartment, in the dim light of the streetlamps where anyone could wander by and see the steam coating the windows and the slow rocking of the vehicle. It all feels disgusting, and revolting, and the indignity only makes you want it even more.

You’re so lost in a haze of your own pleasure you don’t even feel his hand drifting down from your waist, his fingertips brushing against your mound, and only take notice once the rough pad of his thumb begins to make circles over your aching clit. You moan wantonly and shudder as bolts of pleasure shoot through you, quickly bringing you closer and closer to the edge of your release.

“You like that, don’t you?” he rasps as he flicks his thumb over your swollen bundle of nerves. He slides his free hand up your waist and under your shirt, roughly pulling down your bra, rolling your pebbled nipple between his fingers. “Like that big cock filling you up while I play with you like this, hm? Greedy little whore.”

“Oh Zoro,” you whine as your hips move faster, grinding against him with what little muscle strength you have left as your whole body begins to feel heated and you’re ready to snap like a wire wound too tightly.

“That’s it,” he whispers as you start to shake and your needy cunt contracts around him. “Cum on this cock you fuckin’ slut.”

You cry out shamelessly as you dig your fingers into his shoulders, gripping him tightly as you quake around his cock, your body wracked by a blood-rushing climax. Zoro moans quietly as your pulsating spasms of pleasure grip him and pull him in deeper, and his large hands sink into the plushness of your hips, holding you steady as he starts to fuck up into you. He wraps his powerful arms around your back and pulls you against him, holding you tightly against his chest; he pistons into you with sloppy, erratic thrusts, hitting you so deep it send little sparks of pain through your core, the kind that start to feel like pleasure once you get used to it. His breaths suddenly become quick and shallow, and you feel his thighs tensing under you as he buries himself inside you over and over.  

“Fuck baby—so fuckin’ good, gonna cum in this fuckin’ tight little pussy.” A long, low groan echoes in the small space as he bucks his shuddering hips, and he spills himself into you with pulse after pulse of his aching cock. He rocks up into you slowly, almost gently, as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, and short, heated breaths ghost the sensitive skin of your neck.

As you cling to him, burying your face in his sinewy shoulder while you both work to fill your lungs fully again, the car starts to move under you, and it suddenly tilts to one side with a loud metallic groan. Zoro grunts and flings the car door open, with you still on top of him, his cum leaking out of you and into his lap, and cranes his head around the side of the car.

“Shit,” he says as he slams the door shut again. “Damn tire fell off.”

“Something else that happens all the time?” you mutter, your eyebrow raised as you take the opportunity to carefully lift yourself off him, warm rivulets of his spend and your arousal making their way down your thighs.

He snorts a laugh. “I like you. You’re funny.”

“Gee, you’re too kind, Zoro.” You sit next to him, soaking the already-filthy upholstery as you lean down to gather your pants and your bag from the floorboards, when his large hand grips your wrist.

“Where you think you’re going?” he growls.

You turn towards him, your arm frozen in his steely grip. “Uh…home?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” He runs his tongue over his lower lip as he reaches down and unhurriedly palms his softening cock, still lubricated with a mix of your fluids.

“And why not?” you murmur as you suck your lower lip between your teeth and bite down so hard you almost draw blood, your chest heaving as you watch his movements.

“Because,” he rumbles as he smacks your thigh and watches your plush flesh jiggle under his wide palm, “you owe me for a tire now, too.”

[anjelicawrites]

Pierced Through

Paring: modern!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Synopsis: a late night between two lovers

Warnings: switch!Feyd, switch!reader, more dominant reader, kissing, oral (m and f receiving), p in v sex, kissing, biting, scratching, overstimulation, edging, fingering, titty pinching, titty sucking, sharing the same piercings as a form of love, getting pierced as a form of foreplay, loads of piercings, reader being called “good girl” a couple of times.

A/N 1: reader is AFAB, the only descriptor is that they have long hair, for plot reasons. Where needed, they/them pronouns used. 

A/N 2: this is a modern AU with random bits of our pop culture thrown in it. 

Squinting your eyes you start to remove the makeup from your face. It has been a sweet night out, you and Feyd finally alone, eating a nice meal and just walking around town to enjoy the soft spring, after a harsh, snowy winter, reconnecting after he’s been away for work.

You ignore the chiming of your phone, it’s either the group chat with the girls, or the one you have with Feyd’s exes, the self called Harpies.

“Is What If I Were Your Mother buzzing tonight?” 

“Oh, you need to keep yourself up to date baby, it’s Pick Me, Choose Me, Love Me now.”

“Am I supposed to get the reference?” Even without eyebrows you can see the muscles lift in silent judgment.

“Grey’s Anatomy baby. You watched it with me.”

“I dissociated most of the times.”

“Asshole.”

“You’re beautiful.” 

Feyd’s hands travel slowly up the silk of your nightgown and stop under your breasts, the whiteness of his skin contrasts with the black material hugging your curves; you love wearing colorful clothes and decorate your shared apartment had been a push and pull between his monochrome austerity and your explosive personality, you’ve only folded to his request that you wear black lingerie for him (that you use truly ridiculous stuff when he’s not around it’s a secret between you and the two group chats).

You lean against his naked chest, letting your head brush against the long column of his neck, reveling in the smoothness of his skin; you miss having beard burns between your legs, your Feyd makes up for it with the bite marks he leaves on your skin when he hungers for your taste, which is always.

“I know you’ve been a bad girl.” He drawls in your ear, part of his face hidden by your hair.

“You need to be more specific than that, ah!”

Feyd’s long fingers pinch your pierced nipples through your nightgown; he was with you when you had both done, he had kept his forehead against yours while the nice lady piercer did her part. 

He had kept the low rumble of his voice to a minimum, describing how he was going to pleasure you as a reward for your courage; you were so torn between fear and excitement that you didn’t really listen to him and if the lady piercer did, she ignored him. 

Now you two match and it drives you crazy that under the expensive clothes he wears at work, Feyd hides similar body mods to yours; you haven’t gotten used to yours yet and even if your nipples have healed nicely, they’ve become more sensitive, and Feyd loves using this against you.

“I’ve noticed the new books on your beside table, little dove.” 

His hands cup your breasts, chocking the answer in your throat.

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You try to keep hold of his stare through the mirror. “I’ve moved some old books I want to read ouch! Ah! Feyd please!”

Feyd’s fingers pinch the small barbells on your nipples, only to pull at them until you start whining pathetically.

“Do you really think I don’t know all the titles on you bookshelf, little dove? Britney Spears’s biography? Really?”

You don’t answer immediately, needing to catch your breath and he takes advantage of your silence to run the piercing on his tongue up your neck, his sharp eyes not missing the way your body trembles against his.

“Par condicio baby.” You finally manage to answer. “I have read her sister’s, now hers. I want to know every detail. All the tea, as the kids say.”

“You’re truly going to become the epitome of an old busybody.” He says, with genuine affection in his voice.

“And I will share everything with you. Because you are as curious as I am, my love.”

Gently, Feyd lets his hands run up your chest until he’s reached your head of hair. 

Not only the Harkonnens, but all the natives of Geidi Prime have been genetically modified to not grow any sort of hair on their body and yours still fascinate him after all this time together. Whenever he can, he braids them before you two have to leave for work and he makes a point of undoing all your hairstyles when you are finally home, just so that he can feel the texture of your hair against his hands and the smell of your shampoo in his nostrils.

Painstakingly slowly Feyd removes all the pins from your hair, freeing each lock until they all cascade down your back and he can grab your roots, reveling in the feeling against his hands; you moan at the way he massages your scalp, slightly pulling to make you moan at his leisure. 

Under the too bright bathroom lights he can absorb all your facial expressions, he can see your nipples push against the silk of your nightgown and his mouth waters at the thought that you must be wet already, for him.

Quick, so quick that your head spins, Feyd turns you around and sits you on the bathroom counter, back to the big mirror, the hem of your nightgown already brunched around your hips.

You don’t have the chance to realize what he’s doing that two of his fingers are already under your panties, playing with the wetness there; he can’t wait to accompany you to have your clit and labia pierced, this way you two will truly match (even though you can’t have your tongue done); you two will have to stop vaginal sex for a little while, but to the greater purpose of him torturing your pretty cunt for your shared pleasure.

“Up!” He orders and you comply, lifting your arse so that he can remove your lacy panties. “Good girl.” He drawls when you spread your legs for him even wider, to accommodate his huge frame.

“Are you going to take care of me, Feyd?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, electing to suck on the delicate skin of your tight, until he’s sure a nice mark will blossom; he loves keeping you on edge: perhaps he will torment you for his own pleasure, perhaps he will give it all to you, until the lines blur.

“Don’t I always, little dove?”

“I missed you, so much.” You say with a small voice, your hand cupping his smooth cheek.

“So I did you.”

There’s a dark smirk tinging his lips as he kneels between your parted tights, his big hands on your knees in a show of ownership that has your head spin and fall back against the cold mirror.

Feyd lips are so warm against your skin, and so soft as he kisses a slow path to your cunt, up, up he goes, until his hands can grab at your hips to still your movements and open your labia with his thumbs to make way for his long tongue.

His movements are slow, the barbell on his tongue cold against your clit as he slowly massages it, writing nonsense that has you keen already. He can’t help himself but suck gently when your ankles cross behind his head to keep him in place. Over the lecherous sounds of your pleasure he can her your nails scrape against the mirror in the vain attempt to gain control: not yet, now you are for him to torment.

His tongue slowly runs down to your hole and he moans at the honey he finds there: so much and all for him! 

Hungry his tongue fucks you, the piercing stimulating all your nerves all the more, his big hands clench on your hips when you try to squirm away from his nose; on instinct you arch against his intrusion, your ankles pull him tighter against you as you wail your pleasure, small sobs like pain that spur him on all the more.

You come all over his face and keen when he starts sucking on your clit again, overstimulated and delirious you try to push him away, only for him to growl against your sensitive skin, triggering a smaller orgasm that shakes you.

Feyd stares at you with enlarged pupils, his face drenched in your sweetness, his cock torture against the cotton of his bottoms.

“Feyd, please.” You say breathless.

With a fluid motion he stands up and carries you bridal style to the bed, where he sits you to help you out of your nightgown, before discarding his soiled pajama trousers.

His pierced cock stands proud, leaking from the head; you were scared the first time you’ve seen it, imagining how painful it must have been for him, now you’ve come to love every single piece of jewelry adorning his manhood. From the Magic Cross on the head, to the small Frenulum ring, down to all the beadings on his shaft and the small ring on his perineum, you’ve kissed and played with all of them, tormenting Feyd, until he couldn’t understand if it was pleasure, or pain that triggered his orgasm.

You can’t wait to go with him, have your own privates worked on, while he adds the last beadings to complete the whole shaft: you know that sharing this will bind you tighter than the ring he will soon put on your finger, and it both excites and scares you to your core.

Feyd lays next to you to lazily kiss you, his soft lips on yours unhurriedly share your heady taste with you. His hands are in your hair, your nails are scratch down his back: you’re so hungry!

The ping of the received message interrupts you two.

“Ah shit! I think I need to answer this one.”

Feyd doesn’t say a word, he simply stares at you, his non existed brows raised.

“Baby this might be important. It’s Alia.”

Of all his Atreides relations, his little cousin is the only one he can truly stomach; he’s not happy that Chani is one of your oldest friends and that you hang out with her and Paul so much, yet he accepts your friendship with weird and off putting Alia.

“What happened with her?” He asks, curious.

“Let me check my phone and I will be able to tell you.”

With a huff Feyd goes to retrieve your phone and kneels between your splayed legs as you unlock your screen.

“There! I knew it!”

“What did she do?”

“Not her, the guy she was messaging with. He seemed so nice, too nice, if you know what I mean: he sent her a dick pick and us girls are discussing how to retaliate.”

“A dick pic?” Feyd looks sincerely puzzled. “Why?”

“You should ask your male friends. I know I hit the jackpot with you, but most of the guys out there are useless pieces of shit. Hang on, let me send this quick voice memo.” You say locking your ankles against his back to pull yourself up and kiss his nose. 

“Girls, I say that the old fashioned guillotine gif is the best way to go. My favorite is the small one chopping off the wurst but I stand with whichever you want to send. Now I am going to disappear because I’m getting laid. Cheers girls!” 

For the hundredth time, Feyd wonders what horrors that chat contains; he is not sure his Harkonnen upbringing has prepared him to face them. A whole host of women let loose without any sort of filter? No thank you!

Using his own lack of concentration, you roll the two of you, straddling his still erect cock; you raise your eyebrow at him and he just shrugs: horrified or not, you’re still naked and he hasn’t come yet.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, little dove.” He drawls.

“Not so fast, baby. You had your fun.”

When he tries to roll the two of you again, you grab his wrist and push them against the mattress and ground your naked cunt against the ridges of his cock. From your vantage point you stare at Feyd: you know he can easily manhandle you, he has done so many times, the fact that he’s letting you dominate him, that he is willingly submitting to you, drives you as dizzy and wild pleasure, as his pierced cock is.

Feyd hips kick under yours, the jewels on his manhood only enhancing the torment you’re subjecting him to, your wet, warm lips envelop his erection and he fancies he can feel your hole clench around nothing.

You straighten your back and grab at your own hair with a long moan of pleasure, Feyd’s hands grab your hips in retaliation, forcing you to move even faster on his erection; he only wished he had put weights on your nipples, just to hear you cry out in pain.

Abruptly you plant your hands on his chest to rub your engorged clit on one of the beads on his cock; the pleasure you feel makes all your muscles tremble with the effort to move, your orgasm so close, so close!

You come with a scream, your nails stabbing Feyd’s pectoral, triggering his own release between your lower lips and his muscled abdomen; he growls at the pleasure and at the frustration of not spending himself inside of you, feeling his balls draw up with the force if his orgasm.

You fall in his arms, breathing fast as you kiss all the available skin your lips can reach.

“I’m not done with you, Feyd-Rautha.” You growl in his ear.

The sound that escapes his mouth is a mix between a whine and a groan, his cock still hard and pressed between your bodies; under you his long back arches when you start making your way down the planes of his muscles, your lips finding the small rings on his nipples, your teeth pull at the metal until he keens, the small pain exploding in his engorged cock.

“Little dove.” He groans.

“None of that, my love. I’ve missed you so much.”

Feyd moans at the heath in your words: physically he’s the stronger one, yet he knows you could destroy him with a snap of your fingers.

A long litany of moans spill from his parted lips with every lick and small bite, he feels his balls draw up again, ready to spill.

“Not yet, Feyd. I want you to come inside of me.”

He growls when your hand curls around his base, your teeth pulling cruelly at the ring on his perineum as he writes on the black sheets: he’s so ready to explode for you, paint your insides with his thick cum.

You can feel his long legs scramble against the mattress when your lips find his frenulum ring, your tongue plays with the small piece of metal and the small strip of oversensitive skin; despite your cruel hold, small beads of precome bubble and slide from his cock, meeting your curious tongue.

His taste explodes in your mouth, making you ravenous as you suck on his pierced head with thirst, your teeth playing with the delicate skin; he tries to call your name when your nails rake down the skin of his tights, tortured sounds escape instead, pulled forth by your teeth pulling on one of the beads of the Magic Cross.

With a lewd pop you let his erection fall against his clenching abs, to give him a modicum of respite before attacking him again.

You rise to your knees, your body framed by his trembling legs, simply to observe your handiwork: the marks blooming on his delicate skin, his pupils completely expanded and fixed on the patch of hair between your legs and on the wetness he can see.

“Shall I sit on your face, or use your cock for all it’s worth?”

For a second Feyd can’t answer, his eyes mesmerized by your hands caressing your body and massaging your breasts: he needs to suck on your nipples, or he’ll go mad!

With disconnected movements he pats his hip and you laugh at the way need robs him of his preternatural coordination.

“Say it. I want to hear it!” You command, your fingers still pinching your nipples.

Feyd licks his lips; the room is so saturated with the smell of sex that he fancies he can still taste you on his lips.

Without breaking eye contact, Feyd growls low in his throat.

“Come and use your cock, little dove. I bet your cunt missed it.”

“I think it’s you who missed me more.” You say, crawling towards him. “What are you going to do while my new piercings will need to heal? Go mad with need?”

The idea of holding you while you get your clit pierced forces a shudder through his body: soon, it is going to be so soon!

“I can always play your arse.” He answers, burning with the need to breach you. 

“You’ll have to beg better than that.” You say, flicking his engorged head and earning a lovely yelp of pain.

You position yourself on his cock, you are both so wet you don’t need any more preparation and your cunt welcomes him with a slight tremble.

Feyd’s hands clench on your hips to help you ride with gentle movements that have your clenching muscles slowly relax around his cock, sucking him in until you’re sitting fully on him, feeling every ridge and modification against the velvet of your walls.

To give him a full view, you put your hands on his raised knees and use him for leverage. Slowly you lift yourself up and down, making sure he sees his cock, drenched in your juices, disappear where you two meet with lewd squelching sounds. 

You’ve thrown your head back, letting your hair touch his legs, and miss the way he looks at your body, how ravenous the sight of your combined comes around his base makes him. 

He groans when you bounce faster on him, beads of sweat roll between your lush breasts and he tries to sit up to suck on them, but a tight squeeze of your hole deprives him of all strength. 

“Tell me what you need, my love”. You ask, sitting firmly on his hips. 

Feyd's hands clench on your hips, your cunt is strangling him so perfectly his eyes cross. 

“You nipples…” He groans, almost in pain. “Let me suck on them!” 

Nonchalant you cup your breasts and lightly pull on the rings, not missing the way Feyd's cock twitches inside of you. 

“Do you want to suck on them? Cover all my skin with your marks?”

Feyd's body shakes under you, the wires in his head crossing with the need to taste you, and to come inside of you. 

“Yes!” He manages to groan, as desperate as a drowning man. 

Taking your sweet time to torment him, you push your weight forward and on your arms, your tits millimeters away from his hungry mouth; before he can latch his lips around one areola, you stop him. 

“What if I make you choose between my breasts and coming, tonight? What's your priority?”

Feyd's fingers stab your hips with the desperation he feels: he needs both! 

“You love my mouth on you, you never come as fast as when I fuck your cunt and pull on your rings.”

Desperate times need desperate moves. 

Pensively you cup your breasts again and start moving slowly, the cacophony of moans and sobs spurring you on. 

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the powerful heir to his family fortune, reduced to a bitch in heat under you, begging for your body, beautiful in his need of you and of your guidance. 

“I think you’re right, baby. There's nothing better than your cock in my cunt and your lips on my tits.”

You lay on him again, letting his mouth latch around one pert nipple as his hips piston desperately inside of you; as much as you’re trying to control yourself, the precipice of another orgasms is closer and closer, aided by the delicious mods on Feyd's cock against your quivering walls, hitting everywhere all at once, battering all your nerves without mercy while his teeth worry and pull at your pierced nipple: pain and pleasure a blur in your mind and in his. 

Feyd's hips ram faster and faster against your G spot, spurred as he is by your show of dominance and control over him; he can barely contain himself when you squeeze tighter than ever. You haven't ordered him, yet: he can't come without your permission. 

“Now Feyd!” 

Your barked order dissolves any control he has on himself: grabs you and pulls you tight against his hips and comes, triggering your own orgasm. 

You grind against him, prolonging your shared pleasure until it hurts and you have to let his softened cock slip from your cunt. 

You can feel his thick cum slide from your overused cunt and you shudder on him, he simply cages you against his strong body until he feels your body relax. 

His hand goes to your head to knead the long tresses, one of his favorite post sex rituals as you leave butterfly kisses all over the marks on his neck. 

“You OK baby?” You whisper gently against his skin. 

“Yes, stay.” He adds when you try to go to the bathroom. 

“We're sticky, baby.”

“You smell like me. Let me enjoy it.”

You recognize his tone, he needs to be held more to ground himself back into control. 

“I'm not going anywhere. Come here.”

You tell him and he simply puts his head against your chest, letting himself be cradled by you. 

“Let's chill, OK? I missed you.”

He doesn't answer but you can detect how heavy his breathing is: he's going to fall asleep soon and you let yourself follow him. 

[bad268]

Seven

Breaking News (Part 3)

(Max Verstappen X Reader, Charles Leclerc X Ex! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope (I had an idea, Mr. Krabs)

Chapter warnings: cheating mentioned, sex references, song referenced belongs to Natiale Jane.

Pronouns: They/them

W.C. 1672

Chapter Summary: "Seven" is released during the race week, and Y/n sees Charles for the first time since their split.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

(^Came from 2 pics on Pinterest)

<- Previous Part

It’s been months since I last saw Charles. It was not really a concern for me anymore. He can do whatever he wants, and I can do whatever I want. And what I want is to attend the race in Austin.

It was Wednesday, and we just flew in a couple of hours ago. We settled into our hotel room before Max went into the bathroom to shower before we went to dinner. Once I was dressed in a semi-fancy outfit, I decided to sit on our bed and wait for him to finish up. I had started scrolling through countless comments on my newest single, “Seven,” when Max came out of the restroom. He was wearing a black button-up and jeans, but at least it wasn’t Red Bull merch. 

“What are you looking at?” He asked, coming up to look at the comments from over my shoulder. “Is that the new song?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled lightly, leaning back into him. “They’re loving it so far.”

“Well, of course, they are,” he retorted, standing up and pushing me to lay on my back as he leaned over me. He placed a couple of small kisses around my face before placing a final one on my nose. “You wrote it. Why wouldn't they love it?”

“It was just really different from my normal songs, I don’t know,” I sighed, setting my phone to the side as I wrapped my arms around his neck and played with the ends of his damp hair. “It’s also the second single for the album.”

“You haven’t even finished the album yet,” He shook his head with a laugh. “They’re your fans, liefde (love). They’ll love anything from you.”

“Doesn’t make the release any less daunting, schat (darling),” I whispered, pulling him down to kiss him. We moved in sync before ultimately needing to pull apart for air. “You ready to go?”

“Of course,” He said, lifting himself up before holding his hand out for me to stand beside him. “What kind of food are you feeling?”

~

Thursday is media day, so Max was off doing his own thing. It works because I had a virtual interview anyway, so I was able to hide out in Red Bull hospitality to do the interview in peace. 

“Y/n L/n, your newest song, ‘Seven,’ is smashing the charts,” They started off, “Tell us about the story behind it.”

“Honestly, I think everyone knows the story behind it,” I chuckled. “I wanted to try something new, so I continued the fuel from my last relationship to make this song. I’ve never really done something like this, but I really liked it, and I think the fans do too.”

“They certainly do!” The interviewer reassured. “The story, the beat, everything is just so catchy! It’s an amazing song! What was your favorite part about writing this song?”

“The lyrics were really fun, and I got a little help from my new boyfriend for the melody,” I admitted. The interviewer’s eyes widened as they let out a gasp, and I just smiled wider. “He was actually the one that came up with the chorus beat.”

“Did he write any of the lyrics?” They asked quickly.

“No, he left that to me. He just listened to every draft,” I laughed as I remembered something. “About a month ago, I woke him up at like two in the morning on a race day because I had a dream about the lyrics. He loved it so much, it’s now the chorus. He also was not very happy that I woke him up that day. He had to be on track at like five, and I woke him up just before his alarm.”

“That is gold,” They laughed as well. “We have some fan questions if you don’t mind. One person asks what is your favorite lyric from the song?”

“Not a lyric, but the laugh before the first chorus,” I answered after a second of thinking about it. “While recording the gap between the first verse and chorus was missing something. I tested with more lyrics, but ultimately, the laugh sounded the best.”

