#and her forcing me to get out and go do stuff with her is partially what got me through first year

[generationa1trauma]

flatmate has a girl over i am suddenly extremely uncomfortable

[victory-cookies]

best friend just left for uni again. maybe one day I won’t cry about this!

[foone]

Tumblr crashed and killed my post and I'm too lazy to go find what I was reblogging, but:

You need to understand that there is a type of right-wing person who is (relatively) sex positive.

You need to understand this because it explains some "contradictions" but more importantly so that you won't assume someone isn't wildly right wing just because they're sex-positive. These people still have horribly opinions on a lot of things, including sexual ones. They just don't think it's Inherently Wrong to do "weird stuff" in the bedroom.

I always describe this viewpoint as "it's okay to get freaky, but don't be a freak".

They're making a distinction between things you DO and things you ARE. They hate the latter, and think the former is fine.

This is a big part of why you get "confusing" things like right-wingers who are against trans people but those same people might enjoy crossdressing during sex. They're fine with wearing girls clothes while they get pegged, but don't think you should be allowed to go by she/her in the workplace if you're AMAB. Crossdressing is a thing you do. Being trans is something you are.

And the post I was trying to reply to was about swingers disliking polyamorous people: it's the same thing. Swinging is a thing you do: they're having freaky sex. What's wrong with that?

But polyamory? Having multiple partners at the same time, even when you're not fucking at the moment? That sounds like something you are.

Basically it seems to be the worldview of people who are sex-positive (to an extent! I don't want to overstate their positivity) in their personal life, but are against "the decay of society".

They're basically conservatives nostalgic for an imagined world where everyone has 1950s social roles in public, but can get up to whatever weird sex stuff they want behind closed doors.

I don't know how much this kind of few point is due to libertarian influence on these kinds of right wingers (where they've internalized the "the government shouldn't tell me what to do" part of the ideology, but still think "the government should tell those weirdos to get cut it out" is fine), or how much this is because of the rise of 4chan as an alt-right meeting spot, and that site was (and still is) partially a porn site.

It's slightly hard to argue that all sex besides married missionary for procreation is immoral when you're one click away from threads full of anal-toy-howtos and pregnant "dickgirl" hentai. (Not that they don't try, sometimes)

Just keep the fact that these people exist in mind: it'll better explain some of the strange opinions you sometimes see online.

It's probably also a major driving force behind Bidoof's law. They can easily argue against something innocuous like polyamory or trans people while filling their own timeline to with images of trans orgies, because they think Doing Sex Stuff is morally neutral, but Being Stuff is inherently wrong. You can cross dress or swing, that's fine, whatever gets your rocks off. But you can't be trans or be poly. That's wrong, apparently.

(This is probably also South Park's fault but I'm not an expert on that show so I'll not try to explain)

[eveningepiphany]

go with it | H.S oneshot

my masterlist!

summary: your ex boyfriend— someone you never want to talk to again— is searching for you at a party. trying to do anything to deter him or get away, you spot harry, and a plan comes to fruition.

warnings: cheating ex, surprise kiss, sexual tension, partial mentions of sexual stuff, love/hate relationship, protective! h, fluff, cuddling and lots of kissing

a/n: I’m sorry but this gif actually has me in a chokehold. his jawline, his chewing, his FROWN. literally melting 🫠

———

There was never a day you thought you’d be b-lining to Harry of all people.

Especially not with the intention of once getting there, that you would be slamming your lips against his.

However, you already know you’d rather face a pit of blood-thirsty snakes then be forced into a conversation with your asshole of an ex boyfriend.

Who you know is currently seeking you out, because when you’d caught glimpse of him scouring the groups of people inside the kitchen, after coming back from the bathroom— your stomach dropped, and someone tapped your shoulder.

“He’s your ex, right?” The girl had said this with a light scrunch of her nose as she looked over to him. Her face riddled with a sense of disgust you couldn’t relate to more If you tried.

You had nodded, to which she replied, “Well, he’s asking everyone if you’re here and where you are. Going by his personality I’m assuming you’re gonna want to avoid that.”

You’d never wanted to hug someone more then her in that moment.

At the information she’d so kindly shared with you, your first priority was getting out of the house.

The front door wasn’t an option since he is near the only hallway that leads it it. So out through the back patio, where a smaller group of people were mingling by the fire, was easily your best option.

You knew this was where he’d be likely looking next, so you ran out the door. Unsure if you are about to just find a way to jump the fence and make your escape or…

Either way, you knew if he managed to talk to you, you’d be getting an unwanted earful of advances.

He’d beg with his nasally voice for you to give him a chance, and then go on about the same bitter ending you’d both faced. To his own fault, of course.

He was talking to multiple other girls over the damn state while you were together. And once you found out, it confirmed your outlook on his person.

He of course was charming and nice at first. But it was almost in a sleazy way when you think back to it. He’d yelled at you when you bought up his adulterous habits, and you never looked back after that.

Once you were outside, you were considering your options, but you spotted a person on the other side of the decking.

The second your eyes locked on Harry, it was a done deal.

If you were to seem like you were in another relationship, he would be much more likely to back off. Much more likely to never contact or try to find you again.

He was petrified of other men. Always felt so inferior around them. So this would be perfect, if you could just make it work.

All your past with him fell from the forefront of your mind as you practically ran in his direction. Maybe you had argued countless times over college projects and he could be a bit of an ass, but you still knew you could trust him.

He was leaned against the wooden beam of the patio, skin casted with a warm glow from the fire a few feet away, down on the grass.

He had a signature frown. One that creased between his brows and pouted his pink lips. Creating his almost intimidating persona. Protective in a perfect way.

“Harry.” You state frantically, moving at a pace you’re not used to, shoes hitting the wooden decking hastily.

His scowl deepened as he heard his name, being pulled from his intense train of thought.

“What—” He looks honestly pissed off, but when his gaze snaps to you, it softens a tiny bit. Still annoyed, but just a sliver less.

Also confused at your frantic and rapidly approaching frame, which is now suddenly breaching the usual metre-wide distance you both would maintain on any other day.

“Y/N? What are you—“

You plant your hands on the side of his face, and the look of surprise in his eyes is evident.

His cheeks are warm and smooth under your palms, “I need you to just go with this okay? Can you do that for me?”

He is struggling to make sense of the situation, let alone get a sentence out without being interrupted.

“What do you—“

“I— I’ll explain later just—“ you take a final glance over your shoulder, and see your ex inside still, but seemingly headed for the sliding door to come outside.

This drives the final surge of adrenaline you need to tug his face to yours, melding your lips together. His are puckered in tense shock, and a noise of surprise sounds from the back of his throat.

His hands jump to your hips, gripping them like he’s not sure whether to pull you closer, or push you away.

Your mouth moves against his, and he reciprocates with a sense of hesitation.

His own brain is in absolute overdrive. The interaction far to short to go from being people who merely tolerate one another to people who are currently kissing.

And somewhere inside of him he acknowledges the feeling of how warm your lips are pressed to his.

He senses your urgency now though, hands tensing around his jaw at the sound of the access door getting slid open.

Parting his lips, he impulsively drags his tongue over your bottom lip. You sigh a sound of almost gratefulness at his action.

Harry turns his body swiftly, pressing your back into the railing, his lips moving harder against yours.

“Y/N! Are you bloody out here?” A grating voice sounds, and he quickly picks up the pieces of the story he was missing.

The voice also pulls him out of the half trance he’d gotten himself in. Your mouth so warm, he genuinely forgot his own name for a second.

One of your hands slide down to the neck of his black shirt, securing it in an anxious grip.

The pace quickly picks up, him plastering himself to you as close as physically possible. Clashing mouths as he shadows your body with his.

“Oi, mate!” He ignores the yell, and is met with the footsteps of this guy coming closer.

“Have you seen—“

Harry pulls from your mouth, turning his head to look at the dickhead who you’re clearly attempting to get away from. And who just hypothetically interrupted someone’s makeout session— which is just fucking rude anyway.

“Do I look like I have?” Harry scowls, an angry tone over his voice.

The guy frowns, an ugly look casting upon his features, he steps closer, “No need to be a fucking di—“

He moved just close enough to see you, frowning, making sense that you were just essentially making out with someone, “Y/N I—“

“Can you fuck off? We’re in the middle of something here, that you’ve just so kindly interrupted. Read the room you twat.” His sentences come out harsh, and it’s clear he means it.

Your ex tries his luck a final time, “look I just want to talk with—“

And Harry interjects it again, “She’s not interested.”

You stay quiet, and at this he gets a disgusted look. It appalls you that he thinks you owe him anything.

There’s a stare down between the two men. But you can see in his face he’s intimidated. Also humiliated, that you’ve seemingly moved on with someone else, and that he’s clearly got no shot at winning you back.

“Fucking ass.” He hisses, and turns around, storming down the patio and back inside.

Harry turns back to you, shielding your frame with his. A sigh of relief passes through you.

You look a little shaken up, and he loosens the grip he has on you slightly. Both your lips still puffed and shining from the exchange you unexpectedly shared.

“Thank you…” you pant out, not sure if you’re out of breath from the situation or because of Harry.

The reality of what just happened comes pelting down on you both.

And it’s quiet a moment as you both clock over in your brains that you just practically made out. It takes a second for him to break the silence,

“So, stalker? Ex? Random guy who can’t take no for an answer?” He quizzes.

Feeling embarrassed, you purse your lips— but are able to to taste the remnants of his own mouth on yours. “Ex.”

“Ex?”

You nod.

“You sound surprised. Didn’t you think I could land anyone?” You scoff, trying desperately to bring back the usual snarky vibe between the two of you.

“No, not at all. Just that he was clearly batting above his level. He was a proper dickhead, and that’s rich when it’s compared to you.” You thank god he plays back into your banter.

But he pries further, “What exactly did he do to you?”

“Long story.” You attempt to brush it off, but he has none of it.

“Love, y’just came over here and slammed your bloody mouth over mine, and now you’re not going to tell me why?”

“But—“

“No,” he interrupts, still very close to you as he shakes his head, “No buts. Y’said you’d explain after.”

A sigh rattles out of you, feeling a little pathetic you’re telling Harry you got cheated on.

“He cheated on me. Like with multiple girls.”

To this, his face immediately drops.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

He fights the overwhelming urge to go hunt him down and lay a hand into the side of his fucking face. An absolute scumbag.

“What a pathetic excuse for a man.” He scoffs, “Lucky to have even got a pretty girl like you, and he blew it.”

You flush, another brief wave of quiet falling over the two of you. His compliments throwing you.

You quietly speak again, “I’m sorry about the… kiss. Didn’t really get as much consent as I’d have liked.”

You did feel guilty, you don’t usually go forcing your mouth onto unsuspecting men.

“No, it’s okay. You did it for a reason.” He shakes his head at your apology, and in all honesty, he enjoyed it.

Somehow it meant more than many of his others have. And he can’t quite pinpoint why.

“I… I carpooled here so, I think I’m gonna call an Uber and go home ‘cause…”

You had no interest in sticking around, incase your ex comes back— and you don’t want to spend the rest of your night glued to Harry’s side, because you doubt he’d want that.

“You’re not catching an Uber home.” He scoffs aloud, fishing his keys from his back pocket, “I’ve only had one drink, I’ll be fine to drive, so I’ll take you.”

“Harry, no. You’ve already done plenty for me tonight, I’ll be fine—“

He grabs at your hand, lacing them together and beginning to walk you down the patio.

“I’m driving you home.” He states, leading the you inside.

He clutched your hand tight, eyes forward and uncaring of the heads that had turned your way.

You on the other hand had burned up at the curious— and quickly jealous— eyes.

Harry was by no means a whore. There were plenty of rumours of him sleeping with certain girls. Mostly outlandish stories that eventually fizzled out to nothing.

He’d had a few girlfriends here and there, but it’d been a while since. And he’s maybe had one actual fling over the last couple months.

It just seemed he was harder to get. And many women tried their luck around the school. Yet to no avail.

You cast your sight down, walking behind him out the front door. Relishing in the quiet surroundings of the front lawn, free of prying glares.

He unlocked his car that was parked on the side of the road, and he opens the side door for you to get in. Chivalry mustn’t be dead.

Once you’re both in the car, you fight the urge to say again that he really doesn’t have to take you, because it’s clear there is no other option on his end.

So instead, you let out a tiny thank you, and he nods while starting the car.

However, your self restraint only branches so far— matter-of-fact, you weren’t even out of the street— before you blurt out, “Everyone was staring.”

He veers his gaze momentarily to you, then flicking it back to the road. Silence stretches a moment, and he recalls the heat of your lips pressed to yours with no real prompt.

And when he thinks of it, the image doesn’t leave his head. It unwillingly transpires, into something that bubbles into the pit of his stomach.

He had to blink it away, grounding himself when he hears your nervous swallow.

“I— what?” He’s confused at what you mean, while you kissed? When you walked out?

“When we walked out.” You reply, and he makes sense of what you’re talking about.

“People will always stare. They’re nosey.”

“I know.”

There’s another breath of silence, until he laughs, so suddenly that it almost makes you jump.

“Where am I going?” He asks, still chuckling as he realises he’s literally just driving aimlessly.

“Oh.” You sputter out a laugh as well, rattling off the side of town he needs to start driving to.

You wish you had more to say to him. That’s conversation usually flowed easily— filled with the sarcastic retorts it usually is. But now all that sat between you was a thick, hot slab of tension.

It wasn’t bad— not by any means— but it was easy to tell both of you were stuck in your own head. And you fear you’ve fashioned a permanent problem between the two of you.

Your voice only cut through the quiet once you were a few blocks away from your house.

He hummed acknowledgements to your each set of directions, and before you knew it, you were pointing out your house to him.

