#and they tell *me* that freaking out is unwarranted?!

[purlturtle]

More and more I get the feeling with the people around me IRL that I'm the only froggo going "dude, water's getting a bit warm, right?" and everyone else is, AT BEST, going "yeah maybe but we can't do anything about so maybe don't point it out so much?"

And now *I'm* the one diagnosed with adjustment disorder. What in the actual.

[takes1]

your needy Kenma smut was SOOO good omfg I was biting my fist reading it!! can i request a needy suna smut?

needy!suna rintarou x reader

hi!! so glad you liked it!! wow this took me so long i'm so sorry! i just could not find a way to write it without it being exactly the same as kenma's!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / forbidden, established relationship / manager!reader / vocal!suna / whiny!suna / needy!suna / bratty!suna / liiiight mommy kink nobody freak tf out!! / suna has a cute laugh / creampie / raw cuddly sex / 1.9k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Don't look at me like that, Rin'."

Your fingers were smushing the lower half of his face, angling his head away from you. His head stayed obediently forward at the center court, but those eyes were still piercing through you.

Through his fishy-lips, his words became jumbled together, "'can' helb i'--,"

It wasn't his fault he looked so mean, so critical when he focused in on something.

"I can't help it," He spat, rubbing his jaw.

Suna wasn't careful about his hand placement. The members of Inarizaki knew you had been dating for a time, but Coach Kurosu did not need a reason to question your managerial position.

When you pushed his hand away from your waist, his face scrunched; that mean and bitter look returned, tenfold.

A frustrated, hushed, but not quiet, "I want you."

Though it wasn't an appropriate time, place, or circumstance, it would be lie to say that it wasn't hot. The unique mixture of his assertive, court-like focus and lesser-known bedroom-only begging forced you to cross your arms.

"You-," You glanced around, thankful nobody heard that, "Have a game to focus on."

The attitude he gave was not only unwarranted, but it succeeded in making you less receptive. To you, it was obvious that he was only looking for an out. He was tired and halfway through a challenging match. You couldn't spare to be his partner right now, and he did not like that.

He sucked his teeth, tapped his foot, crossed his arms, worked his jaw, and gave you a sharp sigh, all within five minutes of angry silence.

What a whiny bastard.

You found his struggle almost amusing. At the moment, it was more important to maintain your focus, for the both of you.

Still, it kept you wondering throughout the remainder of the match: What had you possibly done to warrant such a strong response?

Every instance that he had to be around the bench, drinking water, a temporary switch-out, he would send you a deeply dissatisfied glance. You didn't justify it with a reaction. He was being bratty.

Though you were a prude, anti-PDA personality in public, especially around the team-- you were the one to push him back onto the mattress and throw his shirt across the room, once you were back at his place.

"Fuck--mnh!"

That pretty sigh was all he could get out before you were on top of him.

"Start talking," You muttered. Your shirt was off in seconds.

His breathing grew heavy, eyes black with lust at the sight of your pretty skin, his favorite bra he clocked earlier under your shirt- the whole reason his mind got to spinning.

Suna was kept this irritating, calculating, slithery persona up around his friends, and especially during matches, because he learned that it kept him safe. He didn't always like being so on edge. He wanted to trust somebody enough to tell them everything that passed through his mind, to be skin-to-skin and a little weird, because you were comfortable and safe.

Here, under you, after enough love and time, he knew he didn't need to waste energy on appearances.

"I- ah-h, I just wanted you so bad," Was his honest attempt at an explanation.

He sat up to touch you, kiss you, but you kept him to the sheets with a forearm.

"Are you trying to get me kicked out?"

Suna huffed, eyes bouncing from your face, to your confined tits, then back, "What?""

Your legs slid a bit further apart, weight settling better onto his warm lap, "If Coach finds out we're dating, you know I'm gone."

You snapped, just for emphasis, but he flinched, "Like that. In an instant."

He was painfully hard. You could feel him throbbing, even through his combo of athletic shorts and thick sweatpants. Despite the circumstances, you knew he was keen enough to understand that you were a little pissed off about his lack of restraint.

He was in that spot you liked seeing him work through. Struggling, deciding whether to be nice, or snarky.

"You're smarter than that, baby," Was much kinder of a statement in tone, but it tipped him off to be rude, instead.

Those narrowed eyes dripped down to your chest slow, sweet, like honey.

"Why'd you wear that, then?" He felt you stiffen. He placed a hot palm onto your hip to help his well-intentioned venom settle.

You couldn't believe that was his entire problem, summed up in five words.

"Are you really so dirty-minded that you could tell what bra I was wearing? Under my shirt?"

The call-out was meant to return his energy, but he responded in a more secure way than you.

"When it's you, yeah--," He sat up with ease, against your pushing, just to remind you that he could outclass your force if he wanted to. He caught your small frown and he corrected himself, "Yes, ma'am."

You gave a small hum, a low-lidded stare right back at him. He was so hot when he deferred to you.

It warranted a strong, messy kiss- all charged with hours of denial, suggestive glances, and too many minutes of clothed rubbing.

All your clothes came off in a range of easy to difficult, distracted efforts.

Suna lay under you, all flushed and twitchy with anticipation. Your hands flitted down his sensitive, strong sides, his cock crammed between your legs, getting spoiled and slick. Not inside, not just yet.

You loved tickling him just to hear his laugh.

And he'd tolerate anything with you gliding over his dick, like that. Giving him such a good view.

"Shhh-haha-h-ahh!" He bit his lip to keep from giggling, moaning, too much or too loudly.

That look he gave you was enough. All twisted, pleading, intelligent. Like he knew exactly what he said and how he said it, would get you turned on.

His sound was adorable, rare.

It was unrestrained, and light, cute, enough to understand why he kept it behind his hand around his friends. Sounded exactly like something a bunch of guys might make fun of him for.

"Hmm.. Let's cuddle fuck," You pressed a tingly kiss just under his ear.

You knew he was feeling lazy. Your job today wasn't easy, either. You wanted to feel close at the end of a busy day, more than anything.

Suna was warm, and tired, and tacky to the touch but it all added to how badly you wanted each other. It was a demanding match, and getting all upset with each other made it feel that much longer.

Slick, and hot, and easy was the adjustment to him. Nothing to do with his real size- you were just ready, after having to put up an act, as if you were too above all of it.

The panting you had to listen to on the sidelines, watching him miss his mouth with the squeezy bottle, all the sweat and water dripping onto his jersey, it ate at you, corroded the brick walls you put up. Even his frustrated glare was sexy. He couldn't stop looking at you, even with an important task at hand, or when his teammates needed him to focus.

Now he fucked you like your mean -still, justified- rejection was never a problem, like he was savoring you slowly.

"Yes-yes, yesyes," Suna swallowed up your moans in a greedy kiss.

"Mmh- how's that feel--?" You purred.

"So good," A satisfied groan, "Fuck- Got such a perfect pussy."

His hand kept your thigh up, your knee close to your shoulder. He inspired a gasp at how quickly he bottomed out to your teasing.

He stretched you so good, so easily, and kept your trembling steady in his grasp-- but every sound he made was shaky, barely held together, and never masked.

After three months, Suna decided at some point on his own that he could trust you enough to completely let go in the bedroom. Though he naturally gravitated to a more submissive role, he usually said some downright sleazy, vulgar shit to get his kicks.

"A-ha, h-fuc-k, aughh, you feel so good, you--," His breath clipped into a high, closed-mouth whine as he pulled you harder onto the base of his cock, just flexing hard, as deep as he could get.

Your teeth sunk into his pillowcase, fingers filled with plush.

The knowledge that he loved it, but couldn't ever get as deep as he wanted, had your strength waning. Squeezing, bracing, at all the butterflies tired you out.

Although, if it were a competition, Suna had you beat by a mile. The drooling, whiny mess behind you may have had enough to strength to use his body weight to keep you smushed, but you could tell he was sloppier, clumsier, with exhaustion.

He buried his face in your neck.

"I-I'h- needed you so bad," His moan was so light and breathy- like he was swimming on Cloud 9-, "So-h, so... fucking...bad."

Your uncontrollable squirm to get away from the sensation was met with instant crushing. Even if you wanted your thigh back, it would never happen.

"Mh-h-! Rin-," You tried to speak, but he was hitting all your angles just right, so you stopped.

His words were twisting up that knot in your tummy, the trap of his arms a steady, innocent backdrop to how filthy he decided to fuck you.

Slurred mutters, consisting of mostly nonsense syllables and phrases, sometimes bred real messages like, "So hot," "Mommy," "So much," and, "'Can't take it."

His yapping, you thought, may have been a way of making up for how little he spoke, usually. You were generally much quieter than him here, but outside of the bedroom, the opposite remained true. It was cute.

"M'so- close-mh," His groans were short, choked on pleasure, his squeezing desperate and uneven.

The idea of him finishing close, hugging you, just like this, was too hot to let not happen.

You gathered yourself to tell him, "C-um-- Mh, inside, pretty boy."

"F-uck!" That tone completely tipped him over the edge.

Your grin was to yourself, twitchy and genuine, before the feeling of fullness set in.

He was left to fuck out his load as deep inside of you as he could get, "Fuckfu-ck- Ahh-hh-!"

Your nails dragged across his skin- the white hot, pulsing enough to spur a sudden orgasm. Dark lines remained in their wake as your muffled whines filled his ears.

And Suna was nothing if not dedicated. He fucked you as well as he could through your own, whinier, less violent experience. His breath, laden in the resolution of his own, was hot and tingly across your sensitive ear.

You squeezed his arm to stop and he finally let your leg down.

"Hm...sorry," He mumbled into a peck against your cheek, "You okay?"

Sore, and achy, you shared a giggly kiss. He softened naturally and you readjusted to hold each other, warm and soft, with chemical infatuation.

"Mhmm," You stole a longer, slower kiss.

Those pretty eyes watched you, worshipped you, as you rubbed your hand across his jaw.

"Perfect."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu my request box

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 3

[chap two] | [all chapters here] | [chap four]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

Author's Note | The response to this series has already been so wonderful and unexpected, so big thanks to everyone who's been hyping me up! The next couple parts of this story have kinda a mellow pace, but I'm literally such a long-winded person so idk how to write without adding a tooon of narrative meat lol. Nonetheless, hope everyone enjoys!

Taglist | @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @rach5ive @sav12321 @steeldaisies

WC | 3.5k

Chapter Three

Arriving at school on Monday morning, you had almost forgotten about your little meeting with Eddie the day prior. It was such an odd and different encounter that it briefly slipped away from you - after all, it wasn’t everyday you asked someone to be your fake boyfriend. But once you arrived on campus, the sight of Eddie’s van at the far end of the parking lot brought the conversation back to you, making your heart jump in remembrance.

And suddenly, you were nervous. This plan was ridiculous and there were so many damn opportunities for it to go wrong, so many damn holes that could be poked in it. You’d give Eddie a piece of your mind if he managed to fuck this up.

Amelia and Janet were already waiting for you at your locker, your customary meeting spot since freshman year. Whether intentional or not, you knew you were the pseudo-center of the group - you were certainly not the leader, that was Amelia and her brash personality, but it always seemed as if you were the swing vote, the middle ground, the deciding factor. Janet was the most agreeable of you three, generally avoiding confrontation and trying to maintain the peace as best she could amongst your crowd - you figured it was because of her strict upbringing.

As you approached the duo, you felt the conflicting comfort of familiarity butting heads with the frustrated part of you that didn’t want to see them ever again, the part of you that just wanted to run from them. Being a teenager was complicated in that way - as much as you cared about these girls, you also wanted absolutely nothing to do with them anymore.

Amelia and Janet were huddled together, sharing a magazine and excitedly talking about whatever it was that they were reading. Probably some insignificant article about the latest fashion trends of fall (which you secretly were interested in knowing, but you didn’t need to tell them that). Eventually, they heard the close click of your shoes on the linoleum floor, causing Amelia looking up to greet you as Janet continued to skim the page.

“So, feeling old yet?” Amelia teased, leaning back against the locker next to yours as you put in your code.

“Incredibly.” You answered dryly, although there was at least a hint of humor in your tone. It’s not as if you could completely cut them off overnight, that would be an impossible task to ask of anyone.

They both laughed, Janet putting away her magazine while Amelia leaned over your shoulder to check her makeup in the mirror you kept inside your locker. You nudged her out of your way once you had the book that you were looking for, giving her a harsh look out of the corner of your eye.

