#and they'll just start unloading

[cookinguptales]

Something I always think about a lot during disability/chronic illness/rare illness pride months is like... It is wild how often people will come up to me and want me to listen to some guilty secret they have re: disability and expect me to tell them it's okay.

Like... once I was waiting for my dad to bring the car up at the airport, and this guy approaches me and starts telling me why he'd never want to date a disabled woman. (I'm gay and completely uninterested in men, which made this whole interaction even more awkward.) And after talking about all the reasons why people like me would not make a good partner he turns those sad eyes on me like, "But that doesn't make me a bad person, does it? I'm not doing anything wrong. Like, you get it, don't you?"

You get it, don't you?

I hear that one a lot.

Like when the grad student teaching one of my classes at my university was chatting to me after class and told me that once she and her friends went to Disney World and pretended to be disabled to get onto the rides faster. I recognized the nervous laughter, the entreating look. The you get it, don't you?

I understand what these people are asking me for. They want absolution. They want this disabled person, maybe the first real disabled person they've ever talked to, to listen to their guilty secret and tell them they're okay. They're not a bad person. I don't mind. I don't judge them. I get it.

But frankly... I don't get it. These people often tell me that they've done things that make disabled people's lives actively worse. Disney has changed their policies re: disability because so many able-bodied people were abusing them. Companies and organizations walk back accommodation policies all the time because they're being abused. That grad student who pretended to be disabled actively made disabled people's lives harder.

And I don't really give a shit if one asshole dude doesn't want to date disabled women (probably better for those women, tbh) but I know how bad it feels to be ghosted on a dating app when you talk about accessibility, even when your profile is explicit about your disability. I know that I felt like I was not worth loving in spite of my disability for years because I knew that people like that guy would only see all the ways I'd slow them down.

Guys like that actively make us hate ourselves.

But like... it's wild how these people don't see how the only thing crueler than harboring these feelings and doing these things is making some random disabled person listen to their stories. My day was going great before some guy practically gave me a powerpoint about why I should never expect to have a relationship. I really enjoyed that class before I found out that my teacher had participated in the exact kind of ableist theft of accommodations that was currently making it difficult for me to get accommodations at that school.

They took this weight they were holding on their shoulders and then forced it onto mine -- and then expected me to comfort them. To tell them it was okay. To throw my fellow disabled folks under the bus.

And -- both of these times in particular, I was in situations where I was not really free to speak my mind. Alone with a big guy in a parking garage? Alone with the woman who would ultimately decide my grade for the class? The power differential there was huge. And whether they were consciously doing it or not, they were leveraging that power differential to try and force me to give them absolution.

I made noncommittal noises. Really, what else was I supposed to do? And even then, I could see the spark of disappointment and anger in their eyes. I was supposed to tell them it was okay that they'd hurt me and people like me. I was supposed to tell them they were still good.

But I didn't want to offer them absolution, and I was angry that they'd asked for it in the first place. I can't offer you forgiveness for something you know is wrong -- and that you've done nothing to fix. Moreover, I won't. You should feel bad that you hurt us. You should feel guilty. It's a shitty thing to do.

If you want to feel better about yourself, stop doing shitty things!

And I knew these people were still doing shitty things because dumping all this on me when I was just minding my own business was in and of itself a shitty thing. Trying to transfer their burden to me. Reminding me about the discrimination I have to face every day just so they could feel better. Expecting me to do emotional labor on command for strangers because it doesn't matter if I hurt so long as they feel good.

That's shitty! Don't do it! I already have to use physical crutches, don't try to turn me into an emotional one!

[ceesimz]

panna

Not my best work, but it was fun to write nonetheless. FYI: panna means nutmeg, but it's also a playground/street football game where it is either a 1v1 or basically a huge free-for-all and you had to get as many nutmegs/pannas as possible - great memories :)

Living with Leah was a much different experience than you thought it would be.

The first time you met her she was a little shy but the more you got to know her, the more enamouring she was and before long you had completely fallen for her, as had she for you. Each date, you peeled back another layer of each other's personality and you saw a side to her that was inexplicably softer than the sometimes rather grumpy, stoic demeanor she had for her career. It was easy to like her, adore her, and eventually love her, and you made sure to offer her a safe space for her to let go in when she was away from the view of the public. She did the same for you, allowing you to switch off when you needed to in her presence. Ultimately, the relationship was so rewarding and comforting, it seemed almost too good to be true. In moments of self-doubt and insecurity, you felt like you were just waiting for the shoe to drop.

And when you moved into your new house together, that shoe did indeed drop, but in a way you didn't expect.

As time went on of you sharing the same space, an extremely irritating side of Leah came out in full force. You had seen glimpses of it so far of course, and it never failed to make you laugh, but living with her? It was next level.

Leah seemed to embody the nature of that of an annoying younger sibling or a tiresome teenager who had a maddening addiction to just being absolutely infuriating. When she was in a certain type of giddy mood, this habit seemed to reach new heights. You loved it, but sometimes it felt like you were going to explode with the aggravation you felt towards her.

You know that saying of if you don't react, they'll get bored and stop? Yeah, that didn't apply to Leah.

"Leah, I'm trying to cook dinner, put the football away please." You started out by asking her politely as you manned the pasta in the pot on the hob, your girlfriend doing kick-ups by the fridge.

"I'm alright here, babe. I won't get in your way, swear. Just wanna be with you, and I am bored." That's kind of sweet, you guess.

Deciding that the pasta can survive without constant surveillance, you step away from it to unload the dishwasher but clearly Leah doesn't agree with that.

"Nah, forget that, I'll do it later. Come here, one versus one." She grins, quickly flicking the ball between each foot.

"And why would I do that as someone who doesn't even know which foot to use?" You raise an eyebrow and stand across from her with your hands on your hips.

"Bit of fun, babe, lighten up. Let's do a game of panna." She teases, passing the ball to you. "You first."

"What is panna?" You frown, confused.

"Just try to nutmeg me." Leah rolls her eyes, though she knows your knowledge of football lacks compared to her as someone who lives and breathes the sport and has done all her life.

You squint your eyes sceptically at her, before slowly inching towards her and attempting to dribble the ball the way you've seen her do it probably a million times. However, as soon as you get close, she removes any gap between her feet and instead stands like a penguin.

"How am I supposed to nutmeg you when you stand like that?" You scoff, but she just smirks smugly at you and shrugs.

"No one likes a quitter."

"No one likes a stubborn girlfriend that forces her girlfriend to play a game that's impossible to win." You hit back, and a smile tugs at your lips as you see Leah suppress a laugh.

"Fine, let me go against you." She steals the ball from your feet in the blink of an eye, and now the cards are stacked impossibly against you.

"Right, 'cause this is totally fair."

You roll your eyes but nevertheless prepare to defend your pride against the decorated footballer that stands before you. This little stand off lasts all of two minutes as Leah performs as many standing tricks as she can - it's hard not to laugh because, despite the talent she's portraying, it just looks like the result of a button-spamming FIFA player.

Finally though, you gain the confidence to lunge at her to get the ball back, but Leah of course spots this immediately, and flip-flaps the ball straight between your legs.

"Panna! You just got your shit rocked, baby." She celebrates as if her performance wasn't as easy as stealing candy from a baby. You watch as she cheers quietly to herself under her breath and dances like a fool. If the world could see her now, you think.

Feeling slightly humbled, you go back to your place at the stove, finding comfort in your cooking skills at least.

...This oddly felt like you were playing into some kind of stereotype.

"Put the ball away now, please." You tell her once more, but as ever her ego takes no prisoners.

"Aw, is someone's ego hurt?" Leah pouts pitifully at you, her hands falling to your waist when she stands behind you. You weren't having it though, not when she had humiliated you purely for her own ego.

"No, I just have many dangerous weapons in my arsenal here and I wouldn't want the leader of England to come to any harm." You return the patronising pout on her face, swatting away her hands and wagging the pasta ladle you had just pulled from the boiling pan in her face.

"Alright, message heard." She walks away with her hands surrendered.

For the next five minutes that the spaghetti spends boiling, you both exist civilly in the same area whilst doing different things. You're preparing for dinner as Leah is of course dilly-dallying with the football again. Each punt against the ball as she does kick-ups or ridiculous little tricks slowly grinds your gears, until she eventually begins occupying floor space in the kitchen that she obviously knows you'll use.

"Move, please, I need to drain this pasta." You say initially, a bit of bite to it but not as much as you easily could reach. However, she doesn't move, and instead gets in the way even more. "I have a pot full of boiling water here, move!"

You shoved past her where she was messing around with the ball near the sink, a shit-eating grin on her face which its only purpose is to infuriate you more. She does move out the way though, lifting the ball up into her arms with the foot, but she only steps so far away.

"What are we having?" She asked in an all too innocent voice, watching as you drained the pasta - the aggression you did this simple task with probably should have been a warning sign to her. But that had never stopped her before.

"Spaghetti, what does it look like?" You shake your head at her. "And you will eat it this time."

You were yet another unfortunate victim to Leah's limited and fussy palate.

"Not my fault you used a rank sauce last time. You better have gotten a new one." She grumbled like a picky toddler, starting her kick-ups again right in front of the next cupboard you need to get into.

"Put that fucking ball away before I stab a knife into it." You snap, pushing her out of the way with one hand and getting out the aforementioned new sauce. "See? Is this better for you, princess?"

"Oh, you're gonna pay for that, sweetheart." Leah smirks, referencing the sassy tone and mocking pet name you used for her as you shoved the jar into her face to prove a point.

"I'd like to see you try." You scoff, heading back over to the stove.

She falls suspiciously silent as you put the spaghetti and sauce into the pan. You try to pay no notice, watching out of your peripheral vision as she slowly makes her way back over with her hands behind her back.

"What are y-"

You're disrupted by her kicking the ball in between your legs, it clunking scarily loud against the glass door of the oven.

"Another one! Call me Ronal-fucking-dhino!" Leah laughs giddily, scampering away like a naughty child.

You took a deep breath, composing yourself so that you didn't chase after her with one of the multiple weapons within reach around you.

However, sticking true to your threat, you grabbed a knife from the draining board beside the sink and sunk it into the ball that had been the bane of your existence for the past however long it's been in Leah's possession. It wasn't a sentimental object, you wouldn't do that to her, thankfully it was just a ball she had picked up from the supermarket one day she had been determined to tag along as you did the grocery shop. The poor thing let out its final breath as the air puffed out of it, a sign you had won the battle. With a slightly manic grin, you went on making the rest of the meal as if nothing had happened.

Luckily you were able to cook the dinner without any further childish interruptions, though you did have half a mind to pour the whole shaker of salt onto her portion. But no, you can rise above this kind of behaviour. A household prank war against this woman-child could lead to an unfortunate break-up. Though you did just get an adrenaline rush from murdering a harmless football, so maybe it was already on.

"Leah, come here and sort your cheese out." You shout into the apartment, not a clue where she had gone off too.

Although, you forgot the scene she would walk into, only realising when a sharp gasp sounds through the room.

"What... the hell did you do?" Leah whispers in a dramatically heartbroken voice, kneeling to the ground and delicately picking up the punctured ball. You turned and rolled your eyes at the sight that met you, forever astonished at the theatrics this girl pulls off.