“The laugh does make it better,” The interviewer agreed. “Next question, has your ex or his girlfriend reached out, regarding the songs you’ve released recently?”

“No, but there was an article that announced their relationship right after I released ‘Ava’ and she stole lyrics from a fan cover as her original caption,” I remembered. “I was tagged in a fan cover of ‘Ava’ where they portrayed Ava. It was actually amazing, and I loved it! They did an amazing job, and one of the verses was ‘if he’s your man, why’s he still in my bed.’ I, personally, find it funny, but everyone likes to paint it like there’s bad blood between us,” I explained, going off on a short tangent. “Sorry, but to answer the main question, no, they have not said anything to me specifically.”

“Do you wish they did? I mean, these two very popular songs of yours are centered around them, so do you wish that they acknowledged them?”

“They did, technically,” I replied. “The fact that they announced their relationship right after I released the song and used a fan cover of my song to jab at me kinda validates that they know about it. Plus, it’s funny that his teammate loved both songs. He’s told me that he blasts them in their garage all the time.”

“Well, that’s all the time we have today,” They wrapped up, satisfied with the answer. “Thank you for your time, and we’ll look forward to the full album.”

“Thank you,” I replied with a smile as I left the call. I let out a sigh as I leaned back in my chair, laying my head back and closing my eyes to rebuild my social battery. 

“What album?” A voice asked from across the room. It was a voice I have not heard for month, causing me to immediately shoot my head up. 

“What do you mean, ‘what album?’ I’m a songwriter, Charles,” I snapped. “Did you forget that’s my job?”

“No, just,” He took a breath, trying to recollect his thoughts. He hesitates for a second as if he didn’t want to say what he was thinking before just spilling, “Is the whole album about the breakup? Are you that caught up on it?”

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted, moving to stand up and approach him. “I haven't written it yet. Might be, the fans seem to love this era. So what if it is? What are you gonna say?”

“This is defamation,” He seethed, coming up to stand chest-to-chest with me. “I could sue you for both songs.”

“I don’t name you in either of them,” I scoffed. “Ava is a basic name. I could mean anyone named Ava, not just your girlfriend. Even in interviews, I won’t answer questions if they mention your names, and my answers are always vague. You have no grounds to sue me for my success. You just want to rain on my parade. I’m climbing in popularity, and you’re not. Admit it.”

“You’re only getting popular because you’re fucking Max,” Charles replied bluntly. Behind him, I could see a door opening, but I couldn't see who it was.

“Oh, please. If anything, I get hate for fucking Max,” I laughed. “At least I’m getting satisfied. With the way you’re acting, I’d say it's been at least a month since you got laid.”

“You’re one to talk,” He tried to start before I cut him off.

“Not like it’s any of my business what you do with your girlfriend,” I said with a sly smile. “On a side note, what are you doing in here? Ferraris aren’t allowed in Red Bull hospitality, last time I checked.”

“Yeah, Charles, you should head back to your own hospitality,” Christian pressed as he was the one to walk through the door with Carlos, Max, and Daniel, who was holding Max back.

“You’ll hear from my lawyer,” Charles spat toward me before turning and walking out the doors. I just rolled my eyes and bit my tongue before I made the situation worse.

“Did I hear an album?” Carlos asks sheepishly.

“I will send a signed copy to my biggest fan once I get it written,” I teased him as Christian and Daniel ushered him out to follow his teammate. Carlos shouted back a thanks before taking off. I shook my head with a small laugh as I walked up to Max who had calmed down since Charles left. “Thank you for mentally killing a man in my honor.”

“Always,” he joked back, “I’d do anything for you. Was he serious about suing?”

“I don’t know, but it’s just going to waste his money cause I worked with my publicist to make sure they couldn’t sue for defamation,” I reassured him, cupping his cheeks and leaning our heads together as he placed his hands at my waist. “Y’know, in case you didn’t know, I love you.”

“I have loved you since we were 18,” He whispered back. My eyes widened as I took in his words.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” I gasped out.

“It was before we both thought the same things,” he chuckled. “Your music was taking off, and I was still a rookie. I remember you said that you wanted to wait until you were in a stable place in your career before you started a relationship.”

“I was like 12 when I said that!” I laughed, shocked that he actually remembered that. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I always knew I would end up with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He jokingly took offense as he tightened his hold around my waist.

“I told all of my friends and family I would date you at some point,” I admitted lowly. He immediately began beaming at my confession. “No one believed me, but now…oh, if they saw us now.”

~~~

Next Part ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[cavetown-song-of-all-time]

hi !!!! welcome to the cavetown song of all time tournament !

it's all in the title. we're here to appoint the most cavetown song of cavetown songs

the bracket ~

(it's hard to read ik)

preliminaries and first rounds will last 1 day, the remaining will last a week

propaganda is ofc allowed! but absolutely no anti-propaganda i will cry. i mean it's bad in general but i specifically will cry. and don't mess with me as i am a big boy now and i'm very scary (and i do know karate)

plsplspls listen to the songs before you vote if u haven't already. as you can see he's got a lot of songs and a lot of them are more obscure and underrated and they slap. also even if they're not obscure. do it.

match-ups are almost entirely random

sorry if the general manner of this tournament isn't timely lol i am a singular sad, sad person

tag key-

polls- #polls (creative ik)

non-polls- #get a load of this (monster)

preliminaries- #cavey prelims[1/2/3/4] (ex cavey prelims1)

rounds- #round![1-5].[bracket 1-4] (ex round!1.1)

propaganda- #bugs who understand (if u guys have better funny-i see what u did there-reference tag names pls tell me)

tags 4 reach :) (on the chance they overlap with cavetown listeners) @tournament-announcer @tournamentdirectory @characterswithcolorsnamesfight @sleepygirlbracket @blue-hair-and-pronouns-tourney @doyoulikethissong-poll @fuck-you-upmusicbracket @mermaidbracket @badass-queer-couples-battle

[generic-sonic-fan]

Team Dark Week: Control

Summary: Team Dark has an encounter with Sage. For @teamdarkweek.

1587 words, mild warning for Omega-typical gory threats

---

“Take it easy on Sage,” Sonic had said. “She’s a good kid. She just likes her dad too much.”

Shadow scoffed at the memory as he dodged the incoming lasers and the flurry of stingers. After the wasp Badniks completed their bombing run, they disappeared back behind the crest of a hill- a tactic much smarter than Shadow was used to seeing from them. The fizzle of red-black pixels in the air suggested the reason behind their improved cognition. 

Omega charged up the hill after them, swapping from his miniguns to his flamethrowers in anticipation of meeting them over the crest. Rouge flew ahead of him, bomb armed in her hand.

“Omega, back off!” She called out as she peeked over the ridgeline. 

Shadow huffed as, predictably, Omega did not listen. Just before he reached the top, a stampede of motobugs flooded towards him, knocking him over and carrying him along on their backs. 

Shadow skated after them. He blasted chaos spears into the pack, but he couldn’t thin their numbers fast enough to give Omega a chance to right himself. The static of red and black intensified in the air around him, making it more difficult for Shadow to aim his next spears. 

Suddenly, the crowd dissipated, and Shadow nearly collided with Omega as he fell down. After steadying himself, Shadow offered a hand to pull him upright, but the Ex-Badnik didn’t respond. 

“Omega?”

“Hey, what’s wrong? Where’d everybody go?” Rouge called out to him. 

Omega’s optics flickered. Once. Twice. The red-black particle effect still hung in the air. Shadow stepped back. 

Omega rose from the ground as if he’d just stepped off the Badnik production line. 

“Back off!” Shadow waved Rouge off.

Omega’s voice box let out a static shrill, before a different voice emerged from his frame. “Unnecessary.” 

Sage’s hologram emerged from Omega’s chest. 

Shadow’s blood boiled. 

“What you’ve done with this E-100 series unit is quite strange.” Sage stated, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “Its processor is extremely disorganized. A factory reset may be necessary for it to regain its efficiency.”

“Let him go.” Shadow snarled. 

“You refer to this Badnik with he/him pronouns. Is this of its own determination?”

“Let him go!” 

“I shall update the database to reflect this.” 

Shadow glanced at Rouge, who nodded and took out her scanner. Wherever Sage was, the drone allowing her to project her hologram and exert her control this far away from the Eggnet couldn’t be far. But before she could get a reading, Sage snapped her attention to her. Omega’s arm raised from his side and reconfigured into his minigun. 

“Land immediately or I will fire.” Sage commanded. 

Rouge dropped to the ground, landing in a kneeling position beneath the tall grass.

“Well, well, what’s this? Some new trick of yours?” She stood with a smile. The scanner was nowhere to be seen. 

“Negative. I can exert control over all Robotnik hardware.” Sage replied. “You have seen me exhibit this ability numerous times. This should not surprise you.”

“Okay, let’s talk.” Rouge put her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do with Omega?”

“Unit E-123 Omega has been logged as missing in the database for three years. All units are instructed to destroy Unit E-123 Omega as long as doing so does not conflict with any other given orders.” With a flick of her hand, Sage made Omega put away his weapons. “Father did not elaborate beyond that when I inquired on the subject. I was unaware that Unit E-123 Omega made such frequent alliance with you and Shadow. I shall update the database to reflect this.”

“You’re not going to destroy him. I won't let you.” Shadow replied. 

“I only intend to capture Unit E-123 Omega. I will bring him back to father to be repaired.”

“Like hell you are!” 

“Phrasing not recognized. Are you expressing disbelief?”

“Listen, sweetheart. Here’s how this is going to go.” Rouge snapped. “You’re going to let Omega go, or I’m going to go pay your daddy a very unfortunate visit. You got that?”

“The only one who your visit will be unfortunate for is yourself. By forewarning your intent to sneak into his current base of residence, I am able to lock down all feasible methods of entry, including the ventilation system.” Sage floated closer. 

Omega’s frame shuddered. Sage flipped around and clenched her fist. More particles came off her. 

“His processor is in absolutely disarray. It is imperative that I bring him back to father to be repaired.” Her voice shook.

Omega’s frame went still again. His arms were raised from his sides, bearing his miniguns, with one pointed at each of them. 

“Please do not resist. I am sure you will see him again.” Sage said before disappearing.

Shadow spin-dashed into Omega’s frame. 

The impact knocked a swarm of red-black particles from his processor. At this, Omega’s optics regained their signature flare. He put away his miniguns and, with his own fist, he punched his head plating. 

“Where is she?” Shadow yelled to Rouge.

“I got her!” Rouge plucked the scanner from where she’d hidden it and took off in the direction of a line of trees. 

Omega’s next swing at his own head was stopped just inches away from his plating. He charged Shadow with claws extended. With a whispered “chaos control”, Shadow disappeared and delivered a kick to the back of Omega’s head. 

Another shudder. It was working.

“You are damaging Unit E-123’s processor with your attacks. Cease your hostile actions immediately to prevent further damage.” Sage said through his vocalizer. 

“Let him go!”

Shadow launched a bolt of chaos energy into Omega’s back before Sage could turn him around. The explosion knocked him forwards and he slid across the grass, which wedged stalks into every crevice of his plating. For a moment, Shadow pictured his spread of parts littered throughout the grass, rusted and forgotten. He screamed in rage. 

��It is clear this is causing you distress. Why do you continue?” Sage asked.

Shadow ran towards Omega as he tried to stand and slammed him back against the ground. 

“Stop. Stop!” Sage cried. “You are acting illogically. He is your ally, yet you are destroying him. Explain why you are acting this way!”

“Ask him, if you care!” Shadow replied, before charging another chaos spear in his palm.

“Very well.”

Omega went still. Shadow dissipated his spear. Sage’s hologram appeared once more, this time sitting on top of Omega’s back.

“He is refusing to answer my queries.”

“Then let me ask him!”

With a gesture from her hand, Omega’s voice box crackled online. 

“-WILL TEAR YOUR MAINFRAME TO PIECES AND INFECT IT WITH ORGANIC WASTE MATERIAL!” Omega screamed. “I WILL LOAD YOU INTO A KITCHEN BOT AND FORCE YOU TO WATCH AS I FEED EGGMAN HIS OWN ENTRAILS!”

“Omega, tell Sage why-.”

“I WILL SOONER DEACTIVATE THAN BECOME EGGMAN’S SLAVE!”

“You would not be a slave.” Sage replied. “Because of your advanced stage of sentience, I would advocate for-”

“You won’t be able to convince him otherwise, so let him go or I’ll be forced to destroy him.” Shadow hissed. 

“It is unfortunate that you both believe that.” Sage made a silencing motion with her hand before Omega could speak another syllable. “Shadow, I would like the opportunity to show you and him that nothing of the sort would happen.”

“Let. Him. Go.” 

“I will defend him from you. He is evidently a long lost brother of mine, and while you are also family, I will not let you destroy him. That is my warning.”

Shadow summoned a chaos spear from the burning in his chest. Its energy buffeted his quills.

“Do not-”

Sage’s hologram flickered out of existence. A cloud of red-black particles spilled from Omega’s frame, dissipating up into the sky. Shadow stepped back, though kept his aim steady.

“DO NOT FIRE.” Omega said, his voice quieter, but otherwise free from static or any other deviation. “HER CONNECTION HAS TERMINATED.”

Shadow shot the bolt into the sky, and its flash blinded them both until it dissipated. 

Rouge came flying from the trees. In her hands she held what remained from Sage’s projector drone. “Come on, boys! Let’s go before she comes back!”

Shadow pulled Omega to his feet and pushed the Ex-Badnik ahead of him. His rocket boosters shuddered, before roaring to life, and Shadow followed. Rouge led the way, although they were not following the path back to base- soon the landscape changed to orange hills and green palm trees. 

Rouge had landed and knocked on the door to the workshop before Shadow and Omega pulled alongside her. Tails opened the door with his welding mask still on his face.

“Oh, hey! Why the- oh.” He went quiet when he saw Omega. “Come on in.”

Omega pushed Rouge aside and stomped over to Tails’ computer. He found a data cable from the nearby tangle of wires and plugged himself in. He stared at Tails.

“Is he. . . feeling okay?” Tails asked Rouge.

“He needs a security update. Now.” Shadow replied. 

“Oh, hey! Didn’t see you guys come in.”

Shadow turned around to see Sonic standing in the door frame. 

“Wow, Omega, you look a little ‘grassy’, if you catch my drift.” Sonic strolled further into the workshop. 

“Take it easy on Sage. She’s a good kid.”

Shadow ignited his skates, grabbed Sonic by the arm, and slammed him against the ground before throwing him against a palm tree outside. 

[angelicadamposting]

Eva Lean ཐི♡ཋྀ | (Ex?)Third Wife of Adam

art credit to nattycat08 on tumblr & insta @nattycat08

Basic Info

Real Name: Evangeline (Formerly Evangeline-Juliette Antionette de France) Preferred Name: Eva Lean (Lean as in the purple drink)  Species: Sheep/Goat Sinner / Fallen Angel (Formerly Angel / Divine Soul) (Also Formerly Human) Sin: Blasphemy  Physical Age: 22 Birth Date: November 26, 1780 Death Year: 1802  Cause Of Death: Yellow Fever  Height: 4'11 ft or 150 cm MBTI: INTJ Gender & Pronouns: She/Her - Ciswoman  Sexuality: Bisexual (closeted most of her life/afterlife or unaware) Romantic Interest(s): Adam <3, Sir Pentious, Lucifer (there’s Val somewhere in there too but not really)

Short Facts

Adopted Daughter of Marie Antionette 

Princess Complex

Religious in life before dying alone

Married Adam in heaven 

Was close friends with Lute 

Used to share a sisterly relationship with Emily

Is Best Friend's With Angel Dust

Capable of playing the piano

Spent 200 years in heaven before falling 

Reacted Negatively to the Exterminations, leading to her fall

Sold her soul to Valentino, working for him as a porn star

Doesn’t get along with/argues/bickers with Lucifer 

Hides / Tries to hide the fact she’s a fallen angel from as many sinners as possible. (initially, only Valentino is aware due to her selling her soul to him + the exposing work she does reveals her scars to him.) 

Valentino insists her scars be edited out, the camera angles avoid showing them as often, or that her hair cover them in all the content she’s featured in.

Likes♡

Reading

Sweets

Marijuana 

Drinking / Getting High

Bread

Club Dancing

Ballroom Dancing

Shopping

Helping/Supporting Others

Cooking (Despite Failing)

Music (Listening or Playing Piano + Singing)

Fashion

Receiving Gifts

Dislikes ‹/𝟹

Being Kept in the Dark/Lied To

Senseless Violence (depends)

Being Alone

Surprises

Silence

Spicy or even just Unfamiliar Foods

Being Belittled or Disrespected

Cemeteries

‘Ugly people’ - Adam

Clutter

Being Woken Up Early

Personality Traits 

Positive – Adaptable, Charismatic, Affectionate, Charming, Confident, Curious, Flirtatious, Nurturing, Intelligent, Observant, Kind, Playful, Sentimental, Witty, Sophisticated, Spontaneous, Passionate, Outgoing, Un-Selfish,

Negative – Addictive, Catty, Compulsive, Cocky, Often Cowardly, Cynical, Dishonest, Extravagant, Gluttonous, Frivolous, Fussy, Haughty, Impulsive, Jealous, Materialistic, Paranoid, Pessimistic, Rebelliously obedient, Reckless, Sleazy/Promiscuous, Self Destructive, Self Indulgent, Spoiled, Temperamental,

Semi Detailed Facts 

Once her birth mother, who worked for the French royal family, passed away, she and her sister were adopted by Queen Marie Antionette & King Louis VXI 

Despite never gaining a royal title, she developed somewhat of a ‘Princess Complex,’ 

Raised very religious, studying the bible and any religious scripture she could from the moment she was taught to read. 

Never knew her sexuality in life, unaware and afraid to explore it. Only really realized she was bisexual after her fall from Heaven.

Died of yellow fever, with no suitors or children of her own. Nothing but her birth sister, and her love for God. 

She married Adam, becoming his third wife, when in Heaven. Spending 200 years with him before her fall. 

Cast from Heaven for referring to God as a 'pompous, overzealous, self-centered ass' for allowing the exterminations to occur in the first place. (Speaking Blasphemy)

Valentino was one of the first people she met once in hell, aside from other sinners she would party with. She sold her soul to him shortly after her fall, becoming a pornstar for him and revealing her past to only him. 

She hides the fact she’s a fallen angel 

Generally (& only initially) dislikes Lucifer, keeping in mind how he ‘stole’ Lilith and Eve from Adam.

Backstory (before Heaven)

Evangeline was born as a peasant in France, and her parents each worked beneath King Louis VXI and Queen Marie Antionette. At a young age, Evangeline and her elder sister were chosen to become Marie's daughter's playmates. A common practice for nobles of the ra to find a commoner to befriend their child to socialize with them, however, the Queen chose to do this to teach her daughter empathy. After several years of spending day after day at the side of the Princess, her mother passed away. Stricken with responsibility and a heart bigger than the public knew, Marie Antionette adopted Evangeline and her elder sister. Quickly moving the two into the Palace of Versailles and giving each of them new names based on her favorite books, Evangeline now being called Juliette by her adopted mother based on 'Les Lettres de Juliette Catesby (1759)' by Marie Jeanne Riccoboni.