You knew that, although not perfect, Amelia and Janet weren’t so bad that you needed to be this cold to them - yes, Amelia was unapologetically abrasive and Janet was too agreeably submissive, but you still felt that your attitude towards them was maybe a little unwarranted. But at the same time, your heart and your mind weren’t on the same page. Your head said that they weren’t as bad as you made them out to be, but you could just feel that this friendship was no longer working, that something about it was terribly off and couldn’t be corrected.

As the two began discussing an assignment from a class that they shared, you mulled over your thoughts and feelings about this slowly ending friendship. Neither seemed to notice that you weren’t mentally present to their conversation, that you were somewhere in your own head instead.

After a short while, a duo of football players that you were somewhat familiar with came over to join the conversation. One of them was blatantly flirting with Janet, who seemed absolutely smitten, while the other served as wingman, trying to keep both you and Amelia engaged in conversation. You gave him the coldest shoulder he’d ever encountered, quickly turning all of his attention to Amelia instead.

Paying little to no attention to the group’s conversations, you began to look up and down the hallway absentmindedly, the myriad of conversations drowning each other out, making it easy for your mind to wander. If the group noticed your inattentiveness, they didn’t bring it up. You could have, and maybe should have, just walked away, but you weren’t sure where you’d wander off to until it was time to head to class. You’d have to find a way to get everyone to stop treating your locker like the go-to hang out spot at 7:30 in the damn morning.

As your eyes continued to wander, brain zoned out, your gaze passed over a small cluster of boys about ten feet away. Normally, they wouldn’t have crossed your mind, but today you had to do a double take, realizing that amongst them was Eddie. A friend of his had a locker not far from yours, you remembered at that moment, but it had never mattered before. But it sure mattered now, because you realized Eddie was looking right at you and probably had been for a couple of minutes, just waiting with amusement for you to come out of your reverie and finally noticed his stare. Once you two made eye contact, he smirked and shot you a playful wink.

Despite yourself, it flustered you just a little. You blinked and looked down in surprise, but mentally kicked yourself for the reaction - you could not let Eddie Munson make you nervous, especially when you weren’t actually interested in him in the slightest. You were simply taken aback, you reasoned with yourself, unprepared for the almost genuinely charming look on his face. So, you took a breath, looking back up to find Eddie’s eyes still trained on you. Was this going to be his flirting tactic? If so, it was pathetic, and you hoped that the look on your face told him as much.

You stared at one another for a few long moments, silently challenging each other, testing to see who would do something first. Eventually, Eddie pointed to the corners of his mouth, dragging his fingers up his cheeks while smiling aggressively wide and crossing his eyes as if to make a point, to visually tell you to at least act interested in him. You refrained from rolling your eyes - as challenging as it was - and forced a flirtatious smirk onto your lips, hoping your eyes weren’t saying something your face wasn’t. You weren’t exactly one to put on false airs, so you hoped that you were convincing to anyone that might see you.

Amelia, Janet, and the boys seemed to forget you were there, considering you hadn’t been engaging in the conversation this entire time. But eventually they must have expected you to chime in on something that was said, as they all looked at you expectantly when you didn’t reply right away. Seeing your eyes elsewhere and a hint of a smile on your lips, their brows furrowed and they quickly looked over their shoulders. It was simultaneously exciting and embarrassing to know that they would spot who exactly you were making eyes at.

They didn’t immediately realize it was Eddie that you were looking at, their eyes searching for maybe a familiar acquaintance or someone more stereotypically attractive, someone more to their liking. But then Eddie turned his gaze to them, winking as his grin widened before his eyes returned to you. In the same breath, Amelia and Janet whipped back around to face you with bewilderment while the football players shared a look of confused, judgmental annoyance.

“Don’t tell me you’re making eyes at Munson,” Janet started in disbelief.

“Yeah, what gives?” Amelia chimed in, taking a small step closer to you as if to avoid having the conversation overheard, making it seem like the most dire thing in the world.

You shrug, eyes still trained on Eddie for a moment longer as you tried to hold back your amusement at everyone’s reactions. You were proud that you seemed to actually appear interested, if their reactions were anything to go on.

“I don’t know, he’s kinda cute, isn’t he?”

It appeared that your tone was also as convincing as you were hoping for, because both girls pulled faces at your reply. The football players lingered awkwardly, but didn’t dare chime in on the conversation; after another few tense moments, they said their goodbyes and disappeared quickly down the hall.

Janet dared to briefly look over her shoulder at Eddie again, who now appeared to be in conversation with his friends. But it’s as if he knew he was being watched again, because his eyes immediately flicked up, a grin teasing at his lips as he met Janet’s gaze. She quickly turned away from him as a surprised sound escaped her lips.

Amelia simply made a sound of distaste, her eyes locked on you, “Ew,” She started, “in what world is that freak cute?”

“He is pretty weird…” Janet added, her tone not nearly as harsh as Amelia’s, although you could nonetheless hear her obvious trepidation.

You roll your eyes, a harsh and mocking look on your face, “Jan, you think Anthony Michael Hall is cute.”

Your tone is a touch nasty, and you can see Amelia smirking at the jab despite herself - she and you were in agreement that said actor was not attractive.

“He is!” Janet insisted, looking between you both, “You guys saw Sixteen Candles too.”

“Yeah, and he was a total geek in it.” Amelia responded, a harsh smirk on her lips.

Your gaze drifted back to Eddie, who had finally looked away for a few moments as he conversed with his little gang of nerds. Choosing defiance, you decided to antagonize your friends a little, a mean smirk ghosting over your lips.

“Eddie’s cuter than Anthony Michael Hall, that’s for damn sure.” It felt so wrong to say his name and not just refer to him as “Munson” or “the freak,” but you figured it would make a stronger impact on them if you used his first name.

Both Amelia and Janet made offended sounds in unison, their expressions critical.

“You feeling okay?” Amelia asked, not with concern, but rather with judgment, “I didn’t think the break-up was that hard on you.”

Frustration flared up inside you at that remark - that felt like a personal jab even by Amelia standards. You couldn’t help the sharp look you flashed at her, eyes narrowing, “It wasn’t. Duncan doesn’t matter to me in the slightest.”

As if compelled to confrontation, Amelia couldn’t help but respond in disbelief, “Sure, whatever you say. Munson’s a pretty pathetic excuse for a rebound, though. You could do better.”

You were so damn tempted to continue arguing with her, as you were never one to back down, but seeing motion in Eddie’s direction stopped you from saying anything. Your eyes flicked up to watch as he and his friends started to walk down the hall, coming in your direction. As the group passed you, Eddie came to a halt, taking an exaggerated bow, his eyes locked on yours almost as if he knew what was going on.

“Ladies…” He taunted with a glint in his eyes. As he straightened back up, he looked between the three of you, a goofy smile plastered on his face. As he walked away, he gave you one final, obvious wink.

“Ugh, what a creep…” Janet said while you watched Eddie disappear down the hall. Realizing the time, you abruptly walked off without saying goodbye to either Amelia or Janet. 

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Aside from briefly saying ‘hello’ to one another in math class, you didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the day; and even something as simple as that greeting turned the heads of a few of your classmates. Sure, you may have passed each other in the hall or spotted one another at lunch, but otherwise your schedules didn’t seem to allow for much of each other. That’s something you two would have to figure out once you got deeper into this little scheme of yours.

As your day ended and you made the drive to the ice skating rink, you pondered how exactly you and Eddie would pull this off. Should you be more up front, more assertive? Or should you let Eddie take the reins on that? How quickly should you move things along? Would you really keep this going until graduation? It seemed that you needed to find some time to discuss all these finer details with Eddie, and soon, or else your cover would definitely be blown.

Come Tuesday, your morning started off differently than you expected. As you walked up to the front doors of the school, Eddie seemed to appear out of thin air, slinking up alongside you. Before you realized who it was, you were about ready to tell them to back the hell up, but you caught the words on your tongue once you realized it was him. The sight of Eddie took you by surprise, your face inevitably saying so, as he shot you a playful grin in response.

“Morning, princess,” He greeted, bumping you with his shoulder. Despite wanting to glare at him and his insistence on breaking the oh-so-holy fake dating rules, you held back, instead giving him what you hoped was a coy look.

“Munson,” You answered simply, feeling strange having a conversation with him in the middle of all your peers, all out in the open like this. When you reached the front doors, Eddie held one open for you, which was a pleasant surprise. Once you’d both entered, Eddie remained at your side, a simple look of contentment on his face as you asked dryly, “What grand gestures do you plan to do today?”

“Oh, I’m going to sweep you off your feet,” He begins playfully, seeming to enjoy the occasional glances shot at the two of you, “You’ll be absolutely head over heels by the end of the afternoon.”

You find his humor both mildly amusing and mildly stale, but you nonetheless give him a slight, doubtful smirk, “I’m sure.”

Eddie looked you up and down while cracking another smile; you weren’t sure if he was trying to turn up the charm for show or if he was trying to win you over just a little, “So, when I ask you out, you want a whole show of it? Flowers, balloons, the whole nine yards?”

“Maybe you should drop in from a helicopter, make it really interesting.” You responded coolly. The contrast of your sense of humor versus your monotonous delivery was perhaps a bit jarring and hard for some to get used to, but Eddie nonetheless seemed amused by it.

“So high maintenance.” Eddie chided, to which you gave him a sideways look. You two continued towards your locker, acting as if you didn’t notice people’s glances; you figured Amelia and Janet were already waiting for you, and you definitely wanted to see how they’d react to you and Eddie this morning.

For a few moments, you two walked in a slightly uncomfortable silence, a small reminder that you didn’t actually know each other at all, that this was all make believe. You could feel Eddie stealing glances at you as if he were deciding how to best engage with you in this school setting.

“Just looking at you yesterday was enough to set your friends off.” Eddie finally spoke up again as a wide grin spread across his lips, “Should I flirt a little more aggressively? Really get them worked up about it?”

You also couldn’t help but smirk a little - Amelia and Janet’s reactions were better than you could have anticipated, so much more dramatic than you expected. You were still miffed at Amelia thanks to her comment about Duncan, but you were sure that today she’d act as if nothing happened. Or at least, she’d try to, until seeing you with Eddie.

“We keep going at this rate, and Amelia and I might be in a cat fight by the end of the week.” You gave Eddie a wicked smile, which he didn’t expect, but he nonetheless looked back at you with just as much amusement.

“Maybe I need to step it up a little, then,” He responded as you two rounded the corner, your locker just down the hall. You immediately spotted Amelia and Janet there caught up in conversation, oblivious to you watching them from amongst the crowd of other students. You briefly paused as you studied them, Eddie following suit as he looked between you and them, “Should we go pay them a visit?”

You glanced up at Eddie through your lashes, similar fiendish glints in your eyes; you were wondering the exact same thing as him, debating whether to approach them or breeze on by as if they didn’t exist. Both were equally devious, and you momentarily felt pleased that you chose to make Eddie your fake boyfriend for this plan - in some ways, such as this, maybe you two were actually on the same page.

And then, the deciding factor just so happened to be heading in your friends’ direction.

Duncan walked down the hall with a quiet sort of confidence, and you absolutely loathed him for it. A few friends were with him as he stopped to chat with Amelia and Janet, and even from here his relaxed smile made you want to slap him. You hadn’t even realized you were clenching your jaw until Eddie spoke again.

“Get it together and let’s go over there.” He instructed, looking between your eyes and your tight jaw. He leaned forward a little with a wicked grin, “Come on. This is what you wanted me for, right? Let’s go get a reaction outta them.”

You chose to ignore the mild suggestiveness of Eddie's phrasing, although you did briefly narrow your eyes at him - you weren’t sure why, but you couldn’t help but hate that he was already doing his job well. He had a point, so you put on your best poker face and walked with confidence in the direction of your locker, Eddie right there alongside you. You made an effort to walk closer to him, to convey some kind of comradery, hoping that everyone would buy your bullshit.

Janet, always the most aware of the bunch, spotted you first, her expression shifting with worry. It wasn’t until you were practically on top of the group that the rest of them noticed your arrival, and everyone’s faces fell into various expressions of confusion, annoyance, and loathing. God, they were all so dramatic.

“Excuse me.” You said to one of Duncan’s friends in the bratty tone that most of them were used to, as he was blocking your locker. When he didn’t move right away, your brows shot up in threatening impatience, prompting him to quickly step aside. Eddie’s eyes followed the guy just to make him more uncomfortable as you opened your locker, intentionally letting it swing loudly against the one beside it.