"Better a ball than your head." You mutter under your breath. "Sort your dinner out, I'm not being blamed for ruining it this time."

You took your bowl and walked past where she was still on the ground, nudging her shoulder with your knee as you went by to push her over. Okay, maybe you did have tendencies similar to hers.

Leah joins you on the couch a few moments later, an embarrassingly scarce amount of parmesan in her bowl as she slumps down next to you with a groan.

"I'm not watching this right now, I don't want to participate in a fucking reading lesson whilst I'm eating!" Leah complains at the choice of TV show you'd picked for this evening: Narcos.

"Tough, I cooked so I choose." You shrugged and pressed play, the characters immediately talking in thick and fast Spanish that, despite the English subtitles, is too much for your poor girlfriend to deal with right now.

"That's not fair, you always cook." She grumbles, stabbing her fork aggressively into her food. You pause the show at that statement, turning to look at her with a face that conveyed pure and unfiltered rage.

"Did you seriously just complain that I always cook?" You question in a frighteningly passive tone. Leah glances at you from the corner of her eye, not daring to turn away from her bowl. "Really, Leah?

She grimaces at the use of her name when you probe her for an answer. All day, she had been toeing a fine line, pressing all the wrong buttons, and pushing her luck with you. This time though, she'd really done it.

"Watch whatever you want, I'm not eating with you." You stand up from your seat on the sofa and storm away to the bedroom, leaving a glum and regretful Leah in the lounge who does in fact change the show on TV.

Was it an overreaction? In an hour, you'll probably think so. But right now you couldn't bear to look at the woman downstairs. You both eat, sad and alone, in your separate rooms to think over your actions.

In fact, no, you didn't overreact. You were entirely in your right to get angry over a throw-away statement that Leah had made just to win one back against you. Her immature attitude and competitive nature took over and she made an unnecessary comment about an action you not only enjoyed doing anyway, but enjoyed doing for her. So, whilst Leah thought back on how she should have behaved better, verbalised herself better, you were satisfied with your actions.

When there was a quiet knock at the bedroom door twenty minutes later as you lay in bed on your phone, bowl on the floor and meal happily consumed, you gave no answer. Leah came in anyway, a sheepish and guilty look on her face.

"May I come in?" She asks shyly, only her head in view.

"As long as you promise to not be a complete arsehole to me anymore." You grumble, not looking at her.

"I promise, love. I am sorry. I have things to make up for my utterly stupid behaviour." She says, and that does pique your interest.

You grunt in affirmation, and the door opens to reveal her holding a few items: your favourite candle from the lounge, a hot chocolate, your favourite cookies, and the oil you often used to massage Leah whenever her muscles were giving her some discomfort.

"Maybe I could give you a massage, babe? I am sorry. I appreciate all you do for me, I was just being an idiot before who didn't know when to stop. I love that you cook for me, and eating dinner with you at the end of a long day is one of my favourite things, genuinely. I'm really sorry for making that stupid comment, I am." Leah tells you softly, an air of desperation to her voice. Through all the times she loves to piss you off, nothing made her feel worse than when you truly got angry at her.

"You must really be sorry if you're letting me eat in bed." You comment quietly, referring to the pack of cookies in her arms. She smiles and nods, coming over to sit on the edge of the bed beside you.

"I am sorry. Get crumbs everywhere if you want, get your revenge." She replies and a weight lifts off her chest when you giggle slightly. "I love you, truly, madly, deeply. I'm so grateful for you and everything you do."

You reluctantly smile up at her from where you lay, then roll your eyes and hold your arms out for her.

"Come here, you massive idiot." You mutter, watching amused as she rushes to put her things on the bedside table before diving on top of you. "You're a wanker, number six."

Leah laughs into the pillow at the reference, nodding her head in agreement. She turns her face into your neck and places a few light, apologetic kisses there.

"I am." She murmurs, sighing a little and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "I wouldn't appreciate it if you started shouting that at my football games though."

"I don't appreciate you reciting a ninety's song in your apology though. Get some original material next time." You hit back, a smug grin on your face as she laughs again.

"I'll sing it for you if you want." Leah offers, voice slightly muffled by your neck as your body shakes with laughter.

"I think that would reverse all your efforts." You say, her humming in agreement. "Now, did you say something about a massage?"

The next morning, Leah believes all is forgiven from the previous night. But just to be sure, she hops out of bed since she's the first to wake up and decides to bring you a coffee in bed before you both were due to go out for breakfast with friends. It's a delight you welcome immediately, sighing contently when the hot mug is placed into your hands as you sit up against the headboard. Leah joins you in bed again, copying your position, and wraps an arm around you as well as kissing your forehead. She mumbles a few more words of apology into your ear as you drink, ensuring that you know how grateful she is for everything you do. You also welcome that with open arms, happy to hear her feelings towards you when she's not being an irritating little pest.

She watches you the whole time you get dressed for the day, and there's a soft smile on her face as she stood in the bathroom doorway whilst you put your earrings in, the finishing touch of your outfit. You mirror the smile she wears when she steps forward and wraps her arms around your waist, murmuring endless compliments into your ear that send shivers down your spine. It's a sickeningly sweet moment, it would rot any witnesses' teeth had they been there to see it, but it's perfect and it's the couple that you recognise rather than the bickering one from the previous night.

You exit the bathroom together, your fingers intertwined as Leah leads you down the stairs. Though, just as you're about to leave, you spot a smudge mark on your cheek from your mascara in the mirror by the door, so you stop to fix it. Leah, with the patience of a toddler, somehow finds yet another ball and it's one you can't stab this time since it's a Euros 2022 ball. Even though she has just done her hair, begging you to straighten it for her, she starts doing headers. And that's where the morning takes a turn for the worst.

When you'd finished fixing your makeup, you head to the downstairs bathroom to quickly wash your hands. Then you hear a panicked shout, followed by a loud bang, and lastly the sound of glass smashing. Instinctively, you rush out the room to see if Leah's okay, thinking the worst, but it seems that the only damage she has is to her ego. And, subsequently, to her relationship.

The sight that greets you fills you with more fury than you'd ever felt in your life. Your mirror, the antique one you had been adamant at buying when decorating the house, lay broken on the ground. The frame was cracked, it was surrounded by glass, and the ball laying next to it was very clearly the offending weapon. The culprit cowered in the corner of the hallway, looking at you and waiting for a reaction.

And boy did it come.

The walls of the house shook with the scale of your voice as Leah flinched like she was physically impacted by each punch that your words delivered. Nothing offensive or harmful was said of course, but your language was certainly colourful and impactful. Each word was spat with a lethal amount of venom, and Leah wasn't sure she would ever see the light of day again; living a life banished to her house, individually glueing each piece of the mirror back together as you endlessly lecture her. Eventually though, you did have to take a breath. Leah took one at the same time, though she was a shell of herself as you glared at her.

Composing yourself, you stepped over the mess and opened the front door before turning to Leah with an unnerving smile. She smiled anxiously back at you, and it took everything in you not to laugh at the nervous, apologetic look on her face. At least she knew she had messed up.

The next time you speak, it's like nothing had happened, and that fills Leah with more fear than she'd ever felt in her life. She knows she's in for it when you get back later.

"Come on, my love, we have a breakfast date to attend."

[hedonists-den]

I stroll through the grocery store, cart loaded with assorted junk food. And not one of those half carts either. A full-sized cart full of fresh baked pastries, boxes of snack cakes, frozen pizzas, massive sub sandwiches, bags of chips and candy, various pints of ice cream, cases of full-sugar soda, just an obscene amount of unhealthy garbage.

By now, the employees know me by name with how often I'm there to indulge your cravings. I bring my haul over to a checkout aisle and start unloading, but I figure one more candy bar wouldn't hurt, and I add it to the pile. The checker begins the extensive process of scanning all the items, and I can see the look on their face.

None of them are really shocked anymore. When they see me, they know they'll be scanning pounds and pounds of junk food. And judging by the size difference between you and me when they last saw you, I think they know where it's going. You're not with me this time, of course. You've gotten too lazy and too heavy to be waddling around the grocery store anymore, especially when you can trust me to fetch everything your greedy heart desires.

Getting it all inside is a full task in and of itself. I practically get a full arm workout hauling all the bags from my car, through the door, and to the kitchen. You know I'm not one for taking multiple trips, but with the amount you go through, I'll have to go back at least once.

When I walk in, you're right where I left you: feet up on the ottoman, laid back on the couch that is undoubtedly straining to hold your weight. The groceries are heavy, but I just can't help but pause and marvel at what a sight you are. Rolls covering your body from top to bottom, legs forced apart from the sheer girth of your thighs, your blubbery mound of a belly spilling onto your lap from under a t-shirt turned tank top, fattened tits resting on top of your gut, pillowy arms and pudgy hands tilting a fast food milkshake cup back to get every single drop. A living definition of unrestrained hedonism.

You glance over at me, continuing to suck down the entirety of your indulgent treat. I have to wonder if you're putting on this little show just for me, or if you really have become that gluttonous. Probably both, if we're being fair.

"Looks like you didn't wait for me to get back," I say, walking to the kitchen to set your goodies down. "How much did you struggle to get to the front door and back for that delivery, hm?"

I hear a soft groan from you and the echo of an empty cup set on the side table. "I moved myself just fine!" Your heavy panting suggests otherwise, but I let it slide. After all, it could just be that you didn't stop to breathe until you consumed the entire shake. "You get everything?"

"Everything and more. I doubled up on some things, knowing how you've been lately."

"Oh my godddd, I need one of those sandwiches. I'm starving..." There was a time when you would rush into the kitchen to look through everything I brought back, but the last few times- "Could you bring it to me...?" you ask. Right on cue.

"My pleasure, princess," I say with a grin. I pull out one of the footlong subs and unwrap it for you, taking the liberty of slathering on some extra mayo for good measure. The moment I step into the living room, I can see your excitement as you lift your arms and lean forward ever so slightly, a wide grin on your face.

"Thank you thank you!"

I turn to leave, but I watch you take that first bite out of the corner of my eye. And then that little moan of delight that sparks the urgency in your feasting. I can hear you stuffing your face as I head back towards the garage and gather the rest of the groceries. You'll almost assuredly be at least halfway done by the time I get back inside and set everything down.

And you never disappoint. I step back in and see you pushing the last bite of a sandwich half through your lips before licking your fingers. The way you've been gorging yourself is nothing short of breathtaking. It really is no wonder that you've managed to gain hundreds of pounds.

"Your shirt is looking a little small," I call from the kitchen.

"You like how it fits?" You respond with a full mouth. "I just can't pull it past my upper belly anymore..."

"To be fair, not much does fit you anymore. I can't even tell if you're wearing underwear most days," I chuckle.

"Think I'm wearing any right now?"

I can practically hear the sultry smile on your face as you ask. "I think you want to see me struggle with all your rolls to check. But I don't think you've eaten enough to earn it."

"Well, you better bring those cookies and make a proper hog out of me, then."

With an invitation like that, the rest of the groceries can wait. I dig through the bags for all 4 boxes of soft, chewy cookies, bringing them in and setting them beside you.

"A proper hog? Like I haven't done that to you already..." I tease, taking your belly flab in in one hand and squeezing it gently. "Look at all this. All this heavy, moldable fat..."