As his car pulled to a stop in the driveway, he didn’t hesitate to turn off the engine and get out.

Confused, you follow suit anyway, but wondered if he was about to walk you to your door.

And you weren’t wrong. Somehow, the guy who seems hardly like a gentleman, is waiting to walk the maybe 15 steps with you from his car to your front door.

You get your keys from your small bag, looking at him with an undeniably curious gaze as you meet his side.

He follows in sync by your side, hands in pockets. All the way up the patio steps, and he falls to a stop when you do, still next to you.

“Thank you for driving me home…” you smile, and can feel an unwilling red colouring spread over your cheeks.

“Was nothin’. Glad you’re home safe.”

“Were you seriously worried about me?” You frown, yet it’s undeniably endearing his concern for you.

A tiny scoff sounds from him, “Obviously?”

“That fuckin’ twat of an ex you have hardly seems like a good person. And who’s t’say he wouldn’t follow you home from that party and…” he stares off in thought, jaw clenching.

“Harry.” You state, stepping forward, wrapping a single hand around his wrist.

“Thank you.”

His distant gaze was snapped away at your touch. He’s never really considered himself an overly violent person, but your ex was easily about to change that.

And he hardly can pinpoint why. Or not yet.

The only thing he knows he wants to do again in sudden clarity, is kiss you. It almost shocks him, because he hasn’t felt an urge as strong as this in forever.

“Can— I need you to just go with this.” He mutters, being the one now very suddenly invading the gap between you both.

He’s mimicking what you said when you kissed him, yet you don’t realise “I’ll explain later.”

His hand cups the side of your jaw, and he leans to brush his lips against yours, a breath of relief fanning out his nose after finally feeling the contact.

You’re stood on your porch, and Harry is kissing you.

And somehow you’re all the sudden kissing him back.

Not because there’s someone you’re running from. Not because you have to. Because you want to.

He pulls you closer to him, allowing his teeth to graze your lower lip. Causing your hands to card through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You both play a back and forth game. Full of lips against tongue and tongue against teeth.

Until you’re both panting and running out of new places to map out with your hands.

“Care to explain?” You retort gently, stricken of breath.

He hums in the back of his throat, barley a rumble as he trails his mouth along your jaw, and down to the base of your neck.

“Is this enough of an answer?” He asks, sucking the skin between your two collarbones between his teeth.

Your knees almost give out at the sensation, and even the pressure behind his harsh mouth.

A near whimper comes from you, and he licks over the slightly bruised spot before he pulls back.

He cocks an eyebrow, expectant of your answer, despite having such a skilled mouth you’re pretty sure you forgot your own name for a second there.

“I— yes. That was… plenty.” You nod.

“Did it because I wanted to, and y’have an incredibly hot little mouth.” He provides anyway, a laugh coming from him as he pecks your cheek. All gentle, all loving.

You’re lacking for words completely, and can only lean your head against his broad chest. Unsure what exactly you’ve sparked between the two of you this evening, but simultaneously not caring of the future right now.

“I’m also probably not going to be able to stop thinking about it…” he whispers.

“Stay.” You blurt out, and then clarify a few seconds later, “The night.”

He chuckles at this, “Are you trying to get in bed with me now? Moving very quickly, sweetheart.”

You flush, “Not everything is about sex, you fucking addict.”

“So you were inviting me to stay the night so we could cuddle?”

“I was.” You affirm, despite not being opposed to his idea either.

Grabbing his hand, you lead him to your front door. Unlocking it and making quick work of sneaking him inside without the one of your three lovely housemates hearing.

All the others were luckily out at varying parties, and the only girl still home— Grace— sleeps like a log.

“You seem like a bit of a professional at sneaking people in.” He smirks, kicking his shoes off and leaving them in the corner of your room.

With only the lamp turned on, he’s lit with a warm glow, and he looks beautiful.

“Comes naturally when you live with housemates that are like your best friends. They wanna know everything.” You go to your cupboard, pulling out a jumper to change into.

He watches as you pull it over your head, yet managing to unclip your top and bra off underneath it.

“Impressive.” He nods at your easy change.

“I’m taking my pants off.” You state, “and not in a sexual way, perv.”

He lets out a defensive laugh, “I’m not a perv! You’re the one stripping off.”

You unbutton your jeans, sliding them down your legs to change over to sweatpants. His gaze strays around your room and you smile at his respectfulness.

Once you’re changed, you sit on the edge of your bed.

You lock eyes, and he gives a sly smile, not waiting to tug his shirt over his head and unbutton his own jeans.

You cover your eyes, sarcastically scoffing, “yea well, I didn’t plan on getting fully naked, but you go right ahead.”

“No different if we went swimming, darling. Still have my underwear on.”

You don’t get to reply as his hands tap your knee, “Budge up.”

You uncover your eyes, being met with his toned chest and calvin klein briefs.

Obliging silently, as he gets under the covers with you. The two of you rearrange until you’re comfortable.

Your head perched on his side as you cuddle into him, arm over his abdomen. His own arm curled underneath you.

“This is… an awfully weird situation we’ve ended up in.” You laugh. Because you’re cuddling in your bed right now, and if you told yourself even yesterday that would be happening, there no way in hell you would have taken it seriously.

“Guess it is.” He shrugs, turned his head to look down at yours.

“Still hate your guts.” You whisper.

“Mm, i don’t think I ever even hated you.” He muses.

You laugh, “Is that so?”

“Seriously,” he nods, “you’re too pretty. And even though you’re annoying, and can’t admit when you get a project question wrong, i think I have a little bit of a soft spot for you.”

“Gross.” You say, but he can hear in your tone— and the way it nearly shakes— that you actually are a little worked up over his minor confession.

“Cmon, you can’t even admit you like me a tiny bit?”

You shake your head, blushing profusely as you try to hide it.

He tugs you further up, so he can look at you properly, “You’re blushing though. Like you always seem to do when I get a bit sappy. Which is my most recent observation of you.”

He doesn’t let you respond as he presses another kiss to your lips again. And you smile into it unwillingly.

He pulls away mid-kiss, letting you whine a little at the abrupt ending to it.

“Admit it, and we can keep kissing.” He says, and it draws an eye-roll from you.

But he somehow knows it will work, because you quickly crack under his ultimatum, “Fine! Yes. I like you— just a little bit.”

To your response he laughs, murmuring against your lips, “I’ll take it, I suppose.”

He presses another kiss against you, and you press back again.

It becomes another makeout session, but despite being the third one of the night, it’s the first time hands can skate against mostly bare skin.

Which his own palms find their way under your jumper, and one cups gently at your breast, flicking over your nipple while his tongue dips into your mouth.

That’s as far as it goes for tonight though.

He kneads the flesh there softly, until you’re panting into his mouth with a heat budding between your legs.

Somehow there’s an unspoken not tonight agreement.

And you know that despite how needy you feel for him, it’s definitely for the best. And you’re still shocked you made it this far with him.

You roll into him further, chest rising and falling quickly as you sigh out to him, “I lied.”

“When?” He sounds completely unconcerned, despite your risky sentence starter.

“Before, when I said I only liked you a little bit.”

He chuckles at your response, “How was that a lie, hm?”

“I like you more than a little bit.”

“You’re sweet, darling.” He strokes his thumb against your ribcage, “so do I.”

To this you smiled. Eyes growing heavy at his rhythmic touches and soothing voice.

And his gentle words are the last that you hear before you fall asleep against his chest.

Both filled with a warmth you haven’t felt in a long time.

———

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 | a joel miller x reader oneshot

summary: this is based around work song by hozier, felt a deep need to write some joel miller comfort stuff. listen to the song if you fancy, it really helps, i swear. this is just a lot of angst, fluff, and longing wrapped into a 5k fic i wrote out a couple weeks ago out of missing writing and joel miller.

word count & warnings: 5k | 18+, fem!reader, mentions of violence/blood/fighting (nothing graphic), joel being in a state of shock, sex for comfort/coping, no heavy sex warning it's just v intimate, psuedo love confessions bc joel is bad with words

It’s like an atom bomb uprooting your world with the heavy rasps of a hand against solid wood, sending a sharp buzz of electricity down your spine as you shoot up from your position on the couch, nearly tripping over Ellie on the way. The remnants of a night spent like a teen, enjoying a sleepover with the young girl who had a lot to talk about. You knew enough about Savage Starlight that you were practically an aficionado now, but that didn’t matter. 

Ellie only stirs slightly, turning on her side on the cushion of her make-shift pallet and you open the front door slowly despite your rapidly beating heart.

Joel never knocked, never really announced himself. He would come in quiet, quick, and busy himself upstairs. You knew that because he usually found you in his bed, waiting for him.

Tonight was a little different. 

No grave can hold my body down,

I'll crawl home to her

You world spins as you see what’s on the other side, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you see him.

Joel. But he wasn’t alone.

“Maria—“ It’s laced with too many emotions, too many meanings. You shift your gaze between the two.

“Everyone—“ Maria has to force herself to take a deep breath, a careful hand on Joel’s arm as she forces him to take a step forward, “everyone is fine.”

“Maria, he’s covered in blood.” As if that wasn’t obvious.

It was crusted and oxidized down, sticking to his skin and covering him like something out of a horror movie. He wasn’t shaking, that was the first thing you noticed. Joel was unnaturally still. Frozen.

“Do you have him?” Maria asks, only expecting one answer. “I’ve gotta tend to Tommy and he’s not telling me a damn thing.”

“Is he hurt?” Your brow furrowed in concern, but Maria doesn’t elaborate at all. You reach for Joel silently, his skin icey to the touch, the rigid, cold weather partially to blame.

“He’ll be alright.” Maria assures you with a nod and she’s gone without another word, leaving you to stare at the shell of a man before you, his eyes boring into the ground, staring at the scuffed up material of his boots, not a word to be spoken. Not even so much as a breath.

“Is he in shock?” Ellie’s less than chipper voice speaks from behind you, forcing your heart to kickstart again.

“Um, I don’t—know…” You pull him inside gently, which he doesn’t fight, but he feels lifeless, “has he—have you seen him like this before?”

“Never.” Her eyes well with silent tears and you quickly shoo her away. Ellie almost seems thankful. Joel can’t admit it to himself but Ellie knows. 

You care. 

“Go upstairs and get some sleep, Ellie.” You assure her, “I can handle it.”

The walk to Joel’s bedroom feels miles away. Joel shows no signs of life still, as you drag him inside of his room and shut the door with a soft click.

“You need to shower.” 

Joel knows this, he can smell it on him.

The smell of death.

You smell it too, but you can’t bring yourself to admit it.

“Joel,” You speak softly, invading his line of sight, a gentle touch against rough skin, his scruff a few days grown and there’s a small twitch as your warm hand makes contact, “are you here?”

His nod is a sigh of relief, a weight off your chest.

“Okay—okay, that’s good,” You keep your voice low, like a secret between the both of you, “do you need my help?”

Joel shakes his head weakly, pulling at the buttons of his thick coat, realizing slowly that it was just as bloodied as the rest of him. He wants it off. All of it. Now.

“Are you going to fight me if I try to help?” It’s lighthearted, but you can see how deeply it digs at Joel, like a fresh wound. “Sorry—I just, I want to help. Okay?”

He doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t push your hands away when they reach forward and take the coat from his hands. You toss it in a nearby corner, out of sight and out of mind.

You could handle it later, get rid of the mess so Joel wouldn’t have to bother with it.

He toes off his boots after tugging at the laces, delicate fingertips tracing down his chest as you unbutton his flannel, forcing it down his shoulders. It takes a moment, but eventually he’s down to his boxers and tattered white undershirt, barefoot on the hardwood floor.

And he stops, leaning into you, pressing his forehead against your own in a silent bid of thankfulness, a heavy sigh escaping his chest.

Joel showers alone, eerily quiet. You get rid of the clothes, bringing them out to the garage to deal with in the morning.

Joel is already in the bed by the time you make it back to his bedroom, but if he was actually asleep was yet to be discovered, the nightmare replaying behind his eyelids unbeknownst to you. 

I was three days on a drunken sin

I woke with her walls around me

Joel wasn’t supposed to come back until later in the evening that day, well after work was wrapped up for the day and everyone was already tucked into bed. You found yourself in Joel’s bed most nights now, off and on for the first few months but now, almost a year into…whatever this was, it was a weekly thing, as often as Joel wasn’t out on patrol. 

There was never an agreement about what this was either, not that there needed to be. But, the unspoken rule was to keep your problems away–the anger, the fear, the suppressed feelings you both have tried to keep at bay for weeks now. Joel only mildly complains about things around Jackson, but never about his life before, how he feels now, or how his pseudo-daughter seeks out comfort in your presence when Joel isn’t around. 

Joel hasn’t stirred for hours, or so it feels. The night sky fades away into early morning, the tiniest amount of dawn peeking through his window and bathing him in a shadow of blue. The crinkle of sheets pulls your attention toward his face, your body heats like a furnace as it slid near, hoping that even in his slumber he might draw closer. There’s a brief moment where you think he might wake, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer. Nuzzles. 

You’ll take it. 

He moves silently, letting you hold him. An arm slipped under his head, a leg slipped between his own thighs and his hands found their way around your middle and you sigh, a deep breath through your nose that does nothing to calm your worrying, aching heart. 

If he wanted to talk about it, he would. That’s all you can hope for.

I didn't care much how long I lived

But I swear I thought I dreamed her

Joel is edging on delirious. The adrenaline was beginning to wane and he kept seeing things in faint recollection. The faces of the couple that had snuck into the cabin he and Tommy were patrolling last night, the fear on his brother’s face–something he hasn’t seen from Tommy since they were teenagers. They’re battle-hardened warriors, attack first and ask questions later. His brother was helpless then and if it weren’t for Joel’s terrible bout of insomnia—he couldn’t think about it.