“You lost, Munson?” Duncan questioned in a challenging tone, stepping forward with his gaze trained on Eddie. You turned, prepared to make some quick retort in defense of your fake boyfriend, but he beat you to the punch.

“Do I look lost?” Eddie put on a false look of confusion before a wild grin broke out across his lips. His response caused you to snort out a small laugh, Duncan looking back and forth between you two with skepticism before his eyes finally settled on you.

“Are you serious?” His tone was accusing as he took a step toward you. You kept your face calm and your eyes cold as you rooted around in your locker, hoping that your supposed nonchalance would really get under his skin.

“About what?” You taunted, the corner of your mouth barely pulling up into a smirk. You shut your locker, finally looking Duncan in the face to find him gazing at you with bafflement. The whole group was watching with similar expressions, but you paid them no mind, “This is my locker. If you don’t like what you see, go somewhere else.”

You looked back at Eddie, who seemed to be eating this up, not afraid of showing his amusement plainly across his face. You figured that that was also doing an incredible job of getting under Duncan’s skin.

“Walk me to class?” You prompted with a flirty tone, to which Eddie smiled. It was a look that could have convinced you that he was actually interested if you didn’t know any better.

“Lead the way.” His fingers ever so slightly grazed the small of your back as you walked between him and Duncan, leading him away from the group without looking back at them, as tempting as it was. Eddie followed right behind you, his shoulders nearly brushing yours as you maneuvered through the crowd. Classes hadn’t even started yet, but already you were enjoying this day far too much.

[mozzaicynth]

one thought everyday and its just the amazing world of gumball especially these three freaks (doodles + some headcanons below :3)

mr small -

my interpretation of small becoming more mellowed out in the future seasons as opposed to season 1 is him managing his anger in a more healthier way (meditation, etc) (plus i think all those herbal infusions are incredibly effective on the nerves) . that being said i think he still has underlying anger issues and lashes out if prompted too much . another reason hes nicer and more of a pushover in the later seasons is because i like to think hes guilty of his plethora of outbursts earlier on, especially towards students (unwarranted shouting which as a school counsellor he should know is pretty harmful on younger kids) . the fact that he tries to offer his help when its absolutely not needed so many times later on in the show further makes me like to think he’s making up for it all

hes also so autistic to me hes on the spectrum you cant tell me otherwise and i think hes pretty awkward and considered strange by the whole town (which is saying a lot for elmore standards) . still super friendly and approachable but he also cant take hints and he definitely stims (and has special interests, alternative medicine are you kidding)

his music taste i love to think is all over the place … i get the general consensus is he listens to mystic chants and sitar music but he definitely listens to more, ranging from pop to indie to rock to metal (this may or may not have become an idea when i was listening to ‘darts by soad and associated it with him,) . also what with his stupid little self funded album that is such a jarring listen ‘cause of all the ridiculous genre changes

i think he crochets/macrames as a hobby along with other diy stuff (most of the decorative items in his home crafted by him) making him, surprisingly considering how incompetent he is sometimes, super crafty/handy .

larry -

larry is a great person: incredibly intelligent, he’s very knowledgable on a plethora of subjects and he has a big heart, holding little to no virtriol against the people of elmore (except the wattersons but that is SO warranted) . thus i like to imagine he did great in school, moved on to do so wonderfully in uni whilst juggling jobs and his studies but after graduation was left stuck (alike so many people nowadays) . neither small or larry came from well off families but i think for larry he didn’t have much of a support system anyway so currently he overworks and works and works just to catch up on the student debt whilst simultaneously paying his taxes (i still think about that episode all the time fuck the police . big pink son of a bitch), loans and not to mention the bare minimum to keep himself alive

he’s a very sweet and kind person but anyone under the immense stress that he’s under would be irritable and temperate (he deserves to be more angry imo) and i whilst he has so many jobs he always aims to excel at all of them, having an incredibly particular way that tasks must be done and having them organised . because of this, he can be a lot more temperate when interacting with coworkers, especially those who don’t do their job as well, having to take matters into his own hands . as he and karen (his girlfriend throughout the series) share some jobs it puts a strain on their relationship (which was built off of the mutual ‘having several jobs’) and they break up .

even so, though larry consistently tries to propose to her in the show, in “the laziest” he doesn’t seem to be happy nor comfortable at all with the prospects of marrying her . in fact, even when he’s achieved the ‘american dream’ (properties like a house and car and a family (his girlfriend soon to be wife)) he’s unhappy . personally i don’t think he knows what he wants to do with himself ; he works all day and night and has little to no time for himself to even think in peace that the only purpose he knows is work .

i like to think he used to be an artist; self taught, it was a hobby and an enjoyment but his studies and his work took over so his one form of self expression was squeezed out of his life .. (i like making their lives as bleak as possible soz ! 🙏) he still admires the arts and i think that’s another reason he likes steve so much; his handcrafts and mini projects .

steve and larry are two opposites that are similar in ways .. but i love their dynamic so much . my interpretation of them is that steve will help larry balance out his life slightly better to leave room for himself instead of working 24/7 . steve has his head in the clouds and larry grounds him, and larry is so stuck in his ways with work that steve pulls him out of it slightly, lifting him up a little higher (AUGHHHGHH I HATE THEM I HATE THEM

as for their relationship with rob, im very much a stevelmeyer adoption truther !! both larry and steve coming from dysfunctional families, they aim to help rob and take care of him to the best of their abilities . further, larry taking on taking care of rob gives him direction in his life again . 😁😁😁😁😁😁

this isnt gonna be the last post headcanon/idea wise i still think of them 24/7 but heres jus SOME things .. (im such a yapper sprry not sorry !) :3c

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Okay, so this request got inspired by your post of how the Mercs react to Y/N telling them they have PTSD. Not sure how the situations go but what about a hurt/comfort Mercs x Y/N when they unknowingly, or somehow, triggered Y/N’s trauma?

Y/N knows they didn’t mean it but it’s scares them because Y/N doesn’t breakdown like THAT. Y/N tells them it’s okay, although they are triggered they find comfort with the Mercs because they make them feel safe. Mercs just being there for them, listening, and like asks Y/N to let them know if they need anything.

(It’s not often I see these kinds of requests with x reader/y/n stuff, but your post did make me smile a bit as someone with PTSD)

I understand your point of view. Thank you, by the way. I feel very alone in my struggles and it’s nice to hear i’m not.

TF2 Mercs Scare Y/N With PTSD On Accident

Scout:

- Oh.. Fuck. Immediately goes into panic mode because he’s a very empathetic person. You can see it on his face as he struggles to hold it together. He knows freaking out will only make this worse. (He’s less stupid than you think.) Watching you cower and breathe heavily is breaking his heart. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that name.

- “Hey, whoa whoa, whoa, hey hey, relax. It— It was a different person! I was talking about someone different!” He pauses, trying to deduct a possible solution. The fact you’re telling him it’s fine is making him angry at himself. Why would he recklessly slip up like that in front of somebody so important?! He wants you to beat him up. “No, No. You need to like — beat the shit out of me for that. Don’t ever settle for less in a person. Like, actually, beat the shit out of me.”

- This is definitely causing some stares. Scout rarely at all takes accountability for his actions because of how on the defense he is. Seeing this side of him is uncanny. Scout takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into a big hug. Your face immediately meeting his chest. When he was a child, his mother would give him physical affection to subdue his panic attacks. This is the first thing that came to mind.

- “Easy, easy. Alright? That stupid shit won’t ever happen to you again. Not while I’m here.” He whispers in your ear. Running his fingers through your hair. Somehow, he comes rightly by his mother. He even forces himself to steady his breathing on behalf of you. He knows you’ll calm down eventually.

——————————————————————————-

Soldier:

- All it took was one disagreement. One. Single. Sideye from Soldier and you suddenly got transported into the past unwarranted. Your breathing became shallow and you felt like passing out. The impending doom was indescribable. At first you wanted to lash out and attack him for this. But Soldier quickly tilted his helmet up in alarm upon seeing your unexpected reaction. You had to kneel down.

- “Private?” He asked. His voice was more higher pitched than usual. The sight of somebody he loved breaking into pieces like janga blocks all so suddenly was shocking. He was briefly scolded and slapped to death by Medic for triggering your PTSD before, and you didn’t want that for him again. “It’s fine— I’ts fine—“ You said. “No, it fucking isn’t.” He answers.

- “It isn’t fine that you’re feeling this way. I’m going to go into your ear and fix that damn hippo campus or whatever, so help me god.” He said, his eyes full of despair as he knelt down beside you to hesitantly place a hand on your back and rub you. His answer was so unbelievably stupid you almost snapped out of it.

- “I’m sorry for glaring.” He said, sort of laughing at his own pettiness and shaking his head. He truly felt like gutting himself. As i’ve mentioned, Soldier knows full well what PTSD is. The world war did numbers on his comrades’ mental health. He’s seen people completely crumble under the weight of tragedy. “Sometimes it’s just the little things, isn’t it? One moment you’re in the present, and the next moment you stand on the hills of the battlefield overlooking the bloodshed, and you wonder: where the hell did we go wrong?”

- You sort of calm down at his attempt to soothe you. Crawling onto his lap and shoving your face into his uniform. Soldier allowed you to do this. A distant and exhausted look in his eye as he defeatedly fell back against the wall. “Did you feel that way in the war?” You mutter to him. Wondering where his knowledge came from.

- Soldier was still holding his rocket launcher in the other hand. He turned it to the side to examine it for a second. “Eh…” He muttered back. Noting the blood on the handle that was spilt earlier on the frontlines. “I’m just one of those war dogs whose mental strength rivals Zeno of citium himself, I guess.” He said sarcastically.

____________________________________________

Demoman:

- Immediately tries to distract you from the horrible things you begin to relive. Shoves you into your quarters and locks the door. Under normal circumstances you wouldn’t have liked this, but he’s made it clear to give you your space. You sit on the edge of your bed, unsettled, whilst he peaks out the blinds of your window.

- “Datse’ sum wee ass birds sittin ow on the tree out there. Look at em, bloody fat roosters dey are.” He says, as you look away at the ground. He notices your lack of attention and sighs. Taking an abundance of alcohol into his mouth. “Hey look, ye wanna know sumthin?” He points his flask at you. “Lemme tell you sumthin about explosives.”

- “Once a landmine explodes, kablooey. Thatse it. No goin’ back. But yer brain ain’t like that.” He tells you, pointing at your head. Frustratingly, you roll your eyes “Why’d you bring me in here, Demoman? And — thanks but my fucking wounds are unfixable.” Your tone sounds more annoyed than you’d like it to be. But you couldn’t help it right now, you felt like your body was attacking itself.

- “NAH. You ain’t. y’know why?” He knocked on his own head with his flask. “See this thing er’? this thing can mend itself. Unlike an arm or leg. OR AN EYE.” He made sure to put emphasis on that last part for some reason as he spoke it to the ceiling. Tavish still kept his respectful distance as he paced around the room. “Isn’t that just my luck? Enough about dat, tho. Look at ye! Just look at ye! You’re here. Despite those aforementioned metaphorical landmines goin off! Isn’t that crazy? There’s so much space in between what happened and whatse to come. Dont be impatient with yerself. I’ll follow you through this dense forest. Okay? You go there and then you’re there, and once you’re there, you’re there and then you’re there. Y’know? I’ll get you there.” He’s clearly drunk but this somehow helped. You watch him clear his throat and unsteadily sit down in a chair. Sitting in silence with you.

—————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Engineer is an adult. He has (mostly) mastered the art of keeping calm on behalf of a panicking person’s sake. “Hey now…” You hear that thick, creamy drawl behind you. What had triggered you was a loud noise in the server room followed by the crashing of metal echoing off the walls. Engineer happened to be nearby. “That was all me, sorry for the scare pardner.” He tilts his hard hat in respect. He must’ve heard your yelp.

- As you sat cowering against those old computers, tears flooding down your cheeks, Engineer approached you like he would an injured stray kitten. Slowly kneeling down, a refusal to make any sudden movements. His wrench in the other hand had a dent in the adjustable jaw. “Was tryin’ to tinker with somethin’ and some shit fell onto the grating. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” He said. Tilting your chin up to admire your face. Even as you were caked in tears and sweat, he still found profound beauty in this.

- He was making an effort to lie. The wrench had traces of dark red blood on it. Your eyes peaked over his shoulder and you caught a glimpse of an enemy spy’s shoes just behind the mess of computers. Engineer was a good liar. If it weren’t for the dead spy beyond him then you would’ve believed his comforting lie. It wasn’t the spy you were scared of though.. The noise did it all. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.” He whispered again. “It’s alllllll in the past.”

