#anyway i use a face cleaner in the shower and i also use that to shave

[doerot]

Drop ur skin care routine bestie 🙏

I'm actually breaking out rn, so I'm not sure you would even want it lmao

[neverendingford]

.

[eyelessfaces]

hmu!poe with a reader on their period/sick

ik it's very much in the vein of allergies reader

but I'm talking period so bad it MAKES reader sick (can u tell mine just started?)

movies.. bickering.. maybe in the christmas vein-- **GUNSHOTS**

go for it, headcanons or blurbs, whatever you want! have fun with it :3

I was waiting to be on my period to write this and let me tell you, it hits different. I was too lazy to make a full one shot (too in pain to make figures of speech and shit) so it's a linear scene but in a lazier format, I hope it's still enjoyable to read<3

heat me up masterlist

—

-poe’s shift at the firehouse is over. he comes to your place since it's just a few blocks away; it takes you quite some time to answer when knocks, he almost thinks you're not there. you look like a zombie when you open the door, slightly hunched over yourself as you make room for him to enter. 

-you close the door behind him and immediately beeline towards your bed, burying yourself under the covers, folded over yourself like some sort of water depraved creature

-poe eventually sits at the edge of your bed, his hand resting over your calf under the covers. “again?”

-“yes, again, it’s every month, poe.”

-he smiles faintly and nods, sensing your grumpiness, understanding he should try to be cautious with what he does and says.

-you clutch tighter onto your covers and you somehow manage to bring your knees even closer towards your chest, a small whine of pain escaping you as a sharp pain cuts through you.

-poe, still sitting at the edge of your bed, scoots closer to you. “is there anything I can do to help?” he asks, his eyes full of empathy as he rests his hand on your cheek, softly brushing his thumb there.

-“not really” you mumble weakly. “but maybe it will make it better mentally at least if you come into bed with me”

-he smiles softly, feeling sorry for the state you're in as he watches your tired eyes gleaming in that way it does when you want something from him. he nods, knowing he can never refuse you anything, and that's not like he ever wants to anyway. 

-he takes his shoes off and slides into bed with you. you snuggle up to him, using him as a human pillow as you rest your head over his torso, your arm thrown around his tummy, and he wraps an arm around you so his warm hand can rest at your lower back where he knows it usually hurts.

-you stay like this for a while. physically, it doesn't really get any better while you wait for the painkiller to take effect, but at least having poe close to you and falling asleep on and off really keeps you from breaking down at the slightest inconvenience, until you think about it again–

-you look at him, your face dropping with culpability, “sorry, I didn't want to be mean to you earlier, it's just–” ;it's just that you're an absolute monster for talking to him like this when he's so sweet and patient and caring and–

-“I know baby, don't worry” he shakes his head, discarding it. “it's the hormones, I get it”

-you eventually fall asleep as poe soothingly rubs along your back– when you wake up, the pain is a bit better, but the reason you wake up is because you feel gross. everything is flowing and uncomfortable and overwhelming between your legs.

-poe prepares everything you need for your shower while you use the toilet; clean underwear and comfortable clothes, and those tracksuit pants he knows the waist band won’t put pressure onto your lower stomach.

-“go on, take your time” he murmurs, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead before he leaves you to it.

-you’re half on autopilot as you shower, the warmth of the water easing your strained body. you also feel a little lighter knowing that poe’s just outside, waiting, ready to help however he can.

-when you’re done, feeling cleaner and less hazy, you find him tidying up your space a bit, cleaning the mess that has piled up from you not being able to care about it. he looks up when he hears you approach, smiling softly. “feeling a bit better?” you nod, extending your arms as your hormones playfully tug at you and your heart tightens at the way he’s so caring.

-he takes you into his arms and you wrap around each other as you bury your face into him, into his scent, into his warmth. ”hey. I’ll never know what it’s like, but I’ll help you through it whenever” 

-you whine softly. “stop it, you straight up want to make me cry” you joke, and he ‘apologizes’ with a grin “are you hungry? whatever you wanna eat I’ll make” he offers, stroking your cheek. you shake your head, still feeling a bit nauseous, telling him he doesn’t have to worry about this.

-you spend the rest of the evening in bed, your back pressed flush against poe’s chest watching shitty rom coms as he holds a heating pad against your stomach, and funnily enough, you can’t help but see the similarities between the movies you’re watching and your relationship with poe.

[whateveriwant]

Heads or Tails

Summary: Ghost has undergone a lot of changes recently, many of which you find concerning. So you concoct a plan to try to bring the old Ghost back, the first and most crucial step: getting rid of that new mask.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~4.0k

Warnings: language, slight physical aggression, some uncool boundary crossing, my attempt to sound Bri'ish

A/N: Hello! So this is a new endeavor for me! I've never written for Ghost or CoD/MW before, but I've recently become obsessed with interested in the characters, and so wanted to give it a go. I was rushing a little to get this out, but I really hope you enjoy! :)

"Bet it's a fetish or somethin'."

Your neck nearly snaps as you swivel to the left, your eyes bugging at the Scot's words.

"Probably humiliation kink… Maybe breath play," Soap ponders aloud, eyes trained across the room pensively.

"Nah, mate. I reckon it's a bad trim, or some bad ink," Gaz adds from your right, making you pivot in your seat. "What'd you think? Tribal or teardrops?" He gestures to his own face, attention also drawn straight ahead.

As the two go back and forth positing ideas, your own eyes are finally steered to the figure in question. This conversation, like seemingly all the ones as of late, is centered around one topic and one topic only.

That damn mask.

While Ghost's signature masks are nothing new to the members of the 141, this one in particular has had you all scratching your heads for weeks. Much like his other balaclavas, this one is dark with a contrasting white skull, only this mask has one minor addition that none of the others have ever included: A big, bouncy puffball right on the top of his head.

When you first saw it, you honestly thought it was a joke; you were on a mission in the tundra, after all. But as you started to laugh, the sharp, deathly glare the Lieutenant gave you had you immediately snapping your mouth shut, averting your eyes out of respect.

Where he got that mask, you hadn't a clue, but you figured it would be just a one time thing anyway. However, that assumption turned out to be entirely wrong as Ghost continued to wear it again and again, no matter the mission conditions. Not only that, but he's also been exclusively wearing it around the base too; that is, whenever you do see him around the base. 

It's been weeks now and you haven't spotted him without that ridiculous mask once. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wears it 24/7. But that can't actually be the case unless he likes waterboarding himself with every shower, which if he does, then good for him, you guess.

Though you have a lot of questions you'd like to ask the Lieutenant, the one eating at you the most is why. Why the switch up? Why the obsession with this specific mask? Why all these little changes you've noticed about him over the past several weeks?

Because that's the thing. Beyond the pom pom, there's something about Ghost that's been… different. Better, even, in some regards, but there's also been a massive decline in others. 

Out in the field, he's shown significant improvement. His aim has been sharper, his knife skills cleaner, hell, even his walk has been more sure-footed. While Lieutenant Riley has always been the cream of the military crop, for the last several weeks, he's been on another level.

Off the field, however, is a different story entirely. Instead of the man you thought you knew, it's like you hardly recognize Ghost anymore. He's been much more curt, closed off, and dare you say, a downright cunt to you all, and that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the other discrepancies you've noticed with his character. 

Like why has he been avoiding the team much more than he ever used to, or why does he immediately shut down any attempts at getting close with him? He's never been an incredibly open or approachable man per se, but it's like he's gone full blown antisocial recluse now.

The sudden switch in his behavior just didn't make sense to you, so you tried casually bringing it up to Price one day, hoping maybe he had an explanation that would help piece things together. In response, however, your Captain simply shrugged his shoulders, dubbing the mask Ghost's "good luck charm" that must've just gone to his head. 

While you didn't necessarily have a better answer yourself, Price's conclusion wasn't good enough for you to accept as the truth. Maybe a lucky rabbit's foot or good luck coin or whatever could explain away Ghost's overnight tactical improvements, but it didn't answer the why of everything else. 

Why has Ghost changed so much?

As you reflect, the sound of Gaz and Soap's continued discussion slowly brings you back to the present, making you blink out of your stupor.

"...been acting all off. Like he's… paranoid or something," you hear Gaz say regarding Ghost. "Like, the other day for instance, when we got dropped off back at base, I swear, as soon as his boots hit the ground, he was booking it like he was about to get shot." 

Well, that's certainly a relief. Not that Ghost is acting strange, but that at least you're not the only one to notice.

"I thought maybe he was just sensitive to the floodlights – those things were ruddy blinding that night – but when I tried to catch up and ask him, you'd think I was chasing him from how fast he ran," Gaz adds.

Though that's a bit unexpected on Ghost's part, you suppose it's not all that uncharacteristic anymore. He's been increasingly aloof nowadays, and while you're not totally sold on Gaz's paranoia claims, you definitely see the cause for concern.

"Y'know, I think you're on to somethin'," Soap agrees with Gaz's conclusions. "Just the other night, 'round two in the mornin', I caught him rummagin' around the kitchens like he was afraid to get caught."