He feels everything finally caught up to him, the physical exertion, the mental toll, he’s never slept so easily in his life and he feels terrible about it. He feels terrible about bringing this on you, forcing you to help piece him back together and keep him from falling apart. 

Joel is a man, solid and steel-like in his ways but he’s not invulnerable to emotion. He feels it creeping in as he blinks his tired eyes open, the flutter in his chest growing strong when he feels you wrapped around him and his own limbs just the same. 

He could’ve swore you left. The look on your face, of pure terror and disgust as he poured his heart out to you, but Joel quickly realizes that was only a dream, something his mind cooked up in the haze of hysteria.

“Is Tommy hurt?” You ask with a timidness he’s not used to, your fingers massaging at the base of his neck, twirling a curl of his hair around your finger idly, “Maria...didn’t say, she looked exhausted.”

We don’t talk about these things.

We don’t talk.

We don’t.

“I’m not asking you to tell me what happened,” You assure him like he’d spoked aloud, “Just…even a nod, Joel. Anything.”

Joel waits too long, to the point where you think he’s fallen back asleep. But eventually, he shakes his head. You relax briefly. No, he wasn’t hurt.

But, that doesn’t explain the blood. 

As much as you wanted to know, it wasn’t your place to ask.

She never asked me once

about the wrong I did

Joel doesn’t understand why he feels drawn to you, so eager to have you here, home. You had your own place, your own things, but when you were here it almost felt normal. Real. He’s dragged this out for months, avoiding the looks you give him when things get a little too intense and he pulls away. 

Ellie calls him an idiot every month that passes, knowing how good it is to have you around.

“Jesus, Joel—you can’t really be that oblivious.”

Joel forces Ellie to drop it.

But, not before she mumbles the word under her breath.

There’s a soft sob that racks your body as Joel stirs, crying silently above him with worry. You weren’t as great at burying those emotions as him, unfortunately.

Because, for tonight, well—it was almost too much to process.

“I took care of it,” Joel speaks through his gruff, sleep-filled voice, “Tommy’s fine.”

It? Took care of it? Come on, Joel.

“It was a couple. Hunters. They were from the west.”

You stay silently, scared that speaking might startle him too. You didn’t want to steal the chance of knowing, understanding.

“I handled it.” The emphasis around the word is enough to make you understand.

He killed them. There was no way around that.

“I’ve never…” The quiver in Joel’s voice is apparent, no matter how hard he tries to mask it, “I’ve felt a lot of things. Anger, betrayal, but that fear—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling Joel closer into the space you shared.

“They had their hands around him,” Joel explains slowly, like he’s trying and failing to relive that sight in his mind, “my damn hearing, old fucking age—another minute and things would’ve been a hell of a lot different.”

“But, you took care of it.” You affirmed him and his hands tightened against your skin. “Seem pretty damn capable to me.”

“Fuckin’ cowards.” Joel spits out, “We were sleepin’ and they tried to get the jump on us.”

“It’s alright, though—Tommy’s okay, you’re…okay,” You hesitate, a quiver of a breath from Joel ghosts over your chest, his tired eyes peering into yours, “You’re okay, right?”

“Always am,” Joel assures you with a low, soft response, “had so much on mind, though, ya’ know?”

“Well, yeah—”

Joel shakes his head, cuts you off for a brief moment. You don’t really mind, talking felt too draining right now.

“Ellie’s still learnin’, she can’t even go out on patrol by herself. Tommy and Maria have the baby now.” Joel’s fingers squeeze again, a nervous tic he’s picked up when he’s got himself wrapped around you, the urge to say things he wishes he could but can’t. You’re begging for it now, wondering if this was the moment. “I couldn’t live with myself if things went the other way.”

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

Joel was a killer. Is. But, with good intentions. Not that it was needed anymore.

Survival, family, protection. He’s killed for the wrong reasons and the good ones, but it’s never been something you’ve judged him on. You never even questioned it. You accepted it, moved on, and treated him like everyone else. But, of course, there was a tinge of sweetness that creeped in, got him all caught and wound up in your web.

“Did she give you any trouble last night?” It’s a quick turn from the heavy conversation you were having, but it isn’t lost on you. He’s silently asking things to shift to something else.

“No more than the usual,” You shrug, talking softly in the early morning ambience, wind howling outside his bedroom window, a storm brewing on the horizon, “I don’t think it’s me that you should be worried about her giving trouble anyways.”

He would be stuck here in Jackson for a few days. You’ve never been more thankful for shitty weather in a goddamn apocalypse. 

“That kid loves you.” Joel comments fondly, and I do too.

“Only because I help her and Dina sneak out during town movie nights,” You admit, glancing away sheepishly, “she really worries about you.”

Joel nods knowingly, his usual scowl returning to his face. You reach forward, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone—in this light he looks fine, untouched and perfect, but he winced at the contact. He’s a tough man, but he’s not invincible. 

The touch of his fingers as they wrap around your palm are instinctive, he’s careful that he doesn’t startle you by the quick action, but it’s almost like he’s being shocked and brought back to hours before, the one hit they managed to land on him.

You’ve seen a few of Joel’s violent outbursts, yelling matches upon yelling matches with Tommy but it’s never been directed at you. You retract slightly, fingers curling over the top of his own.

“I’m sorry,” You apologize, “I didn’t realize—“

“I would never hurt you.” Joel says adamantly, but you can’t help but feel puzzled. “I’m not a monster.”

That idea never crossed your mind.

“Defending yourself doesn’t make you a monster, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t know why he feels the need for validation. 

“Maria—she thought I,” Joel laughs sadly, a huff of air that borders on defeat, “Tommy was hitchin’ the horses up and she saw me first, without him and she thought I left him behind. That I sacrificed my own damn brother to save my ass.”

Maria had never been fond of Joel, that much was always apparent, even from the moment you met. She tolerated him because he was Tommy’s brother but that was all. There was no way around it. 

“I’ve done plenty of shit to cement my place in hell somewhere, and so has Maria,” You tell him, “Doesn’t matter what she thinks, Tommy knows you would never do that.”

Joel squeezes your waist tighter, the soft skin molding under his calloused fingertips, “You’re too damn good to me.”

The kissing starts slowly, a soft caress as Joel moves in closer, and doesn’t even try—he waits for you, teasing you with a touch until you can’t fight anymore and you press your lips against his gently. It’s the first time in the last several hours that Joel doesn’t feel like he’s drowning, barely skimming the surface to keep himself afloat. 

He feels horrible, using you like this—coping with things by stowing them away and surrounding himself with you in a hope that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions, that he would have to explain his actions or justify them. But, you taste too damn sweet under his tongue and he prods until you let him in, a small sigh leaving your mouth as your lips part. 

“Fuck, darlin’.” He swears like a symphony, sounding more devious than it should as it leaves his lips, “Can’t keep at this, not with Ellie upstairs.”

“Joel, she’s not here.” It’s not so obvious to Joel, who’s just about as oblivious to every teen antic thrown his way. “She’s out with Dina, probably. That’s usually where she goes when she’s upset.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I heard her moving around when you were asleep,” You explain quietly, jostling your head slightly on the pillow until Joel’s situated over you slightly, his head resting in the palm of his hand that held him upright, “it’ll do you some good to talk to her in the morning.”

Joel nods knowingly, half-smiling as he pushes your hair behind your ear, his thumb finding the sensitive dip behind your lobe and rubbing until you couldn’t hold your laughter in, letting it bubble out weakly before falling silent, a soft, but serious look growing across your features.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” You tell him, “please.”

“C’mere,” Joel nudges his chin upwards, drawing you in close, “I’m not goin’ down without a fight, darlin’.”

“I’m serious,” You don’t need to force a love confession on him, not that it would salvage anything or make things better, because Joel already understands—there’s too many instances where he’s felt his heart tug in all the weird, uncomfortable places he’s kept locked away since he was younger, before the outbreak, before Sarah, “you can’t do that anymore.”

“I’m here,” Joel assures you, forehead pressed firm against your own as he nods, “I’m right here.”

He failed to mention how after the attack, the split second of everything flashing through his memory, the possibility of losing Tommy, disappointing Ellie, that you were the one thing that kept him conscious enough to come home.

He’d left you with a burning kiss the day he left, kissing like two lovebirds trying to keep a secret as you hung around the stables as the pairs readied to leave. 

It was his own little promise of a return, but you didn’t realize in just what shape. He was good at masking, even now. Joel was hurting, but all he wanted was you.

And you could give him that.

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Joel hums, soft and quiet, “Don’t move,” He pleads, “need you right here.”

His palms are heavy, feeling so much larger than they should as they span the length of your body, pulling you in close and cradling you like a safety blanket. Maybe you should stop, it isn’t the best route to cope with the situation, but Joel is there—wanting and needing and he’s mouthing at the junction of your neck in a way that has you gasping for air. 

He needs you to occupy his mind, it’s what you did best for him. Joel needed somewhere else to be, anywhere but the hellscape behind his eyes when sleep succumbed to his pure exhaustion.  

Just a moment. Just a moment to breathe. To feel.

Your brow furrows so deep that you're scowling now, but mostly out of concern, forehead scrunching from the emotion and you cradle Joel’s face carefully between your hands, “Tell me what you need.”

You. 

He doesn’t say as much, but you can feel him sifting for your tattered pajama pants as he digs his fingertips under the waistband and yanks, hoping you’ll get the idea. 

Okay, this is fine. He needs sex, you can provide him that. But, you won’t let him escape. Joel needed to be present and here with you, not forcing himself to some far off space in his mind and keeping you around him like nothing more than a warm body for him to fuck.

He’s got you all pliant under his touch as he needs at soft skin, thumb digging into your hip bone as he shifts between your legs lazily, spreading you wide and using the arm that is holding most of his weight to unfurl his hand and reach for that tight space behind your knee, tucking that leg up and over his right hip—this feels undoubtedly vulnerable, but he’s staring at you with those eyes and you absolutely fucking melt, his mouth parted by mere centimeters as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.

“Go on, darlin’,” Joel encourages, “I know you need it too.”

That was an understatement.

He’s already hard, head of his cock resting against the small expanse of skin between his groin and belly button. It’s like a wave of heat that rushes over your bodies when you finally touch him how he’s been begging—not so much with words but pleading looks. He needs it even more than you do. 

Usually you would spend a while in the throes of leisurely foreplay, letting Joel devour you until you were nothing but a heap of numbness on the bed and only then would he allow you what you were begging for the entire time. His cock, buried deep enough inside you that it felt impossible. But, there was none of that.

Your thumb slides over the head, smearing the precum in a too teasing motion that has Joel cursing under his breath before you’re abruptly guiding him to your core, slick and waiting without a single touch, embarrassingly so. Fortunately, you and Joel were long over that. Joel was overly aware of the effect he had on you—mind, body, and soul. 

He slides home and you have to take a moment, a second to breath, chest expanding with a full breadth of air as Joel pulls you in closer, if that was even possible, warm hands settling firm on your hips, his head resting against the pillow you both shared, “There she is,” Joel comments vexingly, “always know what you need, right, baby?”

As good as it feels to hear him, the way he can melt you with a single phrase or sound, he’s still on guard in the way he’s shielding himself against your body, rocking his hips in a motion that drowns out all relative thinking and it builds, builds until you can’t take it and you feel like you just might burst. You slip a hand out from under him to pull at the chain on his bedside lamp, drowning you in a soft yellow glow and Joel doesn’t look right away—that’s how you know. 

“Switch me,” You suggest softly, followed by an even lower, disgruntled noise from Joel, “—Joel, come on.”

Joel feels that distant ache in his bones, the soreness in his hands from the damage they caused, he groans with the movement, but even louder with the way you sink back down onto him once he’s settled against the mattress, hands fisted into his shirt and rumpling it up his stomach, revealing a few inches of soft skin, grinding down against him until he’s nearly writhing. His mouth opens slightly, ready to say something you didn’t want to hear.

You offer a soft shhh, eyes focused on the lines of his face, beautiful with age and scrunched up in pleasure, eyes closed as he settles into the feeling of you again, “Stay with me,” You jeer quietly, a soft giggle settling on the surface as you smile, ever so slightly, ”‘can you do that?”

Sometimes it feels like an impossible feat, but Joel grips you a little tighter, pulls you in ever the more closer and the slick of your body feels so goddamn good, he doesn’t even realize his thought breached his lips before your breath is hot against his ear, his mind battling the thoughts buried under the surface and every filthy thing he could blurt out in the moment, he’s so tense with anticipation, “Stop thinking so hard, Joel. You’re home. Safe.”

And for once, he gives in. A long, hard fought battle that succumbs to his own exhaustion, allowing the kinder touches, the intimate glances between two people, almost like your fingertips were grazing each other’s souls. It’s felt intense before, but this moment is sharp around the edges and Joel knows what you need to hear. He’s fought it for a while, trying to right his wrongs, remind himself still, that he didn’t deserve you. He’s done fighting.

“Just need you, darlin’.” He admits gruffly, lips sliding against each other in a messy, lazy attempt at a kiss, “Always know just what to do.”

In other words, you could read Joel like a book.

And in the few years you’ve known him, you were hoping that was the case, considering the level of intimacy you’ve reached. Joel comes with a tired, drawn out groan that pierces you deep, and you’re right there—right there, before Joel is flipping you over with little fight on your end, sucking on your clit with a ferocity that doesn’t let up, coming with a shout as you grip his hair at the root, riding out the extent of your climax against his mouth as he eased you into your sated state of exhaustion.

The comedown is heavy, long, extended bouts of silence as you two try to catch your breath, slow your pounding hearts and Joel, at some point, finds his way higher up your body, his head laying against your chest, just underneath your breasts and it's an easy position to rub your fingers into his hair, along the planes of his face. He'd never admit it, but this is his favorite part. The after.