Despite being treated with the same maternal care and affection as Marie's biological daughter, Evangeline nor her elder sister were ever granted titles. Instead, the two were often referred to by others in the palace as 'the girls who always accompany Princess Marie-Therese.' This never bothered Evangeline, the young girl only thankful for the affection and opportunity within the palace. Her new mother gave her access to literature, teaching her to read as soon as possible, and teaching her daughter how to love books just as she did. It was at this time that Evangeline began to read the bible and learn other languages.

When the political unrest within France grew and the royal family attempted to flee, Evangeline and her sister were sent to the countryside to live with their biological father until the family returned shortly after failing the attempt. The unrest only grew, however, resulting in the Queen instructing another member of the French Court to take Evangeline and her sister to safety. The two living with the Mackau family during the height of the revolution and during their adopted parent's executions, their biological father shortly following in their footsteps due to his association with the King.

It wasn't until age 17 that Evangeline was released from legal guardianship, and permission to use the pension from her deceased adoptive parents as she wished. For the first time, the young woman was on her own in the world, and her name had been changed back to match that of her biological parents instead of the royal family. She moved to Saint-Denis in Paris to live close to her sister, the only person she even knew anymore.

For years, the young woman lived alone, unsure of what direction her life was meant to go in. Everything had been set up for her, prepared for her since she had been adopted. Things were always taken care of for her, a future decided for her even when she was under legal guardianship by the Mackau family. Near overnight everything changed, her whole life flipped upside down and every adult with a parental role in her eyes was gone. She spent her days reading, visiting with her neighbors, and feeding the strays while her sister began a family, at least being married off. It wasn't until 1802 when a group of soldiers traveled through her city, ones she just had to run into on the street, unknowingly spread yellow fever throughout Saint-Denis.

Early winter that year, Evangeline passed away in her home with no one but her faith and sister at her side. Without even a good story to tell, the young woman went to sleep to never wake up in the mortal realm again. However, she instead awoke before the pearly gates. She was greeted by St. Peter, who quickly checked his book to find her name, and brought through the gates quickly. Passing through the gates, Evangeline's senses were overloaded by the bright aura that emitted off the grand, beautiful structures softly sat atop the clouds. Almost causing her to miss the other angels themselves, as her eyes danced from billboard to fountain and so on.

Timeline In Hell (After The Fall)

2002: Arrival. She woke up alone in an alleyway, wingless and unfamiliar with both her sinner form and the world around her. Stumbling lost, missing her husband, and confused about what to do with herself. Seeking shelter, or a place to stay and coming up empty-handed for over a year. Leading the girl who had once lived within the palace walls of Versailles and in a lavish mansion in heaven to sleep on the streets longer than she’d ever anticipated for herself. From the moment she’d been adopted, this outcome was something she had never even allowed herself to consider. 

2003: The end of Evangeline. After a year of nothing but sorrow and uncertainty, Evangeline began to indulge in some of Hell’s most popular pastimes. More particularly, the drug and party scene. Finding herself diving headfirst into a realm that she convinced herself she had to belong, and after a short passage of time- She did. 

Mid-2003: The birth of Eva Lean. Despite the initial sin that led to her fall being only blasphemy, Evangeline became gluttonous and lustful. Spending every night going from club to club, bar to bar, and partaking in every substance she could- Leaning into a persona based on how she came to find out history had remembered her adoptive mother. “Let them eat cake!” She’d cheer, relishing as the center of attention beneath the flashing lights, booming music, and between the swaying bodies of the crowd. The overindulgence numbed her from the memories of Heaven, from Adam and Sera’s betrayal, and from God’s bullshit. It didn’t matter anymore if she had a place to call her own, or a regular roof over her head– She’d just crash at whatever bar she ended up in by the end of the night. She shed herself of the identity she’d held onto for her whole living life and the centuries she spent in heaven– renaming herself Eva Lean after a particular purple concoction she enjoyed more than she should. 

2004: Selling her Soul. Eva didn’t realize that her reputation had begun to grow, word of a descendant of Marie Antionette going unhinged was hard to miss for someone like Valentino. He beckoned her to where he sat one evening in a club, and in her inebriated, curious state, she waltzed over to him. Plopping down on the couch beside him, waving the red smoke that wafted from his cigarette as he began to offer her an opportunity not fit for an angel. But she was a fallen angel and one without anything. Val ensured if she worked for him, and sold her soul to him– She’d have a roof over her head, protection during the yearly exterminations, and all the money she could want. Even if she had been sober, it was a choice with only one clear option. 

Pilot: Finding the Hazbin Hotel/Hearing of it. It had been over 10 years since Eva began working for Valentino. Her name, face, and body spread across the internet of hell in a way unfit for a woman of God. Although, the scars on her back were regularly edited out of everything she starred in. It wasn’t always glamorous or enjoyable, the work or living conditions but she didn’t even know what else she would do by this point. Valentino wasn’t always harsh with her, in fact, the overlord showed an almost soft side with the fallen angel behind closed doors. Careful to avoid causing anyone else to think he was playing favorites, of course. Eva enjoyed, no– relished in his attention. Even if she knew and believed it to be a facade, a ploy to get her clothes off and comfortable enough to keep being an obedient employee and pet. His chain was heavy on her throat and only felt lighter when he turned his attention to Angel Dust after his arrival to hell. She worked alongside Angel Dust, obviously not in the same films, but nonetheless. The two grew a friendship, relating to one another. Eventually, Eva would hear all about it from Valentino whenever Angel Dust moved out and started staying at the Hazbin Hotel. And she soon asked her friend what the hotel was all about. The concept intrigued her, although she didn’t believe in it being passed by heaven. She knew she herself was incapable of redemption particularly, due to already falling, but it would be interesting to offer assistance. She could get some space from Valentino when he was particularly aggressive or clingy for lack of a better word. Her soul’s owner had grown excessively attentive after Angel’s choice to leave, and it was becoming suffocating. Eva decided to visit this Hazbin hotel, greeting Charlie and expressing her interest in not being redeemed herself, but rather assisting sinners to take a more righteous path. Despite not being quite what Charlie had anticipated, or hoped to hear from the lamb, she was happy to accept help with the cause. 

During the Series: Eva moved into the Hazbin Hotel, resulting in a less-than-happy Valentino, gaining a similar reaction to when Angel Dust joined the Hotel- Though, much less severe in truth. (cont)

[cody-paranatural]

do you have any pnat headcanons? :3

YES I DO.

I have!!!! A lot of them!!!!!

I will try to keep this relatively short but we’ll see how this goes lol.

Okay! So in no particular order:

- I need to get this one off of my chest. I don’t care about the wifi-spider from the twitter thing Spender is GAY. He got confused when a woman assumed he was asking her out 😭 The closest he’s ever been to ‘dating’ a woman was when he desperately asked Mina if she would pretend to be his date to one of his dad’s galas bc he was DESPERATE to keep them from realizing he was gay. But she really didn’t want to go there and so it ended up being the first gala he ditched completely and had a way better time because of it. It was the start of him actually being able to admit that he HATES living like this. I will die on this hill I cannot see this man as bisexual. Jean IS bi though.

- In my mind Mina is 100% the person Ms Baxter was referring to when she said she ditched her goth phase after a bad breakup in junior year. They’re exes. To ME. I want this to be true so bad.

- I don’t know why I started with the adults but I’m sticking by it for now. Anyway you literally can’t convince me that June and Shrike weren’t briefly a Thing in the past. It’s so real to me. I don’t think Shrike would’ve told June about her evil vampire fling turned boyfriend turned husband. But for comedic purposes if June DID know she would be so “I’m so happy for you and your ugly boyfriend” about it.

- Peter and June are so t4t and bi4bi. So are Shrike and Davy actually but I don’t know if the world is ready for that one. Listen I’m just saying that the Shrike timeline would get much simpler if you assume she wasn’t the one with the baby.

- Cody was a REALLY ugly baby. I needed a jumping point to get to the kids and this is one I feel strongly about. Because listen. He’s a cute little guy NOW. But this is a “butterfly was a caterpillar first” kinda situation. He needed to exorcise all the ugly genes he got from Davy as soon as possible. He suffered enough he deserves to look like his mother okay.

- I love the school store gang they’re all literally my best friends so here’s how I think the group came to be. To me Jeff and Violet live in the same neighborhood, and their parents are friends so they’ve been hanging out for a while. Very shortly before they started first grade they run into Ed, who got distracted by a spirit or something like that and ended up getting split up from Izzy and also maybe Dimitri. They had one fun day together and then saw each other at school and boom. They’re besties now :] And later on they ended up befriending my beloved weird girl herself Lisa Paranatural. I think she just like, sat next to them one day and became part of the group. No one can really tell when or how it happened it just did. It’s like she’s always been there. And Cody was the last one to join them. Until proven otherwise I just think that he most likely went to the rich kid elementary school, and didn’t meet any of them until the start of 6th grade. You CAN become that close with someone in a little over a year. It happened to me. And Max got attached to the activity club in a week so anything’s possible. The world is my oyster.

- I think Jeff has an older sister :] He just gives me that vibe, like he’s a younger brother FOR SURE. Also literally everyone is his family as a silly name, it’s a tradition. One of his mom is named Jedextraordinary Flavors or something equally as silly.

- Speaking of Jeff, he writes poetry. This is mostly inspired by him talking about the symbolism of his pencil and his desk in chapter 1. He’s 12 so it’s of very questionable quality, but he has a lot of fun with it.

- Isaac is a trans girl. And Violet is a non binary trans guy. These two are very important because I will be using my headcanon pronouns for them here ^-^

- Isaac and Cody don’t really know each other in real life but they DO know each other on like a Twilight forum. And they fight all the time. I think Cody really likes reading vampire novels. I think he finds the inaccuracies very funny. And Isaac genuinely really loves Twilight but would sooner Die than admit it bc she is terrified of being seen as cringe. They are interested in completely different aspects of the Twilight universe and also Cody clearly loves drama, just look at how he talks about the student council stuff. I just think it would be very funny okay.

- In a similar vein Cody listens to The Fever sometimes (DJ Mothman and Professor Bigfoot’s radio station) On page 49 he found what they had to say about Shrike funny so I think he’d enjoy hearing what else they have to say, though only to laugh at it. Where as Stephen takes it very seriously. I think any supernatural related conversation between Stephen and Cody would be Very Funny, but I also like to think that if they ever actually became friends it would start with them talking about the Fever.

- Sege’s full name has GOT to make up the word sergeant somehow. Either his middle name is Anthony or his last name is straight up the word ant or something that contains it. Serge is my special funny guy i needed to include him.

- Since Isaac’s parents are just irish Goku and irish Sailor moon I think her aunt should be irish Miku. I think her whole extended family just looks Like That. They’re all EXTREMELY normal though. They’r personalities don’t match their designs AT ALL. Isaac absolutely does not see the resemblance between his family members and the characters they look like and she’s the only one and it drives everyone else CRAZY

- This is more of a general headcanon but I think that at some point a spectral uploaded a photo they took where the spirits are doing something really stupid, but the action is treating it SO seriously. And it breaches contentment and spawns two different memes. The spectral version where people are hyping up the lamest spirits they’ve seen and the non-spectral interpretation of it where people think the joke is that there’s NOTHING in the photo.

- I think at some point in high school Isabel and Max get to be buzzcut brothers. Isabel fucked up her bangs so bad after impulsively cutting them that she decided that she’s just gonna go bald for a bit. Ed helped. It’s a good look on her but I don’t think she would stick by it all that long.

- This one is mostly a joke. But I think that at some point while saying his very questionable conspiracy theories Stephen somehow got everything spectral and spirit related 100% right, and then immediately decided that this theory is kinda stupid actually and decided that bigfoot makes way more sense

- Also. In my beautiful mind Cash Reward is gonna have puppies at some point. Because I want to see Stephen being WAYYY too invested in being a dog uncle (Cash Reward is like a sibling to them, you see)

- I think Isabel will really get into miniature crafting in high school. I don’t really have a good reasoning for this one, I think it’s something she started because it didn’t really seem like her thing, but it just ended up being something she really ended up enjoying after a while. This one might be me projecting a little though because I kinda want to get into it :P