"Hold on," Gaz interjects, craning his head to face the other Sergeant. "What were you doing in the kitchens at two a.m.?"

"Mind yer business, that's what," Soap huffs, waving his hand dismissively. "But anyway, even then he was still hidin' beneath that bloody mask. I cannae even remember that last time I saw him without it," he says, almost dejectedly.

You can't remember the last time you did either, though you're not as beat up about it as Soap is. The man seems to have a certain fascination with staring at his Lieutenant's bare face that you can't say you totally relate to. 

As Soap continues thinking to himself of when last he saw Ghost without his mask, he suddenly snorts, smiling as he tells you, "Y'know, I once tried to break in his room and steal that thing while he slept, but the lad has some unpickable locks on his door, I tell ya," he chuckles.

"Oi, you mental or something?" Gaz's voice pitches up. "Trying to steal his mask? You'd be lucky if he didn't string you up by your bollocks just for thinking it."

Soap scoffs, peeking over from the corner of his eye. "Oh, come on. Like you've never?"

"I'd like to keep my boys securely attached, thank you." Gaz shifts his weight at the uneasy thought, grimacing slightly.

That has Soap turning fully in his seat, making to confront Gaz head on. "So you're tellin' me you like the new mask? That you don't want to see the fucker gone?"

Gaz shakes his head, mirroring Soap as he similarly turns to face him. "I didn't say that. I'm just as tired of looking at it as you are."

At that, Soap throws his hands up, letting out an exasperated breath. "So let's do somethin' about it!" he exclaims, calling back to his attempted theft.

"Like what?" Gaz huffs. "You want me to ask nicely? 'Ghost, would you please lose the mask? There's only room for one ugly hat around here, and Price has already filled that niche. So sorry.'"

As the two Sergeants continue to bicker over the top of your head, you keep your eyes on Ghost who's still in the room. Thankfully, he appears to be completely oblivious to the animated discussion happening around you. You don't think he'd enjoy hearing how his teammates want to throw his mask in an on-fire garbage bin.

Gradually, your attention starts to drift away from the conversation at hand until you're right back at your earlier conundrum: trying to figure out Ghost's deal. 

Why has he been acting so different as of late? What could have brought on such a drastic change in his behavior? As you think, Soap and Gaz's words lightly filter through your mind, and suddenly, the answer becomes blatantly obvious. 

What's the common denominator in all of this? What seems to be the root cause of all this discourse? It all comes down to one thing and one thing alone.

That fucking puffball mask of his.

Ever since he got that new mask, there's been a never ending stream of changes with Ghost, most of which you'd argue are for the worse. You know it's silly to cast blame on such a normally inconsequential scrap of fabric, but at this moment, there's nothing else that makes sense in your mind.

Maybe the change is because his brain is being squeezed too tight or maybe he's been having a constant bout of heat stroke these last few weeks. Whatever the reason, you can see how wearing that mask has negatively affected him, and you're eager to see that rectified.

"I've got it!" you pipe up for the first time, interrupting the Sergeants who are still verbally going at it. You look between them both before once more bringing your gaze back to Ghost. "I know what to do," you say confidently.

Though the old Ghost you knew has been M.I.A. recently, you don't think he's truly gone, not permanently anyway. He's just been squirreled away for the time being, trapped in a cage of woven black thread. You just hope that, with a little luck and a lot of planning, soon…