For you, it was everything.

"I want you around more often," Joel says quietly, like a whisper, "—m'tired of worrying about you when you're not around."

It almost makes you think you slipped into some sort of fugue state, not believing that the Joel Miller had said anything remotely close to a confession. But, then again, he surprised you every day. And you knew he couldn't ask you outright, not now, maybe not ever.

But, you'd settle for this.

"I'm not going anywhere, Joel." You promise, "You've always got me to come home too."

[slightlyartist]

Ik you’re still in the process of making lore but I have have Steve - Fidds questions!

1. What is Pyramid Steve getting out of making these deals? Is he helping Bill with his Weirdmageddon stuff? Is he stealing things from his Victims other than what’s given (like slowly taking all their money and savings/their life force/whatever he uses for currency) to pay his alimony? Or is he just doing this because he likes doing HUMAN THINGS as a HUMAN MAN and it’s FUN and a BUSINESS and TOTALLY DIFFERENT from sitting around on his laptop playing the sims all day so he doesn’t need to deal with his OWN issues (like his divorce)?

2. Is he helpful with little things *at first* to make sure his ‘customers’ trust him to deal with more and more stuff? Like at first he comes to Fidds when it’s been a month since he last did laundry because he was too scared to go down to the laundry room and Steve tells him he has a Magic Product to Help with Anxiety! Then Fidds feels all floaty and calm and out of it. Next thing Fidds knows, his laundry is clean, folded and, put away, AND he even washed and redid his bedsheets! And he took a shower and is wearing fresh clothes! Wow! He just barely remembers any of it, like trying to remember a dream, but who cares! The Product is Working! Yay! And it’s a very easy slope from that to Fidds thinking “I’ve been ghosting Emma-May (who’s upset with me) for a week now and my hands shake thinking about it, I need to use Product and call her to work things out! OH NO Apparently I sounded like a weird British man trying to do a southern accent the whole conversation and now she thinks I’m taking drugs! And is MORE upset with me! I need to call her and fix things! Which I can only do with the help of Product! My life is crumbling around me.”

3. Please work the plastic bag of DvDs Steve carries around and pet centipede into this au. This isn’t a question this is a request. And the fact he eats copper wires! Does he make the humans he controls also eat Copper Wires? Does he make the humans buy or steal copper wires for him so he can eat them?

4. Uh. What do you imagine being hypnotized feels like to Fidds (the first few times before he starts going brain dead)? I’m guessing it’s not just blacking out if victims get addicted to the *feeling* of being hypnotized as well as getting addicted to the ability to step out of their life for a bit.

5. Does Fidds already being pretty into the ‘beginnings of permanent brain damage’ stage of memory gun use have any affect on Steve’s ability to hypnotize/control Fidds? Since he’s basically controlling Fidds from his laptop, the main hardware he’s running his program on being janked up could have some effect on how well Stiddlepord ‘runs’.

6. What do the ‘side effects’ of Product start to look/feel like in the victims? Like we know what the memory gun’s side effects look like in action because of that supercut of Fidds decent. And can partial brain function eventually be recovered like with the memory gun? Or is Pyramid Steve eventually just puppeting a corpse until it starts to decompose?

7. Uhhhhh. Can I write fanfiction. Of this au.

Anyway this ask is way too long, I know, but if I write fanfiction on this I want it to be lore accurate and not just my own thing, and it’s such a cool au!!! I crave more!! More of the unstable divorced man ‘possessing’ the other unstable divorced man!! Amazing!!

HELLO HELLO! Thank you for being so interested in this silly AU!! Okay I'm going to sit down and properly think about all of this!

Fun fact! If Ford refers Bill as My Muse, Fidds refers Steve as My Elixir ;)

What is Pyramid Steve getting out of making these deals?

As opposed to Bill and his love for physical pain, Steve craves mental and emotional misery. Like a parasite feeding off the psychological pain they are experiencing, that's why his aim is to ruin their lives even more, kicking his customers when they are already down.

Bill and Steve are not allies. In fact Bill HATES Steve's guts. They are aware of each other, Fidds is not aware that Ford has Bill, Ford is not aware that Fidds has Steve, but they both know something is off about the other.

Hypnotized Fiddlesteve would change the maths of the Portal blueprints that Possessed Billford spent hours making the day before, hilarity ensues ❤️

2. Is he helpful at first?

You put it perfectly into words! If the Memory Gun was a metaphor for Alcohol, Steve is straight up a metaphor for Drugs. Sure, it can work at first, makes you feel productive, fills you with energy, eases your worries and is a distraction. But how long does that take before things start getting out of hand? First week, Steve helps you with EVERYTHING. He finishes all of Fidds' tasks in less than a day, Ford praises Fidds' efficiency, Fidds is literally on cloud nine! He needs to call that weird guy again. He needs to keep this going. But then as time goes on, things get a bit weird, the maths aren't adding up, things are tense between Ford and him and he doesn't know why, uh oh, he needs help! He needs His Elixir. He will make everything right. (Spoiler: things start to go downhill from there)

3. Does he make the humans he controls also eat Copper Wires?

A picture is worth a thousand words ;)

4. What do you imagine being hypnotized feels like to Fidds (the first few times before he starts going brain dead)?

I think he does black out sometimes when Steve takes over without any warning, but when Fidds willingly reaches out to Steve I'm guessing it feels like when Mable ate that expired candy. Just pure vibes!

5. Does Fidds already being pretty into the ‘beginnings of permanent brain damage’ stage of memory gun use have any affect on Steve’s ability to hypnotize/control Fidds?

It just made everything easier! You see, Steve's perfect customers are those who are "weak-minded". Hypnosis wouldn't work on those who are strong-willed. It would just wear off after some brief time, or they would just turn down Steve's offerings. That's why Fidds is so easy to manipulate. In fact, Steve's hypnosis will end up causing even more brain damage to the victim in the long run. Fidds' brain will begin to atrophy and his nervous system will start to collapse.

6. What do the ‘side effects’ of Product start to look/feel like in the victims?

While not under hypnosis, the victim can experience: Brain Atrophy, photosensitivity, seizures, increased paranoia, hallucinations, weight loss, isolation (Steve would push away everyone), drowsiness, random twitches, memory issues, inability to perform everyday tasks and decisions... I'm currently designing Old Man Fiddlesteve and it's making me so unbelievably sad by just staring at him...

Can partial brain function eventually be recovered like with the memory gun? Or is Pyramid Steve eventually just puppeting a corpse until it starts to decompose?

Both! There are two ways to stop Hypnosis: the victim's mind becomes somehow "strong" enough to get rid of hypnosis, or Steve could just let that victim free because it reached a point in life in which everything is already so messed up that it hit rock bottom, becoming brain-dead and not useful.

If you get rid of hypnosis in the early stage, it's easier to regain control of your life. If, like Fidds, you've been under hypnosis for decades, it would take A REALLY INTENSE treatment to regain AT MOST 45% of the original brain potential. Since it was a coping mechanism stronger and more aggressive than the Memory Gun, your brain will suffer so many side effects and the atrophy can only heal until a certain point. Fidds can't catch a break in any AU I fear...

7. Can I write fanfiction. Of this au.

YESS i'd love to read it!! My "lore-accurate" tip is to just follow the canon, but with Fidds hiding Steve from Ford the same way he hid the memory gun from him. (The memory gun is still part of this AU tee-hee). Just four divas having intense beef with each other. Fiddlesteve was the perfect excuse to come up with more Fiddauthor toxic angst :>

As you can see I will try to share some of his lore by using Computer entries (and Journal entries to show Ford's POV) but you can just take creative liberties since everything is a huge WIP, or you can DM me your thoughts! <3

[hiskillingjar]

Do you think you can make more of ren Hana x reader please and keep doing amazing amazing job 

yeah sure.

1300+, hyperfem mc, kind of...au post BTD2 ren where he's trying to be a normal guy and. doesn't work out for him. cw for ref to CNC but we're all freaks here so......

College was supposed to Ren's fresh start.

Well, community college was supposed to be, anyway. A full bank account and a computer full of fake documentation software and malware couldn't get him into a regular school (what with a lack of a GED and all).

So, he had applied to the closest community college with a sob story (something something abusive relationship that forced him to drop out, something something he’s trying to build a life for himself again) and gotten in on a partial scholarship to finish his high school diploma, and to study coding and programming after the fact.

It was good. Or, at least, it was movement to start a new life for himself, a normal life, a life he could be proud of that wasn’t built off of the legacy of-.

Then she happened.

He wasn't going to do this, he had told himself from the beginning. He wasn't going to let himself get caught up in the dazed and familiar spiral of infatuation and dangerous obsession, as he was so prone to do.

She deserved better than that. She was good and he was going to be good, too.

But...he was never that good at controlling himself.

Which was why they were making out in the college library, his hand up her frilly skirt (he was a sucker for that kind of thing and she almost leaned into it) and his tongue down her throat.

She moaned little whimpers against his lips, pressing her fingers in to his hair, her fake acrylic nails occasionally scratching at his scalp and rubbing the base of his ears, making him totally melt against her.

They were decorated with ‘My Melody’ charms this week, the pink matching the pale streaks in her blonde hair.

Like she had been plucked right out of his fantasies and placed in front of him.

Like a steak in front of a starving animal.

“Ah, Ren,” She gasped sweetly, wrenching her lips away from his as his fingers stroked over the front of her underwear. He pressed two of them against the slightly damp fold, and idly circled the plush flesh underneath, feeling the wet fabric cling to her skin. “Mmm…noooo, don’t…”

“You like that?” He whispered, dipping his head down to kiss her neck.

She smelled of perfume and powder foundation, and he was addicted to it.

“Stoooop,” She whined with the slightest pout, pressing her face into his shoulder and gripping his hair a little tighter, pulling a little too hard for it to feel good.

“Ngh,” Ren let out a little grunt, pulling himself away and shaking his head (like a startled animal) before staring at her, his brows knitting together as he drew his fingers back from her panties. “Are you not into this? Should I stop?”

“Huh?” She blinked as he pulled back, her fake lashes fanning against her cheeks, making her eyes look even bigger and doll-like. God, no wonder he was crazy about her. “Oh, no, I’m…really into it, actually.” She admitted shyly.

“But,” He tilted his head with a confused look. “You were telling me to stop…”

“Um…y-yeah,” She giggled, her cheeks flushing a soft pink, matching her blush, as she idly scraped a lock of pink hair behind her ear. “Ah, not to freak you out out or anything, but, mm…I’m kind of into that sort of thing…consensual-non-consent, roleplay…stuff. And, you know, we’ve been seeing each other for a while, so…”

Ren blinked too, his ears tilting back as his expression gave away even more confusion.

"Non-consent? You...think about that stuff?" He asked, idly hooking a fang over his lip and biting down.

"Ah," She shook her head and covered her face to hide a bashful smile. It was a ridiculously adorable gesture. "I-It's not that big of a deal...and a-a lot of girls are into that stuff, more than you think!"

"Isn't that kind of messed up, though?” He continued to press, drawing his hand back from her thigh and letting it trail down to her knee, where her sock was slipping down.

“I mean, I know it's a little messed up, even if it’s not...the real thing," She insisted, her hands back in her lap (like she was chasing after his hand, chasing some way of grounding her body to the Earth) and looking at him, sweet sincerity in her big eyes. "I know it is. But it's like a...reclamation kind of thing, you know?"

Ren frowned.

"Reclamation, wha...?"

"Like, taking bad things that have happened to you and,” She paused, biting her lip to hide a thoughtful frown of her own. “...Putting them in a situation that you have control over. A situation you can stop, if you need to."

"Huh..."

He’d never considered anything like that before.

Ren did know, probably more than most, that there were a lot of…weirdos out there (pot calling the kettle black, he knew), but he hadn’t considered that she might be like that too.

It didn’t make sense to him. She dressed in pink and white, got new nail designs every two weeks, and told him extensively about her plans to program a game about cat sitting when she had finished their course.

Girls like that didn’t have the darkness that he had, did they?

She was his ‘sweet one’, after all, his innocent, little angel, his doll, his Madonna, his-

"Please don't think I'm weird..." She murmured, her smile dropping at little at his extended silence. “I was being a little hasty, I know that. We don't have...I was just trying-"

She was so nervous. She was so worried that showing her darkness was going to scare him off.

If only she knew how often he though the same.

"No, no, I-" Ren cut her off with a slight chuckle, rubbing her knee affectionately. "It's okay," He then said, giving her an encouraging smile (trying not to let it grow into something bigger, scarier, more threatening, more honest). "I...I like it too, I think.” He knew, but he didn’t want to tell her too much. Not yet. “I like that you like it, too. We can keep going."

Her eyes widened a little and that sweet, innocent smile came back to her face.

"Really?" She said, her voice filled with something close to awe.

"Yeah," He dipped his voice down low and moved in closer again, reaching up and wrapping his fingers around her wrists and squeezing tight, keeping them pinned together (in lieu of any bondage) as he gave her a fang filled smirk. "Let's keep going."

She shivered, trying to wrench her wrists away from his grip as he pressed his smirk to her neck for a harsh bite.

“AH!” She gasped, her soft thighs pressing together as he dug his teeth into her skin, bruising her, marking her as his. “No, no…s-stop-“

He paid no attention to her protests (uncaring if they were even real or not) as he dug his teeth in a little harder, feeling the first pinpricks of blood welling against his lips as he reached one hand back up her skirts and began to knead at her panties again.

She was much wetter than she had been before, and he didn’t stop himself from purring lowly in delight.

“Dirty girl,” He murmured hotly, laving his tongue over the bloody bite on her neck. Her cute blouses weren’t going to hide that one, and he struggled to contain his delight about that. “Getting off on this, aren’t you? Me touching you when you don’t want it.”

“Nghh…” She kept twisting in his grip, her bottom lip swelling as she bit down even harder. “I’m not…getting off-“

“Yessss, you are,” He drawled, suddenly pulling the gusset of her panties to the side and pressing his fingers inside of her. Thank god it was late, and the library was empty. “Look at that, angel…I think your body is smarter than your head~”

“Fuck,” She swore, pressing her face into his shoulder again and tensing up even tighter. “T-That’s good…”

“I know,” He crooned, pressing a wet kiss to her cheek and sliding his fingers deeper. “I know it is. Good girl…”

“Just let me take what I want, now…”

[weebsinstash]

Suprised you havent mentioned what Val wears in episode 6(he's maybe wearing the same in ep 8?)

Like those fucking boots and the fact he's wearing a skirt makes me think he does it for easy access.....👀

I think it probably is the same outfit! I'm thinking the whole "moth shaped boob window" little black dress is like, the default one he keeps under his coat? He also has a different hat in that scene (no stripes, heart button)

Ughhh I just noticed that even though he isn't talking to or looking at her he's still engaging Gasmask Girl in the conversation or she's part of his recruitment because he has his hand on her hip like that 😩❤️ also isn't it SO diva of him that he already has forearms that become black further down but he'll still put on black gloves with this dress. I guess because his black dress shirt has sleeves and this dress doesn't and he just prefers that fashion wise? Idk

I wonder how often he prefers the pants and how often he prefers the dress? True Valentino simps know he's BEEN hoein' in these streets for a while but I'm still a little surprised they made him dressing gnc a canon thing. I wonder if in season 2 we'll ever see Angel in drag or anything since that's something he enjoys?

Just like. UGHHHH I can SEE him being such a catty bully to force Reader to dress/present themself how he wants them to look. OR he'll manipulate your insecurities and try and be your ""friend"" to get closer to you that way, helping teach you how to 'look nicer' (and some of it IS helpful stuff like say makeup or certain styling tips but 8 times outta 10 he's using you like a doll). He's complimenting you and calling you pretty and he DOES mean it but it's partially because in his mind you're already his property and thus he wants his arm candy to be nice n pretty looking their best. You two are showing up to show out at any event Val drags you along to.

Shit happens like Angel gets a text from Valentino to bring him some food "because I'm busy so chop chop babe" and Angel walks in with the grub and Val is just... sitting there, very obviously definitely not busy, and in fact, he's doing your makeup, applying your eyeliner all sing song and playful, "i swear to Lucifer, mami, if you keep tearing up and ruin all the hardwork I just did on your eyes again, Daddy's gonna have to punish yooou~" and he just glances up to Angel with the most disinterested, "oh, hey. You can set that down and go"

Anthony is over here, having a SOUL CRUSHING MORAL CRISIS, because he's wished and hoped for Valentino getting a new favorite toy FOR SO LONG, but now? Angel's deathly afraid that Val's new favorite to play with might be YOU because Valentino's over here suddenly having you spend your whole shift where you're usually serving drinks to the Overlord now instead just, sitting cuddling up to him, or sitting so close to him your sides are touching and he puts his hands on your sides and waist...

Also um. On the subject of Val's dress and episode 8 and all that can we talk about Vox having the strength to be able to dip this man and how Valentino has hands large enough they can fully wrap around Vox's thigh

Look at these evil WHORES, and the way Val stroked Vox's face, like... UGH I can just see Val making Reader cry and he forces you to look at him, stroking your cheek and cooing about how it's good he got you waterproof makeup this time so that you "can stay nice and pretty and still look so cute while you're whining like a little bitch" like seriously I definitely see Valentino and Velvette as sadistic possessive yandere who would even get off on you crying and all the Vees are seriously the best of the worst 😩❤️

[frothing-at-the-mouth]

I'll write the image description when I get home < 3 Gonna dump some rambles about impulse on you guys again tho Happy pride month *Added image description and wowie did that end up being a lotta text lol

(Id: Image One: OP'S fursona peaks from the bottom of the image, the following text is on the image in large text "Happy Pride Month" Below it in smaller texts "Here is my Fav DC comics Headcannon" In A little cloud bubble it says "With Some Evidence For It" In a smaller bubble it says "Hint: I'm gonna ramble about Bart Allen Again" Image Two: A drawing of OP's fursona, grinning and gesturing to the left top corner, in that corner says "Aro/Ace Impulse" And has a drawing of Impulse's head below the text are two hearts colored in the Aromantic and Asexual pride flags Image Three: A drawing of OP'S fursona peaking over the right corner with a comic panel and a speech bubble to the left that says "Like literally on several occasions he's got a bunch of pretty girls swooning over him" In the bottom of the page OP's fursona is drawn with his eyes closed and a hand raised gesturing to a comic panel to the right of him accompanied by a speech bubble that says "And he could not give less of a damn about it, like zero interest" The two comic panels are from the Impulse comics and show what OP is talking about Image Four: Op's fursona in the top right of the image leans on some comic panels in the Image and says "And then we've got the part where he and his best friend kiss as a bit and they think anything than being more than just friends it so silly they're giggling over it" Lower on the page partially in front of some of the comic panel their fursona is drawn again with another speech bubble that says "On a side note I appreciate how in his comics there isn't a forced love plot. he's just 'got really close friends it reminds me of my high school experience with friendships" The comic panels show the instance of the joke kiss and then the panel saying how they'll be friends forever Image Five: OP's fursona leans over the edge of a comic panel looking down and it and says "And then there was how Cissie redirected him away from having a meltdown.", The fursona is also on the bottom of the panel and continues the thought in another speech bubble "Reacting to that in such utter confusion that it distracted him from his panicked spiraling" The featured comic panel shows Cissie confessing her love to Bart while Bart is panicked, Bart responds in confusion and stops spiraling and Cissie walks away saying "Figured that would do it" Image Six: OP's fursona is drawn in the right gesturing to a doodle of Impulse's head accompanied by the following text above him "I don't see aro/ace characters in media much so seeing this kind of stuff in his comics makes me feel really happy and seen" And the following text to his right " That, along with all the evidence of him having autism and adhd too makes him super relatable and cool to me since its hard to find representation with all those bits in one package, and I love how all of it is just a part of how he is, and how other characters don't like go out of their way to treat him differently -ID End)

[yesimwriting]

Hi there!

If you accept requests, could you write a Halloween themed fic about y/n, Billy and Stu?

Like them going out to choose their costumes and decorating Stu’s house for a party, stuff like that

Hope you are doing well! Thank you very much ☺️

A/n omg i loveee holiday fics and halloween <3

----

You're staring down an aisle of plastic faces etched into neon bases. The differences between them are superficial, just a variety of colors and two or three alternainge expressions. Nothing distinct enough to warrant this level of analysis and yet...

You decide on one from the top shelf. Orange with simple triangle eyes and a double toothed smile. A classic.

You place your chosen plastic pumpkin into the cart that's slowly but surely being filled up by Halloween decor that's only somewhat cheesy. Okay, to be fair, the contents of your pile range in their levels of cheesiness...but still, mostly non-cheesy and perfectly fitting for a classic Halloween, high school rager.

"Really?"

There's nothing about Billy's voice that's worth getting. No soft lilt to indicate teasing or harshness to imply actual judgement. It's the factualness of the statement that leaves you doubting your choice, even though nothing about this is that deep. "What?"

Billy lets out a partial sigh, irritated by the way that fondness pinches his chest. There's something soft about your question, like his opinion on your choice of decorations could actually crush you. It soothes that part of him that's always searching for a reason to believe that those around him are flighty. "You just--you spent so much time looking and then you picked the orange one."

Shrugging, you place a hand on the side of the cart. "I was deciding."

"You picked the poster child of pumpkins." A pointless stance for a pointless argument. You beam at him and Billy starts to feel a little less ridiculous for entertaining this.

Still smiling, you start, "Pumpkins have poster children?"

"Hey, sweetheart." Stu appears halfway down the aisle.

You blink, instinctually squeezing the side of the cart tighter in your shock. For someone so larger than life, Stu can move quietly when he wants to. "Stu." Carefully, and only somewhat halfheartedly, you try to shrug him off. "Did you at least find the cups?"

Stu lifts his free arm, showing you the plastic covered set of solo cups. "You give me a job, babe, I get it done."

Billy rolls his eyes, "Since when?"

Stu scoffs, fingers pressing into your upper arm a little more firmly. "Since Y/n asked." His hand shifts up and down your arm. "Maybe if you looked like her, I'd listen to you."

There's nothing inherently wrong with the gesture, but there's an undertone of stiffness in his touch. That paired with the way Stu's attention remains on Billy makes you feel a little more like a prop than equal participant in the conversation. Deciding to shake off the feeling, you poke Stu's side.

"Ouch." A sound that's forced out much too harshly. Stu retracts immediately, like he's in agony. "What? I was complimenting you."

You roll your eyes. "I barely touched you."

"I'm wounded." He makes a show of clutching his side. "Kiss it better?"

Billy sighs, shifting his attention towards you, "We can't take him anywhere."

You nod understandingly, "We really can't."

Stu scoffs, offended, "Fuck you guys."

"We're kidding." Your concession comes quicker than usual, but you really don' mind giving in to keep the peace right now.

Today has been fun in that simple way that people forget about around middle school. Stu had called last night and mentioned something about wanting to up his party game for Halloween and a few things about decorations. He insisted that he couldn't go with just Billy because Billy has the decorative taste of someone that's color blind. Even though that's the strangest insult you've ever heard, it made you laugh and you agreed to tag along to cancel out any potential color vision deficiency.

They picked you up the next morning, swinging by your usual coffee place before stopping by a grocery store and then finally, the Halloween pop up store.

"You can't be mad," you mumble, "I need your held defending my pumpkin." Stu blinks, a little too surprised and confused to know how he wants to react. You gesture towards the cart as if that should answer everything. "Billy called it basic."

"I said you spent a long time looking at different pumpkins just to pick the orange one."

Stu turns his head, giving you a look that makes it clear that he has no idea how you've been putting up with this. "It's a classic."

"Thank you."

Billy's eyebrows pinch together. He's aware that there are few things you could say that Stu would publicly disagree with, but there's nothing to oppose. "I didn't--" He sighs again, giving in, "You should get a friend."

You tilt your head slightly in a way that's hard to read. "I'm not eight." Even though your tone leans towards argumentative, you walk towards the shelf and grab another orange pumpkin. This one's eyes are ovals, not triangles, and its dark smile is more lopsided and smaller. A variant that sticks close to the source material. "Two does look better, though."

With the pumpkin debacle settled, Billy begins to push the cart forward. You and Stu remain about two steps ahead of it, pointing out different decorations from time to time, most of them unserious suggestions.

"What do I have to do to get you in this?"

That sentence, coming from Stu, is enough to make you scared to turn around. The only reason you eventually do is because you can't justify staring at the wall that's stocked with costume add ons--fangs of both the glow in the dark and regular variety, cellophane wings, horn and halo headbands. You're also painfully aware of the fact that the more you resist and fluster, the more Stu will commit to his bit.

So you force yourself to remain casual as you look behind you. He's holding up a prepackaged angel costume that makes you feel like you're offending some religion by just looking at it. A corset top, small, frilly skirt, and white fishnets. It's not so much that makes the costume feel like something that belongs on stage at a failing Vegas show, it's the material and the styling.

"Uh..." In a way, you're glad that he decided to make the joke about something so blatantly not an option, because there's no way he's serious. It makes joking back easier, a little safer. "...Have a roll of one's ready?"

He doesn't miss a beat, "Deal."

Now that sounded a lot more genuine. You blink, struggling to hold your ground. Instinctually, your attention flits towards Billy.

"You should've known what he'd do with a stripper joke."

It's only a partial out, but you appreciate it greatly, "I have no one to blame but myself."

Stu scoffs. "I'm not that predictable."

You and Billy exchange a look. Stu pouts, turning enough to hang the plastic packaging back on its metal hook.

Instead of reminding him that if anyone should be offended about that last joke it should be you, you decide to shift focus. Your attention falls on the consistently growing contents of the cart. It might be a little much, but Stu's house is large. You'd need this many things to make the whole space feel decorated.

"You think we're good or are we missing something?"

Billy tilts his head downwards, taking an unofficial inventory of the cart's contents. It's more for your sake than actual interest. "You didn't get the lights. The twinkly ones."

There's something about hearing Billy say the word twinkly that's more entertaining than it should be. You smile despite yourself. "Say twinkly again."

He glowers, "No."

Billy starts pushing the cart, nearly running over your toes. You bounce back quickly, holding onto the side of the cart like a little kid as you follow him forward. "Why not?"

"The way you asked."

Rude. "He's no fun."

Stu turns his head just enough to look back at the two of you, "Billy?" His hand latches onto the front of the cart. Now, all three of you are clinging to the shopping cart like pre-schoolers that use those plastic rings to stick together. "He's moody."

The comment is meant to dig at you. "I didn't say that."

You'd never say that. If anything, oversimplifying Billy like that is one of your pet peeves. He likes to come off as a little closed off, but it's not such a basic teenage boy thing on him. You've never said anything explaining your defensiveness...you don't even think you'd be able to put it into words, but with Billy, any pretext of angst feels like a type of shield.

"He's just above entertaining me now."

Billy's eyebrows draw together sharply. "Now?"

Reaching the end of the aisle, Billy starts to turn the cart. It's a little awkward to make it around the corner without anyone releasing the cart, but you manage. "We all have to out grow our friends at some point."

"Mhm," he hums dryly, "Especially the dramatic ones."