- voooooOoshh. Yeah, figures :/

- “Would you excuse me for a sec, darlin?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, whipping around as he stood up and bitch slapped that same enemy spy with his wrench. Watching him slam against the machinery and lie bleeding on the ground. “Dead ringer, seriously?” He asked. “je te déteste.” (I fucking hate you.) The enemy spy choked out. You felt slightly better afterwards. Knowing Engineer would be able to protect you before anything could truly occur.

—————————————————————————

Heavy:

- Offers to beat the shit out of anybody who triggers your ptsd. TO DEATH. He comes pretty close to doing so a bunch of times. Scout had unintentionally done this and he couldn’t walk for a week afterwards. Heavy was pretty certain he crushed some of his spine. So imagine his dismay when your vacant eyes couldn’t leave a poster on his wall. He knew that stare anywhere — in fact — he had that disconnected stare before.

- Heavy snapped you out of your momentary dissociation by ripping the poster down and crumbling it up. “Heavy did not like that book anyway…” He said, frowning as he threw it away in the trash bin next to his bed. “Come. Do not look at things that remind you. Not good for health.” He beckoned his large hand over to his bed and you laid down next to him. Instinctively cuddling into his chest to try and even out your breathing, But your agony was evident. He could feel your heart practically bursting out of your chest.

- “fetal position.” He instructed you. You did so, hugging your entire body. It was then he took you into his arms and applied light pressure. He had learnt to do this from a Russian psychology paper. Your pain was quickly dying down after this. Who knew being squished to death would help so much? The lingering feelings of dread would remove themselves from you in record time. Normally it would be hours or even days. Every time this happens, he’ll use pressure therapy to aid you.

- If you dislike that type of stuff, he’ll read you a children’s book. For some reason those always helped him. Maybe even take you into the main lobby area to sit down with the boys and listen to their conversation. The white noise of their stupid conversations is distracting, and the presence of friends is always comforting.

——————————————————————————

Pyro:

- :((((((((((((( Looks completely fucking devastated.

- They’re quite reasonable. Immediately asks you what triggered you, and how they can keep you away from it. They’re patient and observant. Especially if you’re incapable of answering them. Their senses will eventually find the object, smell, or word, etc that had caused this in the first place. Silence to Pyro is always louder than words. They make quick work of the issue.

- They tell everybody on the team about this. (Which takes a while by the way because nobody can fucking understand them.) And go into huge detail about why they shouldn’t have/say certain things around you. Nobody’s allowed to rudely question them or else somebody’s belongings are going up in flames.

- Speaking of setting people on fire.. People aren’t allowed to call you a faker either. This happens way too often. How stupid can people truly get? Said people go missing after a week or so and the Tuefort police can never find the body. Every time this happens, you know who to blame. For some reason you also find out later down the line that several power classes were working in cooperation with Pyro’s murders. Thanks guys.

- If present in their room, they’ll bring a bunch of their plushies over to you and cover you in blankets. Watching old kid’s movies with you to make you feel better. This especially works well if you sfw age regress to cope with ptsd. Will 100% be your caregiver.

—————————————————————————-

Sniper:

- God dammit fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck why didn’t he just shut his big mouth and die god dammit fuck fuck fuck he wants to die FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK NOOO WHY DID YOU GO SILENT

- It was the way he said something that got you. It sounded too familar to you-know-whatsit. You were in his sniper nest when this happened. He took his eye from the scope to see you on the floor holding your chest and trying in vain to control the breathing issues you were encountering. “SsShit!” He hissed angrily at himself, getting up and sitting next to you on the floor. He didn’t even make a move to touch you. He knew how horrible things could feel in moments like these. It wasn’t until you returned the favor by leaning your head against him did he put his arm around you.

- “Sniper, I feel like throwing up..” You say, nausea symptoms setting in. He didn’t have any medicine with him other than painkillers, so he made room for you to lay your head on his lap. Putting his hand on your head. “Easy now. This’ll pass.” He whispered. It was moreso his crazy low voice that began calming you down. Jesus christ he was trying so hard not to blame himself right now.

- He was right though. It was important to believe him. This’ll pass too. It always does. You weren’t in that horrid space right now and the nest was dead silent minus the chirping of song birds outside. He remained on guard the entire time you rested on him. His eyes looking at the door, then the hole he peeped his gun through, then the door again.

- He said nothing the entire time. What was there to say? Your past had been eroded. He had no excuses nor complaints. Not even a single question. Sniper was purposefully making himself soundless to aid your recovery process. Every so often when you twitched, and started breathing heavier than normal, he’d rub your scalp in response. This is how he comforts you during a flashback most of the time. Allowing you the bliss of silence and touch.

—————————————————————————-

Medic:

- HUH???? Wait a second.. fast breathing, wanting to self harm, panicking like you were about to die, and other familiar symptoms? Oh. He knew right away what this was. Time to make sure.

- You were screaming in the corner of his lab, cowering and on the verge of pissing yourself. It was awful. It was god awful. Probably the worst one you’ve had this year. Heart palpitations and all. Your vision was blurry and you couldn’t focus. Medic knelt down in front of you with an incredibly serious expression across his face. Lifting his finger up and watching you — or at least you trying — to follow it. Some other mercs were nearby watching this go down in slight horror. They had no clue what you struggled with or why you were acting like this. You felt like you were surrounded by a bunch of idiots once again who were too stupid to fathom your experiences.

- “What’s wrong with Y/N, Doc?” Soldier asked. He had the faintest idea of what it was but he didn’t want to assume. “Hm.” Medic answered bluntly in response. He didn’t even look at soldier as he dismissed everybody with the aggressive shooing of his hand. Waiting until everybody left to talk to you.

- He took you gently by the shoulders. “Y/N, look at me.” He instructed. You thrashed a bit and struggled to do so. It was hard to not feel intimidated by all this. “The year is 1971. You’re you. You’re here. The stuff that happened, it happened a long time ago.” He said. When it didn’t ground you enough he made you repeat your age, and the date.

- “It’ll happen again!” You exclaim, “It’s happening again!” You scream in retaliation. Medic shook his head calmly. “No, it is not happening again. You have a brain injury mien schatz—“ He was cut off by your terrified yelling. You clung to him for dear life and desperation and he clung back just as hard. He was kind of thankful nobody was here to witness this.

- He only pulls away to take a deep breath and you instinctively mimicked him, holding it for a few seconds as he counted and then let go. You synced up your breathing with his and after what seemed like forever, the repeated breathing exercises were slightly helping. He had his latex glove on your chest the hold time to make sure you were doing it. Weakness took over you and you threw yourself into another hug. Wanting to be carried by him.

——————————————————————————-

Spy:

- Spy has flashbacks too but they’re less aggressive than yours. He had trained himself to stay composed by suppressing it, and he’d rather not make the same mistake with you. For a spilt second, one could easily mistake his stoic posture as you cried there in his chair as complete indifference. But he felt things far from that. You had dumped all this stuff onto him out of nowhere upon entering his quarters because you were sick of being quiet. It boiled over then and there like a volcano.

- “Hmph.. So it seems once again someone has been failed by a worthless system. Pour l'amour de Dieu.” (For god’s sake.) He angrily snuffed out his cigarette in his ash tray. Crushing it for good measures. His righteous anger was filling the entire room with dread. Spy wasn’t pleasant when he was mad. You made your posture smaller in an attempt to look innocent. You did not want to face his wrath.

- “What is this?” He asked you curiously. “It is not you I am angry at. It is the inept incompetence of those around you.” He sat in his chair adjacent from you. He wanted better for you. So much better. After a moment of silence and Spy rubbing his temples he finally spoke. “I have learnt.. Many languages. In none of them do I have the words for just how angry I am that you suffer this way.” He admitted. Looking at his gloved hands. It was rare he was so vulnerable like this, so it immediately peaked your interest in-between sobs.

- “Perhaps words aren’t enough to describe how even you feel. Yes?” He asked. You were trying to nod in response but you couldn’t focus hard enough to do so. The pain was too much. There was a look in Spy’s eye that suggested he knew that. “Come sit on my lap, let me lull you to sleep.” He offered, holding his arms out.

[thottyimagines]

Heyy, i really love ur akatsuki headcanons, like every one of them is so believable lmaoo.

Could u do akatsuki headcanons where their s/o asks them to hold their peepee while they pee? I swear there was one exact ask on tumblr but it cant find it

Thanks and i hope its not a weird question but they r weirdos anyways so

Thank you!

I've gotten a variation of this ask several times which is telling me the people (or just one tenacious anon) really want to know, so...god, here goes nothing:

Pein is...weirdly complicated, given the real body in the basement/paths for his bidding situation, but I'd say the only way he'd allow it is if it's absolutely necessary because his actual bod is too weak to even help himself. I imagine he just diapers the poor thing and gives Konan the honor of cleaning him up, though, so he doesn't really need an s/o to aid in that venture.

Konan, should she have one for her s/o to hold, would be kind of confused by the request, but not put off. I don't think she'd really get it, but sure, knock yourself out, s/o.

Itachi would get flustered and embarrassed, should his s/o ask to do the holding for him. He'd reassure them that he is more than capable of performing his own bathroom duties, from ablutions to urination, and their concern is...well, kind, if unwarranted. He'd probably wonder if his s/o is noticing his deteriorating eyesight and then frets that he can no longer aim, and everyone has felt too awkward to tell him. He starts using the bathroom with his Sharingan always on and the door locked tight so he can make sure he cleans up properly.

Kisame would probably be amused and go for it. He'd somehow find a way to be flirtatious and horny about it, but hey, his s/o was the one to be a freak and ask in the first place so as far as he's concerned it's all fair game.

Hidan would only accept if he could be flirtatious and horny about it. He'd probably just assume his s/o developed a piss kink or something, I'll be real with you.

Kakuzu initially shuts that down with a firm "no." If his s/o is persistent, he'd relent, but he'd be annoyed and brusque about it. If their finger gets caught in the zipper when he's done, well, that'll show them to stop impeding his business.

Deidara gets very embarrassed and flustered, like Itachi, but in a weirdly flattered, excited way. He's young and horny and will gleefully embrace any opportunity to have someone touching his dick, even for something as mundane as him peeing.

Sasori probably didn't give his puppet twink bod any genitalia, as he needs to neither pee nor fuck in this form. He'd be sure to let his s/o know that.

Tobi would get embarrassed and deflect and probably accuse his s/o of being a pervert (fair), but forgive them because they're just too cute. They're still not giving the assist, though. He's self-conscious about how it looks soft.

Zetsu also doesn't seem to have the anatomy required for this scenario, given he's running around in the buff all day long and no one has ever commented about his bits hanging out and about.

[showtoonzfan]

I really try to understand and reread the Ken document to see where Viv’s supporters are coming from, but I’m sorry, all I thought when I was done reading it is that Vivienne is just mentally unstable to the point where she can’t carry a normal and steady conversation without either being petty or freaking out. I think that’s why so many of her peeps and fans excuse her because they see her in a vulnerable state and see her say she’s “shaking” and that she can’t handle this, so everyone coddles her and thinks that Ken must have said something to warrant a reaction like this out of Vivzie…….expect….they didn’t.

Ken never harassed or poked Vivzie, they never got angry and forceful, but when they reasonably give Viv VALID constructive criticism about how she should be crediting her artists since she’s leading an INDIE team (and can’t figure that out apparently since she compared herself to fucking Disney) apparently that was enough to send Vivzie off the edge immediately and think that Ken was attacking her, when Ken said it themselves, they were just talking to her. To have fans paint Ken out to be this needy person who demanded credit in unwarranted aspects is disgusting, because what they said in their document was true. They HAD been responsible for writing MAIN plot points, jokes, and ideas that all made their away into the final product, and the fact that they only got an “additional writing” credit rather than having their name up with Viv, Dave, and Raymond is bullshit.