- Dimitri learns how to code in his free time. It started because Suzy REALLY wanted the journalism club to have its own website, but was too impatient to learn it herself. So she decided that their editor guy should do it. And Dimitri ended up really enjoying himself. I think he and Ed tried to make a little game together at some point but had WILDLY different ideas for what they wanted it to be so it didn’t really end up going anywhere

- Ed learns how to play several instruments just because they can. This one is so true to real to me and I don’t even know why. They can play kazoo and the ukulele for SURE. They get an otamatone when they’re older. A harmonica too, perhaps.

[starfall-sys]

Welcome to our glorious page, where we post about system stuff, witchcraft (sometimes), neurodivergent things, silly stuff, aesthetic stuff, artwork, photography, and more!

PLEASE CHECK THE #yellowcosmiccheeseburger TAG REGARDING A NOTICE FOR THE PRO ENDOS AND ENDO ACCOUNTS WHO WANT TO INTERACT WITH OUR BLOG

HASHTAGS FOR EASIER NAVIGATION:

#yellowcosmiccheeseburger for systemboxes, announcements and important posts

#starfallasks for ask posts that we respond to

#starfallmustread for all posts regarding my ex specifically and all the stuff hes done to us and his victims (please read if possible) + other call out posts

#starfallposts for every post I have made that isnt just another reblog (might have a few reblogs)

Other blogs

Main blog: @sparkly-starfall

Witchy blog: @sunlight-starfall

Headspace blog (Managed by Hartley): @starry-headspace

Littles’ blog (Ran by our littles and their caretakers): @little-star-squad

Shared blog with our qpp (Ran by us and our qpp):

@sunset-soulmates

Please do remember these key things:

- We have AuDHD (Autism and ADHD), so if you’re sending an ask, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD USE THE DAMN TONE TAGS, OR ELSE WE MAY MISUNDERSTAND YOU.

- We wont answer every question about our system unless we are comfortable answering the question.

- We are self diagnosed for AuDHD and OSDD due to repeated medical neglect. However we are in the process of getting official diagnoses for them thanks to our doctor actually listening to us this time. We do have an official diagnosis for BPD tho

- We use I/me pronouns along with we/us. Depending on the situation, if we use I/me, it’s usually by accident or the person who is fronting is referring to themselves.

- We may forget to put trigger warnings, please tell us as soon as possible if something serious needs a trigger warning. I won’t put any trigger warnings for my own healed scars though.

- Please be mindful that some of us are sensitive, so please be patient with us and please don’t attack us over the tiniest things, it can easily give us panic attacks

- TELL US IF WE SAID SOMETHING THAT IS DAMAGING. PLEASE. OR IF ITS INACCURATE.

- Please accurately tell us your boundaries so that we don’t overstep any of them. Especially boundaries regarding sensitive information and topics. We take boundaries very seriously.

DNI, Commission rules, and more down below

We use ‘✨🌟💫’ as our collective tag. Individual alters will use their own tag if they feel like it, will list those later on.

Alter tags:

Silas: ✨ or ✨ 🌟 💫

Wynn: ❤️‍🔥

Chara: 🔪

Ennie: 🧸

James: 🟡

Vince: ❤️‍🩹

Sage: 💚

Angel Dust: ❤️

Luna: 🌙

Riley: 🩵

Casey: 💛

Eden: 💕

Hartley: 🟪

Francis: 🧡 or 🍊

Frisk: 🌼

Karly: 💜

SK: 🔮

Gaster: ❔

Lucifer: 🦆

Rebecca: 💦

Ruby: 💔

Keeper (The Keeper): 🖤

Purble kitty (no official name yet): 🐱

Jinn (J for short): 🍪

COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!!!!

Rules/Guidelines for commissions:

- Can be NSFW however I won’t do anything too graphic that could trigger me or get me in trouble.

- VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: I CANNOT DRAW PEOPLE. So please don’t ask me to draw people I genuinely can’t.

- I will take collage commissions and abstract art commissions, and maybe other forms of art if I can make it.

- If you are asking for a collage please give me a theme or a general idea. If you don’t like a certain part of a collage I wont mind changing it, just specify what you want changed and what you want instead.

- If you are asking for abstract, you will have to specify what type of abstract you want. It could be shapes, scribbles, funny and creepy looking creatures (I make those too), but you need to tell me what you want. Be as specific as possible. Please keep in mind that I can’t necessarily change much since I can’t exactly read your mind on what you want exactly but I will do my best to make it good!

- I will also take generic wallpaper commissions as long as it’s something that I can make. If it’s something that I cant do (people, animals, most plants unless i drew them in simple designs), then I may not be able to make it.

- PLEASE DONT ASK ME TO MAKE SOMETHING I AM UNCOMFORTABLE WITH. So nothing with heavy gore or triggering topics. I’m okay with vent collages though.

I may make exceptions to some of these guidelines or change them as I get better at art again but for now this is what I will have laid out.

Anyways here’s our DNI (simplified):

- NSFW blogs

- Anti self dx

- Blogs faking disorders

- Blogs starting unnecessary drama

- Don’t interact with us if you have hurt us before and we have yet to forgive you

- Misinformation blogs. Keep your smooth brain OFF MY PAGE.

- Blogs enforcing politics without asking. We are not interested in politics

- Homophobic, sexist, racist, transphobic, ableist, or are generally hateful of those different than you. Leave us alone, and mind your own business

- Controversial and unacceptable identities (transracial, MAPs, super straight, etc).

- Blogs actively disrespecting other people’s religions/preaching your religion into our blog without permission.

- You support abusers and victimblame people.

- You support bullying.

- You dont believe that RAMCOA is real or you believe in ‘npd abuse’ or any form of ‘disorder abuse’.

- You traumadump or vent publicly.

We know things may be tough but please don’t dump your problems onto someone else who didn’t ask for it. It’s mentally exhausting and can trigger others easily. If you really need help, there are helplines available. If you want someone to talk to, please go elsewhere or send a DM instead of sending us an ask or commenting on our posts publicly

- Pro-Isra3l/z1on1st, or support genocide. We stand for Palestine, always have and always will.

- YOU ARE SPECIFICALLY SOPHIEINWONDERLAND OR YOUR SIDE BLOGS IF YOU HAVE ANY. YOURE THE ONLY NON TRAUMAGENIC PERSON WHO WE WILL NEVER ACCEPT IN OUR BLOG. SO FUCK OFF.

- Blogs that support problematic ships on the internet/support problematic content on the internet, aka darkships.

- You are on our ex’s side (even after being informed of what he’s done) and refuse to acknowledge that our ex is an abuser who has abused multiple people. (Check #starfallmustread tag below)

WHEW, that was a LOT. Anyways here are the rules of my blog:

- Please dont overswear.

- NO SLURS OR HATEFUL LANGUAGE

- Don’t start unhealthy arguments. A healthy debate is fine but if it gets out of hand then no.

- Please be respectful towards others and to us as well

- Please dont bring up triggering topics without a trigger warning in an ask. Do not bring up triggering topics in a public comment at ALL unless you are responding to a post related to that topic.

- Please dont spam too much. Its funny at first but after a while it gets annoying

- Please avoid self promotion (doesnt mean you can’t promote your stuff but just don’t overdo it)

- If there is something inaccurate on our posts, TELL US RESPECTFULLY. We will not listen if you are being rude.

- Please do not attack us.

- PLEASE AVOID POLITICS IF POSSIBLE

- No doxxing. At all.

- Please dont harass us or other people.

Anyways, this list will update in the future if necessary. Have fun on our blog!

[spookyspecterino]

Left Behind

Sam Coe x GN! Reader

GN! Reader. Use of They/Them pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions. Reader is referred to as Captain sometimes, like in the game.

Characters: Sarah, Barrett, Sam Coe. Mentions of Cora Coe and Lillian

No spoilers for the end of game or Sam's romance questline

A little bit of angst, but with a happy ending, language, a sprinkle of pining. No official romance with Sam has started in this fic, but the hint of one forming is there.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you ask Sarah to go out exploring with you instead of Sam one day. He’s clueless as to why, until he talks to Barrett. After realizing his mistake, he’s determined to close this rift between you and him.

This idea came to me while playing the game and going through the many different conversations about Sam’s ex-wife, Lillian. I’ve since finished his romance questline, and needless to say, I loved it and the whole thing was worth it. More is on the way. I have written many outlines. I have a particular feeling that I'm going to need a starfield masterlist here soon.

Florescent lights in the interior of the Frontier. You’d have to change those, because now more than ever, you wanted to be anywhere other than here. Every action was spurred by this increasing desire to get the hell out. Things were shoved half hazard into your bag. You took only a few meager supplies, rationalizing that more could be scavenged from the temperate planet.

A deep voice over your shoulder only makes you frown harder. “Hey, you ready to go? Looks like a good planet.”

Maybe it wasn’t the lighting that made you want to leave, but it didn’t help.

“Yeah—uh, actually. Sarah—”

Your friend looks up from messing with the ship’s calibration. “Hm?”

“You wanna head out?”

She’s unsure what to do. Her eyes flicker to Sam. “Oh, er—sure.” Slowly, as if waiting for you to change your mind, she gets up to start collecting her gun and some supplies.

With a halfway look over your shoulder at Sam, “Gonna take Sarah with me today. Spend some time with Cora, or, I don’t know, play cards with Barrett.”

Or go think about Lillian

Sam doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. With your pack slung over your shoulder, you’re already heading toward the exit. “Ready Sarah?”

“All set Captain.”

The sound of the hatch opening and closing marks your speedy dismissal. Sam is left where he stood. Brows pinched. The ship is deathly quiet and oddly empty without you.

And Sam does what you suggested. He sits with Cora, listening to his daughter describe the books she’s reading, listens to all her theories on what the books’ themes are, listens to her feelings on the books’ authors—it takes up only a few hours. And he likes it, he always does, but somethings’ missing. Somethings wrong.

And you’re still not back. He’s bored to tears and can’t shake that funny feeling. It’s probably nothing. Right?

After a few more hours, when he tried to take a nap and couldn’t, he got up and decided to scan the planet. And then rescan it. Then scan the system, then rescan it.

Why’d you leave him behind?

Yesterday you were fine. Looking at him with those bright, happy eyes of yours. You were such a good listener—the way you leaned in, focused all your attention on him. It made him want to keep talking. Sam sighed, maybe a little louder than he intended, and leaned back in his chair, leg bouncing.

“What’s wrong, friend?”

He snapped out of his thoughts as Barrett appeared. “Not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me. You’re shuffling around the ship like a kicked puppy.” He leans in a little. “You missin’ the Captain?”

Sam crosses his arms. “That’s none of your business.”

This makes Barrett grin even more, as infuriating as that is for Sam. “Oh sure, sure…I just can’t help but notice they decided to take Sarah today.”

“No shit.” Sam mumbles, looking away.

“Does that…bother you?” He holds up his hands in defense. “Not trying to be nosy, just attempting to help.”

“You’ve never asked if something’s bothered me before—or if you could help with it.”

“Well, it’s no secret the captain prefers to take you along.” He waggles his eyebrows. “As in they take you everywhere, man. Even Sarah was surprised when they asked her instead. It was more than a little awkward.”

Sam only groans and rubs a hand over his face.

“Did you two get into a fight?” Barrett leans in. “A little lover’s quarrel?”

“No! No—we’re not even…it’s not like that—there was no…I…” Sam’s jaw twitches. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me.”

“I don’t need you to be my counselor, Barrett.”

“Alright. Alright. Have fun trying to figure out why you’re stuck on the ship. Who knows, maybe you’ll figure out the reason they’re mad at you…in a month—or two.”

Sam frowns. “How do you know they’re mad at me?”

“I thought it was obvious.” Barrett laughs. “You don’t even know you’re in the doghouse? Oh, you’re doomed.”

“Damnit.” Sam hisses. “Ok! ok. Barrett…” Sam grits his teeth as his friend slowly turns to face him with a grin. “Please help.”

“Say no more friend.” He claps his hands once, sitting across from Sam and getting comfortable. “Ok, how bad was the fight?”

“I told you, there wasn’t one.”

“You didn’t fight? Not even an argument?”

“Nope. Everything was normal yesterday.”

Barrett runs his fingers through his beard, deep in thought as he concentrates. “What did you last talk about?”

Sam sighs. This was already more than he bargained for. “Lillian.”

“Oooh, ex-wife troubles, huh?”

“Watch it, Barrett.”

“Alright, alright. What about the conversation before that?”

“Lillian, again.”

Barrett gives him a look. “Annnd the one before that?”

“Uh…I think it was…it was about Cora and Lillian.”

“How many times have you talked about Lillian with the captain?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to explain what Lillian’s like and what we’ve been through.”

“So, I’m guessing there’s been quite a few?”

“Sure, you could say that.”

The all-knowing Barrett nods. “There it is.”

“There’s what?”

“You two obviously have feelings for one another—” He holds up a finger as Sam tries to interject. “—don’t bother denying it, I see the little glances you give each other when you think no ones’ looking.”

Sam’s face tints a light shade of red despite his frown.

It delights Barrett and he continues on. “And since you two wanna be together and do all that sappy, lovey-dovey stuff, don’t you think constantly bringing up your ex-wife is a bit of a buzzkill?”

“I’m just trying to express how I feel. Can I help it that I’m constantly mad at Lillian?”

“That’s ok—I mean you obviously need to see a professional about it—but don’t bring it up every conversation. Especially when they’re trying to be sweet with you.”

“Sweet with me?”

“The lingering touches, the glances, the way they laugh at your jokes even when they’re terrible.”

“My jokes aren’t that bad.”

“Do you see Sarah and I laughing?”

“Erm…no, no I guess not.”

“Maybe ask them how they’re doing or ask them about their life. Lend an ear if somethings bothering them, but also, don’t try to fix it for them. Sometimes people just want to vent.”

“But that’s what I was doing—venting about Lillian.”

“You were doing it too much.”

“So, vent, but don’t do it too much? You’re not making any sense, Barrett.”

Barrett shifts into a straighter posture in his chair. “Let me run you through a scenario.”

He leans to the left as Sam watches with a raised eyebrow. “’Hello, Mr. Sexy Space Cowboy, how are you today?’” He makes over-exaggerated doe eyes to really sell it.

He shifts over to the right side of his chair and adopts a deeper, over the top, gravelly voice. “’I talked to my ex-wife, the mother of my child, last night. Here’s the specific details of our relationship and our history.’”

“’Oh, well, that’s nice. What if we talk about something else—’”

“’All I think about or talk about is Lillian.’”

Sam waves a hand, stopping Barrett. “It’s not like that. Plus, I’m not gushing over Lillian–I’m not even talking highly of her.”

“The fact that you keep bringing her up sends its own message.”

“What kind of message?”

“The sort of message that says you’re not over her.”

“But I am, I really am.”

“Have you explicitly said that in these conversations you’re having?”

“…Not exactly.”

“Seeee? Ok, let’s put you in the opposite position. The captain starts bringing up one of their old partners, constantly. They vent and they tell you all the horrible things about them, and all the good things too, but it’s like every conversation something about their partner comes up. How does that make you feel?”

“Wait, were they in a serious relationship?”

“Oh yeah. The most serious. Picket fence with a dog kind of relationship.”

Sam grips the handles of his chair. “When did they tell you this?”

“No, no, no this is for the demonstration. But do you see what I mean? I could tell you were getting a little on edge there.”

Sam clicks his tongue, leaning back and looking away. “I was not.”

“You looked like you were about to jump out of your seat.”

“…Ok, maybe I was.”

“Now imagine if that was real, and they brought them up as much as you do with Lillian.”

A hard pit forms in Sam’s stomach. “Alright, you’ve got a point there.”

“Doesn’t feel great, does it?”

Sam runs a hand through his hair with a long sigh. “I get it now. But how do I fix it? By bringing it up, isn’t that still talking about Lillian?”

“In a way, yes. You just have to get over that first hurdle and then let the love flow.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Let your feelings out!”

“That isn’t…that’s not really my style.”

“You’d better change that. Cause if not, you’re gonna get left behind more often, you’re going to grow even more distant, and someone else is bound to show up, you know that. The captains’ a catch.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“So just go out there and explain how you feel. And while you’re at it, confess you’re in love with them.”

Sam chuckles nervously. “That’s way too soon.”

“Ok, if the time isn’t right then maybe save that for later, when you inevitably mess up again. I will admit I like the dramatics a little too much.”

“What do you mean mess up aga—”

“It’ll happen. But we should really talk about if your approach doesn’t work.”

“Why wouldn’t it work?”

“The damage might’ve already been done. The captain may think you’re not over Lillian.”

“But I’ll tell them I’m not.”

“It might be harder to convince them than simply saying a few words.”

“So, what do I do?”

“You gotta let them go.”

“What?”

“You gotta give them their space and some time. Let them mull it over. You can’t force someone to be with you, and you certainly can’t force them to stop being mad at you. It would only make things worse.”

“You’re suggesting, if I talk to them and they’re still mad, I just…let them figure it out and step away?”

“If you love something, set it free. If it returns, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it was never yours to begin with.”

“Ah, clever. You had to sneak a phrase in there didn’t you?”

“It’s been too long since our game, friend. You spend all your time at the front trying to catch the captain’s eye.”

Sam’s head was starting to hurt and the pit in his stomach only grew when he imagined you exploring without him on a regular basis. He closes his eyes. “I don’t know if I could lose them. It would… it would tear me apart. I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

“That’s love.”

“I’ll talk with them when they get back. Or do you think I should go out there and find them?”

“The dramatic part of me wants you to do that…but the practical part says no.” He looks out the ships’ window at the sunset and mumbles, “Plus it’s not even raining.”

“What does rain have to do with anything?”

“Confessions in the rain always have more umph to them. Best to wait.”

Sam groans. “I’m gonna go stir crazy in here.”

“Just relax, think about what you’re going to say. In the meantime, shall we play a few rounds of our game?”

Their game of back-and-forth sayings has Sam feeling better, or maybe it was simply talking with Barrett, but it was late into the night when they finished, and you were still nowhere to be found. Feeling defeated, Sam went to bed, tossing and turning endlessly before falling into a restless sleep. The little dreams he could remember consisted of trying to find you, and chasing a ghostly figure that wouldn’t stay still.

It’s late into the next morning when Barrett registers you and Sarah on the ship’s scanner. Finally returning after your scouting expedition on the planet. What Sam would have given to spend the night out under the stars with you, it makes him burn with envy at the thought.

However, he quickly forgets about it as you come into the Frontier laughing and smiling with Sarah. Talking about some weird rock formation you saw on your travels.

“Certainly odd shaped.” Sarah laughed.

“Never seen one that big. Rock or otherwise.” You replied grinning, sending Sarah into another fit of laughter.

Sam almost didn’t want to spoil your good mood, a wave of uncertainty threatened to knock him over. In fact, he was so jostled seeing you happy and laughing without him that he avoided looking at you. Preferring to mess with the straps of his holster or fiddle with his jacket out of insecurity. Maybe you would be happier without him. Maybe he should just let you go—

“Hey, Sam. Can we talk?”

Your heavenly voice is both music to his ears and the reason his heart pounds out of his chest. He looks up at you, startled, confidence wavering, and sees your gentle eyes and smile.

“Uh, sure.”

You nod toward the hatch. “Let’s go outside.”

Sam catches Barrett’s encouraging look as he leaves. The fresh air helps, a little, after being cooped up in the ship for a day. You’re wringing your hands together and kicking a branch around as he joins you. Seeing you so anxious ties Sam’s stomach into painful knots.

You stand up straighter, shoulders squared. “Thanks for agreeing to talk.” Sam prepares for the worst. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

An apology? He wasn’t expecting it and his reaction said as much.

“The way I acted was rude and inconsiderate. I should’ve said something to you much earlier, rather than letting you rightfully assume you would be joining me instead of Sarah. For that, I’m sorry.”

He took a step closer, fighting the urge to fidget. You looked just as nervous as he was, and for a brief moment he wondered why. The apology did help, but his biggest question was:

“Why did you leave me behind?”

Your jaw flexed, eyes skittering around the landscape before taking the plunge. “I…I needed a break, I think—from talking about Lillian.” You were quick to raise your hands. “Not that I don’t want to support you and let you talk about your problems…I was just…”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, eyes squeezed shut, you started over. “I care for you. That’s no secret. But sometimes I have my limits. Hearing you talk about Lillian—I want to be able to help you, and I don’t see any way that I can, when it comes to her. And that hurts. It makes me feel like lending an ear and my support isn’t enough—like I’m not enough. And the way you talk about her sometimes…” You trail off with a crestfallen look out into the distance. “What I’m really trying to get at is that stepping away from it for a day really helped. I have a clearer mind now and I’d like to resume our usual exploring together.”

So, Barrett was right—not that Sam was ever going to tell him. He starts slowly. “Well, I think it’s time for me to apologize now.”

“N-No, you don’t have to—”

He smiles, good-naturedly. You were always so kind to him. “Hang on now, let me finish.” He’s feeling more confident now, the fidgeting is gone. “I was a little hurt from yesterday, but now that I know why I wanted to say thank you for listening to me vent so much about Lillian, and I’m sorry that I went overboard. You have no idea how helpful it is to have you listen and support me. I’ve never had anyone do that, and it means the world to me.” He takes another step closer. “If you need to take some time for yourself, then take it. It would be unfair otherwise. I care for you, so much, and I want you to do what makes you happy.”

Sam thinks he sees your lip quiver a bit, but your eyes are full of nothing but adoration.

He continues on. “I’ve never said anything specifically about this, and I’m just hoping that it has some weight to it, but I’m not interested in Lillian anymore. I know I talk about her too much. But I haven’t harbored any feelings for her in a very long time, and I certainly don’t now.”

“You don’t?”

He chuckles. “Absolutely not. And I never meant to give you that impression either.”

A mixture of emotion spreads across your face, one moment you laugh—the next your mouth is twisted into an anxious and nervous tilt—and then you’re laughing again.

“I feel like an absolute dumbass.” You murmur, placing a hand on the back of your neck.

The grin is slow to spread across his face. “Don’t tell me you were jealous?”

You spin to face him. “Uh…well…jealousy is an unfortunate human emotion that’s inherent in every one of us—”

“Yeahh, it sounds like you were jealous.” He laughs, his brilliant smile beaming at you.

“It was only a little bit.”

“Mhm, yes, of course.”

You laugh and throw your hands up. “Come on, can you blame me? With you talking about her having the, and I quote, ‘voice of an angel’, how was I not supposed to be?”

Sam groans, half in pain and half playful. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

“I just quoted you. You totally did.”

“Well, I’m obviously the dumbass then.” He makes a great, joking bow. “Allow me to apologize—”

“No, no—” You’re grinning delightfully. “I won’t have any more apologies today. I will, though, have a hug.”

“Ah, much better.” He opens his arms wide. “Come ‘ere.”

Without hesitation you’re in his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He can feel your smile against his skin as you pull him close.

The rift between you both has closed. And Sam felt whole again.

[phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings]

Do You Feel Better, My Love?

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: James Potter/Lily Evans/GN!Reader

Summary: You get a message from your ex and you spiral into a panic attack. When your partners come home, they find you in the middle of a panic attack and help you through it.

Reader is gender neutral. No pronouns are used.

Ex is referred to as she/her.

WARNINGS: referenced bad relationship (past relationship), panic attack

Notes: I am anti-JKR and her beliefs. This account is a safe space for all.

As another note, the technique James used to get the reader out of their panic attack is one I’ve used for others many times after being taught it and I’ve had a couple of friends use it for me. From what I was taught, your brain can’t focus on the panic attack and random numbers at the same time.

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Read on AO3 here

You were coming home after getting some things for your date tonight. As you open the door, you hear your phone notify you of a text. You smile thinking it’s from James or Lily (your dates) and after you finish putting things down, you look at your phone.

Except it wasn’t from either of them, it was from your abusive ex.

You drop your phone and back into the wall, sliding down. ‘Why now?’ You thought. ‘Why did they have to come back now?’

Your breathing got very shallow, very fast, and you couldn’t think. You tried to get yourself out of it, but you just couldn’t. You couldn’t remember any of the techniques.

It felt like everything was going in slow motion and you covered your ears, trying to stop the world from getting to you.

You had no idea how long it had been, but you wanted everything to just stop. Then you heard a voice; you don’t know how far away it is. You couldn’t make out what they (you could hear two different voices) were saying.

“Hey, love, it’s James,” he said to you. “Can you look up at me?”

You were still freaking out, and you ended up moving your head trying to find where James’ voice came from. When you moved your head to the side, he put his hands on your cheeks to hold you still and thats when you saw him; your James.

“Alright, I need you to listen to my voice and repeat after me,” James told you as calmly as he could. “Alright. One.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Two.”

“Nine.”

“Nine.”

“Twenty-two.”

“Twenty-two.”

“Seventy.”

“Seventy.”

He gave you a few more random numbers with you repeating all of them, until he heard your breathing return to normal.

“Do you feel better, my love?”

“Yes, Jamie,” you replied as you smiled and leaned into one of his hands. “Where’s Lily?”

“I’m just behind you, angel,” you heard Lily whisper behind you. “What happened?”

You looked down, “my phone.” James started moving, but before he could get up, you told him, “stop. Please.” He moved and leaned against the wall, you turned and leaned into him, finally seeing Lily since she walked in. Both of them looked at you kindly while they were patiently waiting for you to carry on.

“My ex contacted me today for the first time since I finally cut off contact with her,” you told them. “I got a message from her. I don’t know what it said and I don’t want to know. She took too much time away from me before, and I don’t want her back in my life.”

“You’re doing the right thing, lovey,” James tells you as he holds you to him.

“Alright, I’m getting your phone and deleting the message,” Lily told you. She handed it to you, so you put in your passcode before handing it back to her. She deleted the messages and blocked your ex’s number from your phone, before she handed it back to you.

He asked, “how about we move to somewhere more comfortable?”

You nodded at him, fresh tears flowing but now because you were happy at how you evolved; you had an abusive ex who treated you like you meant nothing, to having a beautiful relationship with two amazing people, who often reminded you how amazing you were and how much you deserved to be loved.

James saw the tears, “are you alright?”

“Perfect,” you told them through your tears. “I’m crying because of how happy the two of you make me, and how both of you make me feel so incredible and empowered.”

Lily hugged you and you kissed her cheek, before James picked you up, and carried you bridal style, “where would you like us to be? Living room or bedroom?”

“Bedroom, please,” you told him

“I’ll be there in a minute,” you heard Lily call from behind you.

You kissed his cheek as he carried you through to the bedroom the three of you shared. He placed you gently on the bed, before moving onto the bed himself and pulling you to him. He kissed all over your face making you giggle and when he pulled back, he cupped your face and kissed you gently on the lips.