Eyes widening, you turn on your heels to glare at him. He keeps his head angled downwards, a few strands of hair falling forward to hide the brunt of his reaction. That doesn't stop you from seeing part of his smug smile. If Billy's casualness wasn't always welcomed, you'd likely be a little more annoyed.

"The you that corrected the barista that misheard my coffee order before I could would have never spoken to me like that."

"That was this morning."

You shrug off his response, deciding that a comment about simpler times would over extend the bit. You're in the right aisle now, anyway, shelves full of decorations that require hooks or nails or something else to keep them attached to the wall.

Stu wanders away from the cart, picking up a cardboard box that displays a picture of purple lightbulbs strung up on a suburban house. "These?"

You shake your head. "Too bright, I think they're meant for outside." Stepping towards the shelves, you pick up a rolled up cord of smaller, darker purple lights and another set of boxed lights. "You need... mood lighting."

The cord for the boxed ones are way too long for a living room or kitchen and the bulbs seem way too bright and project a harsh, unflattering orange in their picture. The label on the other set says that they alternate between dark blue and purple and the bulbs are shaped like stars. Definitely a winner.

You look up, ready to say as much, but the words cram their way back down your throat before you can. Stu's closer than you realized, a lot closer than you ever expected him to be.

"Mood lighting?" You know that dropping your head and backing away would only make this worse. Stu likes to know when he's getting something. "What's the exact mood?"

He's grasping at straws in an attempt to fluster you. While mood lighting may hint at something suggestive, it's obvious that you meant the kind of chill, dim lighting that makes people comfortable yet energized. Party lighting. You should say that, laugh off his proximity and his energy. But for whatever reason, you can't quite think.

You press your lips together. "Exact mood," you repeat, still a little unsure, "I had more of a general mood idea."

Stu takes a partial step forward before extending his hand. He takes the wound cord, gently pulling it from your fingers. Slowly, he undoes the thick twist tie holding the cord together. You watch, more curious than you'd like to admit as he unravels it. With no warning, Stu pulls the string of lights over your shoulders.

He takes his time adjusting the string of lights over your shoulders. "I get what you mean."

Warmth you don't get crawls up your neck. It has to be about looking weird in a secluded, but still public, aisle. You tilt your head, trying to ignore that feeling you can't name. "You're tangling them."

"They're fine," he dismisses easily, twisting a part of the cord between his fingers. "We'll get Billy to untangle them later."

You laugh at that. Stu frees you from the confines of the string lights. Billy throws a look at Stu as he halfheartedly rolls up the lights before dropping them in the cart.

"So I'm un-fun and the light de-tangler."

You walk towards him before Billy can fully start pushing the cart again. "I take it back." You reach forward and squeeze his forearm without thinking twice about it. "You're fun." Billy briefly stiffens, gaze trained on what's directly in front of him. "Sometimes."

Billy hates the wave of fondness that that's trying to crawl its way out of his chest. "Like when I'm untangling string lights?" It's meant to be sarcastic in that biting, casually detached way.

If the shift in tone bugs you, you give no indication of it as you smile at him. "And some other times."

[yayeetsonny]

One can only take so much… before they break

(Alex Morgan X OC)

Hi, yes i know i’ve been away for a very long time, but I wanted to give this writing thing another shot to see if I still had anything left in the tank. Hopefully this isn’t the most dreadful thing you’ve ever read. So sorry if it is. Please be advised this one deals with some very strong emotions and topics. Implied mental abuse, Suicidal ideation and just overall sadness and anxiety. This will be a multi parter as my fingers got away from me lol.

This one is 99% Alex x OC, although the character’s name is never dropped as I wasn’t sure if I was going to make this an x reader fic or not. If anyone has any name suggestions at the end I’m all ears. And future parts will definitely be more USWNT x OC

3.4k Words

Everything is your fault. It always is. Why can’t you do anything right?! It all fell apart because of you! You know that, and so do they. They hate you for it. Your own mother won’t even talk to you.

“Hey, kid… Kid?…Dude!” I was so lost in thought I didn’t even hear one of my teammates calling out to me.

“Huh? What?” I looked up to see Alex looking down at me worriedly.

“Are you okay little duck?” She said squatting down so she was eye level with me. She put her hand on my cheek rubbing it softly raising an eyebrow when i didn’t say anything immediately.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine.” I said softly, making a poor attempt at a smile but I’m fairly certain it came across as a grimace instead. I looked down and refused to look back up even though I could feel Alex trying to get me to look at her.

“Hey… what is it?” She said moving her head so she could look into my eyes, which at this point were watering and I was doing my very best to force the tears away.

“I-It’s nothing… I-I’m fine.” I said, my voice breaking. I brought my hand up to rub my eyes and I stood up and tried to make a quick get away, but Alex wasn’t having it.

“Stop, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” She put her hands on my shoulders to try and stop me from leaving but I pushed her off and started to walk away.

“I said I’m fine, just drop it Alex. Please.” I gave up trying to stop the tears, they were freely flowing now and i let out a sob as I broke into a full sprint when I heard her starting to follow me, calling out to me. I ran passed several of our fellow national team, teammates who were watching everything unfold.

I beat her to the locker room, grabbed my stuff and made a mad dash to my car, getting in and attempting to regulate my breathing. The tears were still coming in full force, sobs racked my body as I tried and failed to calm myself down. How pathetic is this? Crying like a big baby, because your mommy made you sad? I really am weak aren’t I? No that’s not true. The girls always tell me I’m strong and that I’m their brave big girl. Yeah it’s a bit baby-ish but it gets the point across. I wrestled with my own thoughts and was so engrossed in arguing with myself that i didn’t even realize I made it back to my apartment already. I also didn’t hear my phone ringing incessantly while I drove. I hesitated a bit seeing as it was Alex, probably trying to figure out where i went. It almost went to voicemail before i decided to answer.

“Hello” my voice was raw from all the crying I did, but I sounded more tired than distraught now.

“Baby, where did you go? What happened back there? Why did you run away? Please talk to me. I’m worried about you.” She said all in one breath, I bit my lip contemplating my answer. Then i took a deep breath and decided to just bite the bullet and be at least partially truthful.

“I… um, I was going thru a-a lot during the break between camps, I mean I guess I still am going thru a lot right now, given my very apparent meltdown earlier. I-I’m sorry Alex, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I won’t do it again, I swear.” My damn voice started breaking again as the tears started back up.

“Hey, hey, hey… little one, please breathe, you’re okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. Take deep, slow breaths, in and out.” she said gently, guiding me thru some breathing exercises until my breathing was less erratic. “Can you tell me where you are please? I’m going to come get you and we’ll talk this through and maybe we can order a pizza and watch movies, what do you say?” She asked, I could tell she was trying to remain calm but I could hear her voice quiver just slightly. She was scared, and rightfully so, this isn’t the first time I’d run off and usually when i did, I became self destructive at worst and let myself rot in bed for a week at best.

“I’m at the apartment.” I said and she let out a sigh of relief on the other end of the line.

“Okay good. I’m on my way, be there in 10. Stay there, please.”

I took one last deep breath before I got out of the car and made my way inside. I intended to sit on the couch and wait for her to get home but then the more i thought about having to talk to Alex about what’s been going on the more anxious i became. I started pacing and started mumbling to myself about what i was going to say and how I was going to say it. I wanted to let Alex in but I knew if I wasn’t careful I would let her in too much and I wasn’t ready for that. Being 17 and all my ability to regulate my emotions and understand them wasn’t the best as I’m sure you’ve already figured out.

10 minutes went by quickly and Alex was there before i knew it. She quickly made her way inside and dropped her bag by the door, coming up to me and taking me by the shoulders again to get me to stop pacing.

“Stop, please. You’re spiraling, what’s going on?”

“I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Like what? Is it your family? Soccer?”

“Family.” I mumbled, attempting to yank myself out of her grasp but she just wrapped her arms around my torso tightly so i couldn’t run away. “Let go Alex I can’t do this. Please let go.” I kept fighting against her hold but she wasn’t relenting, and while i would’ve denied it in the moment, I needed that.

“Shh, shh bub, just relax. I’ve got you. I’m here now it’s all gonna be okay, okay? I promise. Please just let me help you.” She said softly and I finally just allowed her to fully pull me against her chest, she relaxed her grip just slightly moving one of her hands to the back of my head, stroking my hair softly, resting her chin on the top of my head. “You’re okay, you’re safe now.” She whispered, and she continued to mumble reassurances to me as she rocked me in her arms slightly.

“Do we have to talk about this?” I mumbled.

“Yeah kid unfortunately we do. You know the rules when you decide to run away like you did earlier.” She kissed my head before picking me up with ease and moving us to the couch. She kept her hold on me and let me curl up into her lap, I tucked my head in the crook of her neck.

“I don’t want to.” I attempted to say firmly but it came out as a whine.

“Remember what I said? It’ll all be okay. I know this is scary but I’m not going anywhere and anything you tell me isn’t going to scare me away. I promise you. You’re my brave big girl, hmm?”

“I’m 17, you know?” I said in an attempt to seem tough.

“And that’s why i said you’re a big girl. But you’re still the baby on the team and little one to me.” She said chuckling softly. “You can do this.” she said after a moment rubbing my arm gently.

“I can do this.” I repeated to myself. I moved myself out of the safety of Alex’s arms slightly, putting some distance between us and turning to fully face her, steeling myself for the tough conversation ahead. I’m a very sensitive and emotional person so these conversations always make me cry no matter how much I try to stop it.

Do you want me to call the rest of the girls? Is this something they should know about too?”

“Too many people. Not ready, I think it’s better if I tell you everything first and then maybe only tell them the gist of it after.”

“Okay, then that’s what we’ll do. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I guess I’ll start at the beginning. So you know how in between camps and during off season I go home to be with my family? Well I went and everything fell apart, and it’s all my fault. Just like everything always is.”

“Hey, no don’t say that.” She cut me off, she hates when i am self deprecating.

“Its true though. I fucked everything up. You know how my brother and I work at the same place right? Well and you know how my shift is closing? So I work 1-10pm? Which my mom hates.” She nodded her head as I was talking to let me know she was following along. “Well one night it was bad… The weather was horrendous because in my hometown we get a lot of snow. A-and so one of the days I worked I was one of the f-few people to show up and, when everything was all said and done there was a huge mess left behind from the disaster of a day we had….” I was beginning to become emotional just thinking about what had happened that night, and i hated that it still made me feel such strong emotions.

“It’s okay, do you want to keep going?” Alex asked me softly, stroking the back of my head softly. she knew sometimes that talking about things was hard for me and that i needed to take breaks in order to get the whole story out.

“Yes i need to. I can do it.” I said determinedly. Blinking away the tears.

“Anyways, it was a mess and being a “Back up Team lead” sometimes i made a decision to send everyone else home and clean up. And since my brother worked on overnights I called him and asked him to come help me clean up so that i could go home at a semi-reasonable time. He came over to help but when they wanted to send him back to his normal area he refused and he s-started arguing with his boss about how he was going to choose family over his job at the moment and they d-didn’t like that so they sent him home for the night, and he didn’t have a car so he called my mom to pick him up…” I stopped to catch my breath as i realize I hadn’t been breathing

“Shh, easy baby, nice, slow deep breaths, you’re doing so good.” She said. I hadn’t been looking at Alex very much this whole time but when I finally did I could see unshed tears in her eyes. I knew it was hard for her any time i was upset or emotional in a negative way. She gently wiped away the tears that made their way down my cheeks.

“My mom came to get him, and then she called me, and she was angry, she demanded I come home so I did and when I got there she told me she had a lot of opinions about what happened but she was just going to keep her mouth shut. She told me to get out of her sight so I did. She wouldn’t even look at me. Just like that I was transported back to when I was a little kid and she would get angry and she would just tell me she didn’t want to look at me. It felt like a knife to the chest. I didn’t understand what i did to upset her so much and I knew she wouldn’t tell me. All part of her “healing process.” I said bitterly.

“Fast forward to the next morning, I woke up to the news my brother had been fired. I called him to apologize and I asked him what our mom said to him and he said that she blames me for him getting fired. She said I should have known better. I knew how much he needed that job.” My hands were shaking and my breathing was ragged as I played with the strings of my hoodie.

“That wasn’t your fault, you have to know that.”

“Yes it was. It is. He hasn’t found a job since and he-he’s struggling again. You remember what happened last time he was struggling don’t you? I can’t do that again, I can’t! Everything he does, every decision he makes that’s not good is my fault. My mom wants me to be “an example” for him but he’s older! How fucking twisted is that?! Why are things never his fault?!” I yelled standing up suddenly startling Alex.

“Okay, okay let’s take a break hmm?” Alex stood up holding up her hands to show me she meant no harm.

“No! You don’t get it! Everything is my fault! My own mother thinks so! I know he’s struggling but can’t she see I’m struggling too?! ” I threw a plastic cup that was on the table across the room.

“Stop. Now. We don’t throw things when we’re upset, do you understand?” Alex said sternly.

My lip wobbled as I started crying again. “I’ve spent the last 4 years trying my very best to hold my family together through everything we’ve been thru. I got my brother the job working where i do and now I’m the reason he lost it. And now he and his girlfriend risk being homeless because she doesn’t have a job either. And if they lose their apartment they move back home with my mom, which means I’ll probably have to move back to be there with her because I can’t just leave her there by herself with them. It wouldn’t be fair. Which in turn means I’ll have to put my life on hold. The life I finally made for myself.”

I’m so tired of being emotional exhausted. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t even want to be alive anymore.”

“Woah, hold on… what do you mean by that?” Alex’s eyes widened as she processed what i said.

“I mean what I just said I don’t want to be alive anymore okay? I want the pain to stop. I need it to stop.”