Viv’s point she had made of Ken’s writing only being in the “early stages” is literally a lie because what they wrote ended up in the final product, not only writing main jokes but Alastor being in the pilot and investing in the hotel, Angel being there for free rent and being the first hotel patron, Charlie trying to convince those of redemption ect. And then when the two brushed it aside, good ol’ perfect Vivzie called Ken an abuser to others, saying false things behind their back while ALSO pretending to be nice to them upfront. That’s my biggest issue. Tell me one instance where Ken was “abusing” Vivzie. They weren’t, Viv is just so fucking emotionally sensitive with zero thick skin and sees anyone daring to criticize her as an attack, and she’s STILL like that to this day. I really don’t see how people can read a document of her not only tracing and not crediting someone, but talking lies behind someone’s back while also being nice..and STILL support her, I really can’t. And it’s funny when some of y’all think that we want Hazbin to cease to exist or Helluva to stop running….no….we don’t give a shit about the shows, we want Viv to get the consequences of her actions and her victims to get justice. We want her to own up to what she’s done, especially the recent drama, and yet she never does cause in her eyes she can do no wrong. She always fucking acts like she did nothing wrong, or blames her behavior on everyone but herself. She’s a 30 year old woman, she acts like a child and needs to be kicked down a notch. She never learns from her experiences or gets better and it really is tiring to see people side with her EVERY single time, despite their being countless evidence clear as day that she’s an entitled brat, with even ANOTHER spindle-member coming out and revealing that they were mistreated as well:

All I can say is that I hope more members are inspired to come out, and not afraid, especially since there are ex members who came out that we haven’t heard a word from, like Salem Squidder, the person above, even Ashley Nichols. People need to realize that wether you like Viv or not, people were HURT by her, and she needs to come forward and confront it, not vague tweet and hide behind her fanbase, leaving everyone to fight her battles instead of herself.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for reporting my coworker?

Okay I feel like this might be an obvious NTA but hear me out. So I (24F) work at a grocery store where we all make minimum wage and shit. I was working at the service desk with a coworker (40M) who I was meeting for the first time. He kinda gave me the ick but most older men do by default so I just ignored it thinking I just had to get to know him. Well. Later in the shift I did something that gave him the ick (I did something weird with my ankles) and he freaked out. It was funny at first, but then he said that made his balls hurt??? And I was like huh! Cool! Okay! And immediately reported him to HR when I had my next break.

This would've been the end of the story, but a week later, I saw him again. I was just walking through his department, wasn't really planning on chatting, but he ended up talking to me. Completely unwarranted, he told me that a few days earlier, he had to leave work early and go to the hospital bc he wasn't feeling well. Turns out he was having a HEART ATTACK and now the doctors think he at most only has FIFTEEN YEARS LEFT TO LIVE. I just kinda went "oh my god???" bc I have no idea why he was telling me this bc this was my second time seeing him and he just went back to work.

So now I feel like an ASSHOLE bc I just reported the guy who's gonna DIE from our minimum wage shit job!! Like I don't think he's gonna get fired bc I think our workplace has a 3 strikes you're out policy, but if he did get fired, I would feel sooo shitty. Like I already feel bad having to report people even though they're the ones making me uncomfortable, I don't need to know someone's dying on top of that.

So. Uh. Yeah. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[muppetears-stuff]

Warren hate has always been ableist in the very beginning. He gets too much shit for not understanding Max's body language. He gets a lot of hate 'for not taking a hint' or understanding social cues. Hell in the very beginning of the fandom like in 2015 i think i remember there were angry pricefielders calling Warren the literal r slur because he's 'so stupid'. Their words not mine. l I've seen people talk about how they're convinced he's a s*ciopath or a n*rcissist or a ps*chopath which I find ableist and uncomfortable. I think the biggest red flag from the fandom is how there's a lot of shit talk about Warren is an 'obsessive freak/stalker' in their eyes to talking in general about how 'obsessiveness' and 'obsessions' are red flags and are signs of 'evil' apparently and not symptoms of mental illness or neurodivergency apparently. I really relate to Warren and I also suffer from obsessive and actual intrusive thoughts, so i find this fandom to be extremely cruel and alienating toward people with stigmatizing illnesses which I find explains the Chloe demonization bc she is so BPD coded. I don't think Warren is autistic coded like Max but I do think he's ADHD / OCD coded in a way I can't explain. Sorry to drop this really long rant in your inbox, but you're not wrong about the Warren demonization and I just wanted to say something about it. Becauze the demonization of all these characters go back to ableism and the Life Is Strange fandom is the most ableist fandom I've ever been in at all and that really speaks volume about how atrocious it is.

THIS ^^^ YES. FUCKING YES, ABSOLUTELY.

I find the Warren hate unwarranted (hehe) and SUPER FUCKING ABLEIST. you make amazing points, thank you for putting my thoughts into words anon🙏🙏

He very much struggles with social interactions, very evident by the way he only talks teachers or people that are into the same stuff as him, he can become very chatty, sometimes too much, when it comes to things he likes which comes off as "annoying" and "obsessive" when he just wants friends.

Mr. Well's talks about it in his student file, btw.

I share. Alot of the same traits as Warren, with myself also having ADHD and liking science and talking excessively to the point where I find MYSELF annoying.

It's so upsetting too that the developers leaned INTO the stalker/obsessive Warren allegations that I can't even fucking talk about him or mentioning that I like him on certain platforms without the fear of people saying I "support stalking" which I don't. I can't defend him and say that he wasn't stalking without someone going, "but it's canon, the developers confirmed it!!" Yeah well, Mark and Nathan have done some more fucked up shit and I still see people defend them. (I love Nathan too for his complexity and ability to become better. He just needed help, but it doesn't excuse anything he did.)

Warren is the best character. He had so much potential to be an amazing recurring character, but he was their simply for plot convenience or to make the player not suspicious that Mark could be behind everything because Warren was "creepy"

I'm probably gonna have people saying I'm being a baby over this and that he's a fictional character and stuff, you can totally have your own opinion on Warren Graham, I'm not telling you you can't, just please stop calling people who like him "stalkers" or say they support stalking and creepy behavior, when that isn't true. The amount of hate towards anyone that isn't Max or Chloe, and then the immediate hate on YOU for not liking them or liking/defending another character makes me sick, as well as the flat out abelism. The reason why I left the fandom in the first place before picking it back up because of Warren<3

Thank you again, Anon. For sending me such a lovely ask(?) And letting me rant about him because he's my favorite, and I agree with you so much, you're so right<3

[damienthemortician]

Hi Night!! I was wondering... If you could tell me about the bones? (Vaughn) Some? Like how come he was born a bunch of bones? Does that mean he invented bones? :O I am very intrigued :O

I was laid there, in the fresh soil of this earth, gazing at the night sky. Newborn stars emerged from nebulae in a chaotic pattern, stringing together the lace of the cosmos. I never questioned who I was, where I was, or what I came from, I was cradled by dirt, dead from the moment I was born. A light turned to look at me, more complex than any star I watched, it had a face of swirling patterns and a gaze that of a new parent, lovingly looking at their child, I was loved, and the light put their hands to my face, and told me my purpose. A god was born that day.

^ The poem I wrote about Vaughn's "birth", which yeah he was basically poofed into existence as a bunch of bones, giant ones at that as his bassinet was the face of a hill, consider it a godly stillbirth as he was only allowed life again by divine intervention and a higher power giving him life and his purpose as a god of war.

Medical grade yapping under the cut

A lot of Vaughn's iconography is that of a parental figure or the absence and memory of one, he is formally called the Warfather and sees the vampires he made as his children, which vampires in his world are created via a person A dying without a proper burial, B dying with a lot of hatred from those around them, warranted or unwarranted, or C dying by their own hand or the hand of a lover's to become a vampire.

Vaughn essentially represents those who are led down dark paths due to not being nurtured as a child and having to find family in others not of their blood, as well as soldiers who have no other home than the battlefield due to how much war changes a person, and the ones who do die in battle Vaughn takes care of their souls as the family is left to grieve.

As for his relationship with other gods, Vaughn had a bit of a thing for the Sun (eh the goddess representative) when humanity was still forming and Vaughn's nature had yet to truly manifest, he enjoyed arguing with her and watching primitive life wage small wars. But the straw that broke their already weak relationship came during the dark ages of humanity. A nun that had long turned away from her god was ousted in front of her village, she had been deflowering the would be husbands of other women and breaking up many loving marriages, she was tried and hung, the village folk not even bothering with a burial as they cast her body to the woods for the animals to have at. Vaughn took interest in her corpse, letting her have one more chance to wreak havoc, a creature of the night that sucks the essence from the living as payment for the disrespect they received in life. The Sun was furious with him, breaking off their relationship* and damning any vampires to burn to ash in her light, and that is how it has been for centuries, with some revisions and exceptions as time has passed and the surviving vampires have aged.

*Yeah no they still get together from time to time, I mean the Sun absolutely hates Vaughn but he's also a freak so it works out

Vaughn also has a divine daughter, in that he cursed the bloodline of a Sun worshiping family to eventually produce an incarnation of himself, or a "vision" as it's come to be called. Sariel was the daughter of a renowned and skilled vampire hunter, but the dark and grim called to her, the stories of demonic creatures that tempted the good from the dark, only intrigued her. She was a fighter growing up, sparring with children her age and always reigning victorious, eventually she managed to overpower her own father in a fight, and then offered to hunt with him, but she had other ideas, a soft voice in the dark would speak to her on evening walks, cold hands with no pulse would become laced with hers, and Sariel would find love with a vampire woman. Sariel's father would wake to find her missing, and a visit to a Sun worshiping kingdom would have him met with the tragedy of a priestess killed in cold blood, no clues but the signs of struggle, and deep punctures in the priestess' neck. Sariel would begin her adventures, now Valkyrie, newly initiated as a vampire with her lover, and the divine child of Vaughn.

As for the other three apocalypse gods, I'khira is the god of famine, The Starved God, and for the time being he and Vaughn have a small thing between them too, but there's not much detail to what they have. Erebus is the god(ess) of death, Lady Silence, and she doesn't ever take sides in what is essentially a divine high school drama, she's less a harbinger of death and more the act itself of death, leaving the souls and judgement of those souls to their respective gods. Ysenia is the god of pestilence, The Mooncalf God, and its birth could be a story of its own as its technically a child of the Sun in that it was a defect sprout when plants were still forming, but it and Vaughn almost see each other as siblings, as illness and health often battle much like opposing armies, but Ysenia does its own thing and isn't interested in love or companionship, since not much to love in a mass of infectious creatures, diseased plant matter and cancerous human tissue yknow?

Erebus (first two), Ysenia (left) and Valkyrie (right) I have yet to draw I'khira because I don't know how best to portray him

[ragsdolly]

ummm ok 😁 now that my inbox has finally stopped being flooded with people calling me every insult under the sun & telling me to end my life Umm. let me just remind you that i am an actual person 👍 and this is my blog, i am free to interact with whoever i wish. attacking me for that is incredibly unwarranted. so is trying to control who i talk with — you may like my interactions with certain blogs, but that doesn't give you the right to become forceful or even violent. this all honestly freaks me out LOL. anyways! let's be normal okay? let's be nice. i'm just here for a good time ^^ ♡

[silurisanguine]

20 questions for fic writers

thankyou @poetic-poltergeist for the tag!! <3 (starting a new thread as the other was getting looooong.)

okay let's see

1) How many works do you have on AO3

23 currently!

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

245,631 and counting...... (as i new chapter of a fic should be going up any day now)

3) What fandoms do you write for?

Starfield, Deus Ex, Vampyr, Dishonored, Thief and one for Destiny2 at the moment.

4) Top five fics by kudos?

Savages, Paradigm Shift, To See Beyond Forever, Starry Starry Night and Take me Away from All this Death. (would love to see some of my Starfield fics get in here by next year! ).

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always do, comments fuel me! Seriously the serotonin boost from getting a comment is often exactly what i need to keep writing.

6) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Shattered Reflections i'd say. (but chapter wise, it's my new one Chasing Your Star...)

7) What’s the fic you write with the happiest ending?

That will be.... [redacted].

8) Do you get hate on fics?

First fic i published on Ao3 got a unsolicited crit. One point was valid but the other i thought was unwarranted...and in fact incorrect anyway. But other than that, i've had nothing but positive comments.

9) Do you write smut?

haha.....oh ...OH YES. But always with plot and in context of story.

10) Do you write crossovers?

Yes i have one crossover right now - Emerging Shadow (Dishonored/Thief), but i plan another -( deux ex/ Assassin's Creed).

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Probably by AI.....

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, i dont believe so.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, i'm too much of a control freak for story telling, though i do work with others to work out plot points sometimes.

14) What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Named ships? Emsider and McReid. (also Sam Coe& Spacefarer).

15) What’s the WIP you hope to finish but doubt you ever will?

