#and Jimmy's most equal

[goofyahhcitrus]

I have an OC I'm scared to share to the Internet bc he's like funky and sorta weird

Courage isn't a lack of fear, it's persevering despite everything telling you not to

So here he is

Jimmy. Well, his name is Jimmy Mushrooms a.k.a. William Sunshine a.k.a. Joseph Capgras a.k.a. Cotard (a.k.a. Beans McSprout) but he goes by anything that's shorter. You could call him Jimmy, Sunshine, Joseph, Beans (for some reason), anything. Everyone calls him Jimmy though. He prefers Sunshine but nobody cares.

Silly info under cut. Prepare thyselves, this is gonna be a long ride.

I can't say everything about him all at once but I'll give some key info

Yes, he is heavily based on Will Wood and The Tapeworms and his design is inspired by the SELF-iSH album cover

He... he has five names. Ha. I'm the best.

He has a third eye that he covers with his hair he he thinks it's embarrassing. Out of all the things he could he embarrassed about...

He wears cervical headgear (hard to tell bc my artstyle is bogus but yes. That's headgear that goes behind his neck.

He is 14 years old and his birthday is August 23 😁

Uhm he may or may not be seven feet tall

As you can see he has four arms and funny face and stuff

So this is a bit weird to explain but he cannot close his lips? Like he can make expressions but his teeth are always showing. He can smile, but his teeth are showing. He can frown, but his teeth are showing. His neutral face is just 😬

He isn't being raised with specific gender norms or anything so he's completely comfortable wearing makeup and putting ribbons in his hair and liking pink and all that stuff without making it one of his personality traits

He's really colorful but you can't see because my medium is pencil and paper! :3 He is predominantly blue but his patterns are all different colors

He never ever ever wears patterns, every clothing item he has is a solid color

I guess he has heterochromia because his right eye is lighter (like maybe brown or a dark blue?) and his left eye is black! and his third eye is yellow.

His right eye (and third eye :3c) has full range of emotion and stuff, but his left eye is just open or closed.

Also those are his patterns :3

His legs just have vertical black stripes with little swirlies on the knees. The only black or white things on his skin are his neck (b&w), his top right shoulder (also b&w), and his legs (black stripes on blue). also the rib-looking design on his well, ribs. They're white obvs

He doesn't accessorize much

He is cishet (or so he says. Not too sure on the het part).

He puts up a front of being a moody teenager who hates everything and everyone and would rather die than do anything ever but in reality he's a sweetie

He is brothers (by law, not biologically. We love adopting ppl) with another OC named Phoenix. The two do not get along. Phoenix is 40. Phoenix has beef with a child. The parental figure is not a slave to the constant march of time, don't worry. This again, does mean there's a like, 26 yr age gap between siblings. Eeyikes.

I have yapped too much, this is the end for now. I'll share more about all my OCs because I love them and love yapping :3c

[dykedvonte]

There is something to be said that Curly doesn’t get a captain’s uniform and just has like the regular issues crew outfit.

Is it a personal choice? Does the Pony Express actually have position specific uniforms? Either way, it puts him on the same level of the crew visually. He doesn’t stand out outside the merits of his title. I bet no one even really noticed.

Jimmy definitely did.

[teslapenguini]

the fact that shelby could have very easily flown out of or broke the time out jail and yet didn’t is hilarious to me. it is still interesting that even while as skulked as she is she still listens to katherine though

[blasterb0t]

People need to stop recommending me mobster movies if there’s not a guy like heavily devoted to his wife in it. ‘They robbed a bank isn’t that cool’ don’t care. Where’s the man who goes straight home to sob to his wife. Where is he. Where’s the charm and yass of a man who loves his wife. ‘5ths godfather didn’t have that and you hyperfixated on it enough to draw Sonny and Michael’ yeah they were shitty but Sonny Corleone loved his wife even if he cheated. She hated having sex with that man but they were both like holding hands and prancing around with their four kids. Stupid , he loved his wife and told her everything it was in the prequel and the book maybe you should sign off and read something physical for once

[poppyberry]

Everybody NEEDS to listen to the new Wild Life retrospective on Imp and Skizz's podcast. They got Grian called in and they give so many cool insights into the series (and honestly say so many things I think people need to hear)

Highlights for me:

Grian designed each wild card to be weaponized and wanted everyone to take advantage of them. He goes over each individually and all the thought he put into them and all the work the backend team put into their execution. He's rightfully really proud of them. Him gushing about Trivia Bot and how excited he was to show his friends the "coolest snail ever" is particularly sweet.

Skizz says discovering each wild card was a LOT of fun. He says something like "I can't believe as an adult I get to have so much fun." Impulse is really impressed with the execution of each, citing stuff like making it rain when the time one activated and the passive mobs spawning in before being replaced, and how the little details like that built excitement and tension.

Grian says how he understands that some viewers maybe just want more seasons of the essentially the same series, ie six seasons of just Third Life, but it's more important to him that the Lifers get to experience something new and fresh. He also doesn't like comparing each series, preferring to consider each one as its own thing.

Impulse can't wait to do another Life series, Skizz is equally excited but tries to hold discussion about it back since he doesn't want anyone pressuring Grian, who is palpably burned out. Like, you can hear how tired this man is. Grian says there will probably be more series since everyone is still enjoying it, but he's not trying to outdo himself and not to expect him to keep escalating.

Skizz always tries to do something new each season yet feels like he always falls back into the same habits and dynamics, but not this time: he feels like he got to explore a new dynamic with the Spanners and had a blast doing it. He and Grian gush about how much fun they had with their "big brother trying to keep his little brothers alive" routine.

They have a grand time making fun of Impulse and his "Sweats". Impulse is unabashedly still hungry to win a series.

Impulse didn't want to kill zombie Skizz, because of the five minute cooldown, but Skizz makes clear that he was really happy with being a zombie, even if there was a lot of doing nothing in between summons. He says it means a lot to him that he got to help with the burden of facilitating the series, even just a little bit.

Grian gives good insight into his personal life strategy: he does some things to deliberately test his relationship with other players. Standing in the Danger Zone was a trust exercise, testing Jimmy and Scar. Jimmy and Scar failed.

Despite Scar failing the trust exercise, Grian heard the disappointment in Scar's voice about the Snail Bot thing and immediately caved, but he's really happy that it led them to in-canon reconciling and becoming strong allies again.

Grian's favorite moment was making Jimmy pay for the failed trust exercise by blowing up the bunker, particularly pleased with his one liner of "it was always gonna be like this". He says Wild Life as a whole has been the most enjoyable series for him, even though he didn't get to have as much fun as the other players due to knowing all the wild cards.

All three of them gush over the scene of everybody failing to kill Joel as he teleports around, laughing about how it was straight out of a movie or an anime. Impulse feels like Joel took his superpower to a new level, but Grian reminds him the he didn't have an army chasing him around trying to kill him. They're all super impressed with how the finale turned out.

Some of the powers were assigned (Cleo, BigB, BDubs, Scar, Lizzie), some were random (Impulse, Martyn). Some were based on players' names, others on their personal narratives, but coming up with ~16 different powers without including any that would just be exploited for cheap instakills was really difficult, which is why there were so many espionage ones. Hilariously, Grian was hoping Scar would accidentally kill Jimmy by punching him off a cliff because of their ritual of trying punching in the earlier episodes. He also gave Scar that power because he knew Scar wouldn't feel bad about killing people with it.

Grian chose to give himself the mimic so he could show people how their powers worked if he needed to, and so that it wasn't given to somebody else who'd have to spend the whole session figuring out the mechanics of 15 separate superpowers and potentially dying because of it. And because he thinks its the coolest one and he wanted it (lol)

All around there's tons of fun details and stuff in this episode of the podcast and absolutely everybody should listen to it all the way through.

[wisteria-lodge]

In defense of T'Pau and her unusual grammar:

So in "Amok Time," (right before Spock goes into heat) we meet T'Pau, this grand high elder of Vulcan who is officiating Spock's wedding/fight to the death.

She has a very specific way of talking. Some examples:

"Thee names these outworlders friends. How does thee pledge their behavior?" "If thee wishes to depart, thee may leave now." "Are thee Vulcan or are thee human? "I grieve with thee."

If this is supposed to sound archaic and Shakespearean... then it's just completely wrong. "Thee" is not even slightly conjugated. If you're using thee/thou/thy correctly, that first sentence should be:

"Thou name'st these outworlders friends. How dost thou pledge?"

BUT my point is, I don't think this is supposed to read as "archaic" (also, if that were the case, wouldn't the universal translator just kinda auto-update the vocab?)

What is actually going on is Quaker Plain Speech.

Thee/Thou/Thy used to be English's set of informal pronouns, which you used for close friends and social inferiors. The Quakers came over to America in the 1600s, and were very into the idea of simplicity and equality for religious reasons. No titles, "Friend" as the default address, etc. They also artificially got rid of You/Your/Yours, English's *formal* pronouns, because they were what you used for talking to a social superior, and they were trying to get away from that sort of thing.

Skip forward like a hundred years. Language changes. Standard English drops Thee/Thou/Thy completely. The Quakers KEEP the pronouns, but the usage simplifies. Now they basically just have "Thee," and use it for everything, and don't conjugate the verbs around it in any special way. "In the eighteenth century, "thou hast" disappeared, along with the associated second-person verb forms, and the otherwise strange "thee is" became normal "plain speech."

Which is EXACTLY how T'Pau talks.

(I found this scene from The Philadelphia Story (1940) where Jimmy Stewart walks into a Quaker library, and the joke is that the librarian talks to him in Plain Speech - "What is thee wish?" and he (confused) responds in Shakespearean English - "Dost thou have a washroom?")

So I think that when Theodore Sturgeon wrote "Amok Time" in 1967, T'Pau's style of speaking was meant to communicate not necessarily "old-fashioned" but more "religious/ceremonial" and maybe "isolated." Especially since he's from New England, the right spot to run into Plain Speech in the wild.

In-universe, I think that (because it's a very important occasion) T'Pau is speaking a hyper-simplified, hyper-logical ceremonial Vulcan dialect, which the universal translator is rendering as the most stripped-down and "plain" English style of speaking possible.

[linkcharacter]

God I love your stuff. I feel like you’re one of the people who gets the fact that the line between responsibility - what you’re accountable for - and blame - especially taking on blame for other that isn’t yours - is a blurry one that makes Mouthwashing all the more interesting.

Thank you and that's a very nice observation there :)

Blame does not equal responsibility, in fact, misdirected blame can absolve a person of their faults. Curly specifically, if we look at Last one and then another DLC, implied to blame himself for having Jimmy join. He talks about it in a melancholic and regretful "looking back at my mistakes" way, there's no mention of him being angry or resentful at Jimmy, at most he's disappointed, but even then it's mostly directed at himself, not Jim.

Jimmy shifts and twists the blame and responsibility in a way to make himself feel like a better person, never admitting his actual faults, which are inexcusable. Curly wants to be a good person, however his sense of justice is misplaced and he feels responsible for everything, when in reality he should let the actual person at fault to take blame and accountability, yet he attaches it to himself. Curly does not take responsibility, he takes blame.

[luminousdryad]

smth smth Joel's win has long been anticipated since his madness arc in Last Life where he was fighting to live mainly for himself with a fluctuating alliance with Scar, then in Double Life he finally had a teammate who would stay with him–albeit not out of their own choice–which meant at least he had something to fight for. "The ship burns, everything burns!" This time, he went mad because they destroyed the symbol of his relationship–something he built for Etho to prove he's a worthy partner, only for it to burn down just as if breaking him and Etho apart was that easy...and yet, they died together, burning together like their ship, and if you think about it, Joel must've thought the ship burning meant it was as fragile as their forced alliance...but even with his doubts, his hesitation, Etho stayed with him. His rage came from his insecurity, not merely out of loneliness.

Then in Limited Life he finally had real allies, people he'd willingly give up his life for (whereas in Double Life, he had to stay alive for his partner), even intending to sacrifice himself just to break Jimmy's curse. Jimmy's death broke him, drove him to insanity.

In Secret Life, he found himself allied with the people who were shunned when they turned red, and no one thought they'd make it–but they fought together til the end, him and Bdubs together, with Pearl fighting to secure them the win. His allies knew loneliness and desperation, the way it haunted them even with a newfound family. They tolerated each other's madness that way, a visceral understanding of how it feels to lose your mind as you fight and fight for an uncertain future while your former allies seem to turn against you.

Then came Wild Life. Joel has always been wild, driven by rage and an inclination for chaos. But this time, finally seeing how his previous antagonism caused him isolation, he decides that this season is about family. He'll antagonize no one, not even Scott. He never knew how to cope with his natural madness, but now, he made peace with it–with the help of Gem, someone equally unhinged but in control of herself, to ground him and pacify his anger when needed.

This time his violent tendencies didn't bring about his downfall, because this time, he was finally at peace with himself. He wasn't the desperate hunter chasing down victims. His tactic was to avoid and evade, let them chase him down this time, waiting for the time to strike. Gem's death, unlike Jimmy's, gave him the push he needed to focus. And with Scott out of the way, he is now secure in himself, fighting steadily even if he panics internally.

Before, he played the part of the hunter only to fall prey. Now, in becoming the prey, he became the hunter.

Make it wild, the final instruction said. But Joel has always been wild. To be wild is to be passionate, turbulent and volatile, and he has always been those things. But wild can also mean, "to deviate from the intended or expected course." People expected him to lose it and cause his own downfall again. People expected his aggression and explosiveness. They didn't expect him to be, for once, stable.

Joel has always been full of irony. He drives people away from him all while craving a sense of belongingness. He's one of the most violent, yet also one of the most loving. Now, he won Wild Life by being perfectly in sync with himself.

He didn't need to be the villain to be wild. His peace amidst the chaos was wild enough...and even Grian encouraged it. Grian, who has watched from a close distance, once even too close, how desperate Joel was. He saw the growth. And he decided, this time, "You know you could win this, Joel. It's your turn."

And win it he did.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-Captain x Reader (Mouthwash)

Part 1 - Part 2

Anya: "I'm sorry (T/n), he can't eat any of that."

You had gone with Anya to deliver her rations and Curly's, but you received those words that only left you more worried.

Anya: "Nothing solid, barely liquids... He can't even swallow unless it's with help..."

"Well... That changes my plans... I'll try to bring him something he can consume."

You mentioned squeezing the packages you had brought tightly, almost making them break.

Before Anya returned to the nursery, you stopped her, holding her shirt, like a child tugging at their mother's clothes wanting her attention.

"You can tell him that I hope that... I hope he gets better soon so I can see him?"

Anya: "Sure..."

She nodded, giving you a small smile, and you let her go carefully so she could continue on her way.

You ran your hand through your hair and looked at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from falling from your eyes.

You continued your route to give the rations to the others.

"I want all of you to be smart, I will give you daily rations, you can eat them as you wish, but I will not give you more than what you receive in a day, you can accumulate and store them if you wish, but I don't want anyone touching other people's food, I have rationed them fairly."

Jimmy: "So some will have more than others, shouldn't it be equal?"

"Swansea does maintenance work, he needs his body strong, Daisuke is on his first trip, he's just getting used to the mediocre food we have, Anya barely eats, and I just found out that my hus-... that Captain Curly can't even swallow. If I gave everyone equal parts, it wouldn't be fair. Do you have any other complaints?"

You extended his rations, Jimmy just huffed at your response and took his food without saying anything else.

Daisuke: "So, does that mean Swansea and I are the ones who are going to get more food?"

"Just one more pack than usual, I need everyone to stay sane. But as I said, you can do whatever you want, you can store it, you can share it, but once I hand it over to you, it's completely your decision what you want to do with it."

Swansea: "Can I ask how you rationed it? What are you basing that on?"

"Well... Considering that we have eight months of travel left, if Pony Express notices that we haven't returned on time, they will have to send rescue teams. I have divided the rations to last at least nine months... But it's the last plan I intend to resort to, waiting won't work for me."

Daisuke: "Will they be able to find us??"

"Since the failed missions they had while testing, they couldn't afford to lose more material, because usually theirs ships got lost. So they installed tracking chips, but they only activate after the delivery time." 

Jimmy: "So we'll just be stuck here until that happens."

"Jim. Stop, I refuse to wait so long for them to come for us, there must be a way and I'm going to find it."

Jimmy: "If there were any kind of emergency button, we would have found it by now, there's nothing to do but wait."

You looked at him seriously when he took a few steps towards you, standing in front of you, towering you, he was relatively taller than you, and you disliked the idea that he wanted to intimidate you.