I lift your gut and drop it on your thighs, a dense slap resonating through your whole body. The sound, the ripples that shake every inch of you, it's mesmerizing. I continue handling your corpulence with increasing roughness, gripping all your rolls and jiggling them, slapping your love handles, and sinking my hands into your hips.

"I've gotten so huge...I can't help that it feels so good..." You moan, laying your head back.

I pop open the first container of cookies and situate myself in front of you. Your belly makes such a nice table to hold the container while I lean into it. "Open up. Let me make you even bigger."

You part your lips, letting me push nearly half the cookie in. I get more aggressive with each bite you take, encouraging you to take more and more, over, and over, and over.

"Come on, piggy. Keep it up. You want to be a good pet, don't you? Eat..."

One by one, the cookies disappear, and I get to hear that beautiful, overfed panting of yours again. You huff and puff, finally able to catch your breath from the relentless feeding. Everything about your current state just encourages me, igniting a need to see you helplessly engorged.

I slowly but firmly caress your poor, sweets-stuffed tummy. "Well now look at you. All stuffed with sweets. You know we're going to need to offset that with something savory and greasy. Settle in."

"Okay..." you say, your chest heaving up and down as you place your hands on the sides of your belly.

I start scrolling through DoorDash, tending to you while I look for your next meal. It's only early afternoon, after all. And gluttonous house pets like you need to keep fed all day long.

[loulovingho]

👉👈 For the prompts, maybe something along a similar vein to Financially Irresponsible Tommy? Like, maybe Tommy refuses to write down a grocery list and just goes to the store and buys whatever he feels like, driving Buck insane?

A little off, because (technically) he did write a list 😂 enjoy!

“You bought six jars of spaghetti sauce?” Buck asked, staring at the pile of groceries laid out on the kitchen island.

Tommy smiled, very proud of himself. “They were buy one get one free.”

“Right. And you got six, because?”

“Because the guy restocking the shelves said the sale would end today. I don't know when they'll go back on sale, and you're always looking at the flyers that come in the mail to see the deals.” He picked up one of the jars. “This was a deal.”

Buck nodded. “I do love a good deal. It- It just seems like when you buy so many at once, it kind of adds up anyway. Plus, I've always made homemade sauce.”

Tommy began unloading the final bag. “I know you do, and it takes forever. This is going to save so much time, Evan.”

“You make a compelling argument.”

Buck continued looking everything over. Three cans of green beans, a family size bag of cinnamon cereal, baking chocolate, three different kinds of flour, two half gallons of milk, one very small can of beanie weenies, taco seasoning, and two 24 count cases of green, and only green, gatorade.

There was plenty more mixed in, but there was one glaring thing missing.

“Hey, Babe?”

Tommy turned from where he was standing at the pantry, putting away the six pack of canned split pea soup. “Mhm?”

“You didn't buy any pasta.”

“Why would I get pasta?” Tommy asked.

Buck closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “For the six jars of spaghetti sauce you bought.”

“You're not even eating pasta right now, Evan.”

Another deep breath. He should really start going to yoga. “Ignoring the fact you can get low carb pasta, why did you buy six jars of sauce if we're not eating pasta?”

“For when we do eat pasta,” Tommy replied as though it should be obvious.

Buck pushed himself away from the counter, walking closer to Tommy. “Tommy, Honey,” he started, bringing his hands to Tommy's face, “I love you, I really do, but this might be how I die for a second time.”

Tommy eyebrows furrowed. He wrapped his hands around Buck's wrists and pulled them back far enough to speak. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” he said, nodding back toward the groceries, “makes no sense to my brain. Have you ever made a grocery list before?”

“I had a grocery list!” he defended, letting go of Buck's wrists to pull the list from his back pocket. He handed it to Buck, who looked even more dismayed as he read it over.

“I think I'm gonna have an aneurysm.”

Tommy rolled his eyes playfully, heading back to the island to grab more groceries. “You're being very dramatic. I got everything on that list.”

“The list consists of five items!” Buck exclaimed. “Three of which are ineligible!”

Tommy came and stood behind Buck, peering over his shoulder. “Which three?”

As Buck pointed, Tommy began to read them off one by one.

“Chickpeas.”

“Why do we need chickpeas?”

“In case I want hummus.”

“You know it takes more than chickpeas to make hummus, right?”

Tommy glanced over at him. “I do now.”

Buck sighed. “What's this one?” he asked, pointing to the second item.

“Onion powder.”

“Okay, but we already have onion powder here.”

“And now we won't run out for a really long time.”

Moving on, Buck pointed to the last item.

“Meat.”

That's when Buck turned, pressing the list against Tommy's chest for him to take. “You didn't get any meat, Tommy!”

“Yes I did!” Tommy reached over and picked up an item, holding it out for Buck to see. “I got canned ham.”

“Canned ha- Tommy, my head is gonna explode,” Buck replied, pressing his fingers against his temple.

Tommy simply smiled at him, leaning in and giving him a peck on the lips. “You're so cute.”

“You're never going shopping again,” Buck decided. “Ever. I- I'll take over grocery shopping full time.”

“Evan, I go grocery shopping to decompress. You can't take that from me.”

“Your decompression is gonna be the reason I start taking blood pressure medication.”

Tommy placed the can of ham back on the counter and moved closer to Buck, wrapping his arms around his waist. “What if we go together next time?” he asked. As Buck's arms drifted over his shoulders, Tommy began swaying them gently back and forth as though they were dancing along to music. “I can show you my method firsthand, so you understand it better.”

Buck thought it over for a few seconds. “Can I bring an AED with us in case you need to restart my heart?”

Tommy nodded. “We could even pick up Jee on the way, for emotional support.”

“I don't know if I could subject her to this.”

“Christopher then?”

“Yeah,” Buck agreed. “Yeah, that'd be good.”

Tommy kissed him again, Buck sighing into it. One thing Tommy's kisses could always do is melt Buck's tension away, even if he was the one causing it.

“Why don't you go relax?” Tommy suggested once they parted. “I'll finish putting everything away and start dinner.”

“Okay,” Buck agreed. “What are you gonna make?”

Tommy looked around at all the random things he'd purchased. “How does canned ham with chickpeas and gatorade sound?”

Buck pursed his lips together. “Yeah, I'm gonna order food,” he replied, giving Tommy a pat on the ass before walking away.

[fandomfucker]

Beach Trip-The Judgment Day X Black!Fem!Reader

Request/Prompt: The Judgment Day with their girl on a cute little beach trip

A/N: Linked a picture of the bathing suit I had in mind, just pretend it comes with a matching headpiece.

Word Count: 2,692

Reader's POV 

Time off with all four of my partners in the Judgment Day was not something that happened often.

Luckily, this week happened to be one where it was planned out that the five of us would be going down to the beach for vacation.

Before we could leave though, we all had some last-minute errands to run. Well, mainly me and Rhea.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Rhea's truck, I happily listened to the booming sounds of her metal music over the speakers as I scrolled through Pinterest.

"What kind of nails are you gonna get, babe?" I asked Rhea, looking over at her as she hummed in thought.

"I'm thinking, like, black scales with like, a purple shimmer," She answered, briefly looking at me before putting her hand on my thigh and stroking her thumb up and down as she drove.

"Ooh, that'll be cute," I replied as I went back to scrolling through Pinterest for my own new nail set. It was vacation, and we liked to look good on vacation. You look good, you feel good.

"Do you know what you're gonna do with your hair yet?" Rhea asked me. Normally, outside of work, I try to wear my natural hair as much as possible, which isn't always the easiest when it's being grabbed by my opponents to throw me around in a ring.

"I'm thinking I'll kinda match with Damian and get bohemian box braids. I think he's getting his done tomorrow, but then I can wear that cute headwrap that my bathing suit came with!" I excitedly explained. Her grip tightened on my thigh as a smile graced her features.

"That'll look so good, sweetness. I can't wait to see."

"Oh!" I exclaimed excitedly. "And then, I can get my nails to match and since I'll be wearing my bathing suit like all week, they'll match everything!" The girl math was mathing and everything was coming together perfectly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, the five of us Judgment Day members all sat in Rhea's truck as we drove down to our beach house for the week. It was right on the beach which was going to be perfect.

Rhea sat in the driver's seat as not only was it her truck, but also because she would get us there faster than if anyone else was driving. Dominik sat in the passenger seat, giving Rhea directions in between picking the music for us to listen to. I liked to stare out the window while I listened to my music so I sat behind Dominik's chair, with Damian next to me and Finn on his other side.

Damian scrolled through his TikTok, occasionally showing one of us a video as his free hand rested on my thigh, while Finn read whatever book he was currently obsessed with. He read them so fast I never knew what he was reading at any given moment.

It was only about an hour-long drive so we were pulling up to the beach-house in no time. As soon as I stepped out of the car I noticed it was weirdly secluded. There weren't any other places directly around us and the tall landscape blocked any possible views. 

Damian stepped out behind me, making his way to the back of the truck, and popping open the covered bed to start grabbing suitcases.

He handed me my duffle bag as Finn and Dominik joined him in unloading the truck. "How about you girls go ahead and go inside and start getting set up, okay?"

"Okay!" I shouldered my duffel bag, grabbing Rhea's hand on my way over to the stairs that would lead us up to the front door. 

Once at the door, Rhea punched the code into the keypad lock, hearing a small click before she pushed the door open. Stepping inside into a tight hallway, there was a small kitchen to the right with another little hall to the left. Going into the hallway on my right there was a bedroom on the right with a queen bed, right in front was a bathroom, and next to it a washer and dryer. At the end of that hallway was another bedroom, with two separate twin-sized beds.

Going back down that side hallway to get to the main hallway that led past the kitchen, I walked into the living/dining room and called out for Rhea. "Hey, babe? Are we all gonna fit in here?"

I noticed another room off to the side and walked into it, finding another queen-sized bed with its own private bathroom. There was a sliding glass door leading to the balcony on the far wall, with a matching door in the living room.

Noticing that the door was open, I walked out onto the balcony and saw Rhea leaning over the railing as she stared out at the ocean, the small breeze blowing her bangs to the side.

"Rhea?" She turned at the sound of my voice, making me smile as I saw the relaxation already hitting her. "Are we all going to fit in here?" I repeated my question.

"Yeah, we should," She moved away from the railing and gripped my hips as we stood there. "I was thinking that we'd take the master, Dom and Damian take the other queen, and then Finn could take one of the twins. He's the only one other than us that would fit and I booked the condo, so if I want a girls-only room to cuddle you all week I'm gonna have that." She smiled at me, so proud of herself for thinking of this situation.

I threw my head back as I laughed. If she wanted to keep me all to herself all week during the night then I wasn't gonna fight her on it. "Do the boys know about this arrangement?"

She laughed again, giving me that shit-eating grin, "Not yet."

I giggled as I heard the boys walk in the front door with the luggage. "Y/N? Rhea? Where'd you guys go?" We heard Dominik shout out through the condo.

"Let's go," I whisper-giggled as I gripped Rhea's hands and tugged her back through the sliding door, the bedroom, and back into the living room where all three of our boys now stood, surrounded by luggage.

"Where should we put these?" Damian asked, gesturing around him. 