You'll be able to set him free again.

~~~~~

You peek impatiently around the corner, seeing Gaz standing at the end of the hall. When he notices you, he shakes his head, turning back to keep watch like directed. 

Annoyed, you check your phone again. Soap said they were on their way five minutes ago. You know it's a maze of passageways between here and there, but still, they should've shown up by now. 

At its core, your plan is simple, but so many pieces have to come together for you to pull it off successfully. One screw up and it all comes toppling down, and you doubt you'll ever get a chance at a redo.

Another 30 seconds pass before you're checking on Gaz again, the man keeping a silent sentinel against the wall. The trap's been set, all you have to do is sit back and wait. But you're not sure how much longer you can handle until you go mad.

Just as you're about to text Soap for confirmation again, Gaz perks up, turning and nodding over at you. Before he can be spotted by anyone else, he slips into the room at his back, quickly closing the door shut.

Finally! It's time. Operation Unmask is a go.

You stoop to pick up one of the items at your feet, counting down from 20 as you hear a pair of heavy boots slowly approach your position. When you finally reach zero, you suck in your breath. It's now or never, baby.

Right before the figure can descend on your hiding spot, you pop out around the corner, colliding directly with the man you'd expected to find. Ghost grunts in surprise at the blunt contact, that damn pom pom on his head bouncing as he stumbles slightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you call out innocently. "Didn't see you there." It's not exactly a lie. You struggle to peer around the tower of boxes in your arms, stacked high enough that you can hardly see a thing ahead.

Ghost grunts again as he takes in the scene you've laid out, thankfully seeming to accept it at face value. "Careful," is all he says, moving to continue in the direction he was headed.

"Oh, uh, actually—?" you stop him before he can escape. "Sorry, but… Do you think you could…?" You shift the boxes deliberately in your hold, hinting at the favor you mean to ask. "If you don't mind. They're really heavy."

This plan all hinges on whether or not Ghost will take the bait. Though he's been less than charitable recently, in the past, he used to be quite helpful to you in particular. That's why you're the one who had to ask for his help. You knew that anyone else, he'd decline immediately.

But you can tell Ghost is hesitant to agree to assist you now, not only because of his recent change in character, but because he was currently preoccupied.

"Price is waitin' for m—" he starts to give the excuse Soap had fabricated to lure him out of his room.

"Please," you cut him short, pretending your situation is dire. "It'll be quick. I just need to get these to my office." That's where you pulled them from initially, filling them with whatever junk you could find to weigh them down. Soap and Gaz weren't thrilled to have to lug them all the way over here, but you had to make them heavy to be convincing, you'd told them.

As if on cue, out of the corner of your eye, you see Soap finally make his appearance at the end of the hall. He turns the corner Ghost had come from earlier, having successfully tailed the Lieutenant all the way from his room undetected. Gaz's timing is also stellar as not a second later, he carefully opens and exits the door Soap passes by.

Luckily, Ghost doesn't seem to notice the two Sergeants quietly lurking behind him – a blessing since, sometimes, you swear he has a pair of eyes in the back of his head. 

He considers you for a moment, staring at the stack in your hands, glancing at the others still by your feet. Though you can sense he's warring with himself, another light 'please' from your lips has him caving with a sigh.

As Ghost bends to grab one of the box towers, that's when Soap really makes his move. The Scot creeps forward until he's within arm's length of Ghost, hand outstretching as he reaches towards the Lieutenant's head. Just before he can close his fingers around the mask – intending to snatch and run, the fastest of you three – Ghost does something that surprises you all.

Without even looking, Ghost suddenly jerks away from Soap's grasp, ducking at an almost unnatural speed and angle. At first, it's like he doesn't even realize what's happened himself, but then he turns and sees Soap standing there, hand caught right in the cookie jar.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doing, MacTavish?" Ghost asks roughly.

Soap blinks dumbly, shocked by Ghost’s quick reaction. "S-Sir," he stutters, his brain trying to catch up with his mouth. "Just… thought… I… saw a piece of lint," he makes up the fib on the spot, then boldly reaches towards the mask again.

Once more, Ghost evades his reach, leaning far back like he's in The Matrix. He growls and slaps Soap's arm down. "You wanna keep that hand, Sergeant?" he rumbles.

In response, all Soap can do is nod his head, baffled into a state of silence. 

"Then fuck off," Ghost warns him not to try again. He then nods towards the pile at your feet. "Or better yet, make yourself useful and pick up a box." 

Still in a trance, Soap immediately complies with the Lieutenant's order. The two grab a respective stack, Ghost directing Soap to walk ahead as he no longer trusts him where he can't see him.

Fuck! This is not at all what you envisioned. This train is rapidly going off the tracks, heading straight over a cliff.

But thankfully, you have a potential backup in place, and Gaz quickly makes his way over as he sees things running amok.

"Ghost?" he captures the attention of the growingly irritated man, who stops and turns at the sound of his voice. "Uh… your shoe's untied," Gaz mumbles once he's under the intimidating gaze of Ghost, and your eyes fall shut at the lame excuse.

Christ, this is all going to shit. There's no way you're going to pull this off.

Somehow, though, Ghost chooses to check Gaz's statement, and he cranes his head down to inspect his boots. "No," is all he says, seeing his laces clearly intact. But before he can stand back up, head still down turned, Gaz takes his opportunity before it can slip away.

Gaz tries to grab for the bloated puffball wobbling in his face, but just like before, Ghost seems to have a sixth sense for it. Again, he bends out of the way, spectacularly agile, and shoots a glare at the Sergeant's gall.

"You out of your fuckin' mind? What's gotten into you lot?" Ghost accuses the three of you, turning to look at you all, becoming increasingly suspicious of what you're doing.

Shit fuck ass balls. You need to act fast. He's starting to catch on. 

Panicked, you do the first thing that pops into your head, dropping the boxes to the floor with a thunderous thump. Ghost's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide in confusion, and they only widen more as you purposefully knock the boxes out of his hands too.

"Whoops!" you exclaim and swiftly crouch down, starting to pick up all the bits and bobs that spilled out.

Gaz realizes your intent and quickly follows suit, stooping down to help you clean up the mess. It's a few seconds before Soap catches on as well, and then all three of you are on your hands and knees, crawling around like a pack of vermin.

"The fuck's the matter with you bunch?" Ghost exhales, unable to make sense of the unfolding chaos. Nevertheless, though, he begrudgingly lowers himself down, electing to assist despite his growing skepticism.

As you go about cleaning up the mess you made, you try to covertly catch the eyes of your accomplices. Without words, you ask them which one is going to make a move, who'll grab for the mask next, but both seem a little reluctant at trying their hand again.

Ugh, whatever. You'll just do it yourself then. Really, how hard can it be?

Slyly, you creep around until you have a good vantage on Ghost, his back partially turned to you. You edge closer and closer until you're nearly bumping into him, pretending to still pick up the items scattered around. Then slowly, so incredibly slowly, you raise your hand up, reaching towards the back of Ghost's mask. Just as your fingers graze the fabric, pulling it up a mere centimeter, Ghost jolts, springing to his feet with a start.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"What's wrong with you?!" you fire back, your frustrations boiling over. You pop up to mimic his stance, throwing all stealth to the wayside as you figure the jig is up anyway. "We're just trying to help you."

"Help me?" he sneers. "Like hell. You're out to fuckin' get me."

There he goes again with the paranoia Gaz proposed. Though maybe, in this instance, he's not entirely wrong.

"You think we haven't noticed the differences with you? How much you've changed recently?" you continue. "We can see what that thing's doing to you. You'd be better off without it."

Ghost shakes his head in wild perplexity. "The hell are you on about?"

"The mask, L.T.," Soap rises to his feet. "Take it off," he implores.

"Who the fuck d'you think you are giving me orders, Sergeant?"

"It's just a mask, sir, and we've all seen you without one before," Gaz joins the showdown. "What have you got to lose?"

Ghost looks between each of you angrily, pointing an accusatory finger at you all in turn. "You're all way out of line! Get the hell back," he urges as you three start to close in.

"Why d'ya always hide from us now? I thought we were friends, L.T." Soap reaches forward, his hand immediately swatted away.

"Ghost, really, the thing's a bloody eyesore. Just get rid of it." Gaz tries his luck, only to be met with the same result.

Again and again, you all try dislodging the mask, descending on Ghost like a pack of rabid animals. With each swipe and stretch, he expertly dodges your attacks, bending and batting you away like pests.

"Quit fuckin'—!"

"Just let me—!"

"Oh, for cryin' out loud!"

The scene is total, unbridled chaos – voices raised, arms entangled, rubbish littered all over the ground. You three push forward on Ghost until he's backed into the wall, trapped with no way out. He fights and fights, the pom pom jostling around perilously, until finally, bitterly, he's overcome.

Soap gets his fingers hooked under an edge of the mask, and he yanks, pulling it all the way off. For the first time in weeks, Ghost's face is revealed to you all, and you'd be ecstatic if not for one detail that has you freezing.

Is that a…?

No, it can't be. You must be imagining things.

Actually, that looks kind of real. Holy shit, that's definitely real!

Oh my God! Is that a—?

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

You, Gaz, and Soap all jump back in horror at the sight before you: a plump, little, white rat nestled atop Ghost's head. The rodent seems just as shocked to see you as you are it, and it lets out a small squeak as you lock with its beady eyes, tiny fingers clinging to Ghost's hair.

"Aaaahhh!" Soap unleashes a girlish shriek, dropping the mask as he rears back.

"What the fuck, Ghost? No really, what the fuck?!" Gaz asks dumbfounded, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Before anyone has a chance to fully process what they're seeing, the rat tugs on Ghost's hair, moving him to scoop up his mask from the floor. He's guided to shove the fabric back on his head, perhaps a little more roughly than intended, because you hear a pathetic squeak ring out as he does.

He points his index finger at you in a threatening manner, the holes over his eyes slightly askew. "Not a word," he grumbles, spinning on his heel. "Not one fuckin' word!" 

And just like that, he takes off down the hall, a fat, pink tail sticking out from under the back of his mask. It takes a moment before you even realize your mouth is still wide open, and you close your jaw with an audible thud. 