Swansea: "Hey Jimmy, stop that, we need to-"

"No, no, it's fine Swansea" you kept looking that man in the eyes "He must still be shaken up from the crash, I'm not going to give into his rudes words and start insulting him or arguing with him. At least my conscience will be clear that at least I tried to help and didn't just wait."

You raised your chin when you said that, before turning around to leave, muttering under your breath, unable to believe the insolence of that man.

What bothered you the most was the fact that you had known him for a long time, Curly and he are good friends, but his attitude towards you makes you feel like you never got along with him.

You saved the rations that were supposed to be for Curly, and decided to reorganize everything again to distract yourself.

"Even without being present... you help a bit..."

You murmured while separating the portions, which became a bit larger due to Curly's inability to eat anything solid.

Daisuke: "Captain (T/n)..."

You looked up upon hearing that, quickly left the storage room, closing the door behind you.

"Daisuke? Do you need something?"

Daisuke: "I believe that if we are going to get out of here, I trust you!"

You couldn't help but smile at his words; you knew you had to inspire confidence in others during these difficult times, but hearing it directly from one of the crew members really made you happy, and even made you trust yourself. 

Daisuke: "I will help with whatever is necessary! Maybe I can even go into space this time!"

"Uh-hu, no way, you don't have the proper training, you're going to float out there and get devoured by intern-eating aliens."

Daisuke: "Eh-?! You don't have to be so mean about it!"

You put your hands on his shoulders, smiling at him. 

"You are going to help me much more in here than out there, I assure you, you have already done a lot for me."

Daisuke: "Really?"

You nodded, making the boy feel proud.

You wanted to protect them all.

[copilot-crashout]

hii!! >w< may i request anti-tulpar au mouthwashing characters x gender neutral reader hcs? (both sfw and/or nsfw hcs? honestly i don’t mind if you leave out the nsfw part, sfw hcs are just fine! ^^) i haven’t seen a lot of anti-tulpar content and i love the au smmmm! your work is also so good omgg >w<

Pairing: Anti!Tulpar crew x gn!reader

Content Warning: There are NSFW HCs here! It's my first time writing anything NSFW. Please keep that in mind!! ( -᷄ _ -᷅ ; ) Also, there are mentions of stalking Jimmy + blood kink for him. Misogynistic ideology on Curly's part.

[A/N]: I love anti!Tulpar so much... They're so interesting to me!! ˶ ˊ ᵕ ˋ ˶ Since both of these asks were similar, I decided to combine them... If @livvizible wants Anti!Curly separately, please ask me again!! ᕦ(˵•̀ᴥ•́˵)ᕤ

In other news, if people want to talk to me more personally, I'd be happy to make another blog/give my other socials. Just let me know~!

[SFW] CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> He runs a tight ship, nothing gets past his eyes. Whatever orders he barks out, he expects to be followed. His ship is one set by law and order, and yet you seem to be the only exception. You're the only one he could consider his equal, after all.

-> This guy thrives off PDA. He'd be happy to make out with you in front of the rest of the crew, so long as they know who you belong to. He always keeps a hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him when he's focused on his work and when he wants to distract you. His pride still hits you, but rather than being worked like a dog, he drags you out of it, only to chuckle at how easy it was to distract you.

-> Speaking of work, he'd be happy to let you into the cockpit, so long as you finished your assigned tasks for the day. While he wouldn't normally be one for too much affection while piloting the ship, he'd be happy to let you sit in his lap while he worked. He rests his head on your shoulder as he stares at the screen before him, keeping an eye on where they are heading.

-> Please make sure he doesn't work himself to the bone. If you bring him some snacks or a drink and keep him company, he'll thrive off it more than he can say. He still yearns for aspects of domestic life, the peacefulness foreign to him, but a welcome unknown, nonetheless.

-> Loves to give gifts. This man has expensive taste, and he's sure to show that to you with the gifts he gets you. You're a reflection of him. If he wants to maintain his image, you need to be in top shape, too. That's the excuse he gives, at least, when instead of a brand new set of clothes, he settles for giving you a massage, his tough hands working the knots in your back, eyes drilling into you with a focused glare.

[NSFW] CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> He's a certified freak. You've probably had sex in most of the rooms. His dick throbs at the idea of someone catching you two while you fuck, as if it's the equivalent of marking you as his. Though most rounds are usually quickies, he doesn't have time for long, drawn-out nights. That, and it makes him feel too vulnerable to have soft, vanilla sex.

-> The Captain is known to smoke cigars. He's more than happy to extinguish them on your body. During work hours, it's a press onto the back of your hand, the heat burning the skin to leave a mark that would heal within a few days. During sex, he grins as he watches your body flinch at the sudden heat pressed onto your back, leaving a mark only he can see.

-> He's not one to ever bottom. His belief in masculinity makes him near-inflexible in the bedroom. Giving up control in any sense of the word is too effeminate for him even worse when it's voluntary. He's a man; He shouldn't be the one whimpering or begging for mercy. Instead, he fucks you raw. His favourite position is doggy style (trust). He's pulling your hair; forcing you into a sloppy kiss as he fucks you senseless.

-> Mirror sex with him is so attractive. He wants you to see the power he lords over you, how dishevelled you look in front of your superior. He can't help but admire how captivating you are, back arched and whining for more, a steady thrum of power coursing through his veins. He knows he's the only one to make you feel that good, and he certainly won't stop.

[SFW] JANITOR JIMMY:

-> He's surprised you even wanted to date someone like him. Jimmy can only see himself as the dirt beneath your shoe. He barely deserves to be seen, especially by you, but he's ecstatic when you give him the time of day. Jimmy's better described as your loyal worshipper rather than a lover.

-> Jimmy finds himself too excited at the prospect of standing next to you. He's giddy, grinning like a schoolgirl for having the luxury of breathing the same air as you. His devotion to you is unwavering.

-> He faces relentless bullying from the other crew members becoming the designated doormat of the ship. He's embarrassed about it. Not because of his treatment. No, no. His fears are about how they reflect on you, his sweet darling. Is he unsightly to you? He isn't a strong man, he'd understand if you treated him the same too. He deserved it.

-> You're too good for the ship. You shouldn't be working a blue-collar, dead-end job like this. How about you leave it all to him. You won't even have to lift a single pretty finger. Just acknowledge him, and he'll be yours forever. He'd work himself to the bone so long as you smiled at him.

-> If you asked for anything, he would do his best to fulfil it! Need a drink? He could prepare coffee better than that simple vending machine. He knows your taste. Tired? He'll be your loyal assistant, trailing you more like a lost puppy as he asks you to bark orders at him!

-> Jimmy uses his role to his advantage. He's just the janitor, so he needs to be in your room to clean in, silly! He'll leave small gifts in places only you or he would ever see. A small necklace in your cupboard drawer, notes professing their adoration on your mirror. He wants you to know how much you mean to him! If you notice a pencil missing here or a glove missing there, he can only give you a small pout and a promise to look out for it while he's cleaning.

-> He's red-faced and stuttering whenever you make any contact with him, eyes focused on anything but you. Jimmy could just faint then and there when you kissed his cheek for the first time. He barely initiated any contact at the beginning of your relationship, still believing it couldn't be true. Jimmy was sure it was just a dare from Anya. Eventually, he warms up to it, happy to hold you for as long as you'd like, the caveat being it would be in private rather than anything the others could see.

-> He memorises your schedule. That's not creepy, is it? If you see him more often while working, he gives you a bright grin, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he lets you get on with your work, lest you want Captain Curly to yell you into tears. Your relationship is quiet but finds itself weaved into the mundanity of the ship. Its presence is a lingering feeling of warmth rather than any outstanding proclamation of true love.

[NSFW] JANITOR JIMMY:

-> Worship, worship, worship. It goes both ways, honestly. He leaves small kisses across your body, misty-eyed as he thanks you, thanks whatever God there is that you somehow find worth in him. Even if you were using him, it would be okay. You see him. If you praised him, he'd break into tears, soft sobs as your gentle hands trail over his scar-littered body (some from little cuts on the job, others from "accidents" he experienced in his life). He's never felt so happy. It's as close to heaven as he'll ever get to.

-> He's a sucker for any position where he can see your face. He needs reassurance from you to see you enjoying your time together. It's soft and romantic, something he didn't think he'd ever be able to experience.

-> He's not loud in bed by any means (at least when he tops). The most you hear are soft whines while he ruts into you hard or a breathy moan when he cums. If he bottoms, it's a whole different story. He feels totally ashamed, but it's mixed in with such pleasure that his whole self is thrown off. He lets out loud moans, trying to silence himself with his own hand. If you pull his hand away, he squeezes his eyes shut, afraid to see your reaction when he's begging for more.