Rhea wrapped her arms around my shoulders from behind and hugged me tight to her chest. "You can put me and Y/N's stuff in there," she gestured with her head to the room behind us. "And your guys' stuff between the two rooms down the other hall." She smiled at them, albeit a bit passive-aggressively. 

"Wait, we're in different rooms?" Dominik asked us, his upset puppy-dog eyes appearing.

"Yep," Rhea popped the 'P', her accent unusually strong. 

"I want this one all to myself, "She squeezed me and kissed my cheek as my ears burned.

"Come on, seriously, Rhea?" Damian asked her, his voice seemingly deeper in his annoyance.

I could feel her nod my head against my ear.

Finn rolled his eyes, used to Rhea's antics at this point in the relationship. "Whatever, lads. We'll just have to have boys nights every night."

"Yeah!" Dominik agreed, sticking his tongue out at us mockingly before he grabbed his bag and walked back down the hallway to his room.

I played along with Rhea's wants and just shrugged at the two remaining boys who looked at us in disbelief. Damian scoffed before grabbing his bag and following suit, Finn right on his heels.

"They'll figure it out, right?" I asked Rhea, looking over my shoulder slightly at her.

"Yeah, probably."

"Good. Let's go down to the beach!" I excitedly told her, fully turning around to face her. 

She grinned at the prospect of me in a bathing suit, laid out in the sun, "Okay."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boys, having heard we were going down to the beach, decided that while they were still upset, they weren't upset enough to not go down to the beach with us, and now stood sulking outside the bedroom door where I was finishing getting dressed, tying my matching skirt around my waist. 

It was a cute little orange two-piece I had found at a boutique near our house. The top was really just two little triangles of fabric to cover myself but it had come with a matching tied-up skirt and headwrap. And, it was covered in flowers which just made it that much cuter.

I fixed the headwrap, making sure all of my hair was covered without any weird-looking lumps sticking out, and then checked myself over once more in the mirror to make sure I had taken all the tags off and had the suit on correctly. 

Once I was satisfied with how I looked, I opened the door for a mock fashion show for my partners. 

Damian wolf-whistled at me as I did a small spin to show off the flowy skirt. Finn grabbed my hand and had me do another spin, lifting my hand over my head, to the enjoyment of my partners.

"You look so good, mami," Dom practically salivated as he stared at me with heart eyes. 

Rhea looked me up and down, her eyes briefly stopping on my nails before she got back up to my eyes. "You're right, sweetness. Your nails do match your bikini perfectly, good job picking out the color."

I beamed at the compliment and grabbed the edge of my skirt, lifting it slightly as I gave a small curtsey. "Why thank you, baby."

Damian came up to me, gripping my hips as he also checked me out, his eyes eventually landing on mine too, "Can I just say, with this beautiful complexion," he gently stroked his thumb down my cheek, "Orange is definitely your color." He kissed my forehead.

I blushed slightly as I smiled at him in silent thanks. "Okay, guys, let's go. I'm ready for some relaxation!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know who I realized you look like?" Rhea asked me, completely out of the blue.

The two of us were laid out on the towels higher up on the beach while the boys threw each other around in the water, practically waterboarding each other while we watched.

I pulled my gaze from the book I was reading and turned to her, noticing her eyes were still closed underneath her sunglasses as she lay on her back, staring up at the sun. 

"Who?" I asked warily, not sure I would like the comparison.

"Orange Blossom," Rhea cackled.

I stared at her in confusion before it hit me. "From Strawberry Shortcake?!"

Rhea's laugh grew as I sat there in bewilderment before a laugh began to bubble up out of my chest. And then I was bent over laughing so hard I couldn't breathe.

Rhea herself had to sit up she was laughing so hard to keep herself from choking on her own spit.

The boys, having noticed our laughing fit when they looked up for their periodic check-up on us, began making their way up the beach to where we sat.

"What's so funny over here?" Finn asked us.

"She- she said- she said I-," I was laughing so hard I couldn't get a single sentence out. Rhea managed to sober up before I did and repeated what she had told me.

All three of them were sent into fits of laughter, after having to be shown who she was first.

"Don't get me wrong, you look amazing in orange. But, with the flowers I just couldn't not see it," Rhea cackled. 

I wiped away the tears of laughter that had formed in the corners of my eyes. "No, I totally get it. I don't know how I didn't see it before, oh my God."

"You know what? Just for that..." I trailed off and put my book to the side, hopping up and using all the strength in my body to pick Rhea up bridal style.

Her eyes widened as she startled but I had already fully picked her up and started running towards the water. 

"No, no, no, no, no! Y/N! Don't you dare!" She shrieked as we reached the water. I waded out to where the water reached the bottom of my thighs, about a foot below Rhea.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and clung onto me as she kicked her feet. "Oh, you want me to put you down?" I asked sweetly.

Rhea's eyes widened behind her sunglasses, "No-" She was interrupted as Damian came up behind the both of us and pushed up over, both of us toppling over into the water.

We both stood up spluttering as we watched him double over laughing at us, Dom and Finn on the cusp of the shore watching us.

Rhea and I shared a look before teaming up and each grabbing one of Damian's arms, dragging him further out into the water, him completely compliant as he laughed too hard to care what we were doing.

With unspoken communication, simultaneously, I jumped on Damian's back, sending him forward while Rhea yanked on his arms, further pulling him forward into the water.

Since we still weren't super far out into the water yet and I was on top of Damian, while I did hit the water, I luckily didn't go all the way under. Plus, Rhea caught me a little bit before I could.

Damian stood up from the water, the laughter now nowhere in sight as his annoyance was displayed clear as day on his face.

Small bursts of laughter exploded from me and Rhea as we tried to contain them, but the look on his face as water dripped down was too much. Any semblance of control went right out the window when Dom and Finn came up behind Damian and pushed him over into the water again.

Rhea and I clung onto each other for dear life as we laughed so hard we couldn't breathe, the boys keeping our laughter going by giving us a little show of performing wrestling moves on each other as they continued to fight and push each other into the water.

Eventually, this led to us playing chicken, another few feet or so deeper into the ocean. I was on Finn's shoulders with Dominik on Damians while Rhea played ref on the side.

"Go for his stomach, remember he's ticklish," Finn whispered up at me. 

"Got it," I responded, determined to win as I leaned down and we did our little handshake. 

Rhea looked at both groups. "Ready?" She asked Finn and me, to which we both nodded in response. She turned to Dom and Damian. "Ready?" They both nodded.

"On your mark, get set, go!" She shouted, waving her hand like a flag.

Finna and Damian began walking towards each other as Dominik and I both held out our hands for each other. As soon as he was within reach, I began tickling his ribs, watching as he began to squirm atop of Damian, who was struggling to hold him up as he moved. 

As a unit, Finn and I moved in for the kill. I pushed Dom backwards as Finn pushed Damian. They both fell back into the water with a large splash.

Dominik immediately came up out of the water shouting for Rhea, saying that we were cheating. I gave the three of them my most innocent look possible as Rhea looked over at us while we were accused of interference.

"Nothing there was against the rules, Dom Dom. Y/N and Finn won fair and square." She announced.

Dominik was clearly affronted as a look of hurt crossed his features. "Okay, fine." He threw his hands up in surrender. Then, in the blink of an eye, he grabbed Rhea's arm and dunked her into the water.

And let me tell you, Rhea was not happy when she came back up. The two of them got into a splashing match and continuously dragged each other under the water until Damian inevitably broke it up.

Finn bent down and helped me off of his shoulders, trying to not get my head any wetter than it already was, and the five of us walked back to shore together.

Apart from a day or two spent out shopping, the rest of the week was spent like this. Fighting each other in the water, sunbathing, Rhea and me cuddling long into the night while the boys grumbled and complained and cuddled each other in spite.

It was blissful, and the best week of my life. 

[weebsinstash]

some random poly yandere staticradio soulmate stuff because it literally will not leave my head

- just picture you've been dead for a small handful of months and you're at home in your apartment just absolutely exhausted when suddenly not one but two soulmate strings appear on your hand and within like 2 minutes you've got someone knocking on your front door. It turns out the two of them were about to have some sort of spar or fight or competition that put both of them in the area at the exact same time and they both meet you for the first time together

- I like the idea that since they just show up at your apartment, it becomes a trend of you coming home and they've already let themselves in, and it's always both of them. They're very open about not trusting leaving the other alone with you so you're just constantly getting double exposure from two super insecure looney tunes dudes who are constantly competing with each other

- i keep gravitating towards a Reader who is, not quite hostile to them but is immediately overwhelmed and turned off by their presence because you're still very overwhelmed about being dead and being stuck working in Hell's rat race and meanwhile these two grown men are coming on to you VERY strong and it's just a lot of pressure very suddenly, so, you're basically very up-front about telling both of them you don't want any sort of relationship right now, and they just. Are convinced it's simply a matter of warming up your heart and letting you get comfortable with them, so they're just CONSTANTLY showing up unannounced trying to get you to go out and do things with them. They're always trying to sneak behind each other's backs and see you in private but for some suspicious reason you're never alone with one of them for very long before the other seems to catch wind, almost as if they're also spying on each other--

- given that in this scenario, the boys are being extremely pushy and Reader is kind of actively telling them to fuck off, I keep thinking of Reader deciding the only way to get rid of them is to make them hate you or think you're annoying and you start deliberately playing favorites back and forth to make them fight. You're just so overwhelmed with... everything, your life, your death, your trauma, that part of you just says "let them kill each other in a rage, rhen you won't have to deal with either"

... but like you'll go to mock and insult and tease them and they think it's cute??? They think you're funny??? You could literally look Alastor directly in the eyes as you verbally unload an entire magazine of psychological ammunition against him as you tell him exactly what he comes off as to you, how he's clearly playing a character, how it's so obvious he has some deep trauma eating away inside of him, a deep hole that can never be filled, and you could say some things that could CUT deep for anyone else, and he'd, bark out laughing in your face. "Aren't YOU quite the spitfire!! I see you've got a silver-tongue!" and he's almost PRAISING your attempts to get under his skin???