The silence that followed was long and tense. I immediately regretted saying what i said. But realized i couldn’t walk it back. Alex finally took a deep breath and began speaking again.

“How long have you been feeling this way? Do you- Do you have a plan?” She asked quietly, her voice breaking as she did.

“No I don’t have a plan, I just sometimes think about how much easier it would be if I wasn’t here anymore. And sometimes I think about hurting myself but i haven’t acted on it. And i’ve been feeling this way since last year, when my mom and i got into that big blowout fight at Thanksgiving. You know she didn’t even want me moving out here? She’s never really let that fight go.” I laughed hollowly.

“Thank you for telling me, and being honest with me. I know that wasn’t easy. Why didn’t your mom want you to move out here?”

“She thinks you and the girls have too much of an influence over me. She thinks you guys are “changing” me. She threatened to force me to quit playing soccer all together.”

“What? Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

“It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Didn’t seem relevant?! How’s that? If i had known that I would’ve just had you move out here permanently!”

“Alex…”

“No I’m serious! I understand you’re still 17 but you’re out of high school and you should be able to decide your own path.

“I’ve been trying, but the situation with my brother gives her more reason to say i should just quit playing.

Alex goes quietly again and I can tell she’s thinking. I can tell she’s angry. She has never really liked my mom and visa versa, their relationship is courteous at best.

“I think sometimes you forget that you’re still a kid. I know that you have had a lot put on your shoulders and that a lot is expected of you, but your brothers choices that night are not your fault and I’m sorry he’s having a hard time and he might have to move back home, which yes will be hard for your mom but that doesn’t mean that you have to give up your life for them. They will be okay. I promise you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes i do, you wanna know how I know?” She said and I nodded meekly.

“I know because your brother is strong, and so is your mom. And while i’ve never met her I’m sure his girlfriend is too. You don’t have to hold anyone else up but yourself. Not anymore. Their emotions and their… predicaments are not yours to try and fix. i don’t want you going home for a while okay? It’s clear that it’s taking a toll on you and to be frank, This is your home. Here with me, With the other girls. We have you okay? And we will never leave you. Ever.”

I turned away from her and tried to calm myself completely. I was so over all the crying and I bet you are too.

“You’re probably so sick of me crying.” I said chuckling quietly. Alex Vehemently shook her head and wrapped her arms around me, kissing my head.

“Not at all, you needed to get it out. it’s never good to hold it all in like you did, you know that.”

“I know, I just…”

“Have a hard time letting yourself be vulnerable. I know love. I know. So here’s what we’re going to do. I think writing your thoughts out might help what do you think?”

“Maybe…” i said hesitantly.

“Don’t worry no one else will read it but you. And the only way anyone will ever know anything you write down is if you tell them. And I know you going home for part of the year is to help you be able to pay your half of the rent but don’t worry about it okay? I will cover any excess we have from the missing income okay? I meant it when I said your home was here with me.”

“Alex you don’t have to-….”

“Yes i do. You’re very important to me, and I care about you and the things you need. And right now you need a bit of a break.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Anything for you kid. Now listen I also want you to really consider talking to a therapist or a mental health professional about how you’ve been feeling okay? I won’t force you but I think you might benefit from it. And please talk to me, or one of the other girls if you feel like hurting yourself. I don’t want you to think you have to go thru that alone okay?”

“Okay i will.” She’s right, it’s probably about time i go to therapy, I’m still hesitant as sharing my feelings and the things i keep inside has never been my strong suit.

“Now, how about you go take a warm shower to calm down a bit more, I’ll order some pizzas and get the girls over here?”

“I’d like that.” I smiled softly and headed upstairs to do as she suggested.

About an hour later I was showered, comfy and sitting on the couch sandwiched between Alex and Christen. A “Chrislex” sandwich if you will. Tobin was on Christen’s left, Mal, Sam, Kristie, Rose and the rest of the team were laying as close to me as they could get and spread out through out the living room. Pizza was also spread out through the room as people shared with one another. We had Moana on as the girls said I could pick and that’s my go to movie. I was so focused on the movie i almost didn’t notice my phone buzzing at my side. I looked at the text that came thru and my heart dropped as I realized who it was from… My mom.

“You need to come home.”

Is all it said. My hands instantly started shaking and I had that panicking feeling rising in my chest again. Alex looked over at me curiously and I forced the fakest smile i could muster onto my face. I’m in deep shit now…

//

To Be Continued…

There will be a part 2 and the rest of the team will be in that one more, promise. Please let me know what you think!

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

18 + 79 for Astarion x Evie?

- @kittttycakes

Circus AU + Above the Influence

Send me 2 prompts + a pairing

Warning: Non-consensual consumption of an aphrodisiac

A/N: Keeping this in Faerun or otherwise partially magical universe for plot reasons. Not so heavy on the circus aspect, but big ideas for the "Above the Influence" part. Also shoutout to @leighsartworks216 for letting me ramble a bit to them about some of the stuff towards the end

Astarion x Evie (Ace!Tav) Masterlist

Obvious start, put these two crazy kids in a circus

Evie has been performing with them for a while, not the center act by any means, but more the in between musician to hype up the crowd for the next act while also doing any other odd jobs that need doing

Astarion is a comparative new comer who is really just here because he needs to lay low for a while after escaping Cazador

Astarion is tricky because I cannot see him performing at all, he's terrible with guests and will not perform manual labor

However he is a good thief and very pretty, so in a less than reputable circus he could find a place pick pocketing from the crowd or seducing his way in with the ring master so he can have a place to sleep

The question of what does Astarion *do* pops up more than once, but whenever anybody needs something, they go to Astarion and somehow he seems to get it

Obviously the circus is small so Astarion and Evie do know each other, but it takes them a while to *know* each other

Evie thinks she has Astarion figured out; well off run away who is just a passing face, slumming it for a few months before going back to whatever manor he came from

Astarion meanwhile initially thinks of Evie as just some bard who is endlessly fun to tease

They don't have a lot of crossover in their jobs, but they've gotten into the habit of shooting comments and banter back and forth in an oddly comfortable rhythm

Astarion starts realizing he looks forward to those moments more and more because at the end of the day, Evie doesn't expect anything out of him

He's not waiting for the other shoe to drop, he can just...be; it's a sensation he's not familiar with

Evie meanwhile starts keeping an eye out for him, for all his flirtatious comments there doesn't seem to be any serious intent behind it, it's just fun, they're having fun and...it's nice

Of course it's all fun and games until somebody decides to escalate

Evie habit of dodging serious flirtation with joking brush offs has quickly labeled her a tease by just about everyone and so somebody decides to play what can only strenuously be called a prank

At the group dinner they slip some incubus spittle into her food; not a lot, but enough enough to stoke the fires

Evie does still have a libido, but it is lower than others and when she gets an urge it’s not out of specific desire for a person

So when this hot feeling starts to rise in her body, she honestly things she's getting sick and starts to make her excuses

But her tormentor basically all but forces her to stay put, with the heat rising in her body

Astarion starts to put two and two together and all but hauls her away as the rest of the group wolf whistles

Evie can hardly bring herself to react as the pain and the heat rise as her fear along with it; this is *not* like her.

Astarion then makes the mistake of touching her bare skin and it crumbles

She then looks up at him, glazed over as if possessed as she launches herself into a kiss

Astarion immediately stiffens; he's let the thought of kissing Evie pass through his mind more than once, of feeling her close, but not whatever this is

This is absolutely *not* his Evie

He pulls back, but her hands slip under his shirt, clawing at his skin as she apologizes again and again, she doesn’t know what’s happening

Astarion has been in enough whore houses to know the effects of incubus spit when he sees it. He then kisses her, hauling her into his arms and tells her it’s alright, he’s going to help her through this.

Evie feels a different kind of sickness in her stomach, she knows what the solution is

As he carries her she tells herself that it will be alright; she trusts Astarion, he knows what he's doing, it's the fastest way for it all to go away, better him than somebody else

But rather than lead her to a bed, he drops her in a wash basin and pours cold water over her, fully clothed before slipping in behind her

As much as the spit is messing with her head, a relief fills her. She doesn’t have to. He’s not going to force her in order to “fix” her. There are other ways and he’s willing to be there as they figure out what that is.

Astarion stays with her, the spit isn't as powerful as others so time really is the measure here soothed by what touches he can give her decidedly over the clothes.

Whatever is inside her in a parasite that needs to be sweated out.

Eventually the fever does break, and Evie is able to slowly catch her breath. Her body still sensitive, but not nearly as bad as before.

Once Astarion is sure her heart rate is bad to normal, he asks her if she wants him to go. He can easily understand not wanting to be touched or seen after going through something like that against your will.

Evie shakes her head, feeling everything that might have happened pour over her all at once and she just starts crying.

Astarion holds onto her, really the only action keeping his anger in check.

He can't just leave her like this

So once she can stand, he makes sure to change her into clean dry clothes and wrap her up in a cocoon of blankets and pillows staying as watch dog until she’s asleep. It’s only then does he leave her.

Somebody apparently thought it would be a funny ,to drug his Evie. He’s going to find out exactly who it was and shake hands with their intestines.

[space-blue]

Some final thoughts on the Acolyte.

I still think the show is flawed in its craft, but not in its core story!

I found it enjoyable, but some weeks had episodes that were weak and felt paded towards a fabricated cliff-hanger instead of a proper advancement of the story.

And in my opinion, it's most likely Disney's fault for not trusting them with more time and more budget. This show should have been longer and have more consistant, character driven story. Maybe an extra episode, definitely closer to 45-1h episodes instead of the 30min rush that some where.

In particular, the Witches and the nature of their relationships with the Jedi was left so undercooked, it was hard for me to get invested in the development of their story. It's hard to sit through scenes where kids "say stuff" that's basically lore dumps unsupported by the world. Then I have to write my own fanfiction in my head to explain away what the witches were doing and why the Jedi disapprove.

It's especially criminal because they have the PERFECT set up for this, in the form of this little buddy :

He's a *padawan* who finds his mission BORING. The discovery of a local coven should be an exciting development. And it's the perfect opportunity for his master to educate him, and through him us, about witches and why they are just a concern.

If the show had time, we would get to build up on Torbin, instead of him needing to speak out his own exposition minutes before having them exploited. This should have been a show's *ARC* not a single episode with hectic jumpcuts.

We could spend time learning WHY the Jedi dislike the witches. Spend time talking about Force Philosophy! Exploring alien lifestyles that the Jedi disprove of! Instead of the vague tone of "god forbid women do anything". Do the Witches have precendent? Bad history with the Jedi? Were they persecuted? Why don't we see, maybe a scene of an elder witch teaching them, and Osha loses attention in class while Mae listens, and we still hear the witch's voice, fainter and fainter, in the background, telling of those acts commited against them.

It would also serve to show Osha's disinterest for their heritage and why she's rather uncritical of the Jedi, so it's a scene of lore info AND character development!

Likewise, there's a critical lore discrepency that makes Osha ring so false in her backstory for me :

When on Brendook has Osha heard about the Jedi?? Where has she heard GOOD stuff about them? They seemingly live in a village radically opposed to them. She's 8 years old and born into a cult. What do you MEAN she wants to be a Jedi or even knows what they are???

I think she should either be completely clueless and be (again, over the course of an entire episode or more) exposed to them for the first time and come to get very hype, or there should be more people around the coven.

Case 1 : She's a kid getting a burst of sudden passion. Here's a new thing that she can throw all of herself into, and seems to offer her with more opportunities to be free than she has at home. The sacrifice of her family could be chalked up to her not really believing in it (she knows her planet's name and she could always come back) or she's just that sort of kid-like clueless and in a young rebellious phase.

Case 2 : The twins are isolated and treated as royalty-like. They are separate from the *other kids* in the Coven (or in the small town around the Coven). These kids are part of Osha's runaway regimen. She's a kid. If she can love going to sit under a tree just to escape her family, she'd go to other kids for sure. This could instill some jealousy or confusion in Mae. More importantly, those kids have heard there are Jedi on the planet, and they know about the Jedi. Their parents don't gatekeep info that much, and so Osha has learned about them and finds them cool, partially because they're forbidden.

This could still work with her and Mae being treated as appart/different and superior, and Osha could crave being equal with other kids and playing and not having to always share with Mae. It also makes the wipeout a bigger tragedy assuming we're not killing just witches but also 5 to 10 kids of all ages.

And that's another thing!! Having more time would mean making the whole last moments of the Coven less... nonsensical. Perhaps we'd have more time to spend into Indara's mind. Maybe we get some freedom to be fucky with it (think of the effects in Dune!)

Maybe we have time to give a shit about Kelnacca and everyone. Also maybe we have time to see Jecki and Sol interacting a little more on Coruscant, a bit of their routine? Maybe Sol's padawan gets more than a single throwaway scene?? Maybe her grief would be a great highlight of how the Jedi are expected to process the death of a master, and contrast with how Osha isn't even trying to process Jecki's death?

I don't think it's a good sign when you establish a coven of all women and a single line by the Sith guy makes everyone think he was present in the all-women coven because why else?? It's not a great misdirection, it's simply the audience having no understanding of the Coven and what it stood for.

Basically I don't think that exploring the lore of the world more in depth would have been detrimental to this show, despite its core of mystery. There are plenty of shows that hinge on twists and mystery that take their time diving down into their characters in greater depth.

The Acolyte is cool and the fights are amazing. The lore is great too, but it's too shallow to drown a squirrel in. It's "please write fanfic about it if you care" levels of shallow, even in the characters. It would have benefited from time to breath. 9 episodes of 40min to 1h is what Severance got, and that's a hell of a mystery based show!

I'm very happy though, in that I have hope that Headland may be given more freedom to do the second season as she pleases, if she gets it greenlit. If only she could be trusted more, and had the freedom to.. take her time... (and perhaps a better editor?) then we could have simply some of the best SW TV on our hands.