-> You are his top priority. Anything you want, he'll give you. Nothing is off the table for him, so long as it's what you want. Feel free to get as freaky as you want with him, he'll allow it (and at some point finds himself enjoying it, too).

-> As soft as he is, I think Jimmy has a pretty strong sadistic streak. Definitely has a blood kink, honestly. There's something utterly depraved, hauntingly infatuating in giving him the power to wound yourself and him, pressing them together to stare as the blood spills over, intertwining the very essence of yourselves. Unsanitary and could probably cause infections? Yeah. Is it hot? Absolutely.

-> Following this train of thought, he has it in him to snap and go rough. Once in a blue moon, when tensions are too high and you've been ignoring him for a moment too long, he'll grab your wrist harshly and pull you into an abandoned room, whispering how much he hates it when you ignore him. He'll find ways for you to keep your eyes on him, even if it means a rough fuck where anyone can walk in.

[SFW] ACTUARY DAISUKE:

-> He's very cat-like. Whenever he's free from work, he'll go out of his way to find you, only to start complaining at how much of a task it was to find you. Yet, he still stays. Watching as you work, waiting until you're finished so all your attention can be devoted to him.

-> You're co-workers first, and lovers second. He worked hard to get his job here and would rather be caught dead than be seen as 'unprofessional.' Daisuke initiating any kind of affection is left strictly behind closed doors. The same doesn't have to apply to you.

-> If you surprise him with any kind of affection in public, he'll grumble, yet won't push you off. His excuse? You'd only get more clingy if he denies you attention now. Just don't mention how he relaxed at your touch, face softening a fraction by your company or else he'll push you off and storm off to the opposite side of the ship.

-> Another character for gifts. An actuary gets paid well, and he's got the things he needs. Might as well spend it on you. He'd never mention the way his heart skips when he sees your face light up at his surprise gift - no matter how expensive it was.

-> He's still one to play games, though! He knows all the cheat codes and he's a total completionist - a perfectionist in every sense of the word. Daisuke would be more than happy to let you play but would be even more ecstatic if you watched him play in the privacy of his room.

[NSFW] ACTUARY DAISUKE:

-> He bottoms, most if not all the time. He's just so stressed. He works so hard. What's a better way to unwind than spending time with his beloved?

-> He lets out breathy moans whenever you suck him off. Daisuke isn't one for roughness, as much as he tries to say otherwise. He's not the type to be extremely loud. The most you hear is a quiet "fuck..." from him, or a small whine.

-> Fan of mutual masturbation. He wants to know everything about you. That, and he enjoys watching your eyes flicker from his face down to his hand stroking his own cock. If Daisuke is in a good mood, he might make small comments, most being rhetorical questions about how you ever felt good without him.

-> There are so few headcanons for him NSFW-wise as I don't think he has much of a libido, honestly. It's unlike Tulpar!Daisuke where it's through the roof. He's happy to accommodate your needs, otherwise it's not something he thinks about.

[SFW] MECHANIC ANYA:

-> She's prideful, and she's not afraid to show it. By extension, you should be just as confident. Anya is your biggest hype girl. No matter what you do on the ship, she's there with a wide grin, ruffling your hair with a compliment.

-> As the mechanic, she's strong. You'll find yourself off the ground at random points of the day, Anya throwing you over her shoulder and sauntering off to god knows where. She'll never ask for your attention, only pulling stunts like these because she deserves it, obviously.

-> She wants you to praise her, too. Anya shows off around you, talking to you about a difficult task she was able to solve, or how even the Captain had to call her over to sort something out in the cockpit. She preens whenever she hears you comment on a job well done, brushing it off with a "Well, it was simple."

-> The girl is your biggest defender. If Daisuke gets too snappy with you, or the Captain is ripping you a new one, Anya will intervene with no remorse. She's happy to send them an irritated glare, pushing you behind her as she complains about how they even have the time to complain in the first place.

-> Playful ribbing with her is a must. You won't have a day with Anya where she doesn't poke fun at you (lovingly). If you tease back, she makes it a competition. Curly's exasperated when he pulls you two out of the third fake fight of the week.

[NSFW] MECHANIC ANYA:

-> Her sole focus is on you. She knows she's great in bed and she'll prove it.

-> A fan of anything oral, especially as foreplay. Her grin only widens when you're on your third orgasm of the night, begging her to slow down when she hasn't even gotten to the main show yet. If you gave her oral, she's clinging to your hair, her other hand clutching the bedsheet with a knuckle-white grip.

-> She's a huge fan of contact. Her hands are trailing any part of you that's not covered, poking and petting to see your reaction. She gets a massive kick out of it if you're especially ticklish. Even during sex, she'll find a way to make you giggle.

-> Another one for exhibitionism, except worse. She's happy to use any toy on you, so long as she holds onto the remote. Anya stands in the kitchen, eyes focused on you trying to keep your composure.

-> On particularly stressful days, she'll let you top and God's is she loud. She can only flush red when you slap your own hand over her mouth, desperately whining and bucking her hips into whatever touch you give her, her usual pride shattered.

[SFW] CHEF SWANSEA:

-> The kindest man on the ship, by far. You're everything he could've dreamed of. Daisuke rolls his eyes whenever he sees you together, grumbling about the jobs you were both forgetting about.

-> He's an old soul, and by extension has more traditional ideas of romance. His favourite thing to do is to wake you up with breakfast in bed, watching you get accustomed to being back in the land of the living, setting a tray of food in front of you.

-> The domestic life is pure bliss for him. It's hard on a ship with such extreme characters, but the kitchen becomes a second home to both of you. The others don't seem to care much for it – bar Jimmy who has to clean it every so often – meaning you two can spend quiet time together.

-> He'll teach you his recipes! He's happily waltzing around the kitchen, keeping an eye on you (and the food) as he tells you the common mistakes people make when cooking.

-> Shockingly good at reading any mood. You won't even have to tell him you're feeling sad, as he's already lending you a hand wherever you need it.

[NSFW] CHEF SWANSEA:

-> Another lover boy. This time, it's even more romantic.

-> Sucker for plain, vanilla sex. I don't think he could do many rounds at once, either. He's not in his prime anymore (and feels quite bad about it). He loves you though, and tries his best to meet your needs. Expect lots of foreplay. Your pleasure comes before his own, time and time again.

-> Swansea is more than happy to give you oral for hours. He still wants you to feel satisfied, even with his less-than-stellar stamina. You're the best thing he's tasted, perhaps better than his cooking!

-> With that, I think he'd be a fan of overstimulating you. He's happy to know you feel good, and wants you to feel your best! Swansea is more than delighted to make you cum over and over again, even before having penetrative sex.

-> He's good with his hands, too. This old man was able to rack up a lot of experience, you know.

-> If you're someone with a high sex drive, he'll do his best to meet your needs. Don't mind the flush on his cheeks, he's just not used to it. Same with people who are into more intense kinks - he's happy to please but you might have to guide him.

-> However, harming you is a no-go for him. Degradation is something he's hesitant about and outright violent kinks are ones he wouldn't go so far in exploring.

[narxcisse]

★ — As screwed as me? (HCs)

Pairing: Jimmy x Equally Screwed-Up!GN!Reader

CW: Jimmy himself is a warning, technically Reader is a CW too, toxic relationship, manipulation, gaslight, emotional blackmail, possible violence and abusive behavior, co-dependency, trauma bonding, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessiveness, isolation, spiraling together, reckless actions, jokes about trauma and morally questionable behaviors, brief implicit mention of what happened with Anya,mutual sabotage. Don't romanticize these atrocities irl

English isn't my native language

Fights are explosive, filled with yelling, manipulation, and even physical intimidation—but you both thrive on it. You don’t break up; just let the tension simmer until find some twisted way to make up.

You both make jokes about your trauma and chaotic tendencies, laughing at things that would horrify most people. It’s your way of coping, and you love how no one else “gets it.”

Both of you are hyper-critical of the world around u, often tearing apart societal norms and other people’s behavior while secretly being just as bad, if not worse.

The relationship is a constant battle for dominance. Jimmy loves feeling in control, but you knows how to flip the script and push his buttons when he gets too cocky.

Unintentionally (or intentionally) isolate each other from the outside world. Jimmy is possessive, and you're territorial, so you often justify cutting off friends or potential allies to keep the relationship intact.