You say things to these two that would make other people either cry or viciously beat your ass and they'll just, all but coo at you. Aren't you so smart for being able to pinpoint their deep insecurities and dig into them in the most hurtful ways :) you could rant at Alastor about how "if his mom gave half a damn about raising him, he wouldn't be in Hell" and he'll somehow mansplain manipulate malewife you into traumadumping about your own mom

-when you want to make them argue or pit them against each other, you rub in one of their faces all the things you have in common and like to do with the other one. Alastor could be absolutely verbally tearing Vox into pieces and have him almost reduced to tears and you'll stroll through the room looking for your hair brush, "at least I'll be having sex with him" and then casually strolling back out while Alastor is SCANDALIZED. Drunk Reader calling out to Alastor, "noooo, don't bully my dorky little TV, he's got that dick I need 😋"

Vox is annoying you? You make direct eye contact with him as you sit yourself down next to Alastor and turn to him, "you know, beau, I was hoping you and I could go out to a jazz club and I could learn a little about dancing! Does that sound like it could be fun?" and of course Alastor now gets the delicious opportunity to spend time with you and know he's engaging his rival to no ends

-Just, it eventually just getting really petty and cute tbh. You're cooking and Alastor takes a taste and makes some comment you don't like and you just holler over your shoulder, "Vox honey, my FAVORITE soulmate, do you want me to fix you a plate to eat?" and he's all but racing into the kitchen to see you (and watch Alastor fume). Everyone is constantly pissing each other off but the second like, Vox is showing up at your front door alone and Alastor is running suspiciously late, it's not just one of you that starts getting concerned. It's like. A lil family almost. Of nasty people annoying the shit out of each other and then getting drunk and making out

- ok... ok... this is a very specific scenario but i keep thinking about it and I just.... imagine if after being kind of cold and distant or like reluctantly affectionate with them for a prolonged period of time you eventually are a direct witness to like.... you basically happen to be out in public at the right place at the right time to see Valentino putting his hands on Vox. And you just kind. Explode. And have some sort of powers of your own where you're just basically pummeling Valentino and helping Vox to his feet, and his face is all busted up so maybe he can't even see or hear properly but he knows you're there and it's you helping him up and, you wind up either helping him all the way back home or you run into a random radio somewhere while Alastor is on the air and you just start bawling and begging for his help. He just immediately ends his broadcast and comes to find you totally sobbing over Vox as you try to keep all the falling pieces of his screen in place, cutting your fingers on them, not knowing how to fix him, IF he can be fixed, you just don't know--

Vox holding your hand even though he can't talk while Alastor helps take charge and calm you down. He takes the both of you somewhere else, somewhere safe, and after leaving you waiting alone for a while, they both reappear. Alastor has helped repair Vox, but with an older model of television, either the same kind if not the exact same one that Vox used to have. He can repair this guy, but he refuses to touch modern tech. Besides, maybe he thinks this suits Vox better anyways, and, you're just so relieved he can talk and see again, and there wasn't much you could have done to help on your end, so, you're just, crying with relief that he's all better, basically bear hugging the both of them as you apologize for how mean you've been and, you'll give them a chance, it's just really a lot right now, and maybe if they gave you some more space--

but they'll refuse, because for one, why would they spend any time away from you, that's stupid 🥺 like deadass them just giving you the most genuine smiles and just "give you space? why would we ever do that? You're our soulmate" in just like, the most heinously loving way possible 😭❤️ you're gonna constantly wake up with one or both of them standing over you and you're going to LIKE IT--

[gofishygo]

price x trans ftm reader who started his transition later in life? like just thinking... they served a tour or two together before reader transitioned. had a little fling going on, potentially on the way towards more. but after whatever mission/tour theyre on is over, reader slowly stops keeping in contact with price.

years down the line, the reunite during some sort of mission. price recognizes readers last name or callsign but the face he's met with is different. this man is happier.

price and reader get to talking in some downtime and decide that once this is all over (the mission they're on), they'll try and take some time together to make up for all the time they'd lost together. and price gets to meet the real you.

[PRIDE MONTH- WEEK ONE] : through green hydrangeas (my heart lies) price x ftm reader (part 1/2)

notes : (somewhat innacurate) descriptions of military, injury, brief outlines of smut (no explicits mentioned), gender dysphoria, reader gets outed towards the end. this may be edited later on.

wc- 1.8k

urzikistan- take down six targets aligned with al quatala, all terrorist backgrounds. a mission where location and timing and team were everything, pointed into maps and plotted into files, handled with fine-cut secrecy, knife-point precision, landed directly into price's aged hands. And now, at the final stretch, he'd been handed a few recruits at his expense. Fought with laswell against them, argued that his team could run through the enemy.

(and by god, how can he focus on the task at hand when he sees the shine in that operator's eyes, the curvature of his face? warm and familiar, the mother's milk suckled by a pup.)

It’s odd, having to work with a man so similar to her. narrowed eyes and sharp teeth, even sharing the same gun hed swore he gifted her- considers for a moment that maybe she’d changed, now baring a different name on id’s and passports, records crossed out and scrawled over. stole her last name as well, and before he’d even met you, he had already considered asking laswell to ship you off to whatever pmc would accept you.

but at the same time, he bites his tongue, wire muzzle to some refectory dog.

you seem to truly be alive, words barked with flame, spilled from your stomach, full-toothed smile instead of the sleazy grin she wore. you are her and aren’t her- and sometimes, maybe, he lets himself think youre better. sweeter. hates the way he still gives you the same greeting as he did to that woman, selfishly using a subordinate to fill out some cavity in his chest. but he can’t have it any other way, doesn’t want to have it in any other way.

a world where slowing down didn’t mean stopping. had a nice ring to it.

-

it's 0400 on the day of deployment. there's brittle crust in the ducts of your eyes that you hadn't been able to wash of in the changerooms, and now you are holding onto gun and hanging onto the sky by plane, listening to the clicks as you load and unload the magazines. missions like these, capture-kills with enemies that outdid your measures of brutality and lived for the beliefs of bloodshed in liberty; they weigh in your chest, some layers of adrenal fear smuggled under the layers of methodical, stoical behaviour. the buzzing headache that never left as a child, the feel of pressure wrapped around crevices of the cerebellum, tightening.

in these plights, you'd used to knock on price's door, hands itching to roll into fist- turning the fear you'd guide like a shepherd into the spit in stout-littered kisses, how you pulled off his clothes like the vulture to a corpse. the way your body moved against his was the nicotine you'd smoke on long nights. it was sickening, at first, how much control that you revelled in, the way that his name had found its place under your tongue. the way that he grabbed at the bone in your hips, worshipping, devotee. taken to his body like addict to a drug, the dissociation between you heart and the fat-filled mounds on your chest washed out by lust. he makes it feel like the ache was never there, that you could scream with the voice that had been trapped beneath high-strung vocal cords, unfortunate biology. and you let yourself beg to god; why, oh god why, why were you given a body at the cost of your life?

but now, navigating through some twisted buildings under the cover of night, clearing rooms in the hotel, you know that you're changed. the revelation behind the woman beneath price's sheets all those years ago, who'd stolen your skin and your eyes and your face- it could cost you your life, could have you shunned and dying like a dog on the streets. and yet, you still hold a weary head up and dream about-

Johnathan price. he still festered in your ribcage, face slipped away into the back of your skull, the bug you'd yet to squish as you drive military blade into an enemy's neck and muffle their mouth through dying thrashes. He nods, gruff sound muted behind mutton chops, murmuring an audible 'clear' through the fizzle of comms. And you let yourself wonder, if maybe those prismarine eyes can find yourself in the body now known as home. (He swears that your smile matches the woman he'd fell for through sparring matches and facebook posts. that old face he'd barely managed to blot out with cigars and whiskey and downed with bourbon and-) your team proceeds down the hallways,

‘all stations on right wing, target four is down. I repeat, target four is down. zero KIA.’ and your mouth quirks up a little. ‘deems that Ghost’s aim still doesn’t fail,” you muse. His eyebrow raises- only slightly- at the tense of your words. still.

“certainly doesn’t,” and you want to drink the strain in his voice until its ache is gone.

another few minutes of clearing the building. the repetitions of breaking open the same doors with the same crowbars, gun peeking through the side of the frame. So similar, practiced in recon and real-world situations, yet never being comfortable, safe. it’s almost automatic at this point, reducing your phycology to nothing more than the gun that you wield- deciding, acting. but looking over at price- the look in his eyes know’s you’d been injured. Bubbling fire deep in your marrow, fear bittering the air around you; foul, unappetising, yet it feels the captain wants to swallow you whole.

-

and now it rips through you- feels like your insides are pouring out, scrap of kidney and intestine pooling out at the starburst entry point. some pained shriek ripped out of your throat. at one point, you waited next to the doorframe of a room, (sixty-four left wing, is it?) and the next, some enemy operator had opened a hole in your stomach.

whatever moment between that is an animated blur, dismal and discoloured where sound pools in your ears instead of song. a captain- your captain, tackling the man to the ground in a double-leg-takedown, throwing down the gun at their side, the high wail of shots fired ringing into your ear while a teammate -the milky white patch on her face makes you assume it might be nova- drags you behind the wall as cover, your teammates taking position to cover for price, but also rip through the inhabitants of the room. and for the first time in the mission, you let fear curdle in your throat alongside the blood clinging to it’s walls, drip into your bloodstream and bury itself into bone. cant tell if the shadow hazing your thoughts is the predecessor death or subdued panic finally breaking though it’s confines . and you find it bitter, stupid, wholly in your heart, that even as your stomach spills onto the floor of a home that wasn’t yours, that part of your brain still festers. a possibility that the only man who could make your heart beat- john price, and his affair with the woman who’d stolen your soul and locked it behind flesh. Letting out some bitter laugh, feeling blood trace your lips whilst some stray bullet manages to hit the skull of an enemy, heard by the ungodly gurgle and tear of bullet through flesh, confirmed by the hum of your comms. “target two on left wing down, one broken-” price, now next to you, lets hard eyes settle against your form, dying star. “-seems to need medic.” another voice fizzles to life on the radio- laswell’s, you presume. “team delta, split to d1-d2. d1 continue to clear left wing, d2 head to rendezvous point.”

you can only really groan, blood bubbling to your throat when price hauls you to face his side, hissing out some curse as you hold shaky hand to where the blood seems to be leaking from. “easy there soilder-“ john grunts, wrenching your hand out of the way with a firm grip- a bear gripping her cub the scruff of it’s neck, holding it so tenderly between her teeth. one of your other teammates- cant identify them, head too filled up with adrenaline filled cloud and the haze to blood loss to register their shape- seems to toss over a roll of bandages. and if you had breath left, you would have barked out some half-assed remark about how strategically awful it was to tear off the gear and pull off the shirt of your uniform, but the nerves of the paled scars below your chest being revealed to cold air had your mouth shut, jaws locked, like wired muzzle to a dog. trying not to choke on the blood and jerk away when his eyes meet the placement of the wound.

it's diasporic, shaped like a dying star above you tattoo you’d had engraved deep into your dermis all those years ago. the 141’s old symbol- jagged sword without the skull, olive branches extending through its frame. a part of you far more distinctive, more tolerable to remember than thought of the girl who had decided to have it etched into her skin. And now your captain can see both of those on you- in you- and shamefully, you let lurid fear bite into you, thoughts snapping with teeth, breaking down the glass bars that composed the cage you made. Price may never kiss that tattoo again during the long nights, now look at the memories you’d made with a lens tinted by hatred. “nice to put a name to the face,”

he murmurs, wrapping the bandage to compress the wound, once, twice, thrice around your waist. Hauls your arm around his shoulder and begins the trek to the rendezvous point. one arm was pressed just above where he knew your tattoo rested, no mind to whatever blood trickles in the cracks of his fingers. “ill see you back at burningham, love,” its like your submerged in water now, eyes blurry with seawater and ears deafened by the tide filling their crevices. with the last of your energy, you tug yourself towards price, fingers tangled in his, doubling over and feeling the bandages settle under the layer of fat and muscle on your ribs. letting yourself dream of him for what seems to be your last time, fingers tangled together, pretending that your gasps for air were nothing more than laughter echoes against crashing waves on british shores, letting fresh saltwater air tangle you hair and travel your windpipe.

by the time the captain scoops you up, you’re far too deep in oceanwater, back against rocky seafloor. “stand strong, soldier,” and even through his gruff voice, you still notice the way it almost begs, song of prayer tucked away deep in his voicebox . some words he had hidden. price pulls you closer with his arm, fingers clawed and desperate, and the world crashes against you all at once.