That's, of course, my humble opinion. This remains some of the best SW TV I've seen, but IMO besides Andor the bar is in fucking hell so it's not saying as much as I wish it did.

This is of course not a critique of the plot. I think it's sound and the mystery well thought out and the ending satisfying. This, however, makes my other criticism that much more heartfelt. If this same story had been done the way I describe above, (imo) it would be straight up great TV.

[nobody-is-here01]

back on my bullshit, (im here to spam you Marine Luffy stuff)

Thinking about Marine Luffy’s dynamic with the 7 warlords and it's one of the funniest things ever.

Boa Hancock is going to get her own post because I have SO MUCH to say about her and Canon! Luffy along with Marine Luffy’s dynamic with her.

Anyway, personal headcanons of what I think Marine Luffy and the Warlords dynamics are.

Doflamingo: Luffy is usually the one who during Warlord meetings has to deal with Doflamingo’s bullshit. This is partially because Luffy is the only thing that really puts the fear of god back into Doflamingo. Also, Marine luffy is absolutely feral, and terrifying, and does indeed bite. I think in some twisted ways Luffy in this AU reminds Doflamingo of when he's younger. In some fucked up way of trying to cope with trauma Doflamingo tries to simulate situations that he went through as a kid to see how Luffy reacts. To see if things had been a bit better, if things had been different, if Doflamingo could have been a better person. The Dressrosa Arc still happens in this AU except a bit later. As Doflamingo’s tyrant rein finally falls he realizes that “huh maybe we never were that similar…”

(I have no idea if this AU is a Crocomom AU or not but I’ll go ahead and write up how it would go in either situations.)

Crocodile: Dynamic is definitely more cold and distant than in an AU where Crocodile is Luffy’s other parent. Luffy is seen as a threat, and Crocodile has at least 15 different drawn-up plans on how to deal with him. (none of these plans would actually work in practice.) The dynamic is pretty much just business, you leave me be I’ll leave you be.

Crocomom: Similar to the first one. Except the first time he meets Luffy and he hears that he's Garp's grandkid he's freaking the fuck out. Because holyshit, that's his alive, grownup, kid. Crocodile has no idea how to explain to Luffy that like “hey im your biological mother, now a man, hahaha…” So Crocodile simply doesn't. (The two of them do have a heart-to-heart much later alone in Impel down during the breakout.)

Moria: Honestly I don't have much to say about him. Luffy absolutely hates Hogback and Absolom though. So Luffy has a dislike for Moria and what he does. But Moria out of all the warlords not including Kuma is the easiest to deal with, so that earns him some brownie points.

Kuma: Im not sure if you caught up with the latest chapters. (specifically his backstory chapters) so I will be staying silent for now as not to spoil anything for you.

Mihawk: Mihawk is both intrigued and concerned at the beginning. Because that is Shank’s hat, and Shank’s kid. Why is Shank’s brat in the Marines?? Mihawk also like all the other warlords tends to use Luffy as some form of a coping mechanism. It's not uncommon to hear about Luffy and Mihawk getting into another physical fight. But after a while, Mihawk does realize that he has been accidentally treating Luffy as if he is Shanks. Mihawk realizes that he can't force Luffy to become his new sparring partner. Luffy is not Shanks, and he can't fill that hole either. After Marine Ford Mihawk reads the news regularly, a rare grin on his face whenever he catches sight of a straw hat.

Jinbei: That is Luffy’s emotional support parental figure your honor! The only one who is normal, safe, and sane. Also, the only one to look at Luffy and go “Are you okay?? I don't think healthy humans are supposed to act like that.” Also, the one to get Luffy to open up and heal slowly after Marineford. Also Luffy definitely knows the full truth of what happened to Fisher Tiger in this AU, so yeah that's something.

(I am so sorry, this is a really long post 💀)

Aaaahhhhhh!!! I've missed you and your bullshit bombarding my asks!

I love how with each dynamic all of them are also like, 'alright this kid is fucked up, keep an eye on him' but for different reasons

So here are some of my thoughts on what Marine Luffy’s relationship is with the warlords (love yours so much)

Crocodile : so unfortunately not a coco-mom au, like you said their relationship is strictly business, Luffy doesn't really care for the warlords as long as they don't get in his way.

Domflamingo : Luffy finds him kinda annoying so he tries to avoid any situation where he would meet him, unfortunately he can't at warlord meetings, but he's tried, probably one of the only warlords Luffy wouldn't mind punching out of the blue, dude would punch him without reason (gets away with it too)

Kuma : (no sadly not that far yet but I know a bit of his background not much though) but Luffy likes him

Moria : almost the same relationship as Domflamingo, except he just straight up avoids him, unless he has to deal with Moria then he will and he'll do it quickly

Mihawk : one of the few warlords Luffy actually respects, he admires his fighting and his character, granted it annoyed him a bit to constantly be reminded of Shanks, like you said he also like the other warlords used luffy as some form of coping, but after he realized what he did he stopped and him and Luffy kinda became like gossip buddies, like they'd hang out whenever Mihawk was in the area, but Luffy wouldn't actively seek him out, Mihawk would have to come to him if he wanted someone to talk to or spar with,

Jimbe : only warlord and person that Luffy actually likes from the warlords, yes he likes Mihawk, but Jimbe is different, Luffy has a sort of awe for Jimbe and felt very honored to know about him and his past with Fisher Tiger, Jimbe is the only one who knows that Luffy secretly wishes he was a pirate instead of a Marine, when Jimbe asked why Luffy didn't just become a pirate now Luffy replied saying that he's made so many promises to the people he protects that he doesn't want to go back, not now at least, Jimbe is also the only one who knows about Ace and Sabo and how much Luffy misses them and how proud he is of them

absolutely love your asks 🩷

Have aa good day/night

[jewishcissiekj]

hi let's talk about her

Honestly I have so much to say about her. so much. so here's some of it

-Asajj (NOT VENTRESS THAT'S HER LAST NAME ISTG PEOPLE JUST HATE USING HER ACTUAL NAME AND IDK WHY I GUESS IT'S A COOL NAME BUT ASAJJ IS ALSO A COOL NAME AND)

-Asajj was last seen in canon in the Dark Disciple novel. Where she died. I would never recommend that book to anyone so if you haven't read it yet please don't. In short, after becoming a Bounty Hunter in The Clone Wars she grew out her hair, got a cool yellow Lightsaber and for some reason teamed up with Quinlan Vos to try and kill Dooku. They didn't manage to do it. And Asajj died (was fridged) trying to protect Quinlan. The Bad Batch will not contradict that, as was said by the creators. So this is just a summary for anyone who hasn't read it because I wholeheartedly believe that book is bad

-I have not watched a single Bad Batch episode in my life. As a disclaimer. I started the first one, watched their TCW arc and saw memes screenshots clips and spoilers but I do not know this show. I will watch it now that Asajj's there tho

-She does not have the same outfit anymore! It's a change, and we haven't gotten a clear look at her new design so idk how to judge it yet. Might be to look less recognizable, but it has a very different vibe than any of her prior outfits. There's a leftover shoulder pad and probably some other stuff from her last design but I feel like they kinda clash with the new one and tbb's design language in general. The Bounty Hunter look has a very TCWish feel to it and this one is a sharp turn in another, much more casual direction. I'm not inherently against it but I guess we'll see how it looks in action soon

-In my opinion the hair looks like shit. I don't think she should have hair ever. I don't understand why she can't be bald. Why is she bald when she's evil and has hair when she's a padawan (good) and when she is "redeemed"? guess we'll never know. It's a leftover from the cancelled Dark Disciple TCW arc design (and the Dark Disciple cover and promotional material ofc) and it's bad if you ask me but to each their own and if you like it good for you

-Her Lightsaber!!!!! Same case as the hair in terms of irl development but I like it so much better. The yellow just fits her character and it's pretty. Would love for her to find another one and get back to dual-wielding (I know that won't happen)

-The bag and pouches make me so happy as a design element do you think she carries a (tooka) cat in there

-Now, visually she looks great and the animation style is smoother and nicer than TCW (as is the quality), but what about the direction the character's going in? I didn't like her being dead before, but I felt like it was somewhat better than her being shoved into being a cameo character in new content. If you can't touch her after a certain point, you also can't mess her up. But I do wonder where they're going with her. A few questions:

-Asajj in canon is a directionless character. Also, a partially nonsensical and inconsistent character in her choices and storylines. I've talked about it a lot but in short she just feels messy. What's her purpose in life? Her motive? Her origin story doesn't really make sense, even. She's a Bounty Hunter, sure, but why? If all she wants is revenge on Dooku and maybe money (which was pretty much the case in Dark Disciple), what's she doing after the Empire? And more importantly, why?

-Obviously, the question I haven't asked yet because I don't like it: How the fuck is she alive? Nightsisters have a weird relationship with death but seriously, how?

-She's a Force User after the Rise of the Empire now, so what does he do about that? Is she founding The Path? Fucking around and finding out? Making a not-Jedi-not-Sith order with other force users she finds? Is the Empire after her? Do they know she's live?

-What about her girlfriend? Is Latts Razzi safe? Is she alright?

-Why is she in The Bad Batch show? Are we making her into a cameo character or is there a purpose? Why'd they bring her back? For fun? What is she doing after the show? Floating in dead space? Cameo-ing? Will we have a book?

-OK enough for tonight but if we see Quinlan Vos in the show I'll become violent (/neg). We probably will (he might just get mentioned idk).

[theluckywizard]

Kiss Me Moonstruck, Ch. 9: Mistakes are Made

Hawke x Trevelyan | Dragon Age 2 | Matchmaking Mischief | Fluff and Smut | Fish out of Water | Romantic Comedy

Gif by dearest-and-nearest

Chapter Summary:

Rose stews in the delights of The Hanged Man. Garrett enjoys himself a little too much.

Fic Summary:

Smashed together in a matchmaking scheme cooked up by their enterprising mothers, Garrett Hawke and Rose Trevelyan are forced to endure one another for a whole week over Satinalia at the Hawke Estate. Rose hears he’s a swashbuckling treasure hunter, as wild as he is handsome and as ill-bred as he is rich. Garrett suspects she’s a brat of an ingenue by the string of rejected marriage proposals behind her. Determined to prove to the other that they could not be less compatible, they quickly find their mothers’ plot might be working better than they thought.

Excerpt under the cut 👇

Garrett’s friends seem to be kidnapping her.

“Just bring her back in one piece,” calls Garrett, watching her go with his arms crossed. Rose peeks at him over her shoulder, watching as Garrett is promptly solicited for another dance by a woman squeezed perilously into a bodice with her shoulders out. Rose wonders what it is about the partial outfits in these parts. It’s Firstfall. When Garrett declines, the most absurd sense of relief crashes through her.

“Something tells me you’re thirsty,” says Isabela, sweeping Rose along to the bar, her jewelry clinking as she slinks along. Elbow on the bar, the woman studies Rose with an incisive smirk that leaves her sure she’s about to be dissected five ways.

“So you’ve come to stake a claim, have you?” says Isabela, catching a bottle that comes sliding down the wet bar. She stands and leans into the barkeep’s space to claim three tiny tin cups for herself. Isabela lifts her chin in the direction of Garrett. “Ladies have been queuing up for him since he struck it rich. Even before.”

Rose searches for the right retort as the woman pours three fuming cups of whatever is in that bottle.

“There’s no need for blushes,” says Isabela. “I’m a fortune hunter myself.”

Merrill looks dazzled. “Are you a pirate, too?” She glances between Rose and Isabela. “Oh— you meant something different.”

Rose levels a frosty look at Isabela. “This isn’t my scheme. I’m just trying to make it through the week without collapsing under the weight of my boredom.”

Beneath a trenchant stare, Isabela nudges a brimming cup toward Rose. “I’ll toast to that. A drink for the stout-hearted.”

Well she won’t let a little liquor cow her. Rose throws back the booze. A pathetic croak pops out of her before she coughs once, her eyes stinging and watering. Rose glances between Merrill and Isabela who watch her with equal interest though Merrill only peeks over the top of delicate sips of the same stuff while a feline smile spreads across the pirate’s face.

“You claim you aren’t here for Hawke, but that doesn’t explain the dancing. The smiles. The utter unwillingness to partner with anyone else.”

“I think he likes her,” offers Merrill. But the pirate is playing a deeper game, one beyond the elf’s callow suppositions.

Rose huffs. “Can’t a woman flirt without it becoming an entire romantic plot?”

“Of course. Flirt. Frolic. Fuck,” says Isabela. She lingers over that last word with such suggestion that she practically tills the idea into Rose’s mind.

“A romantic plot sounds lovely, though, doesn’t it?” says Merrill, becoming the second person to pick up Rose’s braid, stroking it in curious admiration.

Isabela appraises her again, the bottle tinging beneath her fingernails. She refills Rose’s cup.

“Still. By my standards you’ve entered shit-or-get-off-the-pot territory.”

“What does shit have to do with anything?” Merrill whispers to Rose. But Rose is busy searching for Garrett’s head towering over everyone else’s, lifting her chin to peer over other guests that press toward the bar, squeezing into spaces on either side of her and the other two. Something small inside her crumbles when she doesn’t find him.

“He’s just there,” says Merrill helpfully, pointing to a table. Garrett sits flanked by other revelers in affable conversation, gesturing with their cups. Transfixed by the way he drops his head when he laughs, by his waggish slouch in his chair, by all the ways he’s scrappy round the edges, Rose flushes. He looks up, spearing her with a dashing smile across the mayhem and then raises his tankard to her. She answers with her tiny cup.

“Just look at that mushy face,” says Merrill, her affection for him plain.

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