Vaguely, you hear Soap muttering behind you, near tears as he cowers against the wall. "Steamin' Jesus, I think I touched it! Did— Did it bite me? Am I bleedin'? I think I'm bleedin'!" he blubbers hysterically.

"Nah, you're alright, mate! You're alright!" Gaz tries to comfort him, unsuccessful as he’s also rattled.

As the two huddle together in the corner, you're left staring after Ghost's rapidly fleeing figure, trying to pick up the pieces of your newly fractured reality. 

That… was… 

Honestly, you're not sure what the hell that was.

A rat? That rides on Ghost's head? Controlling his every move and muscle? You guess that explains a few things about his behavior recently, but mostly, it just leaves you with more questions than answers.

Where the hell did he get that thing? How the fuck does it work? Why did he even think to test it out in the first place?

Actually, on second thought, no, you don't want to know. You've seen enough for one day, or really, one lifetime. 

At the start of this, you thought you had such a great plan to unveil – one that would simply reveal the "true" Ghost again. You didn't realize that in the process of trying to set him free, you would release a whole other beast, literally. And while at your core you still believe your intentions to help were good, you realize now that, perhaps…

Some things are better off hidden.

__________

A/N: Squeak squeaker squeaky squeak! [Translation: Happy April Fools!]

It figures that my first venture in this fandom is a crack fic. I expected nothing less lmao. But anyway, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[sweet-self-indulgence]

Hey love your work! can you write some Mika x James smut please im desperate! <3 Hope you have a wonderfull day <3

Thank you! <3

Once I got started on this James seemed to write himself! I can't be bothered to edit right now, so look for a cleaner version on AO3 in a couple of days.

According to plan

How is Mika going to get the attention she craves from James? Maybe she needs a plan, or maybe spontaneity will win the day.

Mika sighs and flicks sand with her toe. James has his nose stuck firmly in his latest book, all but ignoring the beautiful seaside.

It wouldn’t be so bad that it’s how he wants to spend his beach time if it weren’t for the fact he’s been acting like a manager for the whole trip. Of course he’s been good at it too. Every day has been a perfect mix of activities. Enough time on the beach to have fun but not enough to get bored and sunburnt, fantastic local food for dinner, and excursions to stunning natural wonders.

Mika cringes at how selfish those thoughts make her feel. It really has been the perfect vacation, except for the fact she’s hardly spent any time with James. At first, she was happy to sit and read beside him, but she exhausted her reading material 2 days ago.

Another sigh escapes Mika as her mind wanders to the tall, dark-haired, too-smart-for-his-own-good love interest from her novel. He had been very eager to spend time alone with the protagonist.

“Hey doofus!”

Her moment of pleasant distraction is shattered by Sam’s shout, “stop staring into space like a fish and come souvenir shipping with us!”

Mika rolls her eyes at Sam’s insulting simile, “It’s called ‘thinking’, Sam, you should try it sometime.”

James smiles behind his book, sharing his secret glee at Sam’s sputtering response in a quick glance at Mika. Her heart does a little flutter at his smile.

Before she can recover control of her body, James shouts towards his brothers, “Don’t take too long! We’re meeting in the lobby for dinner at 6!” and motions her off with a tilt of his head.

Mika misses the hungry gaze cast over the top of his book, watching her every movement as she stretches and pulls a sundress over her swimsuit.

After shopping and dinner, Mika, Erik, and Damien are star gazing from the rooftop bar of their hotel. Each has been lost in their own thoughts since the others have gone to bed, quietly watching more and more stars blink into existence in the darkening sky.

“You know,” Damien says after several minutes of silence, “James is very good at planning”

Erik and Mika make small noises in acknowledgement to Damien stating the obvious. He continues, “but even he can’t plan a … spontaneous moment”

Mika’s face heats at the absolutely lewd inflection he managed to pack into such an innocuous word. Erik fails miserably at stifling giggles beside her.

“Maybe that’s something you can help him with.” Damien finishes casually.

Mika shoots to her feet indignant but also suddenly desperate to see James. She had been thinking about him all day, imagining how he might sweep her off her feet at any given moment. More often than not said sweeping landed her in bed with him. The mere mention of his name triggered a fresh wave of want inside her.

She stalks off in a pretend huff. Erik’s teasing words ring in her ears “Have fun~”

Alone in the elevator she wonders what kind of fun James would want to have.

 Mikas feet take her back to the hotel suite while her mind remains distracted by images of James.

Suddenly she’s standing in his empty room and all of her confidence evaporates in an instant. The door to the common area is ajar, did she open it? The lights are on, she’s pretty sure she didn’t do that.

James is nowhere in sight. Maybe that’s a good thing, she was too busy fantasizing to have any idea what she was going to say to him anyway. Mika turns to leave, resigned to try to take the edge off in the shower.

Mika’s exit is halted as she walks right into something. Hands are wrapped around her upper arms, keeping her from stumbling backwards.

Her focus snaps back to reality and onto James. His eyes are slightly wide in surprise. They’re almost hidden by damp black hair. A white towel drapes over his shoulders. His shoulders and arms are covered in a light blue satin pajama top that has yet to be buttoned.

Mika notices how her fingers are braced against the bare skin of his chest and her breath hitches.

James leans down until his nose is nearly touching Mika’s neck. He takes two slow, deep breaths. Each exhale sends shivers down her spine and sets her heart racing.

When he finally stands straight his pupils are wide. “You smell incredible”, his voice is quiet, but pitched deep, graveling against the bottom of his throat.

His words pull sharply at the need building inside of her. “I—I’ve been thinking about you.” Mika’s fingers move slowly up James’ chest.

Amber eyes seem to darken with James’ chuckle, “what have you been think that has you in such a …state?” His final word is accompanied by his heated gaze traveling slowly down Mika’s body.

Mika swears she can feel his eyes on her. Her nipples tighten as he gazes at her chest and an unbearable heat pulses between her thighs as he stared pointedly where she can feel wetness gathering in her bikini bottoms.

Mika can’t take the tension for one second longer. Her hands grab the back of James’ head and pull him down into a rough kiss. Her fingers roughly grip his damp hair as his tongue slides inside her mouth.

After a moment James straightens, “You know, It is quite improper for a young lady to be in a man’s bedroom so late at night.” His usual manners play with the flirtatious undertones of his words.

“What will people think?”, he continues.

Mika recognizes the out that he is giving her a chance to choose between the gentleman and the demon. A wicked grin breaks across her face, “They’ll think I’m the lucky girl who gets to fuck an incubus.”

Suddenly, Mika is pushed against the wall. She registers one of James’ hands under her ass while his hips pin hers. The other is gently guiding her jaw in a passionate kiss. Their mouths work in tandem for several long moments, every movement of James’ lips sends waves of heat crashing into her core.

When they finally break apart, flushed and panting, James’ eyes glow a warm gold. “May I?”

“Please” The word is barely out of Mika’s mouth before a warm tingling sensation rushes through her. The world slows as the enthrallment kicks in, Mika’s attention is focused solely on the demon between her legs, pining her to the wall.

 His eyes look fierce without glasses to soften them. Mika wonders how far she can push him. She starts by grabbing the towel around his neck and tossing it to the floor. Then her hands find his chest again and slide his open shirt off his shoulders. James carefully shifts his hold on her to let it fall to the floor while keeping Mika off the ground.

She takes in his form approvingly, trying her best to replicate how his gaze made her feel. Her eyes lock onto a bulge in the satin on his pants. One hand drifts lazily down his stomach before groping lower. Mika gasps as he twitches in her hand. His head thuds against the wall next to hers as he groans out her name.

“James!” her voice sounds desperate in her ears. His teeth come to the thin straps on her shoulder. A hand mirrors the motion on her other side and her bikini top and sundress are pulled down below her breasts.

James wastes no time in lavishing her breasts. The gentle circles of his tongue send energy spiraling down between her thighs.

Mika squirms in pleasure, searching desperately for friction to sate the burning in her core. Her hips buck forward and she slides against James’ hip.

“Don’t move or I’ll drop you!” James growls around her nipple. But he does release her other breast and slides his fingers along her inner thigh. When they reach her bikini bottoms, nimble fingers untie the knots at each hip before throwing the garment away.

Mika gasps as the cool air moves against her folds.

James locks eyes with her as one finger traces agonizing patterns around her clit. Mika bites her lip, and moans as she does her best to repress the desire to squirm under his touch.

Mika is growing hotter and hotter. Energy swirls from everywhere in her body down to the small bundle of nerves James is teasing and back out again. Every cycle is more intense than the last and Mika feels she may lose her mind from the pleasure if it goes on much longer. She dares not move and become unsecure in James’ grasp, but she does have one more tool in her arsenal.

“R—Raestrao!” she cries as another ripple of pleasure radiates from her core.

The incubus shudders almost imperceptibly as he pants open-mouthed. Mika sees a dangerous glint in his eyes that sends new shivers down to where James’ fingers have halted.

Mika hooks her fingers into his waistband and pushes it down. James’ cock springs free and bounces against her folds. The pair gasp at the sudden sensation.

In an instant James’ head is pressed into her. Mika squeezes her walls around him. His lips pull back in a snarl as he thrusts quickly into her. Mika chokes on a gasp at the sudden fullness, reveling in the slight twinge in her muscles that she’d never be able to achieve alone.

She’s allowed one more moment to adjust before James starts pushing into her at a punishing pace.

Mika lets her head fall back against the wall; her eyes screwed shut as she’s flooded with wave after wave of pleasure. Her dull nails carve into the flesh of James’ back, earning her another deep groan.

James shifts his feet and nails her against the wall. Mika’s energy swirls violently in her body funneling down to where she and James are connected. For a moment everything is white, Mika is floating in an ocean of tingling pleasure.

Then a dam breaks and Mika is screaming for James. She’s not sure which names she’s using, maybe both. She distantly realizes she hears her own name too.

A moment later, the hotel room comes back into focus. James slowly slides out from her, then leans her against his chest as he walks towards the bed. They collapse onto it unceremoniously.

They remain a sweaty pile of tangled limbs and heavy breathing for several minutes. Eventually, James brushes the hair out of Mika’s face, “love?”

His voice sounds so uncertain. Mika reassures him with a long and tender kiss. Her hands trace gently over his scalp. They share a warm smile as they finally break apart.