Im not jinxing anything. I WILL finish all my fics. It just might take a while...But i doubt i will write any more for the Destiny fandom.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Story telling and scene setting I'd like to think.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Expanded grammar and finishing stories.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I try to find someone who speaks the language natively to help me with any foreign dialogue i might add.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Xena, Warrior Princess. Back in my Live Journal days.

20) Favourite fic you’ve ever written? I have to admit i have a soft spot for Obsidian Dreams and Take me Away from All this Death. But i am absolutely loving writing Chasing Your Star Until I Find Home. I tag - @lakritzwolf @eridanidreams @bearlytolerant @atonalginger @fangbangerghoul @booburry @toxiclizardwrites @aro-pancake @aislingdmdt @onewhoturns @lisa-and-shadow @thatsgoodsquishy0 @despicablediet @themortalscout

[rise-my-angel]

Mimi!

When I tell you, like 95% of us with you are here because we love YOUR writing. Those loosers keep ruining a good thing for all of us, for you AND us. They're actually so freaking annoying. Someone needs to tell them the world doesn't revolve around them. They are NOT the main character either wtf.

I absolutely LOVE how long your chapters are. They're so detailed and we can tell how much thought you put it every single one. You're one of my favourite if not my most favourite writer and I'm so lucky to have to accidentally found you! When I read your chapters I basically never want it to end so the long length is actually great!! I'm sure most of us feel that way.

Monday nights for me are the one thing I look forward to. ONLY when you're in right heads pace. I don't know you personally but reading all of your opinions and replies and based on just how long I've been following you it's come to a point where I do care about you past your writings. So really, I just hope you'll feel at least a bit better soon. Don't let those fools get to you. They do nothing in their lives besides send unwarranted hate to lovely people and bring them down clearly.

I couldn't be more grateful that I have people telling me they look forward to Mondays because of my stuff, but at the same time I really just don't know anymore.

Disappointing you all is genuinely my biggest worry with my writing and especially right now hearing their criticisms hurt. That my stuff is too long, barley legible, that people hate it not even because of its contents but because of me personally...

It's made me really self conscious about what I put out, and I don't really know where to start on fixing those problems. But they are problems and none of you deserve that, you deserve better

[chzdavmpr]

Delicious in Dungeon Volume 1 Reading Diary/ Review thing idk

I wanna try doing a thing where I write down and post my thoughts on books I'm reading as I read them. The first one I plan on doing is Delicious in Dungeon aka Dungeon Meshi. If this gets traction I may do this with other stuff I read.

Spoilers for volume 1, obviously.

Well this is a significantly darker inciting incident then I was expecting.

❗❗OUTDATED FOOD PYRAMID SPOTTED❗❗PLEASE REMAIN CALM❗❗

Me when I'm angy and spin on my head like a top

You know, for eating monsters supposedly being a thing Laios proposes out of desperation, he sure seems prepared. Like he has a dungeon gourmet guide and everything. It's almost like he-

(2 pages later)

Yeah I figured.

This book makes me hungry.

He was kinda a freak for this. Based.

I can see why I've seen a lot of people say Senshi is a big health and wellness inspiration

Make a health app where Senshi gives you tips and tells you you're doing a good job and it would sell like hotcakes.

Who is this lady? Probably someone to be seen in later backstory.

Honestly I'm surprised that the author not only found a way for something like living armor to be edible, but so soon into the run. Makes me wonder how things like ghosts can be eaten

[Note: there used to be a several paragraphs here about "wonky translations" but now having read more volumes and also thinking about it more, I feel like I was just making a big stink about 1 weird translation choice and frankly it was unwarranted]

Overall I would say a strong start. Really strong character writing and art. It kinda feels like a nature documentary with really fun hosts, except the animals don't exist and also the hosts eat the animals. I can see why enough people stuck around to make this franchise a big thing. I will say that while the general goal of saving the sister works well enough for these early chapters, I hope there is eventually more overarching story from chapter to chapter, to prevent it from becoming too formulaic.

[liuvli]

Critical Darling

pairing: eddie munson x fem!goth!reader

summary: It's your senior year. You're a "goth freak" and you definitely stand out, but it doesn't bother you. You're proud of who you are, and nobody is going to change that. Not even the person that motivated you to be so proud in the first place. Eddie "The Freak" Munson.  

warnings: she/her pronouns, slow burn, cursing, alcohol, smoking, eventual smut, minor use of y/n, slightly bitchy reader, work in progress

tags: first meetings, pov second person, s4 doesn’t happen, goth!reader, tradgoth!reader, fluff, angst, eddie & chrissy friendship, reader is a little fruity

all fic chapters & ao3 link

chapter wc: 6.6k

Chapter Three: Leather Doll

“-up. Hey, wake UP!” You stirred awake at the sound of a fist hammering on your bedroom door, your sister's voice taking a minute longer to process. As you dragged the pad of your middle finger over your eyelids, attempting to wipe the sleep away, you managed to open a singular eye, your vision blurred but still able to make out the shape of the girl standing in your open doorway. 

“Huh…? What time is it?” As you lifted the quilt off your body, you kicked your legs over the side of the bed, sitting up with your arms stretched out above your head. 

“Phone’s ringing,” April replied, not answering the question you had actually asked. Groaning, you stood up and smoothed the t-shirt you were wearing out, sluggishly pushing past the short girl to make your way down the hall towards the staircase. She followed behind with a bowl of cereal in her hands. 

“Why couldn’t you have answered it? You’re a big girl, you don’t need me to answer the phone anymore.” You chuckled at the comment you made, April scoffing as she pushed past you to beeline into the kitchen. 

“‘Cause, it’s not for me.” 

“Hello…?” Your eyes snapped open at the loud voice on the other end replying to you, and as the person spoke, you finally realized who it was.

“G’morning, love! How is my favorite person in the entire world doing on this sunny Saturday?” Although you were the one who had been awake for only a maximum of 5 minutes, the chipper tone of Kace’s voice seemed so unwarranted for it being so early in the day. 

“I’m doing… good, Kace. I’ve been awake for about 30 seconds but still, doing amazing.” The way you annunciated the last word was telling of how sarcastic you were trying to seem while saying it, but apparently, that point didn’t get across to your friend. You walked out into the hallway with the landline still in your hand, the cord stretching to its limit as you turned the corner, looking at your puffy-eyed reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall. 

“Great! Meet me at the diner in town at 2. See you there, love!” Before you could object to the boy’s preposterous demand, a click sounded through the phone as Kace hung up on you, the dial tone ringing into your ear as you groaned into the receiver. Knowing you had no other choice, you made your way back into the kitchen, placing the landline back onto the wall as you looked up at the clock. 12:24 pm. The late time you had woken up didn’t surprise you much as you recalled staying awake until 4 that same morning, just listening to music whilst reading one of the books you had acquired from the town’s bookstore earlier on in the week. 

“You going out?” April perked up, chewing on a mouthful of honeycomb cereal as she stared up at you through messy parted bangs. Despite how much you didn’t feel like leaving the house so soon, you accepted defeat as it was Kace who was asking you to leave the house. Not having the energy to return a verbal response to the girl, you lazily nodded before dragging yourself out of the room, heading back up to your own room to get dressed.

With some of your favorite music playing on the stereo you had on your desk, you were just about ready to leave the house over an hour later. You had spent the hour or so teasing and hair spraying your locks into a dark, frizzy mane, and painting your face with the palest drugstore foundation you could find, accentuating your features with black makeup of all different kinds. For it being October in Hawkins, and with just a single glance through your closed curtains, it seemed to be a warm, sunny day outside, which meant you chose one of your thinner draping dresses to wear; one with short sleeves that would still look somewhat okay with your black laced gloves and whatever silver jewelry you had thrifted over time. 

Being conscious of the time and not wanting to be late for Kace, you poked your head into the living room, looking around for April as your eyes finally locked onto her sitting on the couch. You tapped the door frame, trying to grab her attention away from whatever was in her lap as you spoke. 

“I’m leaving now. I’ll be back in a bit, and I’ve got my keys but if you decide to go anywhere, make sure to lock up with the spare key on the hook. ‘Kay, Apricot?” Strangely, the blonde didn’t perk up, even at the awful nickname you had been calling her since the beginning of time. Instead, she absentmindedly dismissed you with a nod, scrawling something into the notebook in her hands. Hoping she had somewhat listened, you finally left the house, slipping your headphones onto your head as you played the cassette you already had in your walkman. 

After a long trek into town whilst listening to one of your many mixtapes, you had finally reached the diner, slipping the headphones off the back of your head and letting them rest around your neck as your face scrunched up in dis-ease, an uncomfortable feeling settling thick in your chest. 

Your eyes landed on a van that was parked outside the diner in one of the parking spaces. It shouldn’t have made you feel so off, but for some reason, it did. It looks… familiar. But you couldn’t pinpoint why. Choking down the strange feeling lodged in your throat, trying to rid yourself of it, you made your way into the diner, hoping that spending time with Kace would serve as a distraction. 

As you made your way inside, your eyes darted around the semi-busy establishment, landing on a few people sitting at tables and booths. None of them were Kace, and you couldn’t see him anywhere, despite the fact that he usually stuck out like a sore thumb due to his bold, dark fashion choices, similar to your own, of course. Thinking that maybe you had gotten the time wrong or something, you look up at the clock on the wall above the counter, and sure enough, it had just hit 2:05 pm. As you were about to step outside to see if Kace’s car was even in the parking lot, the sound of a door opening caught your attention as you turned your attention over to the noise. As if he could sense your presence in the room as he walked out of the restroom, Kace’s head turned and his dark eyes locked with yours, a wide grin forming on his lips. The tall boy giddily walked over to one of the booths, sliding down onto a seat as he waved his hand at you, beckoning you to join him. 

He was sitting at a table with a few other people, and the gears started turning in your head as you recognized a few of the faces, specifically those belonging to Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson, two boys you knew through your sister being in the same grade as them. She had told you stories about the boys ever since she first went the middle school with them. Absolute menaces, from what you had gathered. 

Dragging your eyes away from the two bickering freshman, skimming over a few other unfamiliar faces and heads, your attention lands on the back of a single head in particular. Long, brown, knotted curls draped over a pair of broad, slumped shoulders, arms extending out towards the table as the figure rambled on about something you couldn’t quite distinguish. It was him, there was no doubt about it. His theatrics and iconic lion’s mane were recognizable to anyone. Why the fuck was Kace sitting at a table with the last person you wanted to see right now?

Figuring it’d be less awkward to take a seat at the booth rather than making a complete 180, walking out of the diner and never being seen again, you cautiously stepped towards the table, assuring to avoid letting your curious eyes fall on the face of the brunette as you slid onto the seat next to Kace, conveniently managing to place yourself directly opposite the one you dreaded acknowledging the most. Itching to understand the situation you had managed to get yourself into on that fateful Saturday afternoon, you cocked your head towards Kace, leaning closer to the boy to ensure only he could hear you speak. 

With a low, agitated whisper, you ask, “Care to explain how and why I’m currently sat across from the fucking Eddie Munson right now on a sunny afternoon when I could be elsewhere instead? You know, literally anywhere else.” The boy sitting at your side let his eyes flit down to the table in front of you, before coming back up to lock with yours, and the small accidental gesture made you follow suit. And that’s when you noticed it. 

Sprawled across the table were numerous pens, pencils, and sheets of paper, along with the diner’s menus. The vast amount of crumpled sheets of paper had words messily scribbled on each of them, all in different handwriting styles and colored pens. They were DnD planning sheets, and character sheets, from what you could tell. During one of your many hangout sessions over the years, you could recall the gothic boy you had known since you could remember talking your ear off once about the dreaded game that the parents of Hawkins seemed to loathe, and yet obsess over entirely at the same time. 

You didn’t understand the attraction of the roleplaying game, but you did know that the way Kace spoke about it meant it was something he loved more than anything he had ever spoken about to you before. Middle school was when he played it the most with friends he had met at summer camps, but the second high school rolled around, he seemed to have forgotten about it. From the predicament you were in now, however, apparently, he hadn’t forgotten at all. 

The pieces started to click together in your head as you began to understand what Kace was there for, but it didn’t answer the question you more importantly needed answering; why were YOU there? 

A once-in-a-lifetime warm, sunny October day in the miserable town of Hawkins, and I’m sitting in a stuffy diner with a traitor, who I once called my best friend, a table of boys I had never had the pleasure of talking to, and the one person I absolutely did not want to see today, or ever, in fact. Lovely, how great. I’m so lucky to be alive right now. 