[cvntyboylove-666]

Thinking about being a lost and weary traveler, wandering unknowingly into the cave of a lonely tentacle monster. I just wanted shelter and a place to sleep for the night but before I know it I've been grabbed and hoisted into the air by tentacles. They would inspect my body, wiggling under my clothes and ripping them off, restraining all my limbs, rubbing against my holes. The tentacles will start to fondle my boytits, playing with my nipples. They don't understand me when I cry out, and I don't really want them to stop. They'll wrap around my throat to feel the vibrations, then one will shove itself down my throat. The others will prod my ass and boypussy, before diving in, filling me up, suckers catching on all my sensitive parts, fucking me deeper than any human ever could. The suckers feel so good, sucking ring shaped bruises into my skin. More tentacles would join the ones already inside me, stretching me impossibly wide, pushing past my cervix. I'm just a moaning drooling mess by now, so pliant and breedable. I don't even know how many times I've cum before the tentacles unload their seed into me. The ones restraining me just cum on my body, coating me in their sperm. They cum so much and so long into my womb that my belly swells until I look nine months pregnant. When they pull out I think I might have a break, until more take their place. They haven't had their share of their new boytoy yet. This is my purpose now, to be the cumdump fleshlight for hundreds of tentacles, and I fucking love it.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I started putting my partner's dirty dishes on their desk after they leave them on my desk?

So, my partner and I have our computer desks in the same room. They stay up later than me and will frequently have a late night snack that produces dirty dishes. Very often, they will put the dishes on my desk if I'm already in bed so that it's out of the way while they game. The problem is that when they're done for the night, they'll frequently leave the dishes on my desk instead of taking it to the kitchen.

I don't really have a problem with them not taking the dishes to the kitchen right away because god knows I leave trash/dishes on my own desk sometimes too. I would just rather they don't leave it on my desk because then I have to move it somewhere before I use my computer, and I just end up putting it in the sink or dishwasher. I've tried asking them not to do it anymore multiple times and reminding them after they do it, and while they've gotten somewhat better they still leave dishes on my desk pretty often (it used to be every night and now it's just most nights kind of thing).

I really don't think asking them is going to do much more than it already has. We both have ADHD, but theirs is Definitely worse than mine. Very specifically their clutter blindness is a lot worse than mine, so I know the issue is that the dishes are out of sight, out of mind.

I want to start just moving the dishes to their desk so that it's back in their line of sight and they're reminded to deal with them without me verbalizing it, but I'm going back and forth about that idea. One one hand, I hate feeling like their mom and constantly reminding them to clean up after themselves. And if I don't remind them and just clean it up, then I pretty often end up doing more chores and not sitting down to relax as soon as I'd like to (i.e, oh they left some wrappers and a dirty bowl on my desk, well I'll just take it to the kitchen. Ugh, the sink is full and the dishwasher is clean. Well I'll just unload it really quick and load it again. Oh and the trash is also full so if I want to throw these wrappers away I need to take the trash out and put a new bag in. Suddenly it's 20-30 minutes later, which doesn't seem like much but it adds up when it's happening multiple times a week.) But on the flip side, I feel like this is the kind of thing that could be read as passive aggressive even though I really don't mean it that way. I'm not trying to punish them I just don't want to always be cleaning up after them when it's cutting into my already short evening relaxing time.

[userautumn]

You are always 100% right and valid btw. Because like buck and Tommy are broken up, but you also have several interviews released today where Ryan calls Buck and Eddie “brothers” and where Oliver explicitly says Eddie is straight so they will most likely continue to be just friends. So if it wasn’t for Buddie, what was the point in throwing away a relationship the audience was actually behind??

Yeah, this has always been my problem with the idea of Buck and Tommy breaking up and, now that it's happened, I can finally unload all my thoughts.

Listen, my Buddie mutuals are very assured that Buck and Eddie will get together and have this lush and beautiful arc where they settle into a relationship and feel out the kinks in their dynamic and really blend together, and I respect that. I would love to see that happen. But I don't have that same confidence. Don't get me wrong, I DO think Buck and Eddie will probably get together, I just don't think it's going to happen until the last episode of the last season in a way that's more reminiscent of Johnlock "canon" (for those who did not watch BBC Sherlock: John and Sherlock continued to live together and raise John's daughter, but this was revealed in a montage without ever actually seeing them get together, or confirm that they were in a romantic relationship) than anything.

Why? Well, because it's easier to tease your audience than it is to follow through.

Don't get me wrong, I don't think Tim is teasing the fandom in a malicious way, and—if nothing else—I know he is very aware of what these boys and the implication of their relationship means to people. 9-1-1 has always handled their relationship with a particular gravitas, and I don't see that changing now. But Tim has been writing Buck and Eddie for years. He knows what gets people going, he knows what this fandom likes to see, and what they'll read into. So why would he rush into making them "endgame," especially if he knows he already wants to take them in that direction? He has no incentive to make it happen Right Now because everyone will lap up what he puts out anyway.

And I get it, because I do love Buck and Eddie's relationship. I love the way they interact with each other and, yes, I will lap up any scene between them. But that's the part I find so draining too. I'm going to be honest, I've never liked a "will-they-won't-they" couple. As a personal preference, I've always liked to have a clear vision of a story's trajectory when I go into it. That's how I write, and that's what I gravitate toward in fiction. So the idea of going through any number of love interests until Buck and Eddie are "ready for each other" (so sick of that phrase. sob.) is literally... exhausting to me, and not in a fun way. Because this is a loop that could theoretically continue on, and on, and on, until whenever the powers that be decide enough is enough.

Sure, Eddie is happy and free now. Great. But he still doesn't know he's Queer. What happens when he does realize that? Does he need to date a guy first in order to be "ready" for Buck? Similarly (because their romantic arcs always run parallel to each other), when Buck fucks and sucks his way through Los Angeles, does he stumble upon a hot girl/guy and date her/him until Eddie's "ready" for him? How many times, exactly, am I going to sit through another love interest until they're on the same page after, by my count, three false starts? You know?

I'm obviously along for the ride. Always have been, always will be, and I fought too hard over the summer to maintain my love for these boys and their relationship to let it waste away now. But I desperately, desperately need Tim to give me something substantial that CLEARLY, and EXPLICITLY indicates IMMEDIATE strides toward ROMANTIC Buddie Canon. And I mean crystal clear. Not "building a thousand words of meta off a single line/moment" clear. Not "this look probably definitely means Eddie was thinking about ripping Buck's clothes off" clear. I mean, I want it so damn clear, a sixty-five year old grandpa with cataracts can see it.

Otherwise I'm just going to get really annoyed.

[moremaybank]

WRONG — r.c

pairing rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary you and rafe have an agreement. just sex, no feelings. (based on the song "wrong" by zayn feat. kehlani)

warnings 18+, mostly smut, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, semi-public sex, handjob, use of restraints (cuffs), switch!rafe i guess?? (reader takes control), language, let me know if i missed any

author’s note finally found a small speck of motivation to write. also i adore this song, so i took the excuse to write a fic based on it

rafe masterlist

oh, we're not in the same place

show me in the same light

feels right when we take flight

clothes off 'cause she's so soft

this ain't a fair fight

i wanna shed light on the subject

i'll get her wetter than ever

four letters are never the question

she likes when i'm messy

and i like when she's undressing

rafe understood your body on an unfathomable level, more than anyone you'd ever given yourself over to. he knew what made you tick. he knew what made your eyes roll back and your legs tremble beyond measure. he knew which spots on your body would make you crumble if he kissed them or scraped his teeth against. with just a filthy sentence whispered into your ear, he would make you submit to him with the snap of a finger.

the two of you fit together perfectly, like a puzzle that had just been completed, with every piece in its rightful place. and this held true with every encounter between the two of you.

"oh, rafe," you mewled as you gripped the edge of the counter you were placed on. your knuckles were sore as you held on tightly, trying to keep yourself in place as rafe fucked you.

you could feel the bass from the blaring music vibrating the house's structures and hear the party-goers right outside. it filled you with an immense thrill as you thought about how all it would take was one person to open the restroom door and catch the two of you in the act.

"that feel good, baby? tell me who knows this pussy best. let me hear it, let everyone in this goddamn party hear it," he gritted through his teeth as his fingers dug into the plush flesh of your thighs. "who makes you feel this fucking good?"

"you, rafe. fuck, right there," you responded.

rafe brought your legs to hook over his muscular shoulders, practically bending you in half as he pummelled into you. one hand found your throat, choking you as he held you upright.

"yeah? you gonna be good and cream all over me, princess? show me how much you wanna make me proud?" he brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles onto it as he felt your legs begin to shake against both of his shoulders.

"yes, yes, yes. shit," you gasped, your head leaning against the bathroom counter behind you felt the coil deep in your belly strengthen. you knew you were about to snap, and rafe could feel how close you were as your walls pulsated around him, the grip they had on his cock becoming tighter. "rafe!"

rafe used his grip on your throat to draw your face to his, and he kissed you breathless as you both fell over the edge. he groaned into your mouth as your tongues stroked against each other.

he pulled away, leaning his forehead against your own as he felt his cock unload inside of you. he drew his cock out, watching his cum start to seep out of your entrance, but he was quick to stop it as he stuffed his fingers inside of you, pushing his release back inside you.

you shuddered as his fingers massaged your walls, and you whined at his touch.

"i want you to do something for me, baby," rafe spoke, withdrawing his fingers from you and shoving them inside your mouth so you could taste the mixture of both of your releases. he felt your tongue slither around his digits as you savoured the heavenly concoction. "i want you to go back out there, and let my cum drip down your thighs. that way, if anyone tries to get a look at that sweet little pussy, they'll know i've already claimed it."

but it didn't matter how perfect things were physically between you because the minute you two got entangled with each other, you and rafe made it explicitly clear; it was just about the sex. you craved a deep stress reliever, and rafe craved the same.

and that's all that it was.

you're looking in the wrong place for my love

don't think because you're with me this is real

you're looking in the wrong place for my love

don't stop what you're doing 'cause i like how you're doing it

despite the fact that things between the two of you would never be classified as more than a hook-up, that did nothing to stop you guys from drowning in each other at any given moment. neither of you was looking for love, or even companionship for that matter, but the sex was too good to let go of.

and if there was no viable reason to stop, why would you?

"don't get too attached to this cock, princess. you know what this is," rafe mumbled against your skin. he let his lips adorn the skin of your neck as you rode him in the backseat of your car.

"in your dreams, cameron. i just came here for your dick. nothing else."

"hm, is that so?" he asked, his arms wrapping around your frame tightly, keeping you in place. he began to fuck up into you, the sound of his thighs smacking against the backs of yours and your ass. "you really think any other dick is gonna fuck you this deep?"

you clung to him, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as you let him plunge against your g-spot. your breath hitched, and you cried out, "don't fucking stop. jesus fucking christ."

that wasn't exactly the answer rafe was expecting, but it still gave him the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

"didn't think so," he smirked to himself as his thrusts became punishing and unrelenting. "no one will ever fuck you as good as i do. remember that."

here with you 'cause you got the right vibe

seems like you probably got a dope mind

but it's gotta be the right time

we're only good for the night time

i see through your demeanor, baby, i'm a pleaser

i go out my way to treat you, but i can't be a teacher

'cause i'm a problem with problems, i know who i am and i'm not no good

you can have me tonight or never, i thought you understood

baby, some people are meant to be loved and others just naked

so take what i'm willing to give and love it or hate it

you and rafe were inexplicable messes, through and through. forever on power trips, you thrived off of being in control and that bled through every shared rendezvous.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" rafe questioned, watching as you cuffed each of his wrists to your bedposts. "i thought you understood my rules. i'm the one in charge here."