“You know, you’re pretty loud when you want to be. What will people think?” Mika finally finds the words to tease James who promptly blushes.

Just as he opens his mouth the respond, Matthew’s voice echoes from the other side of the wall, “They’ll think ‘please shut up and let the rest of us get some sleep!’”

[halloweenbitch2764]

Hello! I know you just answered one of my requests (which I loved btw), but I just thought of another one. Could you write Bubba Sawyer x GN!reader headcanons where the reader decides to deep clean the Sawyer’s house and get them to do basic hygiene plus Bubba gets special self care treatment (like exfoliating, face masks, hair masks, etc.). I love slashers but they’d be pretty dirty irl and I can’t stand it lol. Also I feel like Bubba would love to just be able to relax in a bath since he’s stressed 100% of the time. Anyway thank you so much! Once again I sent a humongous request lol

This will definitely focus on Bubba more than anyone so enjoy!

Bubba with a Neat and Clean S/O

Boy have you got some work cut out for you

The house is filthy and dilapidated and the men have been set in their ways cleanliness wise

But you get started

Over the course of about a week, you get the house into proper condition

Well as much as you can

It looks well taken care of

Now you have to make sure the residents keep it that way

You'll gather everyone in the living room to inform them that they need to start picking up after themselves

Your hard work won't go to waste

You had also managed to snag some hygiene products from some victims

Bubba seemed the most excited for the change

You provided him with shampoo, conditioner, body wash, face wash, shaving cream, and a razor

You'd shave for him since his hands tended to be a bit too unsteady

He enjoyed being clean and you enjoyed him being clean

Every night, he'd shower before coming to bed

That meant the sheets stayed much cleaner for a longer period

Which meant less work for you

You had found some face masks and creams

One night you had Bubba sit down so you could put the face mask on him before using the small jade roller to massage it into his skin

He was thrilled with the new activity and the attention he was receiving

He'd do the same to you, and you both would just relax while the face masks stayed on

After you took them off, you put on some of the creams

You praised him for how nice he looked, and he babbled happily

He motioned to tell you that you also looked nice

It would end up being quite the challenge to make the men ditch their filthy habits, but coming in to a clean house made it all worth it

[twig-gy]

i have a v important question. bc i'm gonna try to work on designs for the apostasy and creature au guys today

do you have any ideas for design stuff for any of them. no pressure to answer, just thought i should ask

okay might as well consolidate this anyway

apostasy heart:

-in general just looks cleaner and more put together than canon heart. is actually being taken care of

-clean hair, probably cut to the same length as soul keeps it at

-white blindfold with marker drawings of a moon, stars, and a shitty sun in the corner (colored respectively). might have bloodstains on it

-at any time might have soul’s lipstick smeared on his face..

-bruises around his neck

-mind’s drumstick necklace

-wearing soul’s clothes

-two sets of wings, top is white feathered wings (probably larger than bottom set?) and ones he actually uses (hug people, correct balance, curl around him, etc whatever), bottom is butterfly wings (may not be as used to these but depends. if he isn’t he just keeps them awkwardly sticking out and leans forward to correct for them, not really using them. probably learns how to unfold them and such and gets used to them offsetting his weight)

apostasy mind:

-hair is disheveled, either undone and just left there (probably hasn’t cut it since before juno incident either) or in a frizzy ponytail he hasn’t fixed since. A While. he looks disheveled in general. either that or he looks even cleaner than he usually does because he’s been leaning into his cleaning obsession as a way to cope, like showering more often and shit, but still looks very tired (and still hasn’t cut his hair)

-(optional) clock eye doesn’t tick anymore. instead it stays completely still, a few minutes off from 12 (doomsday clock reference). whatever batteries or wires he had to keep it moving is gone. if he ever needs to move it he just reaches up and does so with his hands

-missing drumstick necklace

-wearing heart’s clothes, maybe stacking them as a way to keep them safe, definitely is wearing one of heart’s favorite hoodies and has one of the others tied around his waist (i imagine he has sensory issues and this is uncomfortable for him but he does it anyway)

-[like canon mind] hands are made of metal. as clean as possible

apostasy soul:

-looks generally more content and less tired. if he had eyebags before those are gone now. maybe even stands straighter

-hair is cleaner

-at anytime might have heart’s lipstick smeared on his face

-probably has stains of heart’s blood on his sleeves

-[like canon soul, i imagine] might have chains on his neck or at least marks of them. same thing goes for rope (this could be true for heart too?? eh)

-[also like canon soul] wears whole’s jacket constantly

[reigningqueenofwords]

Biscuits and Gravy

Word count: 960

Read on AO3

Part 3 of Dark Chocolate

Finally, the two of you pulled apart. “Did they hurt you?” He asked, his voice low. 

You shook your head. “Not really.” You told him. “The last thing I remember before waking up here was a knock on my door.” You admitted. “I’m guessing that whoever kidnapped me knocked on my door and knocked me out.” 

“Does your head hurt?” He cupped your cheek as Sam peeked in. 

“A little, but not too badly.” You glanced to Sam, making Bucky look over his shoulder at him. 

“Coast is clear, boss.” Sam told him. “Steve’s, uh, with a guy right now. Getting answers.” He explained, knowing that you likely didn’t want to hear ‘pummeling some douche’. “Stark also got back to me about that security. Said it’ll take a week to get it all.” 

Bucky’s jaw clenched as he nodded, his focus back on you. “Let’s get you out of here. You can stay with me until Stark gets some security up at your place.” He told you, making you stare at him. That’s when his eyes went to your neck. They’d taken your necklace. 

“What? I don’t even know what’s going on.” You shook your head. “I want to go home. Chewie is there. My life is there.” You told him. 

“It’s not safe.” He pointed out. “It won’t be long. We’ll bring you home, get you a bag packed, get Chewie and his things, and you’ll come with me.” He really hoped that you didn’t argue with him. He knew you were feisty, and he loved that. However, he was worried that would make it easier for you to be hurt. 

You chewed on your lip. “O-or you can stay with me?” You countered. “I have a spare room, so one of your guys could stay, if you’d prefer?” You didn’t want him to feel obligated to ‘babysit’ you. “And they can stay at my shop with me. Hang out. Eat cupcakes.” 

Bucky sighed. “There’s nothing I can say to get you to come stay with me, is there?” He asked, a slightly amused look on his face. Here you were, being rescued, and you were bargaining with him! Who else would do that? 

You blushed, shrugging a shoulder. “Can I think about it? I’ll make you guys dinner as a thank you for saving me. How long was I here, anyway?” You asked as he started to lead you out of the room. 

“Almost two days.” 

“Oh my God. Chewie! H-he was out back. I had let him out for some fresh air. He’s never outside that long.” You told him, a worried look on his face. 

“Don’t worry, honey. Chewie is fine.” Sam spoke up. “I let him back in and made sure he was fed. Been checkin’ on him.” He assured you. 

You relaxed at that. “Thank you.” You were thankful that Chewie was okay. You’d had him since he was a puppy, and he was your best friend. “Any requests for dinner?” You didn’t want to think about being kidnapped anymore. 

Bucky glanced at Sam, knowing that chances were, that night wouldn’t be easy. He knew what nightmares were like, and hoped that they didn’t haunt you like they haunted him. “Whatever you like makin’, doll.” He put his hand on your lower back, opening the door to the outside for you. 

Once back at your place, the guys used your downstairs bathroom to clean up. You, however, slowly made your way up the stairs to shower. And throw these clothes away. You doubted that you’d ever look at them and not think of that little room. Chewie was right behind you, not having left your side since you walked in the front door. 

Chewie laid outside your bathroom door the entire time you showered. His tail wagging as you opened the door after. You crouched and smiled at him. “Love you, too.” You gave him a scratch. “Let’s go downstairs and see the guys, huh?” You stood up and walked past him, patting your leg. As he followed, you made a note to get him a treat next time you went to the store. 

You were in a pair of lounge paints, a tank, and a loose zip up hoodie, your hair left down. “That help any, sweetheart?” Steve asked as he saw you. 

You shrugged a shoulder. “A little.” You said softly. “I feel cleaner, at least.” That was something. “How does pasta sound for dinner? I’m not sure if I have much else to just whip up.” You tucked some hair behind your ear. 

Bucky came out of the kitchen, holding out some water for you. “What’s your favorite meal to make?” He asked. “Stevie can run out to the store for what you need. Just gotta give him a grocery list.” He told you. 

You thought for a moment. “Do you guys like biscuits and gravy?” You sipped your water, smiling a bit as all three looked a bit excited at that. When you looked at them, you didn’t see mobsters or whatever they got called. You saw Bucky, Sam, and Steve. Just three really sweet guys. What they did, or what they ‘were’, didn’t bother you. Logically, you knew that it should have, but it just…didn’t. 

“Sweetheart, I haven’t had biscuits and gravy since I was a kid.” Sam told you, making you chuckle. “I will personally make sure Steve here gets the right stuff.” He patted Steve on the back. 

“I hope you like what I put on top as a little extra something.” You told him. “Guess you’ll just have to wait and see what it is.” 

Bucky grinned, watching the three of you. You were good for him, and for his men, and you had no idea.

[retrieve-the-kraken]

IT’S HERE!!! 💜💜💜

Me using funky Insta filters that I never use, not only to try to recreate that dreamy Omar vibe, but also so you can’t totally see how fucking tired my face looks… (am I extra? Yeah, I am).

I really like it, it smells very similar to another perfume that I used until a few years ago, which also felt like a very unisex fragrance (can’t remember what it was, but I think it was a Calvin Klein perfume), except it’s more citrusy and a tinge sweeter, which I really like. It’s very fresh and clean, not overwhelming at all, which is exactly what I was looking for. It started out much sweeter when I first sprayed it on, and has been evolving nicely on my skin over a few hours, and I still like it.

It’s perfect, because summer (dry season) is just starting here, and it’s very hot all day, and the only thing that keeps me from going insane is showering and smelling nice and clean, and I do favor citrus-scented things to feel fresher and cleaner.

Just to be clear, I am not sponsored by OMR Beauty (I fucking wish), but this man is my absolute beauty guru, and I wanted to smell like him. I mean, who wouldn’t, right?

(Sadly, I didn’t get the larger pretty mauve box that I’ve seen a lot of people get in their unboxings, it was just the perfume in its little box, shipped in a brown envelope… although I had never seen the plastic-free padded envelopes with the cardboard mush as padding, and I really liked it, great alternative to the bubblewrap padding, which is the worst.)

Anyway, Merry Christmas to me!!!

[quillkiller]

how do you view petunias personality to be? Did she have many friends growing up or just kept close to a few people? Did she dream of becoming succesful and working or was she content with being a housewife

i think there’s a distinct difference between child petunia and adult petunia / pre lily gets the letter petunia and post lily gets the letter petunia!!

here’s an ask i answered recently about their upbringing and their family and how it affected the evans sisters!

anyway. i view young petunia, pre hogwarts letter, as just an avarage child sort of? wild and unpredictable and playing with her sister and her friends. mostly happy and like any other child. i view lily very similarly. to me they had very normal upbringings with loving (if old school) parents. so yeah, i do think she had quite a few friends and i also think she had a good relationship with lily!!

i also think she did have hoped and dreams when she was a child. mostly the usual ones that children have, like being an actress. i can absolutely see petunia watching katherine hepburn in a screwball comedy and yearning for the same future

post hogwarts letter-petunia changes drastically and quickly. there’s jealousy and resentment and she’s taking it all out on lily, because who else is there? lily is leaving her for a magical world and petunia can’t follow. MAGICAL world. so this is where they end up on two completely different sides of a spectrum, petunia becoming obsessed with normalcy and tradition and lily deviating from that, without choice, simply because she is a witch.

to me, this is also when petunia stops hanging out with her old friends. she wants better friends, successful friends. normal friends. anything that’ll put her as far away from lily as possible. she wants to be painfully normal. painfully traditional. she even grows up to be disappointed in her own mother for not being a better wife to her father. for not being a better woman.

so she stops having dreams. or she forgets she ever had them. she forgets entirely that she’s a person and only cares about the picture perfect life. the picture perfect family and cutting herself off from her beginnings entirely

petunia as an adult is insane. insanely repressed and insanely uncomfortable to be around. she’s only friends with other wives and mothers with ’high status’ or whatever. she’s a submissive wife to an angry man. she’s a mother to a child she doesn’t even like, but spoils him rotten anyway because atleast he’s normal. everything she ever wanted. she’s bites her nails and pulls her hair and burns herself with cigarettes she smokes in secret. she’s an obsessive cleaner and uses strong chemicals that burns her skin. she showers under scalding water until she’s red everywhere. she’s mean and cruel and selfish and takes other people down. she calls people who aren’t normal ’freak’ to their face and she’s always always at the edge of the cliff. always one step too close to finally snapping. always too close to a mental breakdown that will have to forcefully hospitalize her.

she’s my repressed super freak of a failgirl

[repo-net]

updated ver: aoyama nakazke

How long has it been since I posted about an OC, let alone one that isn't from my bag of wrestling characters? A couple of years now?

Well, never mind all that. I've been in a strong writing mood as of late (it's more or less just me trying to get back into the hobby again while my schedule is freer than it was a month or so ago) and I thought I'd put down an updated and cleaner version of one of my older OCs; Aoyama Nakazke. The older post for him can be found here, if you have some sort of interest in checking that out.

He used to be solely a Danganronpa OC (and the context of his backstory is still minorly reliant on Hope's Peak being a thing), but I've admittedly fallen out of that genre a little bit as of late (not completely mind you, why else would the sage is still the entire theme of my blog?), so now he's more or less just a general OC that can be put in just about any verse.

Well, anyways. The lad's under the cut, so go check it out if you're interested.

Picrew link

Name: Aoyama Nakazke

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Height: 5'2" / 158cm

Weight: 128lbs / 58kg

Birthday: May 8 (I forgot why I gave him this birthday, but it has something significant to do with basketball)

Talent: Street Baller

Likes: Cola bottles / most kinds of street food - Cats - Mikel Jordin (???) - Having his hair stroked (generally by people he likes)

Dislikes: Strong fires - Authority figures - Tacky clothing - Getting shoved/slapped/any form of physical disrespect

Appearance:

Aoyama is a rather short boy with a youthful face; making it easy to mistake him to be younger than he actually is. He has light brown eyes and fair white skin, and styles his dark gray hair into short upswept spikes, with two pigtails tied together with black ribbons. When they’re let down, his hair reaches all the way to his shoulders, though he rarely ever does this outside of his own home or in the middle of a shower. (Small tidbit: he chose the dark color for the ribbons to have them blend in with his hair as much as possible)

Aoyama’s attires for everyday use consists of a long and baggy sleeved, black hoodie jacket that has a puffy interior within it, made to maximize the amount of comfort he can feel. Underneath the hoodie is a maroon shirt patterned with black vertical stripes, with the same design being applied to his socks. His shorts have a similar color scheme, with predominant maroon and black accents around the waist area and the edges of the cloth, and maroon sneakers that are topped with white shoelaces. This is usually his outfit while at his home, or if he plans on playing basketball within the day.

If he’s out and about, he makes the slightest bit of effort to change it up; although not by much, as he tries not to stand out among a crowd and would only really put in this ‘effort’ for someone he likes. This alternative outfit has Aoyama don a crimson and black undershirt with a silver leather jacket, and black pants kept in place with a belt. Both the jacket and his pants have plenty of pockets for him to store items; and more importantly - his hands. He really likes idling with his hands in pockets somewhere.

He also changes his footwear a little, now a simple pair of pure crimson socks and black sneakers with red undertones and laces. Aside from his clothes, he’ll style his hair to make sure his three antennas don’t just pop out, thinking that they look ‘stupid’.

Underneath his clothes is a rather muscly and well-toned build, as expected of someone from his area being a street basketball player and all. There are also a few, not so distinct scars around his torso and back - all a product of his childhood.

Personality: 

Raised in the streets by himself and his talent, Aoyama is a stubborn and humble boy who seeks to get by in life as comfortably as he can. He's generally quiet off the court due to not wanting to really associate with anyone other than those he teams up with, and from a bit of deep insecurity that he isn't really worth more than what his talent can get him. 

His thoughts tend to be a little sarcastic and blunt, sometimes seeping out of his lips and getting blurted out. Aoyama generally tries to avoid anything that’ll start a confrontation though - especially if it’s getting him involved in one.

He's unpretentious and practically his own biggest hater, though he doesn't take well to disrespect, especially physical ones, and it’s likely he’ll instinctively throw a fist right at the source if he gets shoved, pushed around, etc. He's a little clueless when it comes to things like world knowledge and educational subjects, with his lifestyle while growing up playing a major part in that. 

Aoyama is incredibly loyal to those who he considers a friend and resents the idea of turning his back on someone; but his nature and roots as a street kid make it rather unavoidable for him to get in trouble from time to time, which has had him have to solve issues across different groups… at least, in the ways that he best can.

Backstory:

To say that Aoyama hated his childhood would be an understatement; but even so, he knows most of it came to be because he would rather walk through true hell than have to live in a fake heaven with demons.

Aoyama was an accident child by a shaky and collapsing couple in a rural farm close to the edge of Kushiro (an average town/city just north of Hokkaido) - both parents were not only poor but had also began to fall out of love for one another, sending the Nakazkes into a spiraling doom of debt and unwanted parental responsibility. Not having the means nor the funds to abort the child, they gave birth to him and left Aoyama to be raised by his grandparents, who would both shortly pass just before he turned 3 - the year he first started to remember and be conscious of his surroundings. 

Taking Aoyama back with them to their house, his parents began to take their frustrations and misery of their situation out on him, blaming him for the fact that they keep spending money because of him. Whenever he was at school, he didn’t have many friends; and his short stature and endearingly innocent face as a kid made him an easy target for bullies. Yet whenever he would fight back, he’d get punished as if he started the trouble itself. It didn’t help that he could never focus on school too - and his grades were ‘passable’ at best. 

Aoyama’s parents would constantly shelter him and refuse to ever let him out of the house, stopping him from eating too much, reasoning that if he gets full, he’ll become sleepy - and that if he became sleepy, he wouldn’t be able to study. After some point, Aoyama’s parents were no longer able to keep affording his tuition, which left his basic education level around merely the 4th grade. It wasn’t until he later got into Hope’s Peak that he was able to somewhat catch up.

Scars left on him by the whips and belts they’d strike him with, cold and heartless words that made him question why he was even alive, and constant hate that boiled and bubbled until he couldn’t take it anymore. After getting splashed with hot water by his father after he was caught trying to go outside and berating him, telling him that he’s wasting his life by trying to make it out of the house and that he’s only going to hurt himself like the idiot he is. Aoyama yells at the both of them, screaming and asking why they’re so mad at him when he never asked to be born, and that they’re saying that he’s wasting ‘his’ life…

When ‘his’ life was never his to begin with, because they’ve been dictating everything he’s been doing since the beginning, and that he hates it here, saying that he wishes he could just leave like they clearly want him to. His mother steps up, slaps him in the face and pulls him by the hair, dragging him back to their house. She tells him if he hates his life here so much, then why doesn’t he pick all his stuff up and leave? Aoyama’s eyes narrow for a second, but he grits his teeth, clenches his fists and storms off to pick up his own stuff. Both of his parents look shocked at the fact that Aoyama seemed absolutely on-board with the idea, but… if he wanted to leave their miserable life, when they knew he’d come crying back later on anyways… they’ll amuse him, they thought.

He never came back. He took a basketball, a stock of his clothes, the very little savings he had, and most importantly… what little money the Nakazke family had left and took it all for himself from his parents’ room and hid it away in a wallet he hid away between his shorts. And Aoyama barged out the door. Then he ran. And ran. And ran. And he just kept running, refusing to ever look back. If he felt thirsty or hungry, he’d buy a drink and a small snack to eat along the way. If he felt sleepy, he’d rest in an alley or a sidewalk under the night sky, using his bag as a makeshift pillow. And if he ever thought he’d want to go back home, he’ll kick himself in the foot and continue to run.

Aoyama didn’t know where he’d go. He doesn’t even know what his old house’s address was; and what side of the country he’d ended up in by then. But as long as it was far away, by himself, he was okay. And if he ever has to make money again so he can keep surviving long enough to prove those two nutcases wrong… he’ll pick up his ball, dribble it and gamble everything he has against another kid. It doesn’t matter if he gets pushed. It doesn’t matter if he gets hurt.

If someone shoves him, he’ll be able to shove them back. If someone tries to trick him, he won’t just look down and let it go. He’ll live. If only to spite them. If only so he never has to go back to them. And there were bumps, losses, moments of thievery and rumbling into street fights that he’d get into along the way. But he kept getting better and better, stronger and tougher, faster and sneakier. His height became a deceit for what was both a natural and honed gift for street basketball - skillful, agile, and a menace on the court that tore through enemy’s defenses and was speedy to the point that getting past him while he was guarding you felt infuriatingly impossible. Building himself from the bottom up, he was able to get scouted for local teams, make a proper wage for himself, a name was created, and soon enough on his phone, a call from prestige he could only peek through from a window had finally reached him.

Extras:

I got asked this a while back on a Discord server, and I thought I'd put it here too - Aoyama isn't exactly interested in romance (ball is life 💯). While he wouldn't say no to having a partner regardless of their identity, he grew up thinking that it's extremely corny and has a bit of a childish perspective, still half-convinced that cooties actually exist. But half the reason for that is because he's pretty socially inept and has trouble with showing and receiving affection outside of the one thing he's good at. The other half is because he doesn't even know what kind of people he's into and is still figuring things out, though he might have a bit of internalized homophobia having grown up in a somewhat conservative environment. It'd just take some convincing.

Aside from the likes listed above, Aoyama's into trap, hip-hop, and video game music. He's also more likely to hang around people that are rebellious and wild, even if he himself isn't a very loud and proud guy. Maybe it's just him wishing he'd have half the confidence they did. Oh, and he's a pretty frugal guy, tending to take the cheapest and most bang-for-your-buck options at almost anything he goes to.

"Is there anything outlandish he might have an interest in?" - Another question I answered on a server I used to be in. There might be one, actually! I gave it some thought, and I think he has a slight repressed fascination in cosplay! While he himself would never want to wear flashy clothing out in the open, thinking that it'd look ridiculous and cringey; ironically enough, he'd be open to trying it on by himself and pretending to be another person! That... stems from a bit of his insecurity about his own image (physically and mentally), but that is one thing someone who's close with him wouldn't expect for him to be drawn to. He'd probably isolate himself in embarrassment if you ever find out though, so maybe it's best you never find out about that.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Re that convo, if you’re in the mood for writing would you write Peter giving Lucian a stern talking to about 21st century hair care norms? Possibly followed by some help?

Any excuse to have Peter being a total priss about hair care cause he looks like the kinda person who spends way too long on his own.

On with the fic!

--

Peter found Lucian in the living room, he was polishing one of Peter's swords from the weapons room, probably more for looks than battle since it wasn't really ready to slice through a vampire. He coughed and then dropped the shopping bag on the couch next to the lycan, who looked at it, then looked up at the human. "Hm?"

"In this bag," Peter pointed at it, "contains the items I'm going to use to tame that mess you call hair."

Lucian peeked into the bag, and had the nerve to make a face. "My hair is fine, Peter. I used your fancy stuff with the... Moroccan oil? If that actually does anything for your hair."

"It does, it makes it nice and silky. And it's expensive, stop using my stuff! Also, I get the feeling that if it were up to you, you'd be one of those guys who uses the three in one stuff, that includes body wash."

The look on Lucian's face made Peter think that, yes, he had used that before. "Anyway! I got you some stuff that'll do wonders for your hair, along with some de-tangle spray and a strong hairbrush. And yes, it's a human one, though there were temptations to go to the pet section." Peter smirked and grabbed the bag.

"Bathroom, let's go!"

"Peter, my love, this is ridiculous. I don't need anything fancy or special, my hair is just a bit... different compared to yours. And besides, when I change into a lycan and back to human, it sets itself back to normal, no need to go through all the trouble."

"First of all, ew! No! You need to shower at least once a day! Second, just cause you're a magical wolf man does not give you the excuse to get out of washing your hair. Also, it's getting brushed whether you like it or not, woof man, now, to the bathroom! Let your boyfriend work his magic."

Lucian looked like he wanted to do anything that wasn't that. But he got off the couch and walked past Peter with a look. "Shower or bath?"

"Bath, I've got a lot of work to do and a shower is just too temptin'."

--

Lucian was cursing under his breath in thirteenth century Romanian as Peter rinsed his hair a second time. "I do not see the point of this, you just washed it."

"It needs a second wash, that leads to cleaner, softer hair." Peter informed him as he put a bit more of the floral scented shampoo in his hand and then started to rub it into Lucian's hair again.

"Are you working for some hair product agency?" Lucian asked as he closed his eyes, letting Peter work in the product. He didn't want to admit that it felt nice having Peter massage his scalp like this.

"Nah, not for the show, but on my youtube channel I get sponsors for fancy products that probably aren't as good for the environment as they claim to be." Peter snorted and then paused and his hands returned a moment later, with the conditioner from what it smelled like.

"Alright, time for the rinse, keep your eyes closed, babe." Lucian did as he was told, feeling the hot water pour over his head a moment later. Then a few more times before Peter grabbed for a towel to use on his hair and Lucian let out a growl when Peter started to roughly dry it.

"Oh shut up, wolfy, you have so much thick hair, it's got too much water in it still! Don't make me get my hair dryer!"

He soon finished and Lucian got out, grabbing for another towel to dry himself off as Peter drained the tub. "Are we done now? Happy that you've got this out of your system?"

"Ooooh, oh, we ain't done yet! We still have the brushing part to do! Get dressed and get comfy, this is gonna take a while."

A while was an understatement. Lucian had to sit through over two hours of annoying hair tugging and knot pulling before Peter finally set down the brush. "There we go! Finished! Did you know your hair is naturally fluffy? Shit, this is soft when you actually put effort into it."

Lucian scoffed and took a mirror that Peter held out for him and looked at his reflection. Actually, he did... look rather nice, it was good and fluffy and weirdly fit him as well as his normal style.

"It's nice." He said with a shrug, but Peter was smirking, knowing how he really felt.

"Yeah, of course it is. Now, try to keep your hair like this more often, alright?"

"I can't promise you that, but I'll try."

"At least stop stealing my shampoo and use the brush."

"Deal."

--

I have the exact same kind of hair as Michael Sheen and let me tell you, it's a pain in the ass to manage.

Would have finished this sooner, but I'm trying to make dinner at the same time as writing haha.

[every--thingoes]

Roommate troubles

I really like my roommate and have grown quite attached to her. She's younger than me and reminds me a lot of myself and my cousin, so I've become pretty protective of her. I love her personality, but today, she really pissed me off.

She has contamination OCD, and from what I've observed, it seems worse than mine. Her trips to the restroom can take 1-3 hours, and her showers can last up to 8 hours. Because of this, I've tried to be very patient and accommodating, considering myself more 'high functioning.' However, this approach has been a mistake. Her long showers make it difficult for her to shower regularly, which has made the past few days very stressful for me because it's affecting my shower schedule. She tells me she'll shower, so I wait, but then around 11 pm, she changes her mind, leaving me with the choice of a super late shower or none at all.

The tension has been building for days, and today was the breaking point. I've been feeling very passive-aggressive and irritated. I feel guilty, but it's just been a terrible day. I also have contamination OCD, and restrooms are a major trigger for me. Being locked out of my restroom all day really affected me. When she went to the store, I was supposed to shower as my therapist instructed, but I just couldn't. I felt like everything was contaminated, and I’d have to clean and check if I could still use my products since I didn’t take them out of the shower before she used it.

Then, surprise, surprise, she came back, and I still hadn't showered. She started asking me what I was doing because I was pacing and standing around the bathroom. I tried to joke with her because I didn't want to answer the question. Then she said, 'You can't shower because I used it, huh?' I couldn't say yes because it felt rude. It's not about her in particular; I wouldn't have been able to do it regardless of who used the bathroom.

The conversation shifted to her telling me what she bought and how she wanted to clean the bathroom. I asked if she wanted to use it and do it now because it seemed like she wanted to. I admit I was annoyed because she had the bathroom from 7:30 am to 3:30 pm, and I wanted my time. But I wanted to be accommodating, so I told her to use it. I wasn't going to shower yet because I needed to do some rituals first.

As I was moving my stuff out, I guess I was a bit passive-aggressive because she said, 'No, I don't need to use it, stop,' but I could tell she needed to. Then she said she'd just use the bathroom in the group house because it's cleaner anyway, which ticked me off and finally made me snap. I said, 'That makes no sense. How is a bathroom that only two people use more dirty than a public one that everyone uses?' I admit my tone might not have been the best, but come on. She then went on a tangent about how our OCD is different and how this bathroom is dirty, and then basically left the room.

Now, here's why I'm pissed. I thought she could only use our bathroom due to her contamination OCD. She knows I've had issues sharing bathrooms and using public restrooms, yet she never thought to be accommodating once. If she knows she can use any restroom, why not do her hand-washing ritual somewhere else? I literally can't! I'm just so pissed off. I've been holding my bladder and rushing because I thought she couldn't set foot somewhere else, but that's not the case at all. Maybe I'm being overdramatic, but it feels like a big slap in the face because she knows how distressed I've been these past two weeks.

Am I being overdramatic?

[geodetojoy]

!!!VENT POST!!!!

I just really needed to get this out of my system I’m not expecting anyone to read this but if you do helloooo lmao

GOD I fucking hate my parents dude. Just had the worst meltdown I’ve had in weeks in their kitchen while they were in the living room with not a care in the world. And it’s an open floor plan it’s not like I was hidden behind walls or anything. I was sitting at their island with tears fucking streaming down my face, hyperventilating, unable to speak, and shaking like crazy, all while trying to hold myself still bc they’ve told me that my stims are “weird” and “make them uncomfortable”. And they’re just both sitting not even ten feet away from me not giving two shits. If anything it was like they were trying to make it worse.

It didn’t like come out of nowhere either, no, there’s a shit ton of lead up here. I had just come from my room after my mom called me on her phone to wake up and eat food which she had apparently gotten an hour ago. I knew she was getting it, I even texted her my order AND told her I was gonna take a nap and asked her to wake me up when it got here, but I saw that she just sent one lousy text and gave up when I didn’t come down. Then called me a whole HOUR later, so my fast food was just left cold out on the counter. And I fucking HATE warming fast food back up. I’ve already got tons of food sensory issues but let me tell ya warmed up fast food is one of the WORST ones. And they know this!!! So I put the burger in the fucking microwave, which, again, disgusting, while they blare the tv from the other room at full volume, the dogs are in the cage (only because my parents don’t want to deal with taking care of them, I’m the only one who actually does anything for them) barking to no end, and EVERY. SUNGLE. FUCKING. LIGHT. is on. Then my mom goes to take a shower and the dogs just get louder and crazier, so what does my stepdad do? He shouts at them of course. The louder they get the louder he gets. And the louder he gets the worse I shake, both from overstimulation and fucking trauma from my bio dad bc he was exactly the same.

Then he got fed up with the barking and let them out of the cage, not paying attention to them at all until one peed on the carpet (they’re still new so not fully potty trained, and I also don’t know when they took them out last so that could’ve been entirely his fault) and he fucking kicks her in the side (not sure how hard, at this point I was fully stiff staring straight down while tears fell on my plate) and starts yelling again

THEN, when he goes to clean it up, he uses my carpet cleaner that I use when my cats throw up that I gave him because he didn’t want to get his own (then they went and got another at some point and gave me the almost empty one. Thanks a lot.) and uses it entirely fucking wrong and wastes so fucking much of it and complains that there’s none left. And I’m sure they’re gonna make me go out and buy them another one. Which, they might pay me back for it, but the store is another sensory nightmare (again, that they know about) that they subject me to multiple times a week.

Anyway, I think I even dropped my burger at some point and I didn’t have the stomach to finish it so I just ended up throwing it away and essentially ran back to my room with my cats and under my weighted blanket where I am now. All I’ve eaten today is a chocolate entenmanns donut and like three bites of a dq cheeseburger. It’s 8:46 pm. (Tbh it’s kind of a lot for me I usually don’t even eat that much)

God I just fucking hate being here. They got these dogs with no intention of actually caring for them, leaving me to do all of the dirty work while they just shower them with affection and treats anytime they’re around so the dogs don’t like me anyway (I don’t touch the treats because, wouldn’t you know it, sensory issues) and they just blatantly do not care about me or my struggles and just use me whenever they don’t feel like doing something on their own.

I actively try to avoid them and do not go to the main floor when they’re in there bc it’s always just immediate overstimulation. The issue then is that I’m only there when I’m home alone watching the dogs, which is just a constant thing that I can’t leave for any reason, including to go to the bathroom or eat something, and then when they are home, I can’t go into the kitchen to get food bc I will have a meltdown. So now pretty much the only things I eat are small snacks I’m able to sneak into my room and the occasional dinner I get when just my mom is home (don’t get me wrong she still sucks but at least she doesn’t always have the tv on)

AND MY BROTHER WASNT EVEN THERE TODAY I couldn’t even imagine how much worse that would have been. All he ever does is stuff I’ve told him makes me uncomfortable, like eye contact and watching me when I eat, and he always just sits too close and hits me like a fucking toddler and also yells at the dogs bc he’s also too lazy to actually take care of them.

I’m just. So fucking sick of this. I’ve still got a year left of this bs but it just gets harder by the day.

I’m gonna go play some mc now I need to de-stress

EDIT: there’s more! Yippee! /s

Mom just burst into my room and grabbed the carpet cleaner (the vacuum thingy not the spray) while I was in the bathroom. Oh I should also mention my room is the basement lmaoo yes I live in my parents basement sue me. Anyway we love the lack of boundaries and privacy yayyyy.

[doobnnoob-tf2]

Hello, I noticed you were taking TF2 asks, hope I don't bother you, but I had one.

What sort of before-bed habits do the mercs have? Like do they always take a shower, wash their face etc? I feel like Spy wouldn't be able to go to bed without putting essential oils on his face.

Also I noticed you name your anons, can I be called Tree?

you absolutely can be called Tree! C:

Scout: he always has to go for a run before bed.  it’s the only way to tire himself out enough so he can sleep throughout the night.  he goes directly from his run, to the showers, and straight to bed.  however, some nights he’ll skip a shower, says he can in the morning, and then complains about acne the next day from sleeping without washing the sweat off

Soldier: he makes use of the on-base gym every night.  he has an entire workout routine he follows strictly.  he has an exact time he starts, an exact time he finishes, and exact times for each set he does.  he hits the shower after and then goes right to bed

Pyro: bedtime just means they’ve gotta figure out which of their plushies sleeps on the bed and where.  they also enjoy being able to sneak into the infirmary and use Medic’s bathtub to relax before bed.  just hot water and some good smells to get them ready to sleep

Demoman: he makes a fresh set of bombs each night before bed.  it helps his clear his mind and relax so whenever he’s ready to lay down he can and that’s the end of it.  and it means that he’s got a head start for the next day should he still need to make more

Heavy: he cleans his guns every night.  he takes them apart and cleans them once a week, but he gives them a basic clean every night.  and then he puts them to bed.  afterwards, he’ll go wash himself up for bed.  sometimes that just means getting a fresh change of clothes and washing his hands to get the cleaner off, sometimes he wasn’t able to hit the showers earlier and that’s where he’s going

Engineer: he has to write down all the building ideas he gets in his head before he’s content to go to sleep.  if he doesn’t, it’ll keep him up all night.  the biggest challenge in his routine is not getting up to go to his workshop to start building some of the ideas he comes up with

Medic: his bedtime routine consists of caring for his birds.  they will not let him sleep unless he’s followed his routine with them first.  he feeds them, gives them fresh water, cleans the cage, and they are all going to demand a kiss goodnight by the end of it

Sniper: there is no routine.  he doesn’t even have a proper “bedtime”.  it’s just whenever his body tells him it’s ready to shut down for the night, if it even does.  some nights he may just be laying on top of his camper most of the night before he falls asleep up there or has the energy to at least move inside and climb into bed.  other nights, he may just lay on the floor in his camper and sleep right there because he’s way too exhausted.  and the other nights, he may just not sleep at all.  it’s hard to have a routine when your body doesn’t even follow one

Spy: he has the most involved before-sleep routine.  which is fine because he usually takes forever to fall asleep anyway.  he showers, washes his face, moisturizes, everything.  he sleeps in his mask so he takes extra care of his face to make sure it’s not getting ruined.  he’s very insecure about his face so he does whatever he can to help it last

[rickgrimesdoingrickthings]

"I was trying to interrupt because I got clean towels-" Rick sighed, shivering at the sight of the wet clothes inside the bathroom. "You ruined it." He teased, complaining. "The bathroom was clean when I found it." Rick kept staring her face until she passed by- he was a bit annoyed, yes, but 90% of it was for the sake of teasing. "Okay, listen, I'm not a cowboy." He sighed, a softly annoyed smile on his face as he took his jacket off, leaving it on the chair- it wasn't dirty per se, the leather was easy to clean and he already had gotten rid of the blood on its surface. The problem was his chest- his shirt soaked in blood- and his face. "Yeah I won't smush something dirty against my wound...don't worry. I won't even touch it, you already cleaned it for me and used clean bandages..." He wasn't a child...or some stupid husband- like those who couldn't fry an egg...

Rick took his shirt off, tossing across the bathroom- that one, no more. It had a hole now- and too much blood. His jeans was fine, surprisingly cleaner than expected, he folded it, placed over the door. His boxers also were clean- clean of blood at least. The deputy was very neat, even without showers or baths, he always tried to stay clean. He finished stripping, turning on the water- warm...so warm... Rick sighed in relief, closing his eyes, feeling that bliss rolling down over his body, groaning a bit. The man made sure to use a small towel to protect the bandaged wound from getting wet- he just stood, not letting water touch where wounds were open. "Ouch....mngh..." Brilliant- he had forgotten the big scratch on his side- when he fell against the same damn metal pipe- for the second time. He sighed, washing the blood away from his body- he didn't know what was his own blood or the enemy's blood anymore. He just washed away. With such comfy warm water, the urge to touch himself a bit was tempting, but it wasn't the best occasion- for so many reasons. Rick focused on washing his hair, using a lot of shampoo to help and brush himself off the dry blood- they had tons of shampoo bottles at the shop anyway- and he gave himself the luxury to use conditioner as well. Damn, he couldn't keep his eyes open. When he felt the water jet's intensity start to change a bit, he closed it. They wouldn't have much water left- he knew. Better keep some for emergencies. His thin body already started to shake at the fresh breeze- no more warm water...part of him wanted to cry. He took a clean towel, placed over his shoulders, and another one to dry himself.

@sah1x1s

@sah1x1s

Rick was on a supply run, searching a supermarket. After clearing the building from all the walkers inside using his hatchet, he went up to explore the second floor of the building. Unaware of the wet floor with musk, as Rick stepped, it ruptured, making him fall. That caused a loud noise, Rick landed on some abandoned objects, feeling so dazed and lost, he was close to fainting due to the impact. He didn't know for how long he had remained unconscious, his hand was still holding his flashlight with one hand and his hatched with the other.