“Well...” Kace’s raspy voice snapped you out of your thoughts as he finally decided to grace you with an attempt at a valid explanation, “I heard around school that Hendy and Wheeler were looking for a sub for Hellfire seeing as one of their members had to bail last minute for some other shit, and you know how much I’ve always wanted to play DnD with an actual club.” As you processed his words, your eyes wandered around the table, observing the 6 boys that had crammed into the one booth, each of them preoccupied with discussing things amongst themselves or scrawling messy notes onto sheets of lined paper. 

Kace was right, you had always known how much he wanted to play with an established team. But his reasonable explanation still didn’t answer your burning question. 

“Right… okay. Why am I here, though? I don’t know shit about this game, and I sure as hell won’t be learning any time soon.” Returning back to making eye contact with the slim boy hunched over next to you, he rolled his eyes as his fingers picked a pencil up from the table in front of him, tapping the pink eraser at the end of it against a sheet of paper. 

“… I need my support animal with me in these difficult times. Truth be told, I’ve never actually spoken to anyone here before yesterday, so planning a DnD campaign with two freshmen and some guys I don’t know seemed kinda… shit. Figured it wouldn’t hurt if I invited a plus one.” The tight-lipped, smug smile on Kace’s face made your blood boil as the cockiness in his tone was ever apparent. 

“Why the fuck am I your support animal? I thought I was your love, your dearest, most precious friend.” Trying to not reveal the slight annoyance you felt despite Kace’s understandable excuse for dragging you out of your house on a Saturday, you gently nudged the boy in his side with your elbow, laughing quietly as his tense shoulders softened at your lighthearted response. 

“You are, love. You are.” 

With a final, defeated sigh, you turned your attention back to the rest of the group sitting around the table, allowing Kace to continue writing down notes on a crumpled, coffee-stained sheet of paper. Not really knowing what you were supposed to do whilst acting as the boy’s “support animal”, you let your eyes skim across the faces of the others, trying to figure out the identities of the few you weren’t familiar with. 

After a few short seconds of no names coming to mind, your gaze managed to finally land on the brunette sitting directly across from you. 

…What the fuck…?

Eddie’s deep, brown eyes were wide, somehow bigger than their usual doe-like appearance, and the lower half of his face was masked by a thick tuft of hair from the side of his head which he was holding over his mouth, hiding whatever expression he was holding underneath. His eyes were boring into you, making your skin feel warm and itchy as you felt as if you were being watched like an animal in a zoo. Trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling created by Eddie’s eyes remaining so scarily and persistently trained on your face, you shifted in your seat as if trying to shrink in on yourself. Maybe if you were smaller and shrank down to the size of a bug, he wouldn’t be staring at you so intensely. 

However, the decision to attempt to shrivel in on yourself was your biggest mistake as your legs crossed under the table, and in par, the end of your boot grazed against Eddie’s leg, presumably dragging up his shin. Despite your internal monologue cursing out prayers to the almighty God that was supposed to be up there somewhere, the audible hitch in the boy’s breath and the way his entire frame stiffened at the contact was a clear indication that he had, in fact, noticed the accidental touch of your boot against his denim-clad shin. 

Against your own wishes, your eyes flicked back up and locked with his, immediately regretting doing so as you noticed the… disgust(?) on Eddie’s face. Almost as if he couldn’t even bare to be sitting across from you, let alone making any type of bodily contact with you (the feeling mutual, of course), the lids of his wide eyes fluttered in a sort of twitching motion. Before you could even do anything, such as apologize or run out of the diner, never to be seen again (something that seemed especially appealing today), the boy scrambled to slide out one of the laminated menus from under numerous sheets of paper, holding the large object up to his face and covering it in its entirety. As he did so, the dark curls peeking out from under the menu shifted on his shoulders, indicating that he had turned his head to face the younger boy sitting next to him, who quickly followed suit, eyes skimming past your face before fully landing on Eddie. 

As the two boys muttered behind the thin (and magically soundproof) laminated menu, you watched as the metalhead’s free hand waved around at his side, a sign that he clearly wasn’t exactly overjoyed about something. Twisting the rings around your fingers anxiously and trying to look at just about anything and everything in the room that wasn’t the silent scene in front of you, your eyes snapped back to look at Eddie and the boy in the sleeveless plaid jacket as the older male dropped the laminated menu onto the table to expose his face once again, eyes half-lidded in annoyance and an overall resigned look on his face. The brunette with the shorter hair shook his head expectantly as if waiting for Eddie to continue with his tantrum. With one last glance over at you as if to remind the metalhead that you were still there, Eddie breathed out an agitated, yet defeated sigh/groan, just like the one you had given Kace minutes before. 

Allowing Gareth to go back to discussing something with Wheeler and Henderson, Eddie turned his body to face you again, fidgeting in his seat to stretch his legs out under the table. His boot briefly entered your vision as the obnoxious gesture made it so the scuffed, leather shoe placed itself on the floor, slotted in between your own two boots. Rolling your eyes, you slid your headphones back onto your head, leaving one of the sides off of the ear that was closest to Kace, just in case the boy needed something from you. Preparing to waste your day sitting in a stuffy diner with a group of boys you entirely weren’t familiar with, and the infamous Eddie Munson, you pressed the play button on your walkman, allowing Joy Division to quietly play through the one headphone that was on your ear.

Throughout the next few hours, all the way through to somewhere around 6:30 pm, you resorted to being the one to make constant trips to order more food and drinks for the table, essentially turning yourself into the mom of the group. Over the span of four hours, you had dabbled in a few conversations the boys were having that weren’t entirely DnD related, grasping at any type of topic of conversation you could involve yourself in. Surprisingly, through the power of human connection, you had learned the names of the once nameless boys and had additionally learned that not all Hellfire members were aggravating pains in your ass. 

From what DnD-related conversations you had listened in on, you gathered that the boys were mostly coming up with ideas for future campaigns, assisting Kace in writing up a character sheet, and figuring out how to implement the boy’s character into their current team.

Despite how bored you had been the entire time, listening to both sides of your cassette twice and scribbling small drawings on a piece of paper Kace had given to you, you found yourself content with the situation you were in. Although it wasn’t how you’d usually spend your Saturdays, you enjoyed seeing Kace so happy and social, talking to people about something he had loved since the start of time itself. Even if Hellfire was only a temporary fix for him until their missing player, Lucas Sinclair, was freed from the restraints of basketball practice, a strictly scheduled occurrence enforced by Jason Carver himself, you knew Kace would make the most of being Hellfire’s sub.

Seeing Kace so authentically happy was great and all, but you were still bored. There are only enough times that you can listen to the same cassette in a short period of time before it gets repetitive, you know? Along with the long, awkward silence you had engulfed yourself in for the majority of the past few hours, you were also aching from how cramped up you felt. Eight people crammed into a single curved diner booth wasn’t really an issue, surprisingly; instead, it was the fact that you had chosen to keep yourself shriveled up in a small space, as earlier’s boot-knocking incident had you taking extra measures to ensure it wouldn’t happen again. This resulted in Eddie keeping his legs stretched out under the table just centimeters away from yours the entire time, only moving away whenever he had to stand for someone to get out of the booth or when he himself needed to go to the restroom. At this rate, you’d fossilize where you were sitting because of how you had managed to condense yourself into the smallest space possible like a sardine in a tin. 

Sitting back in your seat with your arms crossed, nails scratching at the skin on one of your thumbs, and walkman and headphones tucked away into your bag, your eyes wandered across the table absentmindedly, taking note of all the empty glasses in front of everyone. Thank the Lord. 

“Anyone need refills?” As you spoke up, the boys all turned their attention onto you, the clinking of glasses being pushed towards you sounding instantly at the same time. A couple of the boys murmured quiet ‘thank you’s as they continued talking amongst themselves, but Dustin spoke louder than the others.

“Thank you again. We’d be truly lost without you.” He nodded his head as he spoke, tipping his ‘Thinking Cap’ at you with a wide smile on his face. Collecting as many of the glasses in your arms as you could possibly hold without bearing the risk of dropping anything, you snorted at his somewhat genuine appreciation of you.

“No worries, Henderson.” You nodded in response to the boy as you began walking over to the counter with just about half of the empty glasses the boys had placed in front of you, making a mental note to go back to retrieve the leftover glasses that you couldn’t hold. 

Reaching the counter, the glasses clanked against each other as you set them down, feigning a dramatic huff and placing your hands on your hips in an exhausted mannerism. The girl working the counter turned around with a glass in hand, wiping the inside of it with a white dishcloth as she smiled warmly at you, before grabbing the dirty glasses and placing them on the countertop behind her. 

“You, like, their mom or something? This is your fifth time coming up to the counter to order stuff for them,” she lightheartedly joked, giggling to herself. With a breathy laugh, you sat down on one of the stools at the counter, trying to avoid ruining your makeup as you leaned your cheek on your palm, elbow digging into the cold surface it rested on. 

“Pfft, yeah, I basically am. The one with the similar get-up to me invited me here earlier without telling me what for, and now I’m stuck playing babysitter.” The blonde chuckled, pulling a pen and small notepad out of her breast pocket as she readied to take another order from you. 

“Tough luck,” she paused before asking you anything further, “actually, I’ve still got your drinks order from earlier written down here. You want me to just get you what you got then?” Grateful for her expert customer service skills, and ability to sense when someone just needed a bit of a break, you beamed at her in relief, holding your hands together in prayer. 

“God, yes, thank you. Forever grateful for your support in these trying times, hun.” With another giggle, the girl tucked her notepad and pen back into her pocket, giving you one last sweet glance before turning on her heel to start preparing the drinks. 

You watched the girl happily work as she hummed along to the quiet radio playing on the counter next to you, her blonde ponytail swaying with each movement she made. The cheerful pep in her step was refreshing the see in a town like Hawkins, especially after the long day you had been through. Much to your dismay, you were snapped out of the short moment of calm you were in as you sensed a body slide onto the stool directly next to yours, a hand decorated generously in chunky, silver rings placing a few empty classes on the counter entering the corner of your vision. 

Shit. Speaking to the cute waitress made me forget about those glasses… fuck.

Thankfully, despite your apparent incompetence to remember the mental note you had made, Eddie had decided to bring the other few empty glasses to the front, something you almost found yourself thanking him for. That was, of course, until you remembered exactly who he was. Eddie Munson. Instead, you stayed silent, keeping your eyes trained on the blonde happily dancing to the pop song playing on the radio. 

“Got a few more glasses for you here, Cunningham. You’re welcome,” he finally spoke, and the fact that he addressed the girl by a name had you intrigued. Did he know the girl? Thinking about it, the girl did seem somewhat familiar…

“Thanks, Eddie,” the blonde turned around for a second, grabbing the glasses and placing them on the back worktop with the others, “you guys doing your… Dungeons and Dragons stuff? It is called that, right?” The brunette let out a boyish chuckle, grinning as he fidgeted with the rings around his fingers idly. 

“Yeah, that’s right. And yeah, we are. ‘M hoping to start a new campaign next week with the boys and we’re just trying to get a few things rearranged and sorted seeing as one of our players is preoccupied with your boyfriend’s incessant need to keep a strict practice schedule.” As he responded, the girl fully turned her body to face him, her shoulders slumping and arms dropping at her sides as she wore an apologetic expression. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. You know how Jason can get when it comes to basketball. I can try and get him to ease up on Sinclair, if you want-” 

“No, no, it’s fine. Honestly. We’ve got Hayes subbing for the time being, so there’s no need. Thanks for the offer though.” Giving the boy one last sincere smile, she turned back around the continue working on the back countertop. 

No longer occupied with his interaction with the blonde waitress, Eddie turned his attention over to you, trying to not make it obvious as you both locked eyes. Eddie “The Freak” Munson and the Chrissy Cunningham… were friends? For a reason you could most definitely place, that possibility seemed alien to you. 

“That’s the strangest crossover I’ve ever seen.” The now-silent boy cocked an eyebrow at you, still idly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

“You and the queen of Hawkins High. Didn’t know you knew each other.” With a quiet scoff beforehand, Eddie laughed snarkily at your comment, grabbing onto a few of the beverages Chrissy had placed on the countertop in front of the two of you.

“Yeah, well, I know a lot of people, doll. Don’t get too jealous, will you?” With a single obviously sarcastic, half-assed smile, Eddie made his way back to the booth where everyone was sitting, placing the glasses he had carried over in front of a few people. 

You sat silent, in a mixture of offense and awe as Chrissy turned around and placed a few more full glasses on the counter, tightening her ponytail before leaning against the cold surface, her eyes locked onto Eddie just as yours were. 

“Don’t mind him. He’s probably just annoyed that he’s paying for an unexpected party member’s drinks.” As the girl spoke, your eyes widened as your snapped your head to the side to face her, lips slightly parted in shock. 

“Oh, shit. He’s the one paying for all these? I thought everyone chipped in at the end or something-” The blonde laughed with a soft lilt. 

“He does a lot for his boys, believe it or not. And he certainly wouldn’t make a lady pay for her own drinks in his presence, no matter he much he loves to act as if you’re the bane of his entire being.” Listening to Chrissy’s words, your eyes had somehow found themselves settled on the boy’s side profile, taking note of the way his lips curled up at the corners as he grinned at the Hellfire club. When you looked back at Chrissy, the girl was smiling at you, her cheeks rosy and bunched up. 

Looking down at the glasses on the counter to try and distract yourself from the previous conversation, you picked up a few before realizing you weren’t going to be able to hold two of them, Chrissy thankfully catching onto this realization.

“Go and take a seat, I’ll bring the other two over.” You nodded, silently thanking the girl as you accepted her help without another thought. 

Making your way back over to the booth, you slid down onto your seat, handing a glass to Kace and sliding one over to Jeff as he nodded at you gratefully. Chrissy placed two glasses on the table which were immediately scooped up by Dustin and Mike, the boys instantly downing half of their drinks in a split few seconds. 

After being back at the table for only at least 10 minutes, Chrissy’s words were still lingering at the very front of your mind as you stared across at Eddie, a ring-clad finger pointing at the curly-haired freshman as he lectured him on a “stupid, bullshit, nonsensical” suggestion he had made, the freshman arguing back with the same amount of ferocity. Trying not the dwell on staring at the side of the metalhead’s face for too long, you sipped on your glass of coke as you stared out the diner window, the sky very noticeably dark as it neared 7 pm. You looked down, and your straw was marked black, your lipstick clearly being the culprit. Christ, sitting in silence was really fucking boring. 

You sat wondering how much longer you’d have to sit in silence putting up with the shouting-fest happening around you, the boys “debating” (arguing) on whether they should write Lucas’ character out of next week’s upcoming campaign, or if they should just leave his absence unexplained, not mentioning it in the story. Truly riveting entertainment, you thought. 

As if you had manifested it or all of your praying to a higher power throughout the day had finally come to fruition, the boys soon decided to call it a day, Eddie declaring that it was for the best before someone got murdered. The sudden cold October breeze nipped at your exposed skin as you stood by the door to the diner, waiting for Kace to finish a conversation with Gareth as you lit yourself a cigarette.

Apparently, sunny October weather isn’t to be trusted. The fact that you had, for once, decided to leave the house in thin clothing, one of your favorite long, black, witch-esque dresses without a jacket, was now a decision that had come back to bite you in the ass. Standing outside in the diner’s parking lot freezing your ass off whilst waiting for Kace to drive you home wasn’t really how you saw your evening going. 

Trying to occupy your mind with something other than the way the cold air slivered along every inch of your body, you turned your head to look through the diner’s window, watching Chrissy clean tables, her blonde bangs framing her face perfectly as her head dipped to lean down. Too busy focusing on what she was doing, you didn’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching you until the sound of a metal chain rattling alerted you. Taking a drag of your cigarette, you slowly turned your head as you pried your eyes away from the blonde waitress, the smoke you exhaled through your nostrils immediately dispersing in the wind.

“Jesus, Kace, finally. I was wondering how long it was gonna ta-” You turn, and lock eyes with Eddie Munson, who was just standing less than a meter in front of you. What the fuck, man. 

“Need something, Munson? Or you just gonna stand there and look pretty?” You take a deep drag of your cigarette as the brunette let out a low chuckle, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, and his eyes flicking around the area in an attempt to avoid prolonged eye contact with you.

“I’m s’posed to be giving Gareth the Great a ride home but he’s busy talking to your friend over there.” Giving yourself a boost by standing on your tippy-toes, you peeped over the boy’s shoulder, and sure enough, Kace is leaned against the side of Eddie’s van talking to the much-shorter male in the plaid jacket, the two of them happily chatting along about something you couldn’t hear from such a distance. 

Pursing your lips together, you flick the ash off the end of your cigarette. Finally making actual eye contact with you, the most intentional it had been the entire day, Eddie asks, “May I?” You’re confused for a moment before he brings a hand up to point at the cigarette slotted between your two fingers. You take a couple of beats to contemplate. 

...

For the sake of simplicity. 

“Sure, whatever,” you respond, holding the cigarette up to allow the metalhead to pinch it from your grasp. He does so, and brings it up to his face, inspecting the black lipstick painted around the filter end of the white stick. With his head dipped to observe the marks, his eyes look up at you through thick lashes, seemingly analyzing your face before bringing the stick up to his lips, inhaling deeply, holding it for a long few seconds before exhaling through his nose, a gesture you thought was his way of mocking you. 

Now without the distraction of the cigarette between your lips, you quickly resumed your shivering, the cold once against starting its assault on you as the summer-friendly dress you were wearing neglected to do you any favors as you stood out in the mid-October Hawkins weather. Eddie snorted as he noticed your shivering.

“Cold out, isn’t it? Careful, love, you’ll scare someone off with all that teeth-chattering. Or maybe it’ll just be the way you dress, who knows.” You grimaced at his snide remark, looking at him with a face of pure disgust. 

“Don’t call me that.” Eyebrows perked up in a condescending manner, Eddie took a step closer to you, letting the cigarette sit between his index and middle fingers as he crossed his arms, the leather of his jacket audibly rubbing together. 

“What, you got a preference or something? Didn’t get any complaints earlier when I called you doll. Is that it, maybe?” his head dipped to hang just next to yours, his cheek just a few small inches away from your own, “is that what really does it for you?” The snarl as he spoke those last few words was laced with mockery, and you snatched the cigarette from his grasp while he was so close, taking a drag from it.

“Fuck off, Munson,” you exhaled a cloud of smoke in the boy’s cocky face, causing him to step back slightly, “you walked away before I could smack you ‘round the head for that one. It wasn’t really a fair fight by my standards.” Overhearing the conversation between Gareth and Kace soon coming to an end, Eddie turned his nose up at you, looking over his shoulder momentarily at the two boys. 

“It’s never a fair fight with me, angel.” You scoff, trying to mask the way the new nickname made your skin crawl. Or maybe it was the gust of chilled wind that danced over your exposed limbs. It was something, that’s all you knew. 

Turning your head to avoid the much-taller male’s gaze, you take a small drag of the nearly burnt-out cigarette, but as you did, you felt the boy standing in front of you shove something into your arms. 

“Hold this,” he ordered, the stubby cigarette falling out of your grasp at the impact and dropping to the ground below. As you looked down, the sight of patches sewn onto denim was an immediate indication as to what you were holding. You squint your eyes in confusion, looking back up to see Eddie peeling his dull leather jacket from his torso, switching it out for the vest you had in your arms. 

“It’s cold. Be grateful that I’ve gone the extra mile to lend you my beloved jacket instead of the vest. Denim’s not really your style, is it, doll?” Not knowing how to respond in a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in, your eyes scan every little detail of the metalhead’s face, trying to find some sort of ulterior motive hidden in the fine lines. 

“Hey, Ed! We going or what?” The sound of Gareth’s voice shouting over to your direction from the distance interrupted your train of thought, and Eddie turned around to give the boy a thumbs up before turning back to face you, a simple nod being the last bit of “reasoning” you got from him as he spun on his heel, jogging over to the van. The two boys exchanged a few words before climbing into the vehicle and driving out of the parking lot in a matter of a single minute. 

Before you could process or notice anything at all, Kace was standing at your side with his arms crossed, staring at the van as it drove out of the parking lot. 

“Gareth’s cool,” you finally say, Kace angling his head to look down at you. He nodded, and you felt his eyes burning into the bulky jacket you held in your arms.

“Should I ask?” he questioned as you rolled your eyes, beginning your walk over to his Chevrolet Camaro on the other side of the parking lot, the slender boy following right behind you. 

“Munson being a condescending prick as usual. It’s not even that cold.” You attempted to stifle a shiver as the breeze got one last attack in, Kace laughing as he opened the passenger door for you, allowing you to climb in before making his way around to the driver’s side of the navy blue vehicle.

As Kace got the car started up and began driving out of the parking lot, a thought finally hit you. 

“Hey, why couldn’t you give me a ride to the diner earlier? If I’d known you drove today, I would’ve been able to get there at the same time as you rather than being later than literally everyone else.” Turning the car stereo on, lowering the volume majorly as The Cure began blasting through the speakers, Kace shrugged, glancing over at you in the corner of his vision. 

“Dunno. Felt like being a dick.” He quietly snorted to himself as you rolled your eyes. 

“I hate you.” The boy lifted his right hand over to you, lazily tousling it in your hairsprayed mane as you flicked the appendage away. 

“My heart is yours too, love.” The affectionate response made your cheeks ball up as a smile spread across your lips.

Apart from the few moments where you managed to include yourself in off-topic conversations, the entire day had been long, boring, and most definitely awkward, but finally getting some quality best-friend-time in with just Kace settled the unease that had been festering in your chest all day since the moment you arrived at the diner. With your forehead dropping to rest against the car window, you idly tightened your hold around the leather item of clothing resting in your lap, pulling it against your chest as your fingers fiddled with the icy, metal zipper. 

[sorrowful-hyacinth]

Hai hai hai how are youuuuu and am very very happy to be you friend WOHOOOOOOOO HDHDHFHFHF Okie I got question what whump tropes are your fav

I’ve been asking myself that question for the past year, lol. The list has definitely been growing with the new tropes I’ve discovered. I’m probably going to list them when I remake my Masterlist, but I’ll use this to start figuring out the ones I like.

Kidnapping/ Held Captive:

This is what started me on my whump journey. I’ve always been obsessed with movies and stories that had scenarios that involved this.

Torture (physical and emotional):

Love interrogations with torture, even just unwarranted torture that leaves the Whumpee helpless and groveling. Making threats of torture and hearing them beg. Begging gives me hard whumperflies.

Giant/Tiny:

This one is recent. I’m starting to love the dynamic of a small whumpee being trapped and helpless against a large Whumpee. Like a cat and a mouse situation. Even caretaker having to be delicate with Whumpee.

Pet whump:

This one is new too, but I think it’s more because I like the side of it where Whumpee gets punished and wants to be forgiven by their master so badly. Or even a defiant Whumpee that doesn’t want a master at all but they better listen if they want to live. Im not too big on like the sexual pet side where they need to do intimate favors and that’s the entire dynamic. That’s not to say I don’t like a little nsfw if it’s written well 🤭.

Whumper turned Whumpee:

Omg when I tell you I eat this shit up, I’m not even kidding lmao. Just the satisfaction of knocking whumper off their pedestal and giving them a taste of their own medicine gives me whumperflies every time. Whether it’s a vengeful caretaker, whumpee, or outside party, someone needs to beat this shit out of that guy.

Wrong place wrong time, or right time?:

Not really a standard trope but I like scenarios where maybe whumpee is just doing a simple thing like grocery shopping or taking a walk down the street and whumper shows up and decides, “yeah, that’s mine now”. Just snatches whumpee simply for existing. Even if maybe whumper accidentally got Whumpee instead of their original target or was forced to take them because they witnessed something and now they actually like having them as a plaything.

Being held at weaponpoint:

Having a knife to your throat or a gun to your head. Maybe a freaking lightsaber that can cut your limbs off kind of thing. Anything that is a threat to your life and makes your adrenaline pump.

Immortal/ non-human whump:

Vampires, gods, hybrids, mythical beings. Whatever you can think of in this category. I love them being a whumpee. Having this perception that they’re invincible in their own realms. The strongest, baddest beings alive and yet a “lower being” has captured them and is breaking then down to nothing.

Multiple Whumpers:

I only sometimes like this. I have a problem with becoming biased towards one of the whumpers so when another one comes over, I’m like, yah no that’s not right. But if it’s written well and theres a dynamic where one whumper is way more sadistic and horrendous than the other. Then it makes it interesting to see Whumpee picking favorites.

These are definitely not all of them, just the ones that I could think of in my head right now. I think I definitely lean more towards the “hurt” side of whump. I’m only ever really heavy on the comfort if I feel bad. Like, I’m the one who wants to comfort the whumpee, not the caretaker in the story if that makes sense. Which is why I like to draw because then I can make the things that I want to do for characters come to life.

-🪻