"you said that. i, however, didn't," you replied, smirking at him. "let me share my rules with you. you're gonna sit here and let me use you in every single way i can think of, and if you behave, maybe i'll even be nice and let you have some fun of your own."

you spat onto your palm and wrapped it around rafe's hard cock. you started to jerk him, taking your time as you watched the fire ignite behind his eyes. his hips stuttered subconsciously, and you used your free hand to keep him from moving.

"this is bullshit. you fucking need me, and you know it," rafe gruffed. "if you don't uncuff me, i swear to god i'll fuck you right into this mattress."

"shhh," you cooed, shushing him with the index finger of your free hand. you kissed him sensually, leaving your lips only millimetres away from his as you mumbled against him. "i'm in control here, baby. and don't get it twisted. i don't need you. i need your cock. there's a difference."

you nipped at his bottom lip, tugging it out and letting it go with a snap as you kept up your motions on his cock. "now are you gonna be quiet and let me fuck you until you're begging to cum or not?"

he nodded, and you hovered over his hips, allowing yourself to sink onto his cock.

"you feel so fucking good, rafe. so deep, shit."

you started to roll your hips, letting every inch of his thick length massage your cunt's walls. he filled you up in a savorous manner, and it made your mouth water. you could feel him everywhere; in the tips of your fingers and toes, throughout your arms and legs, in your chest, hell, in your damn throat. he surrounded you, overwhelmingly so, but in the best way possible.

"f-fuck," he moaned, slumping against the headboard as you rose to your feet and started to bounce up and down on his cock. your walls were so velvety and warm and wet, you felt like ecstasy wrapped around him, and he could no longer focus on the lack of control he possessed in that moment.

you were like a drug, unlike any other one he'd ever tried, and you were ten times more addictive. he wasn't sure how he would ever overcome the vice-gripped chokehold you and your pussy had on him.

you took every opportunity to remind him that you only wanted one thing from him, and you were also sure to put him in his place. you could take control of the situation just as easily as he could, and you would never let him forget it.

i don't, i don't really know

i don't, i don't really care

maybe keep it on the low

stories that i don't wanna share

it was simple; less talking, more fucking.

you didn't care about what had him so worked up or angry whenever he came by to see you, and vice-versa. there was no need for small talk or chit-chat. all you craved was a release.

rafe would use your body and do whatever he pleased. he'd take you any time, anywhere. edging you until you cried for him. fucking you until all you could do was let him fuck him to his cock's content. slurping and lapping at your cunt until you physically couldn't take anymore.

and you would ride him until he was whimpering and begging for a break. your hand would stay wrapped around his throat, keeping his heated gaze locked on yours as you brought him to your mercy as many times as you wished. sucking his cock, letting him touch the back of your throat and allowing him to feel you gag around him as you chose his dick over the oxygen vital for your survival.

neither of you cared about what lay underneath the surface or what pushed you so far that you needed to search for physical solace in the other's body.

none of that other stuff mattered. what did matter was that you were able to blow off some steam with no limits regarding how you did so.

rafe tag list (join here!): @rafesmuse @rafesdior @maybankslover @softsatnin @obxjjpouge @outerbankspov @skydisneylover @elijahssuit @kenzi-woycehoski @alexxavicry @kanib45 @princessbetsy123-blog @dudenhaaa27 @houseofperfecttaste

[imtrashraccoon]

AAAA CONGRATS ON 200!!!! And may I ask for some don’t imagines for dream sans? Love your work!!!

Hey thanks Anon, that means a lot to me! Here's an idea I've been toying with for a while that could become a oneshot.

Don't imagine finding yourself homeless after a string of unfortunate events. How you're at the end of your rope and can't seem to lift yourself out of this pit no matter how hard you try. How your soul feels heavy and you don't know if you can go on anymore.

Don't imagine sitting with your head buried in your arms when you hear someone approaching. How you don't even bother looking up since you know they'll ignore you anyways. How your heart skips a beat when their pace slows before stopping in front of you.

Don't imagine how the stranger asks if you're hurt. How his question surprises you so much that you look up at him. How you're even more surprised that he's a skeleton and a well dressed one at that. How his bones almost seem to glow and how he basically radiates warmth.

Don't imagine how his eyelights scan your face and how concerned he looks. How he kneels in front of you and asks how this happened. How you get the sense that he doesn't mean you harm. How you hesitate for a moment before all but unloading your troubles on him.

Don't imagine how he seems to understand what you've been through and how he doesn't judge you for any of it. How he asks if he can touch you. How he puts a hand on your shoulder and moves some of your hair out of your face with the other. How he comforts you and empathizes with how hard you've had it.

Don't imagine how he offers to help you. How you hesitate for a moment before accepting. How he helps you to your feet and wraps an arm around your shoulders so you can lean against him. How he isn't bothered about his coat getting dirty.

Don't imagine how he holds you close and whispers for you to close your eyes for a moment. How the cold and damp air is immediately replaced by a pleasant warmth. How you open your eyes to find yourself in a completely different world from your own. How green the trees are and how brightly the sun shines. How he explains that this is where he lives and he'd like for you to be able to enjoy it like he does.

Don't imagine how he lets you stay in his little cottage and never asks for payment. How he's always there for you and makes sure you have anything you could ever want. Definitely don't imagine how you start to develop a sort of crush on him. How he seems to know but says nothing. How you wonder if he feels the same.

Don't imagine how he finds you standing in the garden one day. How you're enjoying the warm sun and the fragrance from all the flowers. How he quietly walks over to you with a fond smile. How he hugs you and comments on how happy you look. How he softly nuzzles into your hair. How you finally realize that he loves you just as much as you love him.

First, Previous, & Next Request

[juliart-107]

a LOT of genloss rgbtrio escape au headcannons, simply because these have been sitting in my notes app for a month now and if i don't share them then idk what i'll do with them.

as always, these will make barely any sense so apologies if it's incomprehensible.

gl! sneeg - he gets very quiet and emotionless, incredibly intent on protecting the three of them. when it's serious, he'll get up in the middle of the night and sit in the entryway with a weapon and block the front door with a chair, staying up the whole night unblinkingly staring, waiting for showfall's men to come barging in. though he knows it illogical and dangerous, he's motivated by the fact that wasn't able to protect charlie and ranboo before, and will do anything in his power to make sure that he can give back that favor. charlie (since he gets up first) or ranboo (since he will get up to get a midnight snack) will usually find him on guard, exhausted but determined. at first, it lowkey scared the shit outta them. but the two of them began drawing sneeg back into conversations when he started to withdraw, and made sure to constantly reassure him that that they're safe and he doesn't have to strain to prove himself deserving of their company. when they find him in the entryway anyway, without judgement, they will quietly lead him back to his bed.

gl! charlie - helps others before he helps himself. to a point where sneeg and ranboo thought that he was already over showfall shortly after their escape. since he was so vibrant, he cheered up sneeg and ranboo when they needed assistance, and they assumed that charlie simply wasn't effected by the fears unloaded onto him. unknowingly to them, charlie had been hiding the fact that he has been having nightmares. after episode 2, showfall haphazardly sewed up charlie, leaving a scar across his stomach which aches everytime he thinks about it. he flinches whenever someone accidentally presses against it, especially if it's ranboo, and will try to avoid the subject of hospitals/surgeries/gore. all these little things added up, but were overshadowed by his bright smile and the three's focus on not being found by showfall. once they learn of this, they make sure to meet a frightened-awake charlie with hot cocoa (sneeg) or a cold glass of water (ranboo), and lets him initiate the hugs when he needs it.

(hcs use he/him for ranboo to provide distinction between the individual and the collective rgbtrio :])

gl! ranboo - is lost. a lot of the time, he irrationally checks if the mask was still on his mouth and nose after charlie and sneeg helped him pry it off him. it leaves a phantom pressure on his face, so he wears a face mask gifted to him by sneeg (half to soothe the phantom feeling, half to hide the scars left from the mask). ranboo doesnt know his place in society now that he's free but he stays for the two of them. he remembers the people he had to leave behind often. sometimes, he'll go quiet, only to ask them what they think happened to the other characters - charlie tries to stay optimistic, saying that, one day, they'll meet them again, when they also escape. sneeg doesn't promise anything, instead he just reminisces with ranboo, focusing on their admirable resilience. they try their best for the young hero. (being so young but having seen so much, they try double as hard to give him the life he deserves.) they get into a routine when ranboo needs help, where he falls into charlie's arms to comfort him when the panic becomes too much, or leans on sneeg just to listen to him ramble to distract him.

unrelated, random hc quick fire:

gl! sneeg gets into criminology/law because he wants justice for all three of them. he likes to cover it up to by saying he just finds true crime interesting, but he is truly motivated by protecting them.

gl! sneeg finds cooking pretty easy too, like he used to do it for someone important a long time ago. he brushes it off, thinking he was just remembering the cabin.

gl! ranboo sets up a corkboard trying to find the secrets to showfall/how to help the other showfall characters. gl! sneeg and charlie remind him it's probably unhealthy but ranboo causes such a stir that they give in and let him keep it up since it gives him peace of mind. at some point, gl! sneeg begins to help him with his corkboard using his criminology knowledge. gl! charlie keeps them humble tho, making sure they don't go too deep into a spiral of detective-ing

gl! charlie is irrationally connected to his water bottle (idk why, he just is because actual charlie is lmao). he drew the slimestory design on :)

gl! ranboo is still able to solve a Rubik's cube without looking after escaping. he learns to actually enjoy leaving it unsolved, doing it for the love of it rather than just going from point a to point b like they programmed him to do.

gl! ranboo is extremely worried about being found by showfall again, so it's gl! charlie and sneeg who put up the sticky notes to remind themselves not to open the blinds unless ranboo is okay with it.

gl! rgbtrio start doing arts and crafts to pass the time in their little home. gl! sneeg paints a mug and gl! charlie embroiders a pillow.

connected to this one ^ gl! ranboo learns of pride flags and wants pins of his flags, so gl! charlie and sneeg collect bottle caps and bobby pins which ranboo uses to make his own pins. he puts them on the jacket that showfall assigned him to, personalizing the clothing that was meant to rip away his individuality/true self.

gl! charlie loves plants, and cares for them like pets. he's Very particular about them too, not allowing gl! sneeg or ranboo to touch them. (he swears he knew a person who loved plants as well, someone important to him, but the real and the fake blend into each other, so he tries to just move on and make a life with rgbtrio. he still wonders, though.)

gl! rgbtrio manage to find comfy pyjamas, because of course. wearing something other than showfall gave them, and being with people who truly care and see them for who they are, it starts to feel more like a home :').

aren't you glad you get these juliart_107 tumblr exclusives :'''') /s

btw, a lot of these small hcs can be spotted in this art i did (just a little plug lol) thanks for reading this far!!