While rarely admit vulnerability outright, there’s an unspoken understanding between you. You see through each other’s facades, and it’s both comforting and terrifying.

You love doing dangerous or impulsive things together, whether it’s vandalism, sneaking into restricted areas, or playing psychological games with unsuspecting people. It’s their version of “date night.”

When one of you is spiraling, the other doesn’t necessarily help— just spiral together. You feed off each other’s energy, creating a cycle of self-destruction that feels weirdly satisfying.

You don’t trust anyone but each other. Even when you hate each other, you’re both convinced no one else could possibly understand or handle you, only you can stand each other.

Despite everything, there are moments of genuine affection. Jimmy might pull you into his lap and mumble something about how you’re the only one who’s “real.” You in return might patch him up after a fight, calling him an idiot but staying close anyway.

You admire each other’s cleverness and cunning but are always trying to one-up each other. It’s like a toxic game of chess where no one ever wins.

You have dark, borderline cruel inside jokes about people you’ve manipulated or situations you’ve sabotaged. It’s your way of feeling superior and bonded.

(You probably have one about Anya and what Jimmy did to her.)

Neither of you could imagine life without the other, even though you know the relationship is unhealthy. You’re too far gone to let go.

Jimmy will gaslight you into thinking the fights are your fault, but he’ll also kiss your forehead afterward and promise you’re the only one who matters. You play the same game, leaving Jimmy guessing whether you love or loathe him.

If one of you tries to improve, the other will feel threatened and subconsciously (or deliberately) drags them back down.

No matter how much you hurt each other, you always come back. You’re addicted to the chaos, the drama, and the feeling of being seen—even if it’s through a cracked mirror.

You don’t need to say much to communicate. A raised eyebrow, a smirk, or a slight tilt of the head is enough to get your point across, especially when you’re plotting something together.

You tease each other mercilessly about your weaknesses or past mistakes, but if anyone else dares to do the same, you become a united front of pure wrath.

You’re the most “at home” when things are chaotic. Quiet, stable moments make you both uneasy, and one of you usually stirs up trouble to restore the normalcy of your dysfunction.

You’re not above using each other’s vulnerabilities to get what you want, but it’s almost like a game—you both know what’s happening and let it slide because you’d do the same thing in reverse.

Instead of normal couple activities, your “dates” involve things like watching the world burn (metaphorically or literally), staking out a place for a potential con, or picking apart other people’s relationships while drinking cheap whiskey or red bull.

You both laugh the hardest when things are falling apart. Whether it’s your lives or someone else’s, the absurdity of it all fuels your bond.

Jimmy gets irrationally jealous if you shows interest in someone else, even in passing. But instead of addressing it maturely, he’ll find subtle ways to remind you who you belong to. What do you do? Flirt back just to see how far you can push him.

Both of you have physical or emotional scars that sometimes compare, almost competitively. You act like they’re bragging, but deep down, it’s a weirdly vulnerable bonding moment.

Instead of saying “I love you,” you’ll say things like, “Don’t screw this up,” or “You’re lucky I tolerate you.” Yet, there’s a warmth in your tone that says everything.

You both live for the adrenaline rush—whether it’s Jimmy pulling off a risky scheme or you egging him on. When things calm down, you get restless and look for the next thrill.

You’re honest to the point of cruelty, especially when calling out each other’s flaws. Yet, secretly value that honesty because it’s proof you’re not being lied to (at least not about that).

Despite the toxic tendencies, you're fiercely protective of each other. Jimmy might be a manipulative mess, but if someone even looks at you the wrong way, he’ll make sure they regret it. And you’d burn the world for him, even if you’re the one who started the fire in the first place.

When one of you is down, the other doesn’t offer soft encouragement. Instead, it’s more like, “Get up. We’re not done yet,” or “Don’t let them win. That’s our job.”

You validate each other’s worst traits. Jimmy praises your ruthlessness, and you admire his cunning, even when it’s clearly harmful. It’s a vicious cycle that neither of u wants to break.

You know things about each other that no one else does—things so dark or personal that would horrify others. Instead of using it as leverage, you let it fester as a reminder of your unspoken loyalty.

The fights escalate quickly, with both of u knowing exactly where to hit to hurt the most. But after the dust settles, you act like nothing happened, as if the screaming matches are just part of the routine.

After a bad day, Jimmy might rest his head on your lap or chest while you absentmindedly play with his hair. Or just sit in silence together, sharing a cigarette, no words needed.

No matter how much you mess with each other, you’re in it for the long haul. If Jimmy is going down, you're going with him—and vice versa.

It’s not healthy, and you both know it. But in your twisted, screwed-up way, you "genuinely" care for each other. Your love might be sharp-edged and destructive, but it’s still love, at least from your point of view.

[midnightstar-kpopsmut]

Chapter II, The Electric Sheep

- I should probably start by telling you who this guy is.” Said Jimmy. - His name is Cheongtae, and he is Korean. Handsome, like you, discrete, he owns a high quality hair saloon here in Gangnam.”

- Is Cheongtae your...” started the American.

- You want to ask if he is my friend, how do I know him, why did he told me all of this.” Jimmy was impatient. - But believe me, our relationship doesn’t really matter now. I trust him enough to know that the story is true in every detail. Let me tell it to you exactly how I’ve heard it from him. I will use English, since you don’t know Korean. Some nuances could be lost, please forgive me for my simple language.

This is how, according to Jimmy, Cheongtae recounted his pleasurable encounter with Karina to him.

- I was already a bit stressed when riding in her elevator. You know where she lives now, she moved in those apartments on the north river side, with the private park at the center of the towers... Her manager had texted me a couple of hours before. It was urgent, he said. Karina was supposed to make a comeback in three weeks. We already had multiple sessions scheduled at the saloon, for her and the other members. But they needed me to come at her place, right now, for a quick check-up.

Karina has a big mouth. She is not vulgar or anything, just a bit exigent. She knows what she wants. When I worked for her she kept pestering me endlessly, talking about how she had this idea for a detail of the hair style while on vacation, how she wasn’t sure if it was something I was used to do... All while I waited with scissors in hand. Once I started cutting she calmed down. She reminded me of one of those dogs that bark and fight until you finally put them on a leash. Then they behave.

That’s why I was a bit stressed on the elevator. Hair is serious in Kpop. It’s part of the reason why I like to work for idols. But if they needed me to go directly to her place it meant that the stakes were even higher. I was expecting a big meeting of some sort, probably requested by Karina herself. When I finally put my foot into the entrance I was surprised. I couldn’t hear anyone, just the calm sound of the end of an afternoon. Karina was alone.

She greets me firmly. - Oppa, finally. Come in. You really like to make women wait.” Oppa? I think. She knows I am married. Damn she is annoying. - Palli palli (- It means fast in Korean, added Jimmy: - Please learn this.), why are you moving in slow motion?” She wants to chit chat. And I am already out of it. Still, for the sake of business, I try to get into her mood: - You surely seem ready to go to a party.” She doesn’t like it. - A party? Dressed like this?” I look at her clothes, a pair of the most fluffy cargo pants, gray, and an expensive crop top, black. Nothing on her feet. She keeps going: - Please, please, please. Don’t stand there! I told you to come in.” I advance in the living room. I had never seen Karina outside of my shop, but still I had knew her for some time, I had no much interest. My focus shifted naturally on the style of the space. The living room is the only thing you can see when entering, you discover it in one striking blow. There are two, huge, sofas, that almost form a U shape. Light blue as the main color, very modern style. The floor takes a downward step to get to the sofas, it’s sophisticated. After this area you get to the windows, then a veranda. You could say that interior design is one my passions, but I see you don’t care so let’s keep going.

- Do you... like it?” Asks me Karina. - Sure, I like it. It’s good quality.” I don’t get to the veranda. I stop at the couches and turn to myself, an equally impressive open kitchen stands behind, hidden from the entrance. All the other rooms are out of sight, you get to them through corridors. By looking around I finally realize that something is missing. I can’t see Karina’s manager anywhere. I was already surprised of not seeing the whole team here, but the manager, I thought, was a given, since he was the one who wrote to me. - Where is your manager?” I ask.

- Oh, him. My manager...” Her tone floats. Her head is all over the place, I think. - He is not here.

- But how... I mean, he wrote to me, I thought it would be here. But he doesn’t have to, now that I think of it.