“I love you so much,” he told you with so much sincerity and so much love. It made you blush and tear up. “I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love.”

“I love your incredible smile,” Lily said from behind you. She crawled onto the bed behind you and you sat back against the headboard, so you could see both of them next to you.

“You always make me want to be a better person,” James told you as he caressed your cheek.

You took their hands as Lily kissed you and James kissed where your neck and shoulder met, making you moan. All three of you spent the day together just kissing, cuddling and with them reminding you how much they loved you and how much better off you were without your ex and how proud they were of you.

[max1461]

I don’t know what army drill sergeants are like, but I have been through marine boot camp and I’ll tell you some drill instructor stories/facts if you wanna hear.

At the beginning of recruit training, you meet your drill instructors. They recite something called the drill instructor creed to you. You can google it, but one thing that really stuck out is that they say “thoroughly indoctrinated,” they actually use those words. Like they come out in front of you all and say they’ll indoctrinate you.

The stated purpose of the screaming and insults is to get you used to stress. They talk to everybody as if they’re gonna go infantry. Like, I’m just a pencil pusher in the air wing, but they will talk to everybody as if we’re all going to be in trenches someday with mortar rounds pouring down on us. “If you can’t handle drill instructor sergeant so-and-so screaming at you, you’re not going to be able to handle an actual battle”

I don’t think any of my drill instructors had combat MOS’s, but they would still talk it up like combat is a fact for every military member. I remember our senior saying something like “if you think boot camp is bad, maybe you should watch your best friend fucking burst into flames in front of you. Puts things into perspective.”

As another, specific example of this. Our drill instructor was once counting us down, and somebody at the last second ran to the bathroom to grab something they forgot (I don’t remember what). DI says “BITCH WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING” and he says “SIR THIS RECRUIT FORGOT HIS BLAH BLAH BLAH” and our DI stopped screaming and just says “so, if an enemy plane was flying overhead, and you moved, and gave away your position, and got the motherfucker next to you killed, and he doesn’t get to go to home to his family… would you be able to take that back?”

The screaming is two-way. This is generally not accurately portrayed in movies, most likely because it would be profoundly unpleasant to listen to. The most you’ll see in movies is them saying something like “I can’t hear you maggot,” but they are actually demanding top volume screaming every time. Every single thing you say you have to scream as loud as you can, and they’ll scream at you while you do it. Everyone loses their voice in the first couple weeks

There are a lot of drill instructors who have perpetually raspy voices as a result of the screaming. At that point you never hear them scream, just whisper in a raspy voice. If you as a marine want to imitate a drill instructor, you just do a raspy voice and say something like “that’s crazy, recruit” and everyone will get what you’re doing

What you were calling “smoking” is technically called “ITing,” IT is short for Incentive Training. It is officially forbidden to IT an actual Marine, it’s considered hazing. You can only do it to recruits in boot camp. Our senior told us that it’s a punishment, but it will also make you stronger. ITing as a punishment often happens in groups, and/or you’ll often be overtly punished for someone else’s actions.

Doing things properly under stress is really emphasized in boot camp. Like, there is a proper way to address everyone, to hold things, to walk, to do ANYTHING, and if you fuck it up they immediately start screaming. For example, you have to refer to every single person by their full billet title and rank, like you can’t just say “Sgt XYZ” he’s “Drill Instructor Sgt XYZ.” Some titles get really long, because they’ll specify more stuff, like, try remembering under stress “lead series chief drill instructor gunnery sergeant so-and-so.” When you talk directly to people though, it’s just sir or ma’am. You have to say the proper greeting, and you have to request permission to speak before saying what you wanna say. You cannot say first person pronouns, you refer to yourself as “this recruit,” refer to everyone in a group as “these recruits,” and use third person pronouns for any following mentions. “Sir this recruit was filling his canteen sir,” for example. Here is an example of an ideal interaction which goes well, you’re a recruit who wants to go to the bathroom:

>“good morning sir, recruit max1461 requests permission to speak to senior drill instructor staff sergeant triviallytrue sir”

>“what bitch?”

>“sir, recruit max1461 requests permission to make a head call sir”

>“run.”

>“aye sir, received sir, good morning sir”

Now of course, you’re screaming at the top your lungs, your drill instructor is screaming at the top of their lungs, and they will start blasting the fuck out of you if any part of this ideal interaction breaks down. Suppose you don’t scream loud enough, suppose you forget to ask permission to speak, suppose you forget the proper greeting, suppose you say a proper greeting at the wrong time of day, like “good morning” when it’s the afternoon, suppose you say “I” or “me,” suppose you fuck up the billet or the rank or the name, suppose you say “yes sir” instead of “aye sir,” suppose you say “bathroom” or “toilet” or any other normal word besides “head,” suppose you add an extraneous word like “emergency head call” or “desperate head call,” suppose you say “thank you” or nothing instead of “received,” or forget the second proper greeting and just run off, all of these offenses could and would warrant a blasting from your drill instructor, and might lead you to a situation where they tell you to run, only to immediately scream “get baaaack” before telling you to run again

There’s a great book called Making The Corps where a Marine interviewed everyone he went to boot camp with including old DI’s and officers and he organized it all into a chronological narrative book. Highly recommend if this subject interests you. The movie Full Metal Jacket is very accurate portrayal of 60s boot camp (R. Lee Ermey was a real drill instructor), but boot camp got massively overhauled back in the 80s so even when the movie came out it was more a portrait of the past. Notice they’re all called “privates” instead of recruits,” and they don’t refer to themselves in the third person. Some of the obstacle courses you see aren’t used as frequently anymore, and they never go through Basic Warrior Training or the Crucible

Drill instructor school is a repeat of boot camp, except everyone takes turns being drill instructors. I saw a bit of it. They were all standing in a formation like recruits, and there was like, a chain of two drill instructors. One is screaming at the guys in formation, the other was screaming at the guy screaming at the guys in formation. “FUCKING CORRECT HIM! BLAST THEM! SCREEEAAAAM!”

I like that triviallytrue is the drill sergeant

[allzelemonz]

The Bell ‘Family’: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘fella’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Past abuse, trauma Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, but it’s his dad that sucks in this one, Micah Bell II was a terrible father and I’ll fight you on it, mentions of Micah’s family, mention of Amos’s close call with death, Micah tries in minimize the abuse, Micah has emotions, discussion of past abuse, nightmares, cuddling, comfort Summary: Micah falls into a real, deep slumber while in your arms and you learn why he doesn’t sleep very much.

Micah has never fallen asleep with you before. You’ve seen him sleep, sure. Just around camp when he nods off after a night of drinking or his head drooping when he sits, but never for long. Ever since he started spending nights in your tent he had just been keeping you company. He’ll lay with you for a while, until he gets bored and feels the need to do something. Then he’ll read or work on his weapons, anything to keep his hands busy and his mind awake. But tonight you were just laying, giving light touches and acting wholeheartedly unoutlaw-ish, Micah just so happened to fall asleep.

He’s on his side, an arm draped over you just as yours is over him. His shirt is unbuttoned, boots discarded, guns right next to him so he can grab them quickly if needed. You’ve been looking at him for a while, just wanting to take in the rare sight. His breathing is deep, heart slow, face relaxed and he just looks so at peace and unlike himself. It makes your heart swell a little, seeing Micah in a state that’s somewhat mundane and peaceful. On the odd occasion he might cough a little, just clearing his throat like he does when he’s awake, but that’s really the only noise he makes.

Then his eyes screw tighter, his face turns, and he hums unpleasantly. He flinches in his sleep, reacting to something not there. You run a hand through his hair to push it away from his face and whisper his name, trying to wake him from whatever unpleasant dream has come on. Micah’s eyes fly open, his hand going towards his gun for a second before he grounds himself and returns it around you. His face is still reflecting the fear he must have felt in that dream and his breathing has gotten more strained as if he’d been running.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand squeezing lightly at his hip.

He exhales, long and slow. “Just fine, darlin’.” He presses a kiss to your head and pulls you closer, his grip tight and secure like you might slip away. “Just fine.”

“You’re lying.”

“Don’t matter.”

You press a kiss to his lips, light and short. “Is that why you don’t sleep?”

Micah hums. “Ain’t tellin’.”

You scoff lightly. “I’m not gonna tell everyone, Micah. I just want you to be okay.”

He runs his eyes over your face as if he’s judging something, then he sighs. “My daddy…” Micah trails off as he runs a hand along your torso, mindlessly reminding himself that you’re here and you’re listening. “He…” Micah snorts a small laugh. “He wasn’t a kind man.”

You watch him carefully as he shakes his head slowly and his eyes stay far away from yours now that he’s said something vulnerable.

“Damn near killed my brother.” Micah mutters. “Fool that he is, deserved it.”

He’s mentioned Amos before, but he never told you that. Just like he’s mentioned his father, but he’s never gone down this road. Just from how he was acting in his sleep it makes you wish you could kill the already dead bastard, Micah’s words only make it worse.

“He, uh,” He clears his throat, glancing at you for just a second. “He used ta shoot at my feet if I didn’t draw in time er I didn’t shoot straight.”

He laughs lowly, forcing it. You rub slow circles into his back, your arm snuggly around him in silent reassurance.

“If he could see me now.” Micah chuckles as his hands grip at your clothes. “Talkin’ and holdin’ a fella.”

It doesn’t shock you in the slightest that Micah’s father wouldn’t approve. He likely grew up with a lot of unhealthy expectations. Not that it excuses anything he’s done or anything he will do, but it makes you want to protect him from going through any of it ever again.

“One time,” He glances at you again, looking straight back up into the air as he takes a shaky breath. “One time, Amos and I was jokin’ around. He didn’t like all the noise…”

Micah goes quiet and he hugs you closer to him. He shuts down, burying his face where you can’t look at him. You hold him as tight as he holds you. Micah isn’t the vulnerable type. He might make a comment, only realizing it’s not something he actually wanted to share until it’s too late, but there are some roads he can’t make himself go down. Some demons he can’t face. You don’t want to push him, you can guess what his father did. A man that attacked, nearly killing, his younger son can’t have left the older one untouched. So you hold Micah for as long as he needs, being as comforting as you can.

[genderfluidarchive]

I know that clothes ≠ gender but sometimes I feel like I'm faking and I'm not a "true" genderfluid person, because I really do like dresses and frilly clothes and girl-ish stuff in general… But sometimes I like to wear them even in my masc days, and I feel like I don't have the right to ask people to refer to me with he/him pronouns because of it…

Idk if somone else feels like this, but I'd appreciate if someone had a solution to it!!

i definitely understand feeling like your gender somehow isn't valid because of your traits or hobbies or likes or presentation.

so how to deal with it?

disclaimer that often it takes some time to get over internalized transphobia, just keep working at it and reminding yourself that you are valid and can be whoever you want to be. forever.

ok first of all: everything gendered is totally arbitrary. there is nothing that is inherently masculine or feminine, technically. humans just like to make categories and put labels on things even when there's no true meaning or reason behind it. if you lived in a different country or a different time period, different things would be considered masculine. different things would be considered feminine. it truly doesn't matter in the scheme of who you are. whether you're a girl who likes tech or a guy who collects american girl dolls, you're still your gender.

second of all: do a little thought exercise for me and think of it in terms of other people. flip the genders - for instance, if a girl was really into weightlifting and other "masculine" hobbies, she'd just be a tomboy or butch girl. you would still respect her as a girl, right? and if you knew a guy who likes frills and pretty things, wouldn't you still respect him as a guy? why should it be any different for you? i mean this in a completely positive way - you are not the specialest person in the world, and that's a good thing. and i have to tell myself this too lmao. there is nothing that makes you so fundamentally different from other people that you don't deserve your gender and identity respected regardless of how you present.

third of all: look for cis men who are really feminine. look for cis men who are just kinda feminine. look for feminine men. find media with gender-non-conforming characters. there are plenty of them. number one: it will make you feel more normal. number two: would you question their identity because of how they present or what they like? no. at least i hope not lol.

fourth, maybe: create OCs that are like you. create art about your experience. find other people who are genderfluid and like feminine things. find friends who you know will accept and respect your identity. remind yourself that you deserve to be respected.

p.s. my younger brother has a bed full of plushies, wears makeup sometimes, and owns a corset that im lowkey jealous of but i can't steal bcos we don't wear the same size *pouts grumpily*. my ex-boyfriend liked skirts and split dyed his hair white and red. boys are all different. you're as valid as a boy/masc person (when you are one) as everyone else.

i hope something in this helped! go listen to your favorite song n be kind to yourself. you rock!