[rimeiii]

Random demon HCs (SFW)

Eyo, it's your girl, the one WHB poster who's interested in this game for all the wrong reasons with something non-gameplay related for once! Part of what definitely interests me is the demons in general and how they'll play off with each other + the MC. Doesn't even have to be related to the sexy stuff - some of these demons I feel have the potential to have interesting and complex dynamics with each other, particularly the Avisos demons!

So, um. Yeah. Enjoy my brainrot-

(Also I will be particularly biased towards the demons who've caught my eye. Refer to tier list below. So, um. Yeah. Sorry about that orz)

I feel like out of all the demons in Hell, Belial would be the one most attuned to music. He'd be the one to replay songs again and again, probably wearing noise-cancelling headphones so that he'll truly be immersed in the music. He probably used to love singing as a child, so when his voice was taken away, he was completely and utterly devastated. To compensate, he'd take up an instrument (like an acoustic guitar) or learn how to compose, so that at least he can express his love for music and performance...

Gusion desperately wants to cut down on work, but it's hard. He spends countless days and nights just going around solving problems - and there's an abundance of them in Hell. Honestly, he thought of creating systems to help streamline his work and problem-solving shenanigans, but holy shit everyone just loves wrecking those too, huh. After calculating and approximating the time and effort required to perform his duties, merely solving issues as they crop up is the more effective and less tiring solution to everything. Which is saying something, when that in itself is already tiring as fuck.

Leviathan is a gentleman, through and through. Cool, calm, and collected on the outside, he practically perfected the art of hiding away his negative emotions behind a charming smile and a no-nonsense attitude on the battlefield. The only people able to pry away his emotions from beneath the mask are his fellow kings, the demons of Hades, and eventually MC. And even then, he'll only be able to show his most vulnerable sides to his nobles and, again, MC (eventually). It's hard to win his trust and openness, what with his jealousy often getting in the way of him forming healthy relationships with others.

Beelzebub is actually a pretty bad cook. Like, Mystery Food X levels of bad - at least, starting out. Now, though? Well, the people who said they enjoyed his cooking have somehow deluded themselves to think it's good before the side effects kick in. Does it have hallucinogenic properties? Is it a side effect of Beelzebub's tendency to have weird things happen around him? Or perhaps he really did improve on his cooking? Who knows...who knows.

Naberius and Gusion are the perfect drinking buddies. They'd get together at a random pub somewhere in Hell when they have the time, and they'll spend their time getting buzzed while unloading everything weighing them down at the moment. Honestly, this started as an effort to help Naberius - letting out his emotions bit by bit to ensure everyone's safety is much more preferable than letting his anger and annoyance explode to an extent he becomes a Kerberos. Sometimes, they'll be joined by Bael, although rarely as he is standing in for Beelzebub. More often, Satan shows up and chats with them, as amiable as always - and they end up being his main listening ears if he needs to vent. Satan's secrets are always safe with them, and for that, he is forever thankful.

Leraye and Paimon often make things together! The former has a knack for sewing, while the latter has a lot of ideas for clothes and stuffed toys! Working together, they'd be able to create a large variety of trendy clothing and cute plush toys.

I know a lot of people HC this but yes, Marbas would be a gentle giant. While he's aroused by being restrained, I'd like to think the reason why he's always restrained is because something bad happened while he was doing something while not being restrained. Perhaps he accidentally killed someone with his sheer strength, during a more "daily life" scenario. While his strength is his pride, his ability to heal is a larger source of pride for him - which is why he agrees with the notion that putting restraints on him is for the best.

Sitri is a tea connoisseur! He likes tea, knows which tea leaves are the best, how to make specific blends of tea, how long each tea needs to steep in order to bring out a specific sort of flavor...and among the demons in Hell, there are few who can appreciate the finer details in tea brewing like him. Some of these demons include Barbatos (surprisingly enough), Foras, Bael, Bathin, and Paimon. They regularly get together to sample his teas!

Whenever Bathin wants someone to accompany him in his travels, Amon often takes him up on his offer. They'll wander around without any prior destination, dealing with problems that crop up during their travels along the way. They both live in the moment while traveling, letting the winds dictate where they'll head to next. Amon deals with most of the logistics of travel while Bathin would focus more on finding and learning about the points of interest wherever they end up. An MC who enjoys traveling would love being travel buddies with them!

Mammon's way of showing his affection is gift-giving. Though his gifts might come across as overboard sometimes. Because what do you mean he already sent over some more jewels your way? Nobody needs that many jewels, sir! Either way, Tartaros is a prospering land purely because of the many treasures Mammon gives away to his people. Whether or not these overflowing treasures gets sent off to other areas is a different story entirely.

Andrealphus would be the most sympathetic towards MC, I feel. He knows how it feels to lose someone you care about deeply, to have your life ripped away from you in an instant. He had already been in that position a long time ago, and it would greatly please him if MC would let him support them any way he can - up to and including sticking by their side to protect them.

Out of all the demons in Paradise Lost, I feel like Morax would be the one most versed in the logistics involving healing and first aid. Which is understandable - his method of healing involves transferring his patient's wounds onto him in the form of pain. As a result, he'll have to be able to gauge just how far into the healing process he should perform with his abilities - especially on the battlefield. He'd have his nose buried in books during his free time just so he can increase his healing efficacy.

[naritaren]

Hello. Hi. I would say I survived my first craft show of the season but that would be a fucking lie.

Rundown of the comedy of fucking errors that is my life.

I was up at 3am wide awake because I kept thinking of shit I needed to do. Ed finally got me back to sleep around 4:30 by talking to me about Dota and rubbing my back.

I woke up on time, but realized I didn't have enough time to properly refresh my stock. I pack everything up and I'm *confident* I didn't forget anything important.

As we get going, our route to the venue followed a squall line of a nasty thunderstorm so it was super bright to the right of us and pitch black to the left with tons of lightning. We had to unload in the middle of a storm.

We get mostly set up and Ed is panicking that my new table was broken (it's not btw but there was some panic). The organizer comes around to collect my ST-19 operation form. Which was sitting on my fucking desk at home. Thankfully, they had some extras so I filled it out and they said they'll pull my tax id off my old form. Cool.

As Ed ran to Target to get a pen for me to fill it out, I realized something really fucking dire.

The keys to my money box were sitting on top of the fucking form. 😐

Ed didn't answer his phone while I'm trying to get him to run home to get it. This was discovered at 9:20am. The show started at 10am. We live 30 minutes away. The situation is worse when I realized the card reader is also inside the money box. The organizer had a tool box and Ed literally broke the lock on the money box and I worked all day with it unsecured.

Things were going fine, a bit slow, but then I realized I was out of my electrolyte drinks when I thought I had packed two bottles. I only had one. This is where I tell you guys I have to drink them to help regulate my blood pressure because of my meds. Fine. I'll just buy some water and a soda.

I get up at one point to use the bathroom and when I was on my way back, I see a family looking at my stuff and the person next to me telling them that I'll be right back.

That family? Well I recognize them anywhere. They were my ex-husband's sister, niece, nephew, brother in law, and father. The chances are low but they're never fucking zero I guess.

So I hide out until they leave and give the organizer a heads up. Thankfully this was about an hour before the end of the show.

And then I was almost fully loaded in my car (alone btw) and picked up one of my totes and IMMEDIATELY collapsed from my blood pressure dropping.

I got help and I got home safely, but holy fucking shit what a long ass day.

I have a couple of weeks before I do this again at least. Next show is also an easier time setting up and tearing down and my new money box will be a combination lock instead. But yeah

[invisibleraven]

going to the garden center and picking out plants for Rose/Ray(/Reggie) because the studio plant wall, my beloved.

When Rose and Ray first suggested doing something with the studio space, Reggie kind of shut down for a bit. He knew it was healthy to move on, to accept that changing the space didn't erase his memories, or the guys.

It was just...so hard.

It took some time, and a lot more therapy, but he finally agreed to let them do whatever they wanted with the space. Just...not to expect him to spend a lot of time out there.

"That's fine tesero," Ray assured him. "But you should still get a say in what we do."

"Plus a little retail therapy is always a balm," Rose joked.

They got some throw pillows from the thrift store, a baby grand for Rose from an estate sale, and some chairs that the petal Pushers wanted to string from the ceiling-and no matter how much Reggie begged, not even Hazel would let him into the reason why.

"How about some plants?" Reggie shyly suggested. "None of us could keep anything alive, but if we're giving the studio a second life, maybe something living would be a good start?"

"To the garden centre!" Ray proclaimed, Rose giggling as she jumped on his back, the three of them galloping off to the car.

The garden centre itself was a little intimidating, but Reggie kind of loved being surrounded by all the greenery. He had nixed flowers-he got hay fever too easily. But ferns, succulents, and other leafy plants could be nice.

Rose and Ray picked up every plant that Reggie seemed interested in or fondled the leaves of, then loaded their cart up with pots, tools, and a cute watering can to boot.

"We can't fit all of this in the car!" Reggie protested, laughing all the while as Rose contemplated a spider plant and Ray weighed two seemingly identical cacti.

"Sure we can," Rose assured him.

"We have to put something back," Reggie insisted. "They'll think we're crazy."

"Well we kind of are," Ray replied with a shrug, finally picking one cactus. "Plus they're getting paid, so why do they care?"

Reggie shook his head, but he kept smiling despite himself. He started picking up plants to put them back, knowing that there was no way they could afford this, or even needed this many plants.

But every time he took a plant and put it back, it seemed that his partners had put two more in its place.

"It's too many plants!" he insisted, but he was smothering his laughter, eyes watering as Ray and Rose defiantly added plant upon plant to their already overfull cart.

"If they make you smile and laugh like that, then it's never enough," Ray finally stated. "But we really should put some back because my bank account can't take it."

"Spoilsport," Rose stated, sticking out her tongue, even as she started putting plants back.

Finally they had waht Rose insisted was a reasonable number of plants, even though Reggie was sure there were still too many, but Ray agreed with her, and there was no way Reggie could stand against them when they presented a united front.

The fun of fitting it all in the car was less than ideal, but Reggie did put his many hours of playing Tetris to good use-finally fitting everything in, though Rose would be sitting in his lap for the ride home.

"Oh no, what a shame," Rose snarked, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek as she made herself comfy.

Later, Reggie helped unload the car, and even set the plants up, too distracted with making it look nice to notice where he was. But then he stepped back, looking at the wall of plants behind the piano, the way the afternoon sun shone in, making the place glow.

And it didn't hurt.

Yes, this space had been Sunset Curve's, had been the last place they had been together, happy, and all alive. But Reggie realized by making changes, it didn't erase that past. Simply enhanced the future he had now-with Ray and Rose.

"Play with me?" he asked, sitting down at the piano bench.

"Any time," Rose replied, lifting the cover to the piano. "Islands In The Stream?"

"Only if I can do the Dolly parts."

"And we rely on each other..." Rose hummed, with Ray grinning off in the corner as he set out the other knick-knacks they had gotten for the space.

Later on, Ray would show him the photo he had taken of him and Rose playing together, framed by a sea of plant life, both smiling so wide it was impossible to doubt how happy they were.

And that they had totally not gotten enough plants.