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b14augrana · 5 months ago

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Scrubber

Your first time with the national team, hoping you’ll find yourself being of importance to the team with your Vidić-reminiscent play style

Barça Femeni x teen!reader

pt. 6 masterlist

Warnings: the rfef ⚠️⚠️, a teeny bit of badly translated spanish and like one sentence of catalan, angst if u squint 🙂‍↕️

A/N: our scrubber is back 🥳🥳! this part is longer than usual, i hope you enjoy 💝

You couldn’t remember anything between landing in Denmark and waking up in your hotel room. You were still in the clothes you had travelled in, and neither Irene or Alexia were in the room… until the door opened and both of them were.

“(Y/N), get up, we’re going to breakfast,” Irene said, yanking the covers off. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, adjusting to the light beginning to peek into your room as Irene pulled up the blinds before her and Alexia left the room and left you to get ready.

It’s like you were on autopilot the whole time as you got into your Spain training kit and took the elevator down to the cafeteria. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened into the hotel’s foyer, it was easy to tell where the cafeteria was because of the voices you could hear.

Tentatively, you stepped into the room. Your eyes scanned every table for any sign of your Barça teammates, the only people you wanted to see right now amongst the abundance of other women that were now your new teammates.

When you saw Aitana and Irene’s heads amidst the crowd, your muscles relaxed with relief, and you made your way over to them swiftly.

“Buenos días,” you mumbled, sitting down beside Aitana, yawning as you cracked your neck. “Buenos días, (Y/N),” the brunette replied, smiling at you.

The room was packed with women, all wearing the same training gear as you. Some of them you recognised from times you versed then with your club; Laia Codina from Arsenal, Alba Redondo from Levante, Laia Aleixandri from Manchester City… and some Madridistas.

One thing about you was, you were passionate about Barça. In your eyes there was no ‘best club in the world’ debate, let alone best club in Spain — that title immediately went to Barça.

You were a Barça fan before you were a player, hence why you have always been well-versed in the club’s history, and therefore the history of the rivalry between Real Madrid and FC Barcelona.

You had bad experiences with Madridistas. El Clásicos were already competitive matches (for one side, at least), so you didn’t really like the way you were almost seemingly targeted by your rivals, due to your age. Irene and Mapi were never pelted by so many balls and forced into so many one-on-one duels.

Even though you were more than capable of crunching them, it exhausted you. You woke up the next morning with bruises you didn’t know had formed and grazes in odd spots that made you wonder what kind of tackles you were performing to get them in such areas.

The wingers gave you the most problems. They constantly cut into the middle, choosing to take you on. Part of you couldn’t blame them because you wouldn’t want to take on Lucy, Ona or Frido either, but what the hell?

The room was definitely not devoid of Madridistas. You could see Misa, their goalie, sitting with Alexandria. There was another face you recognised from those El Clásico matches, but it was a vague remembrance that made you think long and hard to remember the name. You only remembered her nickname within your Barça teammates; la hija de Frido.

Whatever. You’d figure it out later.

“Are you going to eat anything, nenita?” Irene asked from across the table, and you nodded hesitantly.

Leaning over, you whispered, “Can you come with me? Please?”

She nodded with a smile, standing up. “Aita, come with us. We’re going to get some food.”

You were always grateful for your Barça family. They’ve always been your big sisters, people you can trust and find comfort in, your second family.

(Except, they were basically your first family.)

You were more grateful for them than ever today, because this Spain camp was intimidating and scary, you knew nobody except your club teammates and you were pretty much lost.

All you wanted to do was cling onto Irene or Alexia or Aitana the entire day and never leave their side. Even as you were getting food and piling breakfast onto your plate, you stuck to Irene like glue.

With your plate in hand, you walked cautiously to balance all the food and prevent it dropping. You found yourself feeling way hungrier than normal, and you blamed it on the nerves as you placed your food onto the table.

"Irene, watch my food please," you said once she returned to the table with her own breakfast, "I'm going to get a drink."

"That's a lot of food, but I'll look after it anyways," the woman laughed, sitting down and dragging your plate beside hers. You returned to the buffet table and as you were debating on making yourself a cup of tea or just having a glass of ice water, another woman approached you from the side, bumping your shoulder.

Your lip subconsciously curled up, your nose scrunching. Your head snapped sideways to look at whoever it was that just bumped you, and a dirty blonde-brownish ponytail swished in your face.

It was the girl whose name you didn’t know, the Madridista. She was putting a couple slices of toast onto her plate, and it seemed like she hadn’t even realised she bumped you.

But it didn’t make sense. It was a solid shove which definitely wasn’t accidental..

Grabbing a glass from the collection on the table, you walked past her slowly, waiting for the perfect moment. As she placed her plate down and picked up a spoon to load some strawberries onto it, you took an extra step closer to her and shoved her shoulder with yours.

The strawberries she had picked up on the spoon all dropped back into the container upon the impact. You hurried over to the water jug to pour some into your glass, not looking at her for a moment despite being able to feel her cold glare on you.

Your shove was a bit harder than hers had initially been, but that was because you were bigger and probably stronger.

You returned to your table quickly, and Irene pushed your plate back towards you before you had even sat down.

“Who’s that girl, over there?” you asked Aitana and Irene, discreetly gesturing to the table behind you where she sat.

“You mean Misa?” Aitana questioned, and you shook your head. “No, the other one, the one she’s talking to.”

“Ohhh, that’s Athenea,” Aitana replied, and the name was suddenly very familiar to you. You had vivid memories of her getting sat by Frido during multiple Clásicos, and it was apparent that Aitana was reminiscing about the same events due to the laugh she was trying to suppress while talking about Athenea.

“She just bumped me off,” you explained, and Aitana’s eyes widened. “Did she apologise?”

You shook your head, giving her a shrug in return, “No. I couldn’t help myself and shoved her back, but I seriously didn’t mean to do it as hard as I did,” you responded, sighing.

Aitana rubbed your back and smiled, “Don’t worry about it, just eat. You need energy for training.”

As you put a piece of waffle into your mouth, you tried to recount all the interactions you’ve had with Athenea — there was the time you two-footed her out of nowhere when she managed to get past Irene, the time you had an aerial duel with her and she headed your shoulder instead of the ball, the time she lost the ball to you and it resulted in a goal…

You also remembered her unnecessary physicality when you didn’t have the ball, the snarky remarks she’d make to her teammates about you and your own teammates, and other coarse behaviour she displayed throughout each Clásico.

You went to stab another piece of your waffle until you realised you had eaten it all, along with the hash browns, fruits, toast and scrambled eggs.

Irene and Aitana had also finished their breakfast, and while Irene took a sip of her coffee, Aitana did the same with her orange juice.

“Vale,” Irene spoke, placing her coffee down, “Preparémosnos para entrenar.”

You were nervous for training. You weren’t sure if they’d be like Barça in terms of utilising your skills; would they be accepting of your play style or completely discard it, forcing you to play differently?

Your play style was an important part of you as a player, but also you as a person. It was the manifestation of your passion for Barça and the pride you felt whenever you got to wear the blaugrana.

It was also an ode to your idol who demonstrated what it means to give your all for the badge. Without your play style, you’re nothing.

It was the only thing you could think of as you strolled to the training pitch, boots in hand. You deliberately waited for everyone else to leave so you could loom behind them, and you planned to keep it that way until you found someone you properly knew.

Captain Irene was occupied with talking to some other players and Alexia was nowhere to be seen, but luckily Aitana was stretching by herself on the side. There was also Cata, but she was in the goal, getting warmed up by Salma.

You almost sprinted to Aitana, relieved that you didn’t have to spend another second wandering around aimlessly.

“Aita," you said, dropping your boots on the ground before sitting down, shaking your slides off and loosening the laces of your boots.

She got up from her lunge position and smiled, "Hola. Where's Ale?"

You shrugged and returned to trying to get your boot on. "Stupid sock boots..." you grunted, the elastic sock snapping against your ankle, making you wince.

“Why are you on your own?” you asked her, tying the laces of your boots as you watched her extend her leg outwards and reach over to touch her toes.

“I thought you’d want to be without the others for a bit,” Aitana responded simply. She was right — it was a huge relief to find her amongst all the clusters of people.

You missed Frido. You missed Mapi and Patri and Pina. You missed Barcelona.

You wished you could skip straight to playing football without having to introduce yourself to anyone or learn their ways. Obviously, that wasn’t the case.

“I’m scared, Aita. What if they think I’m too physical, or I don’t play– ‘Spanish’ enough?” you ranted, folding your arms across your body.

Aitana sat back up, letting go of her foot to cross her legs as she gazed at you and began to speak.

“Pequeñita, if you’re worried about fitting in, don’t be,” she started, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“You were there at the back when we needed you the most as our last-ditch defender, our last hope. If you weren’t so physical and dedicated to defending and not ‘Spanish enough’, we wouldn’t have a Champions League.”

You were born and raised in Spain, you knew Barcelona like the back of your hand and you spoke both languages. You were Spanish through and through, despite living in France for a couple odd years. You were Spanish. It was your idolisation of a non-Spanish, non-La Liga player that set you apart from the others.

You were about to respond, but your words were cut short by a tap on your shoulder. You glanced up, expecting to see Alexia, but it was Irene standing behind you.

“(Y/N), officials of the federation want to meet you,” she said in a low voice. You caught on to the way she glanced around, making sure nobody was around to hear.

Your eyes narrowed while Aitana’s widened, and you looked at Irene with an expression of uncertainty. “Do I have to go?”

You didn’t necessarily want to go, but you knew you weren’t left with much of a choice, and Irene’s nod confirmed that for you. You sighed, getting up from the grass and brushing off your shorts.

“Thank you, Aita,” you said, referring to the talk you two had earlier. She smiled and reached her hand out to squeeze yours gently, and you returned the gesture with a small smile of your own. “I’ll tell you everything!”

You left your gear in the care of Aitana as you and Irene made your way to the head office. You were nervous and a bit scared of what was about to happen, because the personal stories you’ve heard about the federation haven’t been good ones. Nonetheless, you walked beside Irene and waited in front of the mahogany wood door as she knocked on it, and it opened to reveal about three officials sitting around a table.

Your skin felt hot and feverish as you stepped over the threshold. The amount of eyes on you was unsettling, and if Irene wasn’t beside you, the feeling of discomfort blooming in your stomach would be way stronger.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” the man at the door asked, and you nodded nervously. Your eyes flickered up to Irene whose jaw was set, her cold glare fixed on the man as he spoke to you, “Please, sit.”

You slowly walked to the nearest seat and sunk into it. Irene did the same, pulling out a seat beside you and crossing her arms across her chest.

A man across the table began to speak once you two had taken your seats, “(Y/N), we’ve been very eager to meet you ever since your debut in Liga F.”

You clenched your jaw, unsure of where this conversation was going. You simply nodded, trying to hold your tongue and refrain from speaking for as long as possible.

“You’re very talented, especially given your age. Barça’s prodigy, the new stargirl…” he continued.

Leaning across the table, he spoke, “I’ve never seen a player that plays like you, especially in Spain. Have you always played for Barça, or wanted to?”

Your answer came without any hesitation. “Barça is my home. I am Barça through and through, forever. I’m just inspired by someone else whose passion aligns with mine.”

“You’re different. I’ve seen your play style, and it goes hand in hand with fearlessness and elegance. That’s why we called you up because after one of our best defenders withdrew from the squad… we haven’t been the same.”

You didn’t need a rocket scientist to figure out who he was referring to. Your hands gripped the armrests of your seat as you responded, “I can’t replace the likes of Mapi.”

You were already sick and tired of this conversation. The mention of Mapi unsettled you all over again, because you knew that something happened between her and these very same officials that led to her withdrawing from representing her nation, and you didn’t want to be in the company of the people that forced her to feel such a way and make that decision.

“We’re working on fostering a healthy environment at our camps–”

Irene stood up, her chair scraping across the floor with an unpleasant noise that grabbed everyone’s attention. “Work harder. I don’t want anyone playing another season under poor leadership,” she snapped. Her arm shot down to yours, tugging you up gently. Her tone was everything but gentle.

“My player needs to get back to training. We’re done here.”

You were eternally grateful for Irene. You got to your feet and quickly exited the room, aware of her storming out and slamming the door behind you two.

“The federation has lacked a ‘healthy environment’ for a while,” Irene frowned, slowing down in pace and breaking into more of a stroll.

“Don’t let their shitty leadership make you feel bad about this opportunity. Just like everyone else, you’re here to play football and win the Olympics. Forget the federation.”

It was easier said than done — both of you knew that — but neither of you said anything about it as you walked back to the pitch.

When you entered into the grassy clearing, Aitana and Alexia were nearby practicing their headers. They stopped when they noticed you and Irene, and they quickly came over to you guys.

“What happened?” Aitana asked, her expression slightly concerned, much like Alexia’s. You told them about everything that happened in the meeting (with some help from Irene), and at the end of your explanation, the two Spaniards didn’t look any less concerned.

“We’re praying the new coach and president do something to change the culture in the federation,” Alexia finally said, and you sighed. “Let’s hope so.”

“La hija de Frido is staring,” you grumbled, earning a laugh from Aitana who glanced in her direction. Indeed, Athenea was looking at your group with a firm glare, her Real Madrid teammate on the side trying to grab her attention.

“What’s wrong with her? Did something happen?” Alexia asked, and you shrugged. “She doesn’t like me that much, I think. Maybe because, y’know, she’s not exactly a challenge for me to defend…” you said with a nervous smile. Aitana’s laughter only increased, and a smile appeared on Alexia’s face.

“Barça es la millor!” she cheered happily, embracing you in a side hug.

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dollcherray · 7 months ago

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✮⋆˙ DIGITAL SILENCE ୨୧

YANDERE MR.PUZZLES X READER WHOS IN SMG4'S CREW.

A/N:Yahoo! im back babeyyy,way better now and, btw ik smg4's fandom isnt that famous and this will probably only get 2/3 views, but im doing this anyways, this is NOT PROOFREAD edit: this aged like milk

Type: Headcanons, romantic, fluff/light angst.

Tw/Cw: Yandere topics, he hypnotizes you, obsessive behavior, paranoia, delusion, possessiveness, overprotection, suggestive(?), he literally worships you so much, emotional dependence .

Song recommendation: Creative control - Mr puzzles

୨୧ He got so hooked up on you, and he doesnt know how or why, but he just knew he needed you when he first landed his cameras on you, you were so captivating, he had to understand why.

୨୧ Before he hypnotized everyone, he kept a big eye on you, that were blissfully unaware of his obsession or existence, sometimes he got so excited of looking at you that he almost got to capture you to himself, but he had to control himself, he could do that later.

୨୧ When puzzles finally hypnotized everyone, he needed to see you first than EVERYBODY else and my god, you were so precious and beautiful in person, he couldnt get enough from looking at you, he was so glad he finally got to see your pretty face in person.

୨୧ During the shows, whenever you were on screen, he would display you always as the most perfect character in the story and sometimes he would even insert himself in them just to be more close to you or to be your love interest.

୨୧ He enjoys watching your performances so much, you were just made for the screens! you easily highlighted yourself in every show, even if you were just standing, or staying in the background, he would pay attention to you everytime, every single move you do or word you say, he is paying full attention.

୨୧ He would be extra touchy with you, since he was very lonely when a child, he would take all the years of him wishing there was someone to hug him and etc. On you, he would be soo touch starved.

୨୧ Puzzles would get a bit paranoid and feared when you get your conscience back, he tried to comfort himself with the "they'll never know" mindset, protected by the delusion that he did the right thing of hypnotizing you.

୨୧ Puzzles would panic when you got your conscience and memories back, but relieved that you wouldnt remember the stories where he inserted himself in so he could be creepily more close to you.

୨୧ But when he heard you also wanted to leave, he was furious, how could his own darling try and leave him?! hes the one who can make u a real star, the real deal, and the others are just... second characters, how can you want to stay with such pesky brats?! they were nothing compared to you!

୨୧ But he didnt blame you, you were with those weirdos since the beginning consequently making you not even know half of your potential since you were brainwashed by that pesky crew, so, he had to show you that your place was with him, on the big screens with only him, nobody else.

୨୧ If you wanted to stay with him or not didnt really matter, you were in his reality, he could make you his whenever, he just felt like giving you the illusion of a choice in hopes you would "choose" the right decision. (hes not insane at all! hes just silly!)

୨୧ You were his precious puppet, his puppet, his companion, he couldnt let you leave, no, he couldnt, he needs you and you will need him, he would show you your place, he eventually would.

୨୧ "When i saw you, i instantly knew that you were a natural star, so be good and stay with me, okay?"

#mr puzzles #Yandere mr puzzles #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #smg4 #smg4 x reader #yandere x reader #fluff #light angst #୨୧ cherry works

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hamable · 1 year ago

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I’m about to write an essay on the specific situation Miles is in as we set up for a third movie.

With great power comes great responsibility.

Not a single spiderman asked to be bit. No one planned to be spiderman. But, given the power to do so, they chose to become spiderman. Miles is bitten by a spider from a different dimension that was never meant for him. In that moment, two dimensions were doomed. One to lose it’s intended spiderman, and one to never have one at all.

But Miles’s New York isnt in a state of anarchy like Universe-42, where his spider came from. It’s relatively normal. It’s what we expect of Spider-Man’s New York. It’s not doomed.

Spiderman doesn’t choose to get powers. In any universe. But every spiderman looks at what he has and the world around him and does what he can do.

Miles is just as much a Spiderman as every other Peter out there. It could be anyone under the mask, should they chose to wear it.

He may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time but so was every other bite victim. This is not his fault. And it may take another watch or two for me to confirm, but I don’t think Miguel ever directly says something to blame miles as an actor in all this. Yes, miles is the linchpin. To keep to the canon web, miles should not have been bitten. The fault falls on happenstance, though it’s all too easy to pin on miles. But I don’t think Miguel ever says that. Miles shouldn’t exist. Miles is not spiderman, in Miguel’s eyes. But goddamnit he’s not at fault here.

I’m hoping Miles can take control of his own narrative. His entire character revolves around balancing the expectations of those around him while he tries to discover his own. His family, his school, living up to what spiderman is supposed to be. Even The Hole confronts him and demands he acknowledge they are nemeses, and upon being turned down, seeks vengeance and validation which is the catalyst for the movies major conflict. Ppl keep telling miles who to be. And in a universe where a kid got bit when he shouldn’t have, I hope he finds the strength to rewrite more shouldn’ts. Spiderman can do both. The captain doesn’t have to die. His relationship with Gwen Stacy does not end in tragedy.

EDIT: FUCKIN. IF THE CANON RULES ARE SO IMPORTANT. WHY’D JEFF DIE IN A UNIVERSE WITH NO SPIDERMAN? UNCLE AARON DIDNT HAVE TO DIE IN THAT ONE SO WHY DID THE CAPTAIN??? ANSWER ME THAT M I G U E L?????

#across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #sats spoilers #spiderman across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman

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fadingdaggerr · 25 days ago

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Hey, I have just read heaven’s gate ( Larissa weems x reader ) and absolutely loved it! Is there any chance for a part two? Thank you x

pearlescent (18+ minors, dni)

pairing: larissa weems x gn!reader

summary: part two of heaven’s gate | 4.5k

includes: lesbians too in love for their own good, fluff

warnings: kissing/making out, sexual innuendo, afab reader (no breasts described for r), smut (fingering (L/r), oral (L), thigh riding (L)) can u tell i like eating pussy

note: first non-melissa post in over a year to bring me back from hiatus. thank u for ur patience. i feel like those wattpad writers that are like “just got out of a coma here’s a fic”

The smooth paving of the highway becomes bumpy and uneven as you pass the final gas station between here and your destination. Every pothole the car jumps over is like a shot of espresso through your aching joints. After the last stop, you promised yourself to drive straight through. Another stop would mean another chance to acknowledge the numbing of your ass after five hours in the car, and with one hour left, you’re not risking it. You really weren’t kidding when you said that teleportation would be much more useful.

Cell service is quickly obsolete as you continue through the woods, scanning the road for any squirrels that may decide that today was the day. Drumming against the steering wheel, you let your mind wander. Maybe coming without telling her is a bad idea, but it also has the potential not to be. She had begged you to drive to her just two days after she left, and you would have, if only your client hadn’t walked in the door. Dueling busy schedules made two months pass like molasses, longing to drop everything and hitchhike if you had to. Would the lack of alerting her put her off? Gods, you hope not.

A sudden shift of turbulent driving to a slight jostle of cobblestone removes you from the swirling doubt in your mind, peeking towards the sign you’re approaching. Green and rusting, white lettering reads: Welcome to Jericho! The Salem of Vermont. You find yourself glad someone took the time to graffiti over the last bit.

Ignoring the anxiety climbing your spine, you keep going, and going, and going, and going, until you finally break through the treeline. Out of nowhere sits the cutest town you think you’ve ever seen, with little brick shops with murals and a gazebo with the remains of New Year’s decor still hanging on. It makes sense why people would want to come here, why she would choose to stay.

In an attempt to not draw more attention than an outsider already gets, let alone an outcast one, you don’t linger on viewing the quaint town of Jericho. There’s better views awaiting you later, at the very castle-like building you can see on the high hill. Looming in a shadow, one that doesn’t extend over the rest of the town, sits Nevermore in all its glory. The corners of your lips turn up into a small smile, the view is nostalgic, bringing back the memories of your time at Byron’s.

The memory brings a reminder to the forefront of your mind, and with cell service restored, now is the best time. Carefully, and without taking your eyes off the road, you navigate to your favorite contacts.

“Hello, my angel!”

You chuckle, “it’s just me.”

“Fuck, nevermind then,” Parker grumbles, “so you’re not there yet?”

“I’m pulling up in a second, just wanted to let you know now before I can’t.”

A characteristic cackle comes from the other end, “gonna jump her bones immediately, I see, I see. Can’t say I blame you, she makes me question things about myself.”

“This is exactly why I called you before getting here,” you chuckle, pulling through the front gates, “but I gotta go now.”

“Yes, yes, go get slutted out, harlot. Just please call me sometime, so I can talk with the love of our lives,” Parker begs.

“I’m telling Max you said that,” you deadpan, hanging up just as you hear a rushed wait!

—☽—

For a town so small minded, from what you’ve been told, you’re more than surprised to find that you are able to walk into Nevermore unnoticed. Some students stand around, talking amongst themselves, but none seem to pay you any mind, likely thinking you’re just another teacher. Using the anonymity to your advantage, you slow your pace, listening in carefully. A gorgon walks by you, the only student at this time that seems to be carrying any school supplies.

You mentally scold yourself for stereotyping her studious behavior before you focus in on her mind. Your consciousness runs through hers, searching through test anxieties and hockey tryout concerns, until you find what you need. The literature wing, I could’ve guessed that. Coming back into your own mind, you’re already speeding up the stairs before your pupils return to their normal size.

Passing another student two stories up, you pray the siren knows which office you need, yet they don’t. Neither do the werewolves or the seer. Do you guys even go to classes? You’re about to give up on the full surprise, headache seeping in from all the mindreading of anxious teenagers. Just before you exit the hallway entirely, you actually look up from your feet, and you mentally smack yourself upside the head for not just reading the plaques on the doors.

With a renewed pep in your step, you keep just shy of running as you read every door. Finally, you reach a door that has a newer plaque compared to neighboring ones, serif font unscathed by age. Professor L. Weems, Department of Literature. Your heart skips a beat at the mere sight of her name. Noticing the door being cracked open, you push it open slightly more, hoping your search ends here.

Hunched over an antique desk, red-framed glasses perched on her nose with a pen spinning between her fingers, she doesn’t seem to notice the attention on her. It’s hard to pry yourself away from watching her, when holding her is seemingly moments away. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, you knock on the doorway with shaking knuckles.

A huff passes scarlet lips as Larissa peers up, a brief, disinterested gaze passing over her features. The pen in her hand stills, falling to the desk with a small clatter. Blue eyes widen as she stares unwaveringly at you. Fidgeting under her gaze, you smile nervously, “was- uh- was looking for professor Weems? Know her, by any chance?”

In no less than a blink, Larissa is rounding her desk at top speeds, crashing into your body as her arms wrap around your neck. Nearly falling into the hall, you just barely keep the two of you up, leaning into her to walk her backwards. One hand grips her waist as the other blindly reaches for the door to shut it, quickly coming back to bury into her hair. Your face tucks into her neck, brushing your nose against her skin, breathing her in.

“You’re here,” Larissa says quietly, disbelieving.

“I’m here,” you mumble against her warm skin, “couldn’t wait any longer.”

A sigh of relief passes plush lips, “and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Surprise, it’s a noun,” you joke, pressing a soft kiss to the expanse of her neck, relishing in the way she shudders at the contact. There’s no reply except for her arms tightening around you, wordlessly telling you that this surprise is one she likes.

Pulling back from you suddenly, Larissa just stares at you, blue eyes taking in every feature, lingering on your lips before flicking back to your eyes. Your hand moves from her waist to cup her cheek, stroking soft skin that you’d been longing to touch. She takes the invitation, leaning forward to press delicate lips against your own, slow and savoring. Your tongue traces her lips, tasting earl grey and lipstick as she lets you in. No struggle or search for dominance, simply a familiar dance you’d both dearly missed. The hand in her hair stays in place, keeping her close as the other traces her cheekbone and jaw, memorizing the feeling of her skin. Every piece of you missed her, and all of those pieces felt healed the moment her lips touched yours.

Pulling away slowly, both of you keep your eyes closed, simply existing in this moment. It takes a while for either of you to move away, but you feel giddy seeing Larissa’s pink cheeks and smudged lipstick. Your thumb drifts to her lips, wiping away the mess you’ve made, ignoring that you are likely equally covered. Soft lips press into the pad of your thumb, gentle and sweet.

“I cannot believe you’re here,” she whispers into the small space between you, “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you,” you reply at the same volume.

It takes two hours for the halls of Nevermore to empty, students retreating to their rooms or to the quad, finally allowing a chance for the two of you to leave Larissa’s office. Silence seems to come over the school, however frightening it may be when dealing with teenagers, though neither of you mind as you simply exist in the spacious office. After weeks of phone calls that lasted most of the night, quiet amazingly comes easy.

Only a soft hum from the blonde breaks the silence, twisting her wrist to check her watch. Turning towards you slightly, she keeps a soft volume as she speaks, “how would you like a tour?”

“That sounds perfect, I only got to see the foyer and this hall,” you answer, nudging into her shoulder softly. “Was on a mission, I didn’t really get a chance to explore.”

“Sorry about that, but we’re not supposed to have visitors here,” she explains, “the campus has essentially been on lockdown since the nineties.”

You chuckle, reaching a hand out to draw her in. Her fingers slide across your palm before gripping, letting you tug her closer, “in that case, security might be too lax. I got in no problem.”

“You what?” Larissa stiffens, looking at you bewildered.

“I drove right through the gate, walked right in, no one even noticed me,” you chuckle, “just walked on up.”

Her lips purse as she tries to hide the laugh building in her chest, leaning in more, “you read a child’s mind to find me, didn’t you?”

It’s impossible to hide the wry grin on your face, “potentially.”

“Potentially,” she mimics, amused.

—☽—

Nevermore has officially put Byron’s Home to shame.

Every hallway is covered in paintings, Latin engravings littering every shelf, moon phases in different corners. It makes you wish you never set foot in that brick schoolhouse all those years ago. The conservatory alone almost made you weep; crawling vines and shining moonflowers, the feasting venus flytraps, and, your favorite, bleeding hearts. Larissa stands back and watches as your fingers ghost over petals, pressing lightly against the flytraps full belly, all with a deep fascination behind your eyes.

“I can’t believe you have this,” your voice echoes quietly in the room, “it- it’s incredible.”

Her silence throws you, immediately turning. The lost look in her eyes makes you falter, and where your typical instinct is to read, you instead step closer.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, reaching to run your fingers over her knuckles that stay clutching her shirt.

There have been many times where Larissa wished for different abilities, or no abilities at all. Right now, however, she wished for nothing more than your ability. She wished she could reach into your mind and see how you saw the world, how you see the flowers, how you see her. Seeing you now, how you watch her with more reverence than you grant what, in her mind, is a greater beauty, she knows she has a window into the limitless path your consciousness takes.

“Nothing at all. I just have one more place in mind,” she answers, hand lifting to stroke your cheek, lingering against your oddly cool skin. You nod wordlessly, letting your fingers intertwine with hers.

Hand held in Larissa’s, you let her lead you through the halls. She pauses to peak around every corner, terrified the two of you would be caught. Leading forward, more like tugging, she brings you towards a spiraling staircase. Letting her go first, she enters into a massive room, cool but comfortable, dark enough to rely on distanced golden lamps.

Floor to ceiling bookshelves line everywall, the familiar Latin etched into stone and wood alike. Ancient Greek, Cyrillic, and Tamil, first and second editions of texts you thought you’d only ever see inaccurate translations of. Sections of different outcast abilities, poetry from around the world, fables of the inception of different classes. Most have an unfortunate layer of dust over them, long ignored in interest of the clearly loved young adult section.

“You’re really trying to make me jealous,” you say breathily, “this place is incredible.”

“These are my favorite sections,” Larissa admits shyly, “I spend hours of my day here and never see another soul. It’s peaceful.”

“All by your lonesome?” There’s a slight mockery in your tone, “not alone now, are you though?”

Red lips curve into a smile as you step closer to her, fingers grazing up her side, slipping around her back to tug her closer. Hands rise to cup your face, eyes hooded as she takes you in. Pupils blown and lip between your teeth, she doesn’t want to deny herself the view nor the pleasure. Leaning into your space, her nose brushes yours, lips just barely ghosting.

You know she’s teasing, even with closed eyes, you can sense her smile. Tilting, you capture her lips, sighing at the contact. The moment your tongue brushes her bottom lip, a switch in Larissa flips, pushing you back into the shelving behind you. Sliding from your face, her hands grip your waist, clutching with an unnecessary urgency. Meeting her pace, your fingers weave into her updo, pulling hairs loose as you try to keep her closer than she physically can manage.

The muffled boom of a door on the other side of the shelf forces you to jump apart, wide eyes looking at each other like deer in headlights. Cheeks puff as you try not to laugh, Larissa immediately pulls you out of the library, forcing you into a jog as you run towards a different end of the building.

—☽—

Carefully, she guides you upstairs, praying that no other teachers or students are around to see her sneaking someone in. Both of you struggle to keep your giggling in, the juvenile nature of it all making you fluttery.

Coming up to a white door, you see another plaque reading Dormitory Parent. Unlocking the door with a strong wiggle, Larissa motions for you to walk in first, quickly shutting the door behind her and latching it. Leaning against it, she lets out a sigh.

Larissa doesn’t get a chance to move closer before your lips press against hers once more. This time, neither of you waste a second, no longer nerved up by the chance of someone walking in again. Timid brushing of lips is forgone as her tongue bullies its way into your mouth, stroking yours with a gentle dominance that has your knees weak.

Wanting hands grip at her waist as she pushes her backwards, leading you further into her quarters until you’re backed into a wall. Lips move from yours and trail down your chin to your neck, teeth passing over your pulse. A groan leaves your lips, hands scrambling to pull Larissa back to your lips, missing them greatly in the seconds they’ve been apart from yours. Feeling her smile against you makes your heart clench, needing more, anything she’s willing to give.

Pulling back from her lips only enough to speak, you ask, “bedroom?”

There’s no reply, only you being tugged from the wall and walked backwards further into the room. You’re so lost in her, her lips, her hands, her tongue, everything. The feeling of dropping onto the mattress is what brings you back in, eyes cracking open to see a lightly panting Larissa above you, lips parted and kiss-swollen. Lapis eyes flick over your face, expression similar to the one she wore when she first saw you, right on the cusp of relief and disbelief. She’s not unlike a goddess viewing her devotee.

Taking her moment of distraction as a tool for your benefit, you flip the two of you, happily taking in the new view of her beneath you. Hair of white gold splaying over the pillows, eyes wide, skin flushed, and entirely beautiful, Larissa Weems is a gift for your eyes only. The hand on her hip slides up, pushing the fabric of her dress with them as they climb. It’s a silent question, or more of a silent begging, hands impatient to feel her.

Larissa’s head rises off the pillow, lips pushing into yours, her hands going to yours to push them even higher, dress inching up more and more. As she wishes, you lift her dress, hands finding solace on plush thighs, laying your body between her legs. The familiarity of it makes you moan into her mouth, pure want running through your veins.

Hands close in on the lace covering her, lips moving to her neck for a chance to breathe, “can I take this off?”

“Yes,” she answers in a whiny tone, lifting herself off the mattress slightly.

You carefully, thought quickly, lower the zipper. Larissa strips the dress off her torso, letting your wanting hands take care of the rest. The world stops for a moment as you look down at her, skin luminescent against dark sheets, constellations of freckles dotted across her chest.

The blush crawling up her neck brings you back in, and you haphazardly shrug off your jacket and tear off your own shirt. Leaning back down, you forgo her lips to kiss down her neck, reveling in her skin beneath yours. Larissa moans softly as her hands wander down your back, around your torso, tugging at your belt, and you're quick to head her command. Greedy hands pull you back down on the bed, gripping at warm skin as your lips take purchase on her neck again.

Laying her back, you continue your path down, fingers taking her bra straps down with you. Eyes peek up to hers, silently asking permission. Larissa arches into you in response, and your lips wrap around a rosey nipple. Nails dig into your back as she moans beneath you, hips bucking against your. Satisfying her desire, you place a thigh between her legs as you continue to lavish her chest with affection.

An already soaked white thong becomes absolutely ruined as Larissa grinds steadily against your thigh, moaning huskily into open air. Continuing down, your thigh moves away as you near her heat. Fingers curling around the band of her panties, you pause, “may I?”

“Please, darling,” Larissa replies breathily, mouth hanging open as you toss the fabric across the room.

Mouthing at her thighs, you suck harder as you get closer, red marks painted across a white canvas. Reaching her slick pussy, your mouth nearly waters at the sight, descending on her immediately. Her hips rock just as quickly, trying to ride your face as your tongue swipes through her folds. Savory wetness covers your chin, nose just barely rubbing against her clit.

Tilting up, you allow your lips to wrap around her button, sucking gently. The gasps Larissa emits above you only egg you on further, hand moving from her thigh to her entrance. Your middle finger slowly pushes into her, pumping carefully before adding your index. Her walls grip your fingers snugly, trying to keep you there. Her hips never still, and you force them down with your free hand as you focus your attention on her.

Alternating between sucking and licking her clit, combined with your fingers increasing pace inside her, has Larissa’s voice growing horse, moans turning to pitchy whines. Long legs wrap around your body, holding you snugly against.

Heavy whimpers fall from her lips. “Please,” she begs, “more, baby, please.”

Denying her when she’s asking so nicely, so prettily? You could never. Your ring finger lines with the others, pressing into her quickly. The stretch makes Larissa cry out above you, heels digging deeper into your back as your tongue swirled around her sex. It takes little time for her breathing to grow hoarse, mouth hanging open as her eyes squeeze shut.

Her breath hitches and hips still, essence coating your fingers as you watch her chest rise and fall rapidly, eyes finally reopening. Slowing your fingers, you retract from her, but in no way are you done just yet. Letting go of her clit with a small pop, you drag your tongue down to languidly traverse her folds, taking in her full taste.

Probing inside her, you relish in the breathy whine that comes from her throat. Pulling back, you flatten your tongue, swiping across her cunt. Trailing up, passing her navel, the dip in her ribs, you take a quick pass over her nipple, swirling softly. Grabby hands pull at you, tugging you back to her lips. Moaning at her own taste, Larissa’s body arches into you, heat brushing over your thigh once again.

Hand trailing up from her thigh, you pull back from her lips, offering your fingers in place of your tongue. Fading red lips wrap around your digits, her own tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing. You can feel your eyes glazing over as you watch her greedily taste herself, gently and unknowingly grinding on your thigh.

Letting go, Larissa takes your stupor to flip you over. Staring down with cool blue eyes with a mysterious fire. Wandering lower and lower, they trace over your own underwear, slick from pleasing her. The whimper you let out only eggs her on, rubbing you over the fabric.

“Riss…” you manage out, already breathless from her touch, “baby…”

A low hum leaves her throat, hand sliding under to make contact with you. Long fingers slide through wetness as lips attach themselves to your neck. Two fingers slide into you, slowly, her thumb makes tight, firm circles over your clit, making you keen into her. The pressure building in your core, that had been steadily growing since the library, feels so overwhelming with her all over you now.

Feeling you trying to ride her slow hand, she speeds up, taking over for you as your moans quickly become airy. Under her lips, she feels your heart beating wildly. For her. All for her.

Her scent, her taste, her hands, her tongue, all of her was all over you. Her teeth scrape against your skin as her fingers curl, making you groan. The hand not in her hair splays across her back, desperate to keep her close. Feeling the want dripping from you, her fingers speed up, almost bullying gummy walls that cling to her.

Tugging her by her hair, you bring her to your lips. Open mouth and messy, you’re barely kissing, just moaning into her mouth as she presses harder to your button, bucking into her hand. You can’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed about how quickly she got you here, how quickly you’ve become putty beneath her.

Deciding she needs to taste her hard work sooner rather than later, her fingers just barely spread inside you, stretching you. The motion makes you erupt in a silent scream, clinging more to her as you feel the coil in your stomach begin to snap.

“C’mon darling,” she husks against your throat, “give it to me. I know you want to.”

Her words are your undoing, the sheer need in her voice and the feeling of her inside you was enough to snap the band. The whines from you turn into breathy pants, hands on Larissa still holding her close as her fingers slow. As she tries to remove them, you close your legs around her wrist, locking her in place. Her lips drag up your neck, capturing your own, sighing into your mouth as your fingers scratch gently at her scalp.

Lazy kisses last until the post-orgasm warmth leaves your body, shivering slightly at the cool air that you can finally feel tickling your skin. Legs unclamp her hand, allowing her to draw back. You nearly cum on the spot watching her suck your release off, moaning softly against her own fingers.

“Keep doing that and you’re not leaving this bed for a week,” you mumble beneath her.

She chuckles, rolling off to lay on the bed beside you, “I can’t say I’d be opposed.”

Just facing her, watching her chest rise and fall, rosy cheeks slowly returning to their normal color, you’re in awe. Freshly fucked and still perfect, Larissa Weems is a miracle. Laying on your side, you trace your fingers up and down her side, following the path of silver stretch marks and faint freckles. You push yourself forward, pressing yourself into her warm body, adoring how her arms immediately wrap around you.

“I missed you,” she whispers, as if she’s not sure you’d share her sentiment.

You press a kiss to her collarbone, “I missed you more.”

There’s a few minutes of silence before you feel Larissa chuckle beneath you. You hum in question. She squeezes you briefly, “would you like dinner?”

Another pause. You both giggle as you try to walk out of the room with a small waver in your steps.

—☽—

When your eyes open, you think it’s the sun cracking through the curtain that pulls you from the depths of slumber. A piercing ring breaks through the tiredness, bringing your attention to your phone. Your groan is met in tandem by Larissa’s, who shoves her head into her pillow further, arm tightening around your waist. Stretching in her grasp, you mentally prepare for what you know is coming. The little shit has a radar.

“No,” you say the moment you bring the phone to your ear.

“Oh sweet angel, I miss how nice you are,” Parker sing-songs, “did I wake you from your slutty slumber?”

“Yes, both of us. Dick,” you grumble, “you have zero consideration.”

“Give my real friend the phone, I’m done with you,” he says, though you know he’ll never leave you alone. Even when you eventually die.

“Baby, it’s for you,” you say as you pull the phone away from your ear. Larissa peeks one eye at you, clearly irritated. Parker, you mouth. You wish it wasn’t so endearing how quickly she perked up. Sitting up, she nods, motioning for you to put her on speaker.

“Hello, Parker,” she utters through a yawn.

“My love! How are you? Achy? Tired? In need of a better lover?”

“I’m great,” Larissa chuckles, “and yes, yes, and no, most definitely not.” Her eyes stay on you as she answers, peeking down at your lovingly annoyed expression.

The rest of the call is simply Parker talking at Larissa, rather than to her, while you shake your head at his antics. Curling back into her side, you let them talk as you watch her face. She seems at ease, a stark contrast from the stressed Larissa you’d seen when you first looked in her office. She’s less imposing, loose hair and smudged makeup, a smile playing on her lips as she listens to Parker’s plans for a surprise two month anniversary gift for Max.

In the walls of her bedroom. In bed with you. Breathing the same air. Perfection lies beside you.

note: if i could rewrite the entirety of part one i would. but i guess that shows growth in writing or whatever

feedback appreciated as always

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday netflix #wednesday series #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #lesbian

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riaki · 1 year ago

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knitted hearts | kento nanami x reader

pt.3 of christmas event! i wrote this for u genie ily 🤍 cw: established relationship, he (over)works at that financing company from before, two (2) petnames

the lights are still on.

that's the first thing kento immediately notices when he gets back; the office clocked him overtime, and so he's late. regrettably, again.

in the past, whenever that's happened, he'd have sent you a text beforehand and came home to a dark apartment; eaten something quick before getting into bed and slipping beneath the soft covers where your resting warmth melts away the stress of the day between his shoulders and his eyebrows.

tonight is different, it seems. the city buzzes with a quiet hum, light snowfall blanketing the roofs and muffling the sound. the holiday season is in full swing; normally, he wouldn't care to know. or remember. if not for the lame decorations around his workplace and the chocolate advent calendar you've been diligently (force) feeding him every night, he wouldn't've noticed at all.

he closes the door quietly behind him, careful not to make excess noise in case you're asleep as he slips his shoes off and hangs his jacket up. after all, you might've just been absentminded or tired, and forgot to switch the lights off. and you blame him for being lost to time.

it's quiet in the house; not dead silent, though. there's soft, ambient winter jazz flowing from somewhere in the house, and the faint sound of the fridge humming, paired with something that's baking in the oven. the scent of soft vanilla and orange settles gently over his shoulders, as if to welcome him home. his half finished coffee sits in a porcelain mug on the stained counter; you'd accidentally made too much for him, leaving you with a puddle of bitter caffeine that couldn't even be finished with your combined efforts. you'd promised him you would chug it over text, but clearly that didn't happen.

he's ready to go through the motions of a quiet night spent unwinding alone when he hears your voice— after endless hours of aching at a desk, clacking away on a mechanical keyboard in the dreariest environment imaginable, it soothes him like no vacation fantasy he's ever known.

"nami? is that you?" you called. your voice is coming from the shared bedroom; you sound tired, and kento can just imagine the sleepy look on your face. he's never been inclined to use the words 'cute' or 'pretty' to describe someone before, but if he had to choose, then he'd use them for you.

he walks down the length of the hallway, undoing his tie and gently tugging it off his neck as he reaches the threshold to your room. the air is warm and soft; it seems so much easier to breathe the closer you are. like the crushing weight of work he puts on his lungs dissipates into a cloud of melting frost.

"i'm home, sweetheart." he's surprised at how rough his own voice sounds; it's almost unfamiliar. he needs your rejuvenating touch; at least, that's what he decides the instant he sees you. you're sitting right in the middle of the mattress, something lumpy, tacky, red and green bundled up in your lap. with something between a sinking realization and a fluttering in his chest he recognizes it as the sweater you've been making for him. you're finishing it up, it seems, from the formerly-wide bundle of soft thread that's been reduced to a meek little crimson string on the white sheets.

it's one of your new interests. you seem to be taking up a lot of those, lately; kento feels as though it's his fault, for never having the time to take you out. yet you're always so patient despite his busy schedule, adjusting to portion out a chunk of time from your own just to accommodate for him. it's unfair, and so one night he vowed to do more for you over a glass of red wine and a fancy white table cloth, freshly cleaned and pressed. that was one of the rare times he'd been able to take you out like you really deserved. "and don't call me by my last name. you're allowed to use my given," he sighs, rather exasperated, but you both know there's only affection behind it.

you perk up, a bright look in your eyes that melts the last of the frost buried in his chest and beneath his eyes. he crosses the room to stand at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt a few to let himself breathe. and he doesn't miss the way your eyes linger, so he clears his throat, and you spring to action.

"i finished your sweater, ken. can you put it on?" you ask eagerly, and he's briefly reminded of a young boy with pink hair like raspberry chocolate and a golden retriever demeanor. a soft feeling pushes at the back of his heart, sending mushy gushiness through his veins at the sight.

you scoot close, holding it up for him to examine. in all honesty, it's not terrible; you get an A for effort, at the very least. the five reindeer look more like those urban folklore creatures, and the tree looks as though it could use seven more centuries under the sun-- but other than that, it's a perfect first try.

"i'd love to, darling, but i..." he doesn't get to finish, because you seem to wilt a little, and it already feels like that crushing burden over his diaphragm is back, but this time it's exceedingly and guiltily unpleasant, so he retracts his words.

"alright." he succumbs with a tired sigh, letting his eyes flutter shut and removing his glasses to rub the spot where the frame has been digging into his skin; normally you'd do it for him, but you're busy adjusting the fluffy pom poms (he didn't see those before) on the sweater's cuffs, so he does it himself.

he hears the tell tale shift of the soft bedding and he opens his eyes again, only to be met with a very expectant look on your face.

"put your hands up."

"...pardon?" a small amount of resistance to your antics is always present, at first. by now he knows you expect it. but this time, it may be much worse.

"you heard me! arms to the sky." he likes your laugh, a lot. it jingles like a gentle wind chime.

"i can put it on myself. i'm not a child," he says, a little cross, but you're undeterred. as per usual. not like he minds.

"please?"

kento doesn't particularly view himself as a man with a great many ambitious, or zealous ideals. still, he isn't a pushover and has a strong resolve. unfortunately for him (fortunately for you), when it comes to you, it doesn't take much for him to crumble. if you willed it, he'd get down at your feet.

with resignation, he kneels down on one leg, as if you're about to knight him. he waits patiently, holding his arms up, and he can practically feel your giddy smile.

soon enough, you're slipping it over his tangled blonde hair— with a little bit of effort and a lot of scratchy fabric. it's too big here and too tight there, hanging off his shoulders oddly and the sleeves are uneven. but it's cute, too-- in the way that a toddler's crayon doodles are endearing, so are your amateur efforts. what matters to him the most, is that you've handmade it for him.

nothing an industry company factory could achieve.

"so? how do you like it?" