#anyway to go back to the original point of the post

[wonallofme]

pinching!

tw and tags: bully!heeseung x plus size!fem!reader, descriptions of bullying, a lot of physical contact, noncon then heavy dubcon, oral sex (f receiving). word count: 2.3k note: originally written with a different idol in mind, this fic was already posted in my old blog. while talking to one of my best friends in the app we decided to re-post old fics for fun and idk why but while checking some of them I felt this one fitted Hee. I changed it a lot tho. anyway, hope someone here likes the concept. i’m a big fan of plus size/chubby reader but haven’t had the opportunity to talk about it here in the blog yet so, if you like it too, please don’t hesitate to hit my (empty) inbox! special thanks to fairy for being my first-ever beta reader ❤️

You have a couple of memories from that place, like how good it felt to hug your grandmother before bed, how there was a little stall in front of your school that always had tasty sweets, and how there was a little boy you used to walk home with after classes finished.

There wasn’t much objection once your mother said you would go back and live together in your grandmother's place not to leave the house empty. You had a couple of friends, but it was nothing special, so you said goodbye to them and moved with your mother without problem.

You had to admit you were kind of happy to move. Yeah, you wouldn’t be able to hug your grandmother, but at least you would feel her presence with the old floors and flower decorations that surrounded every room. Perhaps you could eat those sweets again, and there was the chance of making new friends too. Good things could come, you thought.

If you’re honest, you just hoped you could see him again.

You should've known at that point in your life that having expectations only leaves the sour aftertaste of disappointments.

The stall wasn’t there anymore, the entire house had changed because of your mother's decision, leaving no trace of your grandmother behind, and the sweet boy that used to follow you with a smile now followed you to make fun of you.

It was easy to recognize him. He had the same eyes and shiny smile, and you were elated to see a good, old friend all grow up into a real man. Sadly, he wasn’t as happy as you to see you again, showing you a disgusted face once you told him who you were.

‘’Don’t fucking talk to me,’’ he said, and you didn’t understand what you had done wrong. Perhaps you were too confident, your perfume wasn’t to his liking, or your hand was sweating too much when you touched him. You honestly had no idea why he reacted like that, but you understood that, just like his appearance, he had changed too. 

After all, that sweet boy you used to know would’ve never talked to you that way.

That interaction alone was enough to make you never want to approach him again. You didn’t want to hear that tone or see that expression again, so you did your best. You avoided him in the hallway, you stayed in your seat not to cross his way during breaks, and you didn’t look his way when you recognized his voice. 

It was all useless though.

You had become his new favourite thing.

At first, he was all words and no bite. He’d throw comments every now and then about your physical appearance, like comparing you to a pig when you ate your lunch in the cafeteria or mocking your uniform for being bigger than normal because of your size. 

His friends only laughed at these comments, and those who weren’t his friends stayed silent. They were different groups but shared one same trait– None dared to approach you, afraid of receiving the same treatment from him.

Then, he started to touch you.

He pinched your arm, telling you to give him your homework to copy it. Later, it was your cheeks, telling you to stop eating if you didn’t want to gain weight. Finally, one day, when everyone had left for the PE class while you were searching for your towel in your seat, approaching you silently from behind, he pinched your waist.

Scared, you turned to him. It had hurt a lot more than when he did it to your cheeks. You knew that, more than to bother you or call your attention, like on the other occasions, he had done it with all the intention of hurting you.

When you looked at his face, you noticed that his typical grin wasn’t there, replaced by a surprised expression and curious eyes instead. Somehow, you felt that something bad was about to happen, so you pushed him out of the way and walked out of there as soon as you could without caring that you were leaving with empty hands.

‘’Where’s your towel?’’ your teacher asked you.

‘’I forgot it,’’ you answered, not wanting to return to the classroom.

Later, Heeseung arrived with your towel in his hand, and you got punished for not bringing all the obligatory material.

He got worse.

if he crossed you in the hallways, he would shamelessly pinch your waist until you hissed, and when he found you in the library, between shelves, he would pinch your ass, grinning from ear to ear at the picture of you biting your lips not to make a sound so you wouldn’t get in trouble again.

As if everything he did was an innocent game, he smiled at you after nipping different parts of your body, like the side of your ribcage when you decided to walk away from his teasing, the back of your hand when you tried to push him away, or your thighs when he sat beside you in the cafeteria or the study room.

‘’Why are you doing this?’’ you whispered, pushing his hand away from prying under your skirt and pinching your upper leg.

‘’Look at all that skin,’’ he answered, grabbing your round hand with force to stop you from getting away. ‘’Your body is begging for it.’’

When you tried to do it again, to get away from his hands, he pinched the space of your chest that your bra didn’t cover.

Making you whimper in pain, he laughed at your hurt expression.

‘’It really hurts!’’ you tried to reason with him, but he was a lost cause. It didn’t matter that you were full of little purple and green spots, flinching at the mere sight of him lurking around, he wanted more.

This is going to end at one point, you tried to tell yourself.

He’d get tired and leave you alone when he found a new toy. It was impossible he only focused on you the entire time, and even if it was like that, it was your last year. After that, you prayed, you’d never see him again.

Everything comes to an end.

Your house was the only safe space you had. Even if it wasn’t anything like the warm memory you had about it, it was a place that had never been tainted by Heeseung, unlike your school, or the streets you walked to arrive there.

Sometimes, he would follow you while murmuring insults, pretending to be a good friend walking you home. Nonetheless, once you opened your entrance door and saw that he stayed feet away, you would exhale, relieved that he didn’t try to follow you inside, too.

‘’Your friend is waiting for you in your room,’’ your mother smiled. ‘’I’ll go and buy something for you to eat later’’ 

She, unlike you, was excited to have him there, and you, trying to breathe properly not to show how the panic was consuming you, nodded.

‘’He’s become such a handsome man,’’ she murmured before leaving.

There was nothing you could do to run away, it was your house, and opening your room door, you saw him calmly looking at your stuff.

Your pillow wasn’t where you left it, so it was impossible to deny he had been roaming around for a while, invading your space and doing whatever he wanted, like he always did.

Standing in front of your bookshelf, one of your diaries open in his hands, he sensed your presence.

‘’Didn’t know you took so many walks, thought you would never come,’’ he said, passing the page and inspecting its content as if there was something in particular he was looking for. ‘’It doesn’t explain why you still look like that though.’’

‘’Heeseung, I’ve done nothing to you,’’ you sounded as if you were begging at that point. ‘’Why– I just don’t get why.’’

‘’I have my reasons,’’ he answered, closing the book and leaving it where it previously was.

You flinched when he showed the intention of getting close to you. Your hands became fists behind you, fully alert, one of them gripping the knob, ready to run into another room in case he tried to hurt you again.

‘’We were friends,’’ you said, lower lip slightly trembling. ‘’Please, stop. It hurts, Heeseung. It hurts a lot.’’

He saw you like that, broken, vulnerable, and he beamed.

Walking towards you, you thought your body would listen to you and escape, but it didn’t.

As you remained frozen in your place, caging you with his body, he finished closing the door behind you. Too late, you only reacted after hearing the loud click the secure did.

You started trembling as you realised he had blocked the only way of running away you had.

‘’But if I don’t touch you, who else will?’’ he whispered, taking your shaking hand in his. 

Not pinching it this time, he interlocked his fingers with yours and pulled you closer to him. Your torso compacting his made you more conscious of how you were completely alone in your room, and, therefore, of how unrestrained he was allowed to act.

‘’If you’re good, I’ll stop being so hard on you. What do you think about that?’’ he offered.

You didn’t understand him. Being good with what? 

Looking up at him, you couldn’t move your chest from pressing his because his other hand, forcing you to stay in your place, went to rest over the small of your back, the generous curve from your ass to your waist that was the object of so many of his jokes.

You could see where his actions were going. 

You felt yourself get nauseous with his body temperature and his aroma suffocating you due to the inexistent distance between your bodies.

‘’My mom will come back in any second…’’ you didn’t know what other excuse to use.

‘’I’ll be quick,’’ he smiled, wetting his lips, unconsciously sending a signal to your brain that screamed for you to just be good and get it over with.

‘’Will it hurt?’’ Your face betrayed you, plainly showing all the fears you had, giving him, once again, the upper hand.

‘’Not anymore,’’ he assured you. His hand that used to bring you so much pain suddenly became gentle and trailed up, caressing your arm with multiple marks created by him before finding your chest, and groping it with obvious satisfaction a few times, he felt them until he decided he wanted to touch more of you.

His hands continued their way until he found his new goal.

He cupped your face with a tenderness you had never met from him before, and not wanting to provoke him in any way, you muted yourself. 

To his unpleasant care, thumbs caressing your cheeks, you didn’t make a single noise, not the hiss you always let out when he pinched you, nor the cry when he painfully rubbed your soft skin.

‘’Well done,’’ he praised you, proud of what he recognised as your acceptance.

He expected you to continue being so obedient when he obliged your thighs to open with his knee.

Quickly, he found his place.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you never imagined the situation would end with him ditching your pants somewhere in your room and desperately dropping to his knees so he could accommodate between your trembling legs, slurping all the involuntary wetness your body made you drip not to suffer when the moment of taking him arrived.

Not being able to call his name properly, you whined when his palms gripped your meaty thighs a bit too hard and his tongue found your entrance, penetrating it with sloppy stabs.

The sensation of the tip of his nose bumping against your clit and his fingers separating your plump folds made you bite your lips to stop what felt like a moan.

He was eating you out like a starved man.

Your hands went to his hair, and you have no idea what flooded you, but you felt free to hurt him too. 

You wanted him to suffer too.

Full of unknown courage, you pulled his hair and moved your hips to crush his face, using him instead of the other way around.

Then, it felt good– To hurt him felt way too good. 

You thought, maybe this is why he does it, because you had never felt so powerful and in control before, especially, with him.

Looking down, you two made eye contact even with your chubby stomach prodding out. 

His eyes had nothing of the mockery they always showed. Instead, they were completely lost, drunk and unfocused. You couldn’t contain your moans anymore when his eyes batted and he seemed pleased to have your attention on him.

Not much after he started fucking you harder with his tongue, the knot in your stomach started to feel so tight you knew it would snap in any second.

Without intention, or maybe with all the intention, you closed your large legs around his head, not caring that you were crushing his face as you strongly came over his mouth and nose. 

He mewled, hugging your legs as you asphyxiated him for many seconds before your orgasm finished and you inevitably relaxed. 

Just after giving him everything you had, you finally allowed him to breathe. 

You freed him from your hold, but he didn’t move away immediately.

Gulping your remaining juices, he hardly inhaled once through his nose before he started licking the drops of your orgasm inside your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses along the way until he found his new favourite thing.

With both hands on the back of your thighs, he blinked multiple times before his tongue found its way between your folds, searching for your clit to leave a last loving lick.

As if he was proud you had abused him, only separating forcedly because of your hands pushing his head away from your sensitive clit, he took open-mouthed deep breaths with a still dazed expression.

Regaining some of his senses, he talked with the lower half of his face glistening.

‘’See? This didn’t hurt, right?’’ he smiled.

[ghostgirl-22]

so i actually need pt 2 to the older patrick younger art fic right NOW.. jk but it was amazing

Y’all. Y’ALL. I heard you. And though I don’t really love writing sequels… I’ll do anything for you honestly <33

Original.

It’s a mess and way too long which is prbly to be expected by now. Idk. Sometimes you just have to get out of your head and post 😭

18+ NSFW

CW: AGE GAP 10-11 years, power dynamics, teacher/student vibes, first time vibes, AND mild daddy!kink whoopsie! How did that happen? Obviously if any of these things make you uncomfortable don’t read. I don’t take it personally. I’ll explain myself a bit. Art in my imagination here didn’t get constantly shown up by Patrick and because Patrick wasn’t there Art got the attention Patrick got for his skills so he’s a little more arrogant (still a little insecure because that’s his core) and still messy. Patrick had the Tashi injury which makes him a little less arrogant (brought down a notch but still overcompensates and actively self sabotages because that’s his core) and still messy.

——

Art is still keyed up the next morning. His roommate, Devon, is bragging about hooking up with a senior. Art is trying to pay attention but all he can think about is how he got on his knees and gave messy head to Patrick, Coach Zweig, his 31 year old ridiculously hot tennis coach. And how Patrick practically promised to fuck him if he was a really good boy all week. He’s sitting on his hands trying not to go crazy.

“What did you get up to?” Devon finally asks him. Picking up his towel and getting ready to shower.

“Can you keep a secret?” Art asks.

That makes him sit back down. “Yeah of course.”

Art tells him about Patrick, most of it anyway, watching his eyes widen. He’s not on the tennis team but he’s heard enough about Coach Zweig from Art that he can’t help giggling.

“You’re fucking joking.”

“I’m not, I swear.”

“Holy shit. And I thought I was doing something with that senior. Wow. This would only happen to you.”

Art isn’t sure what he means by that but he’s suddenly asking a million questions. Art tells him some things, embellishing and withholding various details. The closest Art ever came to actually fucking a boy was when he used to sneak in Devon’s bed whenever he got horny at night. They were so close to fucking when Art made him stop. so he made Art promise to stop leading him on. And now they’re proper roommates with boundaries and everything. Though sometimes Art thinks if he asked for it Devon would still fuck him.

Devon thinks it’s hot, the whole Patrick thing. Thinks Patrick wants to make Art his kept boy. “Well I mean… he’s old and everyone says he’s loaded, right? He can give you whatever you want.” Devon says.

“Please, he wouldn’t even give me his phone number.” Art says dismissively. “And I don’t need to be kept I just need his dick.”

Devon chews his bottom lip looking Art over and Art wonders if he crossed a boundary. He’s so fucking messy with them.

“Lucky him,” Devon says dryly, rolling his eyes. “But maybe you should milk it. You’re young and beautiful and blonde and he’s your coach so it’s like.. it’s kind of illicit. He could get you a nice place off campus… be your sugar daddy. Girls do it all the time.”

“I think he’d kill me if I ever called him that,” Art laughs, making up his mind to definitely call him that at some point.

Devon agrees to come out with him next weekend but he still has to wait the whole fucking week. It feels like torture.

They have practice everyday and a game on Friday. Which means Patrick’s in those short shorts running them around the court every single day. Art can’t keep his mind off of him. Just wants his attention so bad, everyday he’s doing everything he can just to get Patrick to look in his direction. But Patrick’s got an epic poker face. He’s so fucking cool and calm and collected. So good at acting like nothing happened. Like everything is the same and they never did what they did.

There's one difference. Instead of having the assistant coach do it… he’ll bring Art to the side and personally correct him when he thinks Art could play better. Show him how to position himself, swing the racket, follow through. Big hands, rough hands, gripping Art's waist to turn his body, his wrist to direct his swing. The same hands that effortlessly lifted off his lap the other night.

“Can’t be all talk and no action sweetheart,” Patrick says lightly, as he’s standing behind him. God. It’s actually stupid how sexy he is. Art’s never thought this much about being penetrated, ever. He makes sure to arch his back just a little more than he usually does. Patrick presses a hand to the small of his back.

Art fingers the grip of his racket. “I don’t think I was all talk.”

Patrick chuckles, low and soft. “Stop it. Focus. Bring that energy here,” he says, “all that confidence right here and no one will rattle you.”

“Like this?” Art demonstrates. He makes a mess of it just so that Patrick will touch him again. It takes a minute before Patrick catches on.

“I think you get it,” he says dryly.

“Please show me one more time. I just wanna be a good boy for you,” Art says lightly. It makes Patrick swallow… his gaze falls helplessly over Arts body and then he looks away smirking.

“Are you having fun?” He says, leaning in close, eyes all crinkly with amusement.

Art wants to kiss him. “Mmhm,” he hums, pressing his lips together. “Though sometimes it still feels like my mouth is so full of you I could just… choke.”

“Yeah… right…” Patrick rolls his eyes, still smiling and then he takes a deep breath and drags his hand over his beard. “Hm…What’s today?”

“Wednesday,” Art says.

“And my plans for the weekend are still up in the air,” he says, patting Art on the shoulder as he takes his racket and turns to face the team. “Five laps around the court, everybody, let’s gooo!” He says loudly, blowing his whistle. “Fucking hustle!”

There’s an audible groan and the sounds of rackets dropping as everyone stops what they’re doing and starts running. “Go join them. And if you keep it up it’ll be sprints next.” Patrick says softly.

Art grins, as much as he hates running and he’s sure his teammates will assume he’s responsible for this bit of conditioning, it was still totally fucking worth it.

He probably should’ve focused more but he wins on Friday in spite of himself. Tennis is such a mental game and while he’s generally confident and loves the attention that comes with playing as number one on the center stage, he’s not consistent. That’s what Patrick always says at least. There are opponents that leave him feeling less sure of himself and then he tends to get in his head imagining he’s somehow inadequate or deficient.

One of those players is a French recruit from UCLA, Jensen Bordeaux. Art starts out strong. Crushes it in the first set. But when Bordeaux fights back in the second and he falls apart a little. It’s a bad habit. He wins another game but it’s not enough. He ends up nearly going into a third set.

“Remember what I said,” Patrick takes him to the side between points. “Stop acting like you can’t finish him off. You can have whatever you want right?”

Art gazes at him and bites his lip. “Mmhm.” He nods.

“Good. You know what you want. Just take it. Okay?”

“Yeah okay,” Art says breathlessly.

“Good boy,” Patrick says, rubbing his shoulders, a little smirk on his lips. “Try not to… you know… choke.”

Art feels heated from the inside out. He goes back on the court except he’s not thinking about the game. Instead he’s so anxious for the promise of tomorrow night that all this begins to feel like a mere obstacle to that. He makes easy work of it, winning the tiebreaker and shifting it so that Stanford goes home the winning team.

Everyone on the team goes out to a frat party to celebrate and Art is so drunk and horny by the end of the night. He stumbles into his dorm at 1 am, falls drunkenly into bed and starts touching himself. Fingers in his mouth imagining it’s the heavy weight and thickness of Patrick’s cock. Imagining Patrick’s large hands in his hair, imagining the soft, easily amused tone of his voice as he murmurs. “Good boy.” Makes him come so fast and hard he passes out.

He’s a mess in the morning. In more ways than one. They don’t have practice after game days so he sleeps off his hangover and the day flies by. He takes a long hot shower before he gets ready to go. Anxiety and anticipation competing for space in his brain and body. Devon loans him clothes that are so much tighter than anything he wears regularly. “Trust me, he’s gonna be all over you in this.”

They get there at the same time as last week but Patrick doesn’t come right away. Art’s waiting and waiting and waiting for Patrick to show up at the gay bar. Devon is at a table, a new boy on his lap and they’re making out. Art is half tipsy, swinging his legs on a barstool while this guy from the baseball team stands between his thighs asking him everything about tennis like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. And that’s when Patrick finally arrives. He spots Art across the bar and smirks. Art gets up right away, making excuses to the now frowning baseball player about seeing him around on campus.

“That was fast,” Patrick smirks, as Art sidles up next to him.

“Well I didn’t know you’d take so long to come,” Art says, moving closer. “Is that an old person thing?”

”Mm, you…” Patrick chuckles, tapping his credit card on the bar. He’s got such a great smile. God. Art is so far gone. This is tragic.

“Can you buy me a drink?” Art asks in his ear.

“No fucking way,” Patrick says, amused.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, how many drinks have you had tonight?”

Art holds up 3 fingers.

“Is that how many fingers I’m gonna have to put in before I can… nevermind…” Patrick says.

Art grins. Warmth spreading throughout his body. “It’s really big,” Art whispers. “Maybe you need four?”

“God…” Patrick laughs, incredulous. “I shouldn’t even fucking be here.” He sighs, as the bartender approaches them. He orders a whiskey and because it’s two for one he gives in and lets Art pick something. He orders rum and coke.

Art feels giddy as he sips on it.

“So used to getting whatever you ask for,” Patrick says, looking him over, teasing a finger into one of his belt loops. “Twenty years old. God. You make me fucking crazy.” He whispers in Art’s ear.

Art can’t help grinning.

Patrick makes him wait while he talks to people his own age. Acting all wholesome. “Oh he’s just one of my players, I’m gonna make sure he gets home safe.” He even gives Art the key so he can wait in his jeep. Art’s hard as soon as he gets in it. Listens to music too loud and ponders touching himself.

He’s kissing on Patrick right away when he finally gets in the car. He’s been so eager all week. “Mm…” Patrick pulls back, tangling his fingers into Art’s hair. “Fuck… gimme a minute to get you home, okay?” he says and he turns on the engine and puts the music back at a sensible volume.

“Is it far?” Art asks.

Patrick huffs a laugh. “Take a deep breath.”

It doesn't help. Everything smells like him. Art puts a hand on Patrick’s thigh, his skin is so heated. He remembers how warm Patrick’s cock felt in his mouth and then his mouth starts watering.

“Is Tashi there?” Art sighs.

“What do you fucking think?”

Art leans close, just breathing him in. Resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder. ”She’s so pretty.” He hums.

“I know.”

“You’re so pretty.”

Patrick chuckles, a low vibration Art can feel from his throat that makes him shiver. “And you're so tipsy. And so fucking young.”

“But you like it.” Art says softly, rubbing Patrick’s thigh. Skin so warm he’s like a furnace. Already hard enough that Art can feel it.

”And I know I’m gonna regret it.”

Their house is actually huge. On the nicer side of Palo Alto. It’s one of the ones with a pool and a tennis court and a crazy nice view of the city. Art doesn’t know any of this until later because as soon as they're inside he’s trying to get his tongue in Patrick’s mouth. Patrick walks him back towards the living room where there’s a huge leather sofa. Art climbs onto his lap as soon as he sits down. Patrick is touching him everywhere, fingers tangled into his hair. Hands under his shirt, rubbing him, teasing him. Art is just trying his best to feel him, lick into his mouth and taste him. All while grinding against his prominent bulge. Grabbing at his zipper trying to get it out.

“Can you fuck me?” Art begs against his lips.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes against his lips, he’s gripping Art’s waist tightly. Slowing him down. He sighs like he’s trying to pull himself together. “Mmkay. God. Stand up a minute. I need to get a condom and some lube.”

Art gets up reluctantly, nervous energy making him bounce on his toes like he’s waiting on a serve. Patrick smirks, “Relax… I’ll be back in a minute.” He pats Art’s shoulder as he gets up and disappears into another room. It doesn’t matter whether Art sits or stands, he’s anxious. He looks around the lavish room, fancy furniture, paintings that look expensive. Massive kitchen like the kind you see in movies. Patrick comes back and he’s all loose, t-shirt wrinkled, hair messy, eyes soft. He’s probably done this a million times. He’s got a condom between his fingers which he hands to Art.

“You wanna put it on me?”

”Mmhm,” Art says. He’s also carrying a little bottle of lube. Art’s trying to rip the packet open but his hands are all shaky. Especially when Patrick lifts his t-shirt off, he’s so solid, strong biceps, chest hair that gets darker condensed down the line of his stomach to where his jeans are unbuttoned. Art wants to lick it.

“Okay,” Patrick settles on the sofa, kicking off his shoes. “Give me that, you pretty little virgin and take those clothes off.”

Art hands him the condom a little embarrassed, and starts undoing his jeans. Kicks off his shoes and peels off his shirt so he’s only in boxers. Patrick bites open the packet and eases his jeans down and his cock out. Art takes shallow breaths watching him roll the condom on. It’s so big the condom is a magnum size and it fits snug. He’s heard horror stories about first times, even read a few on Reddit and he’s starting to feel a little panicked.

”Look at you.” Patrick says softly, eyes dragging slowly down Arts body. He pulls Art onto his thighs, god he has thick muscular thighs, Art can’t help wiggling. Patrick’s got him close so their cocks line up, and his palm is covered in lube and he’s gripping them both at the same time. It feels so fucking good Art thinks he might come too fast. He’s moaning, eyes squeezed shut when Patrick stops. Art opens his eyes to see Patrick wetting his fingers with more lube and slips a thick calloused finger back along Art’s entrance. Art feels himself seizing up as Patrick presses slowly inside.

“Take deep breaths,” Patrick whispers. Advice Art tries to follow but it just feels so crazy. He eases another finger in and Art tenses even more.

“Mm if your so fucking tight, I can’t fuck you sweetheart.”

“Does it hurt?” Art whispers.

Patrick takes a breath. “Yeah a little at first… but I think I can make it feel a little…uh better…”

Art shivers, his body suddenly overrun by pleasure as Patrick’s teasing his fingertips deep inside him. Art can hear himself moaning voice suddenly pitched so high he barely recognizes it. “Please… please… “he begs. “Please fuck me… fuck me… fuck me daddy.” Art gasps, losing himself as he’s riding the sensation.

“Fuck… what did you call me?” Patrick whispers.

Art bites his lip, his body heating up immediately with embarrassment. “Mm sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to… I meant like sugar…” He says softly as Patrick slowly pulls his fingertips out. Art is breathless. Patrick doesn’t look mad but his expression has gone heady.

“Fuck… I can be daddy if you need it,” Patrick breathes. “Come…sit on daddy’s dick. Holy shit. What are you doing to me?”

Art swallows, his stomach doing flip flops for the way Patrick says it. He sits up on his knees, he can feel Patrick lining up. It actually feels like a lot. Like way too much. Impossible to take. He’s got his eyes squeezed shut and watering feeling the insane stretch as he sinks so fucking slowly down on it.

“Oh god,” he keeps whispering over and over like a prayer.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes. His hands gripping Art’s waist.

He’s anxious moving slowly, gripping tightly, it’s too much, he’s too full. And Patrick starts to adjust him while gently rubbing his tummy. “Relax… lets try this angle,” Patrick whispers. Fucking into him in a way that he starts hitting that pleasure spot deep inside with even more intensity. “Good… good boy…that’s right…breathe… breathe… keep breathing… fuck…” Patrick coaches. And then slowly as it happens Art is moaning, bouncing on his lap just to feel it hit over and over and over and over again.

“I wanna… mmm I like it so much. wanna do it all the time,” Art moans nonsensically as he’s riding, not sure what’s happening, just that he’s seeing stars. “I wanna fuck you all the time. All the fucking time. wanna fuck you at school… during practice. In your bed. Wanna be your boy toy. Play with your big dick. Fuck me, oh fuck… fuck me daddy, daddy please. It feels so fucking good.”

“Jesus,” Patrick groans he barely grips Art’s cock and he’s coming loudly, spurts of it covering Patrick’s chest and his own. He can feel Patrick still pressing up into him, it suddenly feels like way too much. Every movement making him shake with how sensitive it feels and then Patrick stills, swearing over and over, gripping Art’s body tight and burying himself deep. Low gravelly sounds against Art’s ear.

”Fuck,” Patrick gasps, breathlessly. “Oh… god. You’re so… fuck I’m so screwed.”

“Mm,” Art collapses against his chest, running his fingers down Patricks soft chest hair all painted with his jizz. His knees are all sweaty and sticking to the leather but he doesn’t really care. He just wants to be close. Patrick is gently rubbing his lower back and it feels amazing. Art can feel him softening and slowly slipping out of him, he thinks he might fall asleep like this.

“You okay?” Patrick asks.

”Mmhm,” Art says.

“You sure?”

”Yeah. Can we do it again?”

“God,” Patrick laughs. “I need at least five minutes and I need you to get up cause I gotta piss.”

“No,” Art whines, unhappy about anything that means he won’t be warmed by Patrick's body heat even for a second. He wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders.

Patrick chuckles. “I can’t go anywhere?”

“No,” Art says. “You’re my pillow.”

“Guess I fucked your virgin ass good,” Patrick says.

“For an old guy,” Art says softly, smiling against Patrick’s throat.

“For your daddy, you little freak…” Patrick says gently, squeezing his ass. “Come on, get up or we’re gonna have a bigger mess to clean up.”

Art groans and unwraps his arms. “Can I come?”

“To piss?” Patrick raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Art nods.

Patrick smirks and rolls his eyes before gently curling his fingers into Arts hair. “Yeah sure, come on.”

Art kisses him and he sighs into Arts mouth. “I need a fucking cigarette too.”

“Can I stay over?” Art asks against his lips.

“Mm…” he ponders and sighs. “Fuck it I don’t know why I bother pretending to set boundaries with you…” he says, helping Art to his shaky feet. “Tashi will be home tomorrow afternoon. So you know… better not sleep too late.”

Art grins at him. “Does she know about me?”

“Does she know that after I finally got a good job as a tennis coach at my old school that I’m this close to losing it because I can’t help fucking my barely legal 20 year old star player? No actually. She doesn’t know.” He says dryly.

Art laughs. “I wouldn’t tell. But I mean imagine if I slept with you both. I’d learn so much about tennis.“

Patrick snorts, “This kinda talk is gonna make me take you home tonight actually…”

“Mm too late. You let me call you daddy,” Art grins. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

[loop-lover-central]

Well since you are I'll give you a little treat

Some of my thoughts I made while making it and the choices why!

YAY!!! Read more Incase this gets long because I love yapping 🩶

A little closer.

Anyways let's just go head to toe with this big fella!

The head: I wanted them to look like the back of their head was exploding out, like it how people like to draw them after they ate that star with the wish literally blowing up their head. Originally their whole head was just a white mass to contrast Bigfrin but I didn't like it. So I added the black and thought it looks cool as hell.

Eyes: Made them red with star pupils as a nod to their true final form in game and also bigfrin. I also made them cry with anger as a nod to the king because the ~cinema~ but also because I feel like Loop deserves a big cry. And I used both of Loop's eye shapes. 'Half moon' as described by Siffrin when in their normal range of emotions and wide open as they're angry sprites. Also the blind eye is the angry one. Because they're blinding angry. Because genuine rage makes you blind or "see nothing but red".

Torso: You and others already pointed it out but I did make their chest star similar to the wish breaking. Because in the scenario Loop's wish WOULD be breaking. Because this is not helping Siffrin, this is hindering. I wanted to make them sorta decaying and drippy too, like they're falling apart for doing this but it just didn't look right when I tried it. Alas. Also the red gradient from Bigfrin ❤️.

Hands: HUGE CLAWED HANDS because I like to think Loop has a lot of "Oh I'm literally a monster" sort of thoughts post star-ification. And most general monsters are described as being big with claws that rip and tear. Also I made it sorta ambiguous if they're catching their own tears or clutching their chest star. Because both things are good. Are they clutching they're breaking heart wish? Or are they confused by their own tears. Who knows??

Leggies/footsies: They're kneeling. Another parallel to the king, yes, but also it's supposed to oppose Bigfrin standing tall, distancing themselves. Loop is getting close and personal. Or as much as they can as a Kaiju without just straight up laying down.

Extras: Lots of stars and dust flying around. Almost like... stardust flowing off a dying star's core. Hm. Wonder why that is? (Looks at my Loop is a white dwarf star propaganda that I need to post.)

Siffrin!!!: Lil guy. No hat. Is this because he ALSO bigged out in the scenario or did Loop bigging out blow it away? No clue actually (I put him there purely for scale and did not think about it.)

I PRESENT TO YOU ALL THE BIGLOOP

AKA what if Loop got a big end of world transformation

[isa-ghost]

Here's a WIP of my notes on how to characterize tr!Phil. :) I can elaborate on any points if need be! Eventually this will be turned into a full-on analysis post that elaborates anyway.

Obviously I'm gonna update this list every time a) something that's already been established comes back to mind (not much considering man's is all log) and b) as Phil plays on The Realm more.

REMINDER: ccPhil is NOT doing lore on The Realm. This post is for people who want to make fan content for him like fics or headcanons. And for help including him accurately in other people's lore, like Sneeg's. And here is a helpful post elaborating on ccPhil's SMP roleplay/lore making process.

Additionally, to at least MENTION the fan theories/headcanons about tr!Phil in reference to the Philza Cinematic Universe(tm) since it'll probably have a huge influence on how people write tr!Phil—

There's 3 "possibilities" for who tr!Phil is:

tr!Phil is his own guy

tr!Phil is o!Phil reincarnated

tr!Phil is "main" (hc/smpe/c/q)!Phil

Here's a reference post for how the "Philverse" works!

Anyway, to elaborate on those 3 theories:

First one's self-explanatory.

Second one originates from the way that tr!Phil is very "fuck everyone and everything except tr!Sneeg, that's my friend," and some other similarities in personality and behavior that tr!Phil shares with o!Phil, like his expensive tastes and love for looting. The bit about him being reincarnated comes from the way Phil says (/j? /hj? /srs???) that o!Phil is dead.

And the third one I'm gonna explain in more detail below:

I'm personally rolling with the theory that this is "main" Phil BUT I love the o!Phil theory/headcanon too and would be happy if Phil changed his mind and did intentional lore that confirmed either of these.

His (albeit ooc, since he's not intentionally rping) refusal to join the factions is an aversion from suffering through Purgatory, and his even more intense refusal to have a snail is from the trauma of losing Chayanne and Lullah.

He came to The Realm (per Tubbo/Sneeg/Fit's pleading) to recover from the heartache QSMP inflicted upon him while also seeing his friends again, since being alone in the Hardcore World hasn't been the easiest after spending a year and a bit almost never alone.

I go a little more insane about this in this post here.

[anthorius]

Where do we go from here? Chapter 1

Sevikaxfem!reader

Summary: Sevika finds herself being summoned to Piltover for a very serious proposal.

(This chapter is a lot of filling in the blanks around the end of S2)

It's also on my A03

A/N: Okay so... this is my first fic ever. My deep obsession with this older butch has possessed me into writing. So please give me some grace lol

I for sure have 5 chapters planned, all started just not fully fleshed out. If this gets received well, and I get the courage and don't cringe at my own writing I MIGHT try a smut chapter for 6. Idk for now.

So with that said, the OC I have set for this story is named Ivy. I will try to stick to she/her for the most part so anyone can fill it in with their character's name/ whatever. This first chapter is mostly a lot of filling in the gaps post S2. I also went down an Arcane/LoL rabbit hole trying to figure out the mapping of Zaun, if you haven't looked it up it's broken into 3 parts. The upper level closest to Piltover is called Promenade, the middle is Entrasol (where most of the show takes place), and the lower level is called the Sump.

There will be a brief sweet baby Isha mentioned ((I fully choose to believe that theory about one of the Noxian spears in the bg of the show was holding her helmet))

The summons was brief, the timing suspicious after everything that’s happened, and as she entered council member Shoola’s office, the air felt full with an unspoken weight.

Walking into the spacious circular room flooded with light from tall windows, her footsteps echoed faintly on the tiled floor. At the heart of the space was a grand desk in which Councilor Shoola sat behind. Approaching, Sevika took one of the chairs facing her. 

“Good afternoon Sevika, I do appreciate you coming all this way to meet with me. Oh, would you like any refreshments? I can have someone-”

“Let’s just get to why I’m here, thank you.”

“Straight to the point, I can respect that.”

As she turned to grab a thick folder off her desk she began to explain why Sevika’s presence was requested. 

Apparently Shoola had been in contact with Caitlyn before her departure with Vi. The long drawn out conversation about this very moment finally coming to fruition. And from the sounds of things, it sounded like this was more so Vi’s proposal than Cait’s. 

Days after the fighting had stopped, when the dust finally had some time to settle, she found herself finally having some time to think, to grieve, to unpack. The pill was hard to swallow but Vi had begun the process of breaking down the facts that she’d been pushing down and ignoring for years. She couldn’t help but finally recognize that Sevika had always stood for Zaun. Her initial falling out with Vander wasn’t quite truly a betrayal, she hadn’t realized just how badly those childhood feelings skewed her vision back then. Vi saw first hand just how strongly her father had prioritized his children, even if it mean pushing the fate of Zaun to the backburner. It took time but she was finally starting to understand the complexity and nuance of it all, nothing was ever really that black and white. And with this revelation she decided to talk to Caitlyn about proposing a council spot for Zaun.

It had to rebuild anyway, and there were only two living members of the original council left and one was off with the Noxian army. This is the perfect opportunity to try and start making a change. And Caitlyn couldn’t find it in her to disagree, whether she liked it or not she couldn’t help but think about just how firmly her late mother believed the people of Zaun had rights, and the right to be heard was more than overdue.

This led them to presenting this idea to Shoola, who surprisingly agreed. She’d explained to the pair that post-battle,  during the honoring ceremony held in Piltover, Sevika insisted on being the holder of the flame in representation of the people of Zaun, and it wasn’t a question. They’d been in contact only a few times briefly but she had to agree, each time they spoke Sevika always carried herself as if she was already in a position of leadership. She shared the risk and fought right alongside her people til the very end. Her commitment was commendable. And by the end of the visit a decision was made between the three. 

Shoola was to request a meeting and present the council seat position to Sevika. After everything there wasn’t any reason to continue to act as if the people of Zaun, who came up and fought alongside their oppressors to keep their region from being usurped, deserved to get shoved back in the dark. Unheard and cast aside, no, that was seemingly over now.  And once Sevika was properly caught up on the matter Shoola proceeded to hand her over the weighty folder. She made sure to let her know that she doesn’t have to give an immediate answer, this proposal was a lot to take in. And with that Shoola gave her a line of contact that would reach her office for when she’d made up her mind and bid her adieu. 

But Sevika had a hard time believing this was the only reason the position was created. She could see through the polite demeanor.  Yes of course it was about time for some real tangible progress to be made for Zaun, but she saw it in Shoola’s eyes, the idea of anything like this happening again had these topsiders shaken to their core. 

Just because they were allowing Zaun to be heard now didn’t mean that wasn’t without a condition. This whole situation only proved to show they need to keep a better eye on Zaun. Make sure another Jinx or Victor never happens again. She knows they think Zaun could no longer be left unsupervised. The sugar-coated offer was almost insulting but she would be out of her mind to decline. So despite the heavy presence that loomed, Sevika left Shoola’s office with that thick folder filled with documents about the proposal, the position, and all that follows it.

Which lead her to now, in her quiet little shit box she called home, sprawled across a very worn in couch. The folder tossed on an end table. Her head had been throbbing nonstop since the battle ended, a dull, relentless ache that seemed to echo the exhaustion buried deep in her bones. 

But even with this little glimmer of hope that was just barely peeking through in the form of this offer, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel even a flicker of joy. The mere act of closing her eyes only forced the memories back, ripping her from any potential feeling of peace. 

… 

…

…

She found out about Isha’s death the hard way. She had made her way down to the Sump level of Zaun after hearing about all the commotion that happened. There were so many spears embedded in the ground. And as she took in what was left of the carnage her eyes met a single Noxian spear, and sat upon it a concaved child’s mining helmet, adorned in faded colors and scribbles. And in that moment she felt like she couldn’t breathe, the wind knocked out of her from recognition.

Her legs collapsed under her, the weight of everything pressing her into the floor. For a moment, she didn’t move, didn’t even try. The world around her blurred, reduced to a quiet hum in the background...

…

She didn’t know how much time had passed til she finally came back into herself, and forced her body to move. She’s seen countless die in her years and although her hand’s weren’t clean, she was so tired of seeing death everywhere she went. But she had to keep going, slowly she pushed herself up and started walking. The grief of Isha followed by the new stress of not knowing where Jinx was shadowed her all throughout her treck back to Entrasol. But she knew she couldn’t just drop everything to look for her. 

And before she could even give the idea any more thought she’d heard someone call out to her. 

“There you are!” the sound of relief in Scar’s voice was hard to miss.

Turning to face him she gave a quiet nod of acknowledgment. 

He jogs up to her catching his breathe, “You need to come with me. Ekko is missing.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, “What? What do you mean missing he’s your leader?” 

“The ground team hasn’t seen him lately, everyone’s scheduled to meet in an hour to go over the plan but I haven’t heard back from him or any of the other sky riders.”

“I need you to come back with me to the hideout so we can adjust the plan accordingly”, he urged.

Of course everything was going to shit, the most crucial fight of their lives was about to happen and people are just vanishing.

“Lead the way” and so Scar guides her back down to the firelights hideout. 

Finally making their way through the maze of a tunnel system they arrived. The welcoming sight of that magnificent tree greeted them. But as they walked forward that initial awe had been replaced by the shock of just how many citizens the firelights had managed to hide away here. 

“Before he dipped he had everyone go out and gather any sick, elderly, kids, you name it." He looked at just how much the crowd had grown. “We’re beyond capacity but he said not to turn anyone away.” 

As they spoke and navigated through the crowd one of the younger Firelight members ran up to them, a younger boy couldn’t have been older than 16 running around with one hell of a mop on his head. 

“Scar we got word from the sky riders, they should be here shortly!” 

“Any word about Ekko?”

“No, not yet. They just said they’d recap once they landed”

“How long ago was that call?” 

“Just a few-” before he could even finish the unmistakable hum of hoverboards echoed through the higher tunnels. Scar threw his hand up to wave one down and immediately the owl masked vigilante made their way over to land.

“Please tell me you know where Ekko is.” 

The was rider rushing to pull her mask and headgear off.

“He found Jinx! He got her to join in on the fight!”

The immediate relief of hearing that kid was still alive allowed her to finally release some of the tension she’d been unconsciously holding in her body.

“They’re planning something even bigger for the diversion! He said he’d reach out to us soon but everything is still set to go as planned. And you guy’s can start readying the ground team for the sneak attack. They’re not gonna know what hit em!” the enthusiasm beaming off of this kid was almost contagious.

“Thank Janna, finally some good news.” Scar exhaled. 

She couldn’t help but be feel a little recharged at the positive turn of events. “You heard ‘em, start gathering all of the firelights. I’ll get the others in Entrasol” she commanded before taking off. 

She found her body was compelled to move a little faster now, things were finally starting to come together, all of Zaun was on the same page for the first time. The smallest spec of hope began to bloom in her gut. And she couldn’t help but realize she hadn’t felt that in years.

….

….

…

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers, her eyes squeezing shut as if the simple gesture could stop the flood of memories working their way back up. She didn’t want to think about everything that happened after that…

But there she lay, her home remained too quiet, the kind of quiet that left no room to hide from her thoughts. 

As she sat up she grabbed the folder and looked the folder over in her hand. The weight of the decision settled into her chest. This was it, there was no other option. 

[devondespresso]

First fic tag game 📝

Pick a fandom and post an excerpt of the first thing you ever wrote in that fandom. Could be a scene, part of a scene, a couple of lines, whatever your first foray into writing for that fandom was. Feel free to include a link to the story it comes from if it’s been published (excerpts from WIPs count too).

tagged by my beloveds @carolperkinsexgirlfriend and @stellarspecter

technically the first thing i started writing for stranger things was my Steve Henderson au 👀 tho at this point most of the original draft from then has been edited bc i was definitely learning as i went, this scene below is one of my favorites from that first attempt and has had the least amount of edits (all the plot beats and most of the dialogue being the exact same!!)

<< also thank you guys you reminded me just in time to keep up with my resolution of revisiting this wip at least once a month 🙏 >>

putting the snip under the cut, and going ahead and tagging @sourw0lfs @marvel-ous-m @helpimstuckposting @queenie-ofthe-void @solarmorrigan

@withacapitalp @hairstevington @scriptorbemi @tinytalkingtina @hbyrde36

and anyone else who wants to join!! 💕💕💕

(Context: in season 2 in Dustin's cellar, right after they find and look through the hole D'art dug to escape)

“Great.” Steve sighed, standing up and laying the slime on the ground by the hole, “So now what?”

“We have to find him.”

“Yeah, can’t say I’m thrilled about that.”

“We have to, he ate Mews when he was the same size as her. If he keeps getting bigger he’s going to start hurting people.”

"Mews as in… your cat?"

"Yeah."

Steve nodded slowly.

“You said his face opened up, right? Like,” Steve set the bat down and tried gesturing the petals from the demogorgon’s ‘face’.

“Yeah, yeah, exactly like that. Like he’s an early metamorphic stage of a–”

“Demogorgon.” Awesome. Round two, apparently. “Should we be telling someone about this?”

“I’ve been trying, no one’s answered their walkie all day. That's why I got you.”

“Good to know I’m your last choice.” Steve bitched.

Henderson just rolled his eyes and looked back at the hole.

“Still not a huge fan of looking for a man-eating dog in the middle of the night.” Steve said, “Think it could wait ‘till morning?”

“Maybe? We don’t have any idea where he’ll climb out.”

“Your house’s pretty secure right?” Steve asked. Henderson turned around to look at him, confused. “Just like. He’s not gonna be able to break in while you’re sleeping?”

Henderson’s eyes widened. Shit.

“I… I don’t think so. He didn’t break out when he was cat-sized.”

“Good good, then you’ll be fine,” Steve assured, giving him a solid pat on the back. “We’ll wait until it’s light tomorrow and I’ll come help you find him and we’ll take care of it, yeah?”

“Yeah, good. Sounds good. Tomorrow.”

“Cool, I’ll drop by at eleven.”

“Yeah, just– park at the end of the street. I’ll tell my mom I’m going to a friend’s house.”

“Alright.” Steve slung the bat over his shoulder and walked back to the stairs, Henderson catching up beside him. “And, uh, don’t sweat it, man. The coming-inside-while-you’re-asleep thing. I mean even if he had, like, the brainpower to try and find a way in, he wouldn’t have the force—I mean full grown they’re like sticks—and why would he even want in anyway there's plenty of squirrels and shit–”

“You’re right,” Henderson interrupted. “It’s, uh… just a– He's not big. Yet. So there's no real reason to worry.”

Steve looked at him as he put up a small smile, close-lipped and eyes barely squinted. It could pass as calm if he’d never seen the kid before in his damn life. But talking about it more wasn’t helping.

“Yeah, good.” He patted his arm, then looked at his car for a moment. “Wait here a sec.”

Steve jogged over and opened the passenger's seat, pulling a napkin and a pen out of his glovebox and scribbling his number down.

Steve went to turn around and run back, only to find Dustin barely a few steps behind him.

“Here,” he said, handing Dustin the napkin and closing the car door, “If you need anything.”

He rounded the car to the driver’s side, and when he looked back Dustin was just standing there with the napkin. Steve gestured to the house’s front door.

“Shit, yeah.” He whispered and rushed to get inside, “Thanks.”

Steve waved him off and sat in his car, waiting until the front door closed before driving back home.

Demogorgons again, then. Great. Wonderful

[muchtodoonterror]

#i don’t think people understand just how fucking horrible his situation was #he was a marine. he was on that ship for the sole purpose of PROTECTING THE CREW #he watched his fellow sergeant and captain die in front of him #his friend and fellow marine was rendered comatose under his watch #his entire reason for being on that ship was to prevent things like this from happening #like. can you even imagine the guilt #not to mention the entire setting #they were stuck in uninhabitable conditions being hunted by an incomprehensible beast #if the beast didn’t kill them then the cold or the scurvy or the lead poisoning would #so of course he went with hickey#of course he did the one thing that gave him some amount of control in an uncontrollable situation #he clung onto the situation that gave him the ability to do his job again. to command and protect. #he wasn’t in control aboard terror. he had failed over and over on that ship. #hickey’s mutiny was an opportunity to be successful again #to be in control again#he would’ve died for hickey simply because he needed someone to die for #and by the end when he realized just how far gone hickey was #and how little control he really had in that situation #he went back to crozier #he knew he was going to die at that point #so he went out marching. doing the one thing he’d been trying to do the entire time. protect #he never had bad intentions #he was dying and afraid and grieving and trying to find some sense of control in the worst possible situation #i WISH we got to have the great death scene they planned for him that got cut due to the budget #i feel like people would empathize with him more if there was more emphasis put on his redemption-through-death ending #although i don’t entirely think he needed ‘redemption’#he was never evil or anything. just misguided and scared #anyways sorry lol i love him sm #solomon tozer #reblog

officially approved tags by @fivetrench you get it!!! (bolding mine)

I particularly want to pull out "he would’ve died for hickey simply because he needed someone to die for" because I think it gets to the heart of so much. He had let so many people die on his watch that the opportunity to die for someone else probably seemed like only way to redeem his past failures.

I think my original post oversimplified but I stand by that painting Tozer as dumb or unintelligent is classist and takes away his agency and culpability for his choices. Many of those choices were objectively bad and excusing them as just being drawn in to Hickey's charisma, not being smart enough to clock what was happening, is the least interesting way to look at it to me. He saw what was happening and chose not just to follow but to abet. The thing that makes him such a fascinating (and, I would argue, sympathetic) character is why he makes those decisions. He draws conclusions that are heavily impacted by his anger and his grief, but he does draw them for himself. He was obviously very proud of being a Royal Marine and wouldn't have thrown that lightly aside for someone who, at the beginning, he didn't even respect.

I do not understand and am slightly offended by the fanon I come across depicting Solomon Tozer as dumb or stupid. He just isn't.

There are different kinds of intelligence. Just because he hasn't studied like a midshipmen or officer, that only makes him uneducated at worst. He clearly has interpersonal and emotional intelligence which are not to be sniffed at when you have that many men trapped together in harrowing circumstances.

As he is tending to Heather, he very specifically is describing one of the ongoing scientific experiments. That indicates not just that he's paying attention but that he finds it interesting and noteworthy. He could very easily have been talking about anything, about shipboard gossip or relating old adventures, but he's relating what he‘s picked up of the ship's science.

I'm sure one of the reasons he's depicted thusly is his poor choice in joining up with Hickey and subsequent doubling down on that choice. That is a topic for another essay but my point here is: grief empirically affects one's ability to process and make decisions. Tozer is arguably one of the most grief stricken men on board. They've all suffered losses, but being widowed (if we're taking the real Tozer's biography into account), with witnessing the deaths of Bryant and Sir John, with Heather, with Fairholme's party, with Morfin - he is not just grieving these losses but often feeling a direct responsibility for them. One of these alone is enough to impact his ability to make rational decisions, and as they pile up? And that's not even factoring in the effects of scurvy.

In conclusion, leave my boy alone; he's not dumb, he's just grief-stricken and doing his best.

[thesorrowoflizards]

SORRY this is so fucking funny. van is like oh, my crush likes another guy. that really fucking sucks because i kinda thought she liked me? god. and then she invites him over and tackles him onto her couch.

[onesnoopyaday]

I AM AT MY LIMIT

Snoopy #90

30/12/2024

description under the cut

[description: a cartoon-style drawing of Snoopy's head. Snoopy is a white dog with black ears. His eyes are shut and his mouth is a horizontal line. There are two large blue teardrops, one under each eye. The text "I am at my limit" is handwritten across the top of the image.]

[chiropteracupola]

Inconsolable, no consolation, no cancellation / Not turning all keys, he puts the ship through paces / And paces the halls, pacing is madness / Patience is virtuous, patient of these observations — !

[brionysea]

for the record I'm keeping my #arcane and #arcane critical tags separate because 1) it's rude to go into a show's main tag to complain about it and 2) this way I can still go into the arcane tag on my own blog to enjoy season 1 stuff without being perpetually disappointed by season 2

[unordinaries]

presented without comment

(chapters 280 + 344)

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

SRSLY ABT the attention to detail in comics.

Rereading Steph’s pregnancy arc a few times gave me such a bigger appreciation to the subtle attention to detail that was included.

It genuinely surprised me, esp given I normally associate Dixons writing in Robin 93 as riddled with inconsistencies (which it sometimes just is to be fair). But so many small details in Steph’s pregnancy arc are genuinely so well interconnected. I was also wondering about who came up with some of these details, I wish I knew.

A lot of the stuff I noticed I couldn’t even fit into my og post bc it just wasn’t relevant to my point.

Like all the villians who show up to help Arthur in Steph’s dream appear to be all the same villians who teamed up w Arthur during Blunt Trauma, and who Steph fought in Blunt Trauma.

The shirt she’s wearing in her dream sequence is the same shirt she was wearing when she went into labor (and the same shirt she wore when confessing her doubts to Tim). The overalls from her dream sequence match the overalls she wore in the Secret Origins 80 Page Special, specially in the moment where she confirms her dedication to giving up her baby for adoption to hopefully give it a better childhood than her own. Her dream sequence outfit is therefore a combination of her outfit worn in a moment of doubt about adoption and the outfits she wore in a moment about certainty abt adoption: literally her conflict in the dream is represented just through what clothes she’s wearing.

This one is probably more of a stretch but the last thing Steph hearing before going under is one of them commenting that the ‘Baby is strong’, which we see repeated twice, before transitioning directly into Steph’s own dialogue, as her dream begins. Potentially this is a mirror to the convo Steph and Crystal have in #59 where Crystal begins the convo by referring to Steph as ‘baby’ and ends it by referring to her as ‘strong’.

And even her baby wearing a little Crocky onesie could be a call back to the kid Steph saved in Blunt Trauma who was crawling after a Crocky toy. This one I’m less sold on, but I really really like the idea of Steph’s subconscious melding children she’s interacted with semi recently into her dreamed version of her baby.

Anyway such an interesting point abt Tim in this comic. I’ve definitely noted it before but yeah, his little speech is just conservative propaganda abt the nuclear family and does as a result of that come across less concerned for Steph herself. Bc of how blatant Tim’s speech is I srsly don’t hold it against the character: as you said, he’s also like 14 and trying to be there for his girlfriend.

Fantastic great point about her support systems and how vulnerable Steph is at that point. And many points. I will never get over how much preboot Steph is isolated as a character. Heartbreaking stuff actually.

The biggest question Steph grapples with throughout her entire pregnancy is the question of whether or not she should give up her baby. By closely examining the elements from Steph's dream sequence as she gives birth the reason Stephanie eventually decides to give up her baby becomes apparent.

We first see this question arise in Robin #58, where sitting on a rooftop, pretty soon after discovering her pregnancy, Steph brings up the idea that she wants to keep the baby, and says she doesn’t know how she could give it up.

Steph seems to continue with adoption arrangements despite this confession, although we can see that Steph seemingly spends the rest of her pregnancy arc secretly debating the matter.

We see this subtly illustrated through the usage of magazines. Steph begins her pregnancy reading magazines geared towards her age range and gender, ("teen" and "boys") with one magazine seemingly about pregnancy "9 Months".

Robin #59

When we see Steph reading magazines again a few issues later, she has a "clothes for baby" catalogue and a "teen" magazine. She seems to be looking at the baby clothes catalogue when Tim walks into the room, causing her to subtly hide it under the "teen" magazine.

Robin #61 / #62

Steph brings up a big question on that rooftop in Robin #59: how can she possibly give up her baby? And although it appears at first Steph accepts and moves on, choosing to give up her baby, we know that this question never really got answered for Steph, she’s still been thinking all the while throughout her pregnancy, while reading these magazines, while hiding her doubts until the last moment: how is she going to be able to go through with this?

But we don't get final confirmation of this fact until Steph finally voices her conflict to Tim, the same night she goes into labor. Notice how all the magazines around her are now all baby related.

Robin #64

When Steph finally cracks and confesses to Tim her desire to keep the baby after all, Tim tries to reason with her. Although Steph seems to agree with some of his points, it’s very important to note that it still doesn’t seem like Steph’s committed to the choice to give up her baby for adoption. She says she knows it’s the right thing to do, but she trails off with a ‘but…’ making her indecisiveness clear. She still hasn’t really made up her mind.

Steph goes into labor later the same night, and due to unspecified complications is rushed to the hospital. Steph is given some kind of anesthesia, and enters her dream as a c-section is performed. When she exits her dream and awakes, baby born, something has changed.

Robin #65

So if Stephanie, all throughout her pregnancy up has been questioning this, finally voicing her doubts the night before she goes into labor, and when she awakes, she has come to a firm decision she says she figured on her own, the only place and time where Steph could have made this choice is during her dream sequence.

So what about the dream changed her mind?

One of the big repeated themes throughout Stephs dream sequence is a conflation of her own childhood and that of her baby's. Stephs feelings and memories meld, and the line between her and her baby is shaky.

This isn't a random detail, or even an inevitability of a dreamlike state: it's a specific choice and I think it explains how and why Steph makes up her mind the way she does.

Stephs biggest influence towards the idea of giving her baby up for adoption is her fear that her baby might experience a similar childhood to her own. We see this argument start to convince Steph when Tim brings up Stephs own childhood the night she goes into labor and when Steph appears more confident in the idea of giving up her baby in the Secret Origins 80 Page Giant, it's directly connected to the idea of sparing her baby the same garbage childhood she was subjected to.

Steph is convinced finally to give up her baby because the conflation between her babys potential childhood and her own childhood in her dream sequence convinces her that the elements which made her childhood so shitty have not fundamentally changed.

Crystal Brown

Despite their relationship seemingly better than perhaps in years, Dream-Crystal is portrayed as completely oblivious to the danger Arthur presents, ushering him in and even scolding Steph for her concern. If Steph and Crystals relationship is at such a high point, then why would Steph’s mind portray Crystal as someone who opens the door to this danger and ignores this threat?

Because it’s something Steph is dredging up from her own childhood. It’s not malicious, but it’s apparent that despite being a target of Arthur’s physical abuse, Crystal historically has been quick to assume the best of Arthur and ignore hints of his worse nature. By the time Steph’s pregnancy arc has begun Crystal is able to recognize Arthur as shitty, but throughout Steph’s childhood that’s just not the case. (Both drug use and a malfunctioning ‘lie detector’ as Steph puts it, seem to be to blame for this).

Batman Chronicles #22 / Secret Files 80 Page Special / Robin #111

Stephs subconscious doesn't have faith that Crystal has changed. Despite Crystal having progressed and become much more present and cognizant of the harm Arthur poses, Stephs subconscious is still wary. This is realistic. Maybe it's not fair to Crystal, but Steph can't help holding onto this fear, at least subconsciously. To be fair, it can’t have been over a year since Crystal was smiling at Arthur, seemingly accepting him back from prison soon before Steph dons the Spoiler costume for the first time. This breaks part of Steph’s counterargument to Tim in Robin #64 where she asserts she could raise her baby with the help of her mom. Despite all the progress Steph and Crystal have made, Steph still isn't able to fully trust Crystal with her baby, and her dream shows that.

2. Arthur Brown

Cluemaster appears, the subconscious fear of how he poisoned Stephs childhood leaking over to how she thinks about her baby's hypothetical childhood with her. Would her baby be safe from Arthur?

Steph knows very well that Arthur is free from jail and as dangerous as ever: between their encounter in Blunt Trauma where he tried to kill her, and the fact that he destroyed her and Crystals house, the physical threat of Arthur Brown is readily apparent.

Robin #54

But its not the physical harm that her father poses which the dream fixates on. As per usual for Steph, she seems much less scared of her father hurting her as she is frightened by the idea of his criminality as a symbol of her own wrongness.

Just like Steph believes her own self to be poisoned by her relation to Arthur she fears that her baby might be tainted the same way. Her fear isn't absolutely unfounded either. Arthur is free, and he's ransacked and destroyed Stephs home during Cataclysm. His recent violation and destruction of what should be a safe place, much like he barges in and disrupts Stephs peace in her dream, signify how Arthurs still has and would have this huge presence in Steph -- and by extension her baby's -- life.

So, Steph has two reasons which warn her against keeping her baby, two things she is afraid would give her baby the one thing she wants to avoid: it having the same shitty childhood as her. But not everything is the same as when she was a kid, right? Now she has allies, friends even, who are powerful and capable. Hell, Stephs a hero too! That means something, doesn't it?

3. The Heroes Arrive

Stephs subconscious seems to think so, at least to a degree. Steph isn't left alone to save her baby. As her panic mounts, the heroes appear just in time.

And just like that Steph is wearing her Spoiler costume, the symbol of her agency, the thing that allowed her to stand up to her father in the first place.

Vigilantism is therefore empowering, and the connections (albeit highly tenuous connections) Steph has made in the hero community are empowering also.

Steph has new factors, factors which weren't present in her own childhood which can step in, the situations are not actually identical, maybe she can keep her baby, maybe it will be safe.

Some of the heroes she conjures make a lot of sense, Steph is very close with Robin, he's supported her especially during her pregnancy and he's one of the last people she saw before entering her dream. She's had a positive encounter with Connor Hawke which clearly influenced her. Even her tenuous encounter with Huntress proved to Steph Helena was highly capable. I honestly don't know why Nightwing is there, they haven't met. And Batman. The Batman.

Notice Batman's dialogue. If it sounds familiar, that's because Steph said an almost identical line in the last issue, in that same moment Tim and her are discussing Steph keeping her baby.

Dream-Batman parrots the same language as Steph, the same sentiment, but not about Steph, about her baby. How much has really changed, then?

The heroes fight, but its to a standstill. The assorted heroes present fight the assorted villains that Arthur has brought with him, but Arthur himself is untouched, her baby is still in harms way. And Steph, stands there in the middle of it, horrified and still as Crystal laughs behind her.

Steph's subconscious decides its not enough. Theres so many of these heroes, sure, but they can't stop Arthur, can they? They couldn't when it was Steph in danger, when it was Steph who needed saving. It's no ones fault. But Steph knows.

Just like it always has: Steph knows it comes down to her.

4. Catch

Arthur throws her baby into the air, and we've arrived at the final moments of her dream. And so, the final question, the deciding moment. Can Steph rely on herself?

After spending the rest of her dream remaining uncharacteristically helpless and inactive, Steph finally leaps into action.

Let's hone in on that middle panel. It stands out, for good reason. Despite the rest of the dream taking place during the afternoon, with clear light in the sky and a cloudy purple hued sky, the sky in that second panel is pitch black and dotted with stars. And below the baby, there's this light purple grid.

It's not random, we're being shown a time and location we know. That's the exact roofing of Steph’s house, we're looking at Stephs rooftop, at night.

We've seen this time and location before, during Stephs pregnancy, way back in Robin #58, when Steph first questions whether or not she should keep her baby.

This is it, this is the moment. We saw Steph first question how she could give up her baby on this roof, and now, as her baby plummets into an identical scene, right before Stephanie wakes up, we're getting our answer.

But this isn't the only time we see this setting during Stephs pregnancy.

Secret Origins 80 Page Special

The second scene with this framing is a flashback, to a young Steph, sitting on the roof of her house alone, looking at the moon. The attached dialogue is Steph’s narration explaining how she used to dream that she’d see Batman some day. This is a scene about faith and hope. About dreams, about wanting to get saved.

So why do we see the same roof and sky again, for the third and final time during Steph’s pregnancy arc while her baby falls?

Stephanie’s dream sequence is a checklist of reasoning for why she can’t keep her baby. She is reflecting her own childhood onto the baby and she is concluding not enough has changed, she is suspecting her baby could very well be subject to the same circumstances.

And it culminates in this final moment. Crystal, while more present than ever is still not fully reliable in Steph's mind. Arthur is on the loose and as sadistic as ever. The heroes can show up, but they can’t save her baby, just like Batman couldn’t save Steph on that rooftop years and years ago. Just like then, it’s down to Steph on her own. Thats why when she lunges out for her baby, the baby is falling onto that rooftop. It’s both a reminder of the question Steph is stuck considering and an explanation for how she reaches her answer.

Because she can’t rely on anyone else, because she has to leap out, reach out, save her baby, and ultimately that look of horror as the baby falls isn’t a look of anticipation, it’s a look of utter and horrific acceptance. I don’t think Steph believes she reached her baby in time. I think Steph doesn’t think she can save her baby at all.

Steph is a very proactive character. It's strange to see her hesitate towards action, and extremely strange to see that when that action is saving someone from danger. But she's indecisive throughout her pregnancy, and she's helpless throughout her dream sequence until the very last second. Even donning the Spoiler costume doesn't help. She's helpless in this dream.

So, checklist gone through, conclusions drawn, Steph wakes up and makes the only decision she can, the decision which goes against her very nature: Stephanie lets go.

[micahdotgov]

christ this is twojamie levels of unnecessary there is absolutely no need for them to be doing any of that

[silvertsundere]

Passionate Bianca and Hasuto by みねこ! 🤍🤍 Full version here 👀

[briefcasejuice]

unfortunately i have the kind of autism that makes people have to explain things to me/i have to bounce my ideas around with people who know things before thoughts become anything for me