- Actually “I” wrote to you. I met him this morning, to discuss things, he forgot his phone here. It’s his working phone. I am going to give it back to him tomorrow.

- You wrote like if it was him. And you have my number. Why didn’t you write to me from your phone?

- I don’t know! How can I know? Maybe I thought it was more professional. Why are you asking me all these questions?! Can’t you see I am stressed already? If I manage to piss off Karina, I am cooked. - I am sorry.” I say. - It’s ok” she answers. - But really, you haven’t seen me in a while. Look at me. Can’t you see that I am stressed?” I look at her. She looks electric. It’s also because of the look. The crop top has that kind of fluffy texture that could come directly from the body of an electrical galactic sheep. I kind of like it, it is hot. Good choice on her. Not that I would expect any less, from one of the constantly ranking top 5 idols in popularity.

- What are you looking at?” She asks. - Your crop top. - Anything else?” And then I notice it. I could have done sooner, but I didn’t. Her breast had taken some sizes. Only her breast, not the rest of her body or her face. Two sizes, at least.

I nod to myself. What a reaction to have. Anyway.

- Exactly. That’s why I am stressed. Sit with me. I really need you today.

[rustedhearts]

keepsakes (boxer!steve harrington x fem librarian!reader)

summary: the heat goes out during an autumnal cold front in your new hawkins home, so you make the most of a cozy day at home.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1995) ✶ the library ✶ ‘tis autumn

✶ roller girl’s pie stand!

tags: pure marshmallow fluff, allusion to smut at the end. akin to old boxer steve from ‘22

hawkins, indiana. october, 1995.

“They said they can’t get out until Tuesday,” Steve huffs, slamming the phone back into the receiver on the kitchen wall.

You groan into the steam furling from the ceramic pot on the stove. “Ugh, come onnnn.”

Steve shuffles into the room with a sigh, thermal-sleeved arms winding their way around your shoulders. They fold together over your chest, guiding you back against him. You let him tuck his mouth into your neck, lips warm, nose cold. You jolt a little when it brushes your skin, giggling when he huffs a harsh breath.

“Mm, I know, angel. But ‘m here to warm ya up,” he mumbles against your throat.

Each of you had enough layers on to keep decently toasty. What you could rummage out of boxes still taped up now sat in a messy pile on your bed upstairs. You hadn’t expected such a cold autumn and thought you had at least a few weeks before you had to break out the winter gear. But now a long sleeve turtleneck sits under a clove-scented 49ers sweatshirt, big and bulky and soft inside like you liked it. Your sweatpants are matching in black color, and you have your hair tied up just like Steve liked it.

He has a white t-shirt under a navy blue thermal that makes his hair seem more chestnut than usual. His sweatpants are grey, the Jimmy’s Gym logo on the top right thigh cracked and faded from wear. You have a pair of his white socks on, and you think it’s adorable that the pair of you have matching feet right now.

Steve presses a noisy kiss to the column of your throat. His hair tickles your chin and makes you laugh again.

“Whatcha got planned today, hmm?”

You stir the wooden spoon through your soup again. “Guess.”

Steve hums thoughtfully, lifting from your neck to squint at the tile. “Hmm, if I had t’ guess, I’d say…reading in that ‘lil window upstairs, pretending you aren’t freezin’ your ass off.”

You scoff, cheeks warming. “N-no…”

“No?” Steve tips his head and kisses your cheek this time. “Saw the book already out. Waitin’ for you. Can’t you hear it calling, baby? All those words you have to read.”

You giggle, squirming in his arms. “Stop, don’t make fun of me.”

You click the gas off and Steve coos, clutching you a little tighter. His cheek is lukewarm when it presses to your temple.

“Aww, my ‘lil nerd. ‘s okay, angel, you know your librarian glasses are so fuckin’ sexy.”

You clutch the handle of the ceramic pot and veer toward the counter, where two mismatched bowls are waiting. Steve gets the hint, matching your steps until you’re moving together. You tip the pot and pour equal amounts of the chicken soup into each bowl, splattering noodle and broth drippings as you go. The window above the sink beside you is beginning to fog with the warmth of the stove. Beyond it, your neighbor’s tree is a vibrant yellow. Shedding pointed leaves across the yard, stuck in the jagged edges of the wooden fence. They gather on Steve’s BMW window, suctioned to the glass with this morning’s rain. The sky’s still a muddled grey, and you have all the lamps and candles lit in the house.

Steve somehow always gets horny in candlelight.

“My librarian glasses? Grab some spoons, please, baby?”

Steve takes one arm from your chest to lean to the left and open the utensil drawer. He gathers two spoons in his hand and nudges it shut, immediately returning to ensure both arms are back in place.

“Yeah. ‘s a good thing, baby, I promise.”

You take the spoons dangling near your collarbone and plop one into each bowl.

“Stevie, can you take ‘em? They’re hot.”

Steve takes a bowl in each hand around your sides and reluctantly pulls away from you. The pair of you whirl around and head for the dining room, a bowl clunking onto a plaid placemat at each assigned seating. Yet as you pull your chair out and go to sit, a pout appears on Steve’s face. He hasn’t even touched his chair.

“What?” you giggle.

“I just…you’re so far away.”

“I’m literally right here.”

“Too far,” he huffs. He swings around and directs his gaze toward the living room. “Let’s go sit on the floor.”

A soft smile touches your face, that glowing warmth gathering in your cheeks again. Oh, something about the cold made Steve so sweet.

“You wanna have a carpet picnic?” You beam.

Steve tips his head back and rolls his eyes. “You and that damn movie—yes, angel, we can have a carpet picnic.”

“Yay, okay! Take the bowls, please.”

He hides his grin against the back of your head when you flounce your way into the living room, forgetting all about the goosebumps and shivers you endured when you woke up to a frozen house this morning. You peel the throw blankets off the back of the couch and lay them on the carpet, smoothing out any wrinkles you know Steve will replace in just a few moments.

The bowls are placed on the coffee table, a folded napkin under each. Steve waits patiently at the corner of the blanket, knowing you’ll let him know when he can join.

The lamplight above you catches and glows on your left hand. On the diamond glimmering on your second smallest finger, haloed with beams of orange. When you lift your hands and pass the flames of the fireplace, amber rays pierce through the crystalline gem.

Steve watches all the while. Watches you move your hands, knowing soon your diamond will rest above a wedding band. In a mere month, just a few short weeks—you’ll be his wife.

The thought alone has Steve sinking to his knees. You whip around to scold him for interrupting your process, but squeak in surprise when he catches your face and kisses you. He smells like cold air and leaves and vaguely of the Marlboro smoked a few hours ago. He smells like Steve.

When he pulls away, you sit back on the blanket and grin. “What on earth was that for?”

Steve assumes the spot across from you, kicking his legs out beside you. He reaches for the soup bowls and carefully places yours near your tucked-in knees.

“What was what for?”

You scrape your teeth over your bottom lip and laugh. “Never mind.”

You turn your attention to the chicken noodle soup and Steve turns back to you. Watches through his lashes as you lift your hands and wipe away wisps of hair on your forehead. Black sleeves curled over your knuckles to keep warm, your fingers appear beneath them in delicate form. He wishes to do nothing but kiss them and stare more at that ring.

“Is it not good?”

Steve blinks, lifting his spoon. Your lips are shiny with broth and oil, eyes rounded in his direction. They catch the fire like your ring and they make Steve swallow hard.

“N-no, baby, ‘s good.” He quickly shovels a spoonful of the soup in his mouth to prove it.

You do a little squirm and smile that makes Steve chuckle. He hunches over his lap to slurp the broth and you wrinkle up your nose.

“Ew, Steven.”

His spoon clinks against the bowl when he drops it.

“Heyyy,” he warns playfully. “Don’t start. There was no attitude at their carpet picnic.”

You giggle. “No, but there was a blowjob if I remember correctly.”

Steve lowers his bowl completely, eyes suddenly alert. “Well, that’s welcome any time.”

Broth bubbles with laughter in your bowl. Steve watches you take small, quiet spoonfuls. When he decides you were only joking and there won’t be an immediate gratification for his Pretty Woman joke, Steve goes back to his soup, too.

Soon the soup is gone and the bowls sit empty on the table. You stretch onto your stomach and place your head on Steve’s lap, allowing his fingers to work over your hair. He pulls it free from its confines and smooths it down. Massages your scalp until your eyes flutter. The flames of the fire rest in dancing orange shimmers on your face.

The rain begins again. It comes with a great howling wind, rushing through the trees and shaking colors loose. The house darkens to near nighttime degree. A grey darkness that turns all the candle flames and lamplight in the room warm.

“Will you read to me, Stevie?” you inquire softly.

Steve’s fingers lag in your hair. He shifts, resting back on his palm.

“Uh…I mean—you sure? Y’ know ‘m not very good at it.”

You let your eyes close and smile to yourself. “I’m sure. I love the sound of your voice.”

Steve smooths his palm over the crown of your head, cupping it. With your eyes closed, he’s free to grin down at you and know it’s just for him. Do you have any idea what you do to him?

“Gonna let me up then?”

You hum. “In a minute.”

“Okay,” he murmurs in agreement.

He holds you there a moment longer, watching the fire warm your face; your socked feet cricketing together at the edge of the blanket contentedly.

“Okay,” you say, pushing yourself up. “Now you can go.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he stands. “Spoiled. What am I getting?”

“You pick. I’m gonna bake some cookies.”

Steve watches you bounce back toward the kitchen with both soup bowls. “Well Jesus, have a little faith in me. I know my way around your shelves.”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, setting the bowls in the sink. “You want chocolate or snickerdoo—“

Your words die on your tongue, slipping between Steve’s lips. He pinches your jaw in one hand and holds you still, mouth forced to pucker for his gift. He hums when he nips at your bottom lip, licking at his own when he releases you.

“Somethin’ t’ think about while ‘m gone,” he says, a heavy hand popping across the fat of your asscheek before he turns around.

Steve heads toward the stairs, ascending them while doing his best to crane over the railing and watch your flushed reaction until he no longer can. He immediately walks to your library–much smaller than the one back in California, but somehow it captured the girl he met in this very town better than anything in the sunshine state ever could—and directs his attention to your stuffed shelves.

He has absolutely no idea what he’s looking for, and stands for a while just staring aimlessly at the spines with his hands on his hips. He hears you clink and clang around in the kitchen. The beep of the oven. The slam of the oven door. It’s much colder in the library, and Steve swears there’s a draft in your window seat.

He turns to inspect it, pressing one hand firmly on the cold, foggy glass. As he leans over the plaid fabric of your window seat, his thigh nudges the corner of a leather-bound journal. He recognizes it immediately as the same journal always kept on the bedside table and in the bottom of your purse. It's always next to you so long as you can help it.

When he spins it with his finger, the Polaroid used to keep your last page inches its way to the edge. Steve slowly and carefully pulls it from the pages.

He sinks into the window seat when he's met with his own face.

Six years old now, the photograph is still as perfectly intact as the day it was taken. The flash collects in a younger Steve's eyes, making them appear darker than they really are. The film softens the emerald and violet bruise kissing his left cheek that Steve vividly remembers taking weeks to disappear completely.

He knows immediately where he's standing, where the photograph was taken by the color of the wall alone. The soft ballerina pink, the edges of rosebuds from now-outdated wallpaper. The arched mirror of your vanity rests just behind his shoulders, stretched and puffed broadly with the flex of his arms. Though the muscles are concealed beneath a heavy black sweatshirt, embroidered with his recent champion title.

And in the glossy white border just below his stomach where the photograph completes, remains your handwriting.

My boyfriend husband ♡

"Steeeve? Did you find one?"

Steve quickly clambers to his feet, shoving the Polaroid back into its place in the journal. He grabs the book you had sitting on your rumpled blanket on the cushion.

"Yeah, coming!"

His footsteps clunk down the stairs, and he's met with the scent of warm cinnamon when he finds you in the kitchen, wiping down the counter.

You spin with the rag in hand and a small grin. “Hey, did you find one?”

Steve sets the book on the counter gently. Your eyes turn to inspect the cover, surprised to see one of your “stuffiest” options waiting. Steve hates Dracula, and he hates attempting to read anything written before 1950.

Before you can question his choice, Steve takes a slow step toward you.

“How long do the cookies have?” he asks.

You glance at the timer. “Um…ten minutes, why?”

His hands smooth over your waist, thumbs pressing into your stomach. He grips you firmly, stepping until he can fit his head in your neck again. His response comes in the form of his mouth on your throat—latching on with his hot, wet suction. You gasp, hands flying to touch him: one gripping the front of his shirt and the other tangling in his hair.

He hums, releasing your skin to kiss it gently. He moves down, dragging his nose over your skin. His suction returns to the junction between your neck and shoulder, where the tendons are soft and waiting to be bitten. You jolt with a quiet squeak, grip tightening on his collar.

“St-Steve—“

“Shhh.” He moves one hand from your waist to your chin and tips it away to make room for his head on the other side of your throat. “‘s nine minutes now, angel. Come lay down f’ me so we can make the most of it.”

He takes your hand and leads you to the living room again, and you follow silently. Nearly hypnotized by his softness, tongue swollen dumbly in your mouth.

He takes both your hands to lower you down to the station of your carpet picnic. You thump to your knees, and he follows suit only to lay you on your back with his hand supporting the back of your head. When you’re flat, you blink up at him with bated breaths.

Steve smiles, fingers curling into the elastic band of your sweatpants. The house seems hotter than ever, a flaming warmth coating your body as his touch drags down your thighs with your clothing.

“Don’t worry. Your husband’s gonna take care o’ you, angel.”

[definitelynotshouting]

saw this post assigning devastating quotes to each life series members, got incredibly inspired, and decided to try my own hand at it but specifically with snippets of the poetry ive personally written throughout the years :] thoughts and musings on several of my choices will be under the cut if you're interested in that sorta thing!! Enjoy<3

Bdubs: "it's all so blue. so blue, so wet, so cold, but you've got a fire in your heart like a hundred rockets. you aren't hungry, but you could eat the dead, / cut your teeth on a rotting corpse."

BigB: "SOMETHING HAS FRACTURED HERE AND IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN. EACH DAY YOU WILL CHASE THE FAULT LINES LOOKING FOR A BRIDGE ONLY TO FIND IT ALREADY BURNT."

Etho: "I am above myself, hovering, pressing pale fingers into the dull bruise of yesterday to test its lingering ache. Is this all that's left?"

Gem: "what are gods if not the mothers of our own inventions. we are the avatars of violence and love and hope and fear in equal measure."

Scar: "I think I want to live. I know one day, I must die. In the cosmic wheel of fortune, I am a gamble in the making, gentle breath washing a little luck over the dice."

Grian: "Within the shape of my clawed fingers are knives: scrabbled dirt; scarlet lines; the escape route / Between a fence and / Tall grasses."

Impulse: "Life's bitter, stilted offering / Is that every person we meet / Will one day become a perfect stranger."

Martyn: "Dangerous beasts must earn / Their survival. / You are no different than a knife / In the hands of murderers."

Lizzie: "When I think of the egg-tooth, / I revel in purple glass; the lightning; the shatter; the knife-slip between / Death, and a wake."

Mumbo: "This is your life now, / Found in the cracks and crevices, scraps pried between laughter and reckless abandon."

Pearl: "I am begging, raw in the face of absolution— do not hate me. Please, keep watering me in your garden, / Despite how closely my heart resembles a weed."

Ren: "— and sometimes hearts are forged in violence /— and sometimes blood cannot form scabs / — and sometimes wounds carry half-hearted sutures / — and we are all but living fragments / —"

Skizz: "Just a little longer. Please. / There is light pooling at the bottom of the flower vase."

Scott: "I can only hope that with the rising of the dawn / I will pass through darkness and return to day, / Where I am a solar ray blinding— teeth and claws sharpened, the stretch of my skin carrying gold / Above the dull, dug out earth"

Joel: "Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; / Yes, there is a loss."

Jimmy: "for year after bloody year, i clung to life with aching fingernails, grasped at every straw, took every scrap of double-barrelled hope and shot myself in the chest with it."

Tango: "every time you claw yourself from the ashes you insist it will never happen again. every time you reach the breaking point, it happens a little bit faster."

Cleo: "It's about catharsis, not letting go. / Because a part of me wants to hold this, / A swelling hurt deeper than tides, / Hotter than stars. The kind of rage / A mother might raise against her own child."

I dont share my poetry on here very often, partially because it tends to end up coming from a very personal part of me, but since this was actually a lot of fun maybe i'll start posting my poems more often here :]] i think what i found most interesting about this exercise was that as i scrolled my notes app and cherry-picked quotes for each character, it felt like the ones i chose naturally became part of a larger conversation-- as if the characters were speaking to me through my own words about their lowest points, about their ultimate views on the games filtered through the lens of a red life.

It felt enlightening; i dont often feel like im speaking to characters or being informed about their plots/preferences, etc. the way many other writers discuss in workshops or casually online, but by the end of this exercise i felt like i just... understood them, better than i had before. There's something inexplicable about reading your own words and consciously finding ways to apply them in a way that encapsulates them down to a character's core that just... truly highlights the specific qualities that resonate most with you. And i think stumbling upon that organically was a very vivid and incredible experience for me

Admittedly, i did struggle on Scott, Ren, and Etho a lot-- im not as familiar with them as characters, and for a while i couldn't quite pinpoint what exact themes they tend to carry with them throughout all their life seasons. But when i started to really look at everyone's quotes as a whole, i realized they felt like a story, like the response to a question-- as if i was being TOLD what they felt and how, and that that was how i needed to frame the rest of my selections. So Scott's ended up being about control, and the desperate hanging onto of it; Ren's is about the acceptance and bitterness of what he cannot change; Etho's is a quiet resignation rounded out with softer disbelief. The more i looked at these choices, the more they felt correct to me-- and while i still think i have a ways to go before i fully understand these characters, i feel like this has helped me a lot with that ultimate goal :]

Of all these poetry snippets, though, i think Scar, Skizz, and Joel's are my absolute favorites. Skizz's poem is actually the whole poem in its entirety (as is Cleo's, funnily enough)-- it's a short, very simple poem that is incredibly close to my heart for many reasons, but the main one being because it was written at one of my lowest points a few years back. Its about clawing for hope when there isnt any, and finding even the smallest of beautiful things to hold onto, and begging yourself to keep holding onto that at any cost. The pure, clean beauty of watching light refract through a vase of flowers, and knowing that sometimes, that's all there is to live for-- I felt like that really spoke to Skizz's life series character as a whole: finding the beauty in every tiny thing, no matter how small, and scrabbling for more time to appreciate it.

Scar's snippet comes from a much longer poem of mine about the difficulty of reconciling the idea of a future when you havent had to think of one before (incidentally, Etho's snippet comes from this poem as well). I think out of everyone, this quote encapsulates him the best; i like how it subtly references that inner well of vivacity he draws from that many other characters struggle to find, and how that in turn ties in with the lore that he never died a final death during Secret Life. And i love how it simultaneously manages to encompass the way he utilizes the social game in each season as well-- Scar's an incredibly intelligent social player, and i think the imagery of a gambler breathing their luck over the dice as they cast it, and as he casts himself at others for alliances and enemies, truly does fit him.

As for Joel, the full poem his quote comes from is one im particularly proud of, especially for its final lines. I think, quite honestly, i can let this poem stand for itself in its entirety:

They say transformation is letting the light in, But in my mind it's a violence. A coarseness, a fracturing, the bloody vowels between a scream And a howl. How do you transform without killing yourself? When I am a lion, my hands and feet Grow claws; my teeth sharpen. No longer do I spark— I ignite. Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; Yes, there is a loss. To transform is to leave behind a body And eat its still-breathing corpse.

I find myself referencing this poem a lot even in my daily life-- as longterm readers of mine already know, one of my favorite themes is that of replacing yourself and permanent transformation. This poem really is just about how changing, in any shape or form, alters you forever; how you can look back on yourself from even just a few months ago and feel like a completely different person despite remaining the same. Connecting it with Joel's character, and how he acts during his red lives in each season, was a natural and intuitive progression once i really sat and thought about it.

Alright thats enough yapping from me 😂😂😂 im not used to writing meta nor delving into my poetry on here, so this was a bit of an experimental post for me. If youve read up until this point, i both applaud your patience and really hope you enjoyed this window into my personal works and thoughts on them :]] cheers, and thanks to @/chipperchemical the op of the original post for inspiring me!!!❤️❤️❤️

[raylaismad]

“Why did you take Him from me,” said Life and Death.

Chaos didn’t look and the other, “I didn’t take anyone from you.”

“You were supposed to die first. You’re supposed to be The Canary. You know that.”

Chaos sighed, “You know that’s not how that works,” the being spread its burning wings, “I was never going to stay a consistent pattern forever, that’s not how I work, You know that.”

Life and Death whipped Its head around, “It wasn’t supposed to be Him. You know how much He means to me.”

“You know about Your curse. If You really wanted Him alive, You would have stayed away.”

Life and Death glared at Its equal, “You don’t get to speak about curses,” It’s pitch black wings puffed out, “and You don’t get to speak of staying away from people You know You’ll only hurt.”

Chaos sighed, “This is just like You isn’t it,”

Life and Death tensed, “You know nothing about me.”

Chaos said, “I know that You always blame others for the misfortune You cause. I know You are over emotional. I know You hate not to get Your way,” Chaos rolled Its eyes, “but most of all I know that You hate to see me win.”

“I do not!”

“But You do! I know You do because You are trying to blame me for His death when I did nothing!”

“You laughed at His grave!”

“You laughed at Mine.”

“…”

“Do You hate that I survived? Do You hate that I tried and I managed to almost make it? Was that why You killed Me? Is that why You killed Her?”

“Jimmy..”

“Shes a better sibling than You ever were.”

“…”

“All I did was survive.”

“…”

“You were always the lucky one.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Leave Me.”

—————————

Zero clue what possessed me to write this anyways @solidaritygaming-fanblog, @grian-fanblog, @moss-moths-eyes-and-whimsy cry lmao

[noirsdoll]

Could you please write Jimmy burning cigs on your tongue? its ok if not! nnghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

you’re soooo funny (this is my moot LMAO) um YES i can oh em gee!! cw for abuse, drugs, and shotgunning!

The sun beats down your neck, forms an ache in your temple.

You’re sitting shotgun in Jimmy’s rusty pickup. It’s a multi generational hand-me-down— the windows have cranks and the radio takes cassettes. You’ve told him before that he should pawn it off to a museum. He just snorts and flicks your forehead.

Coke is sprinkled along the dashboard, you’ve chased what’s left of it with your nose and a straw. Tipping your head back against the seat rest, you let the warm setting sun wash over your skin. You sigh out into the air, glancing over at Jimmy, who’s got a cigarette between his teeth and is flicking a lighter that’s equally as ancient as the car.

You hold out your hand to steal a drag from his cigarette and Jimmy just rolls his eyes. “I had to keep watch and make sure you didn’t fucking overdose. This one’s all mine.”

You scowl at him, your high messing with your brain and turning you cranky. “Don’t pretend that you care.”

“I care enough to not have the cops on our ass, babe.” Jimmy turns to looks at you, eyes sharp and glinting with malice. “Be grateful.”

You scoff, glancing out the window. There’s no one out for miles and you’re in a secluded parking lot. The most Jimmy would be watching out for would be pigeons.

The silence drags, the both of you remain too stubborn to ever apologize or forgive, always meeting an olive branch with a flame.

“Hey, look at me.”

You turn to him, confused. “What—?”

Jimmy leans over the center console and grips your chin, pulling your lips to his. You feel him exhale the sharp nicotine down your throat. As he pulls away, the crisp smoke wafts from both your lips. It stings your eyes, you feel hazy and breathless.

“Happy now?” Jimmy grins like he always does, when he’s so irrefutably right.

You nod, leaning in for another before he interrupts.

“I think I’m done with my cig,” he says, though the embers are still scarlet. “Open your mouth for me.”

You obey, opening your mouth. Are you gonna get another puff? It’s always something with him, something that sends a flurry of electricity down your spine. 

“Wider.”

Your tongue lolls out. You wonder if he’s gonna kiss you again. You want him to, hot smoke and crimson warmth coiling in your stomach. Jimmy’s so good at that— keeping you on the edge, pulling you closer and closer to a cliff you wouldn’t mind diving off of. It makes you forget just how much of an asshole he is.

And then he presses the blazing cigarette down on your tongue.

You yell, lurching away and you trying to move your jaw back, which is proven difficult with it being in his grip. There’s a circular welt budding flat on the centre of your tongue.

Jimmy tosses the stub on the dash, where he could’ve put it out just fine. Not taking his eyes off of you, he leans back in, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you again. The whiplash makes you melt, his saliva washes over your fresh burn and it hurts. 

Pain flashes white-hot behind your eyes and Jimmy’s hand is already groping you before you can get a word out. Slender, spindly fingers taking what they want like they always do.

And that is the other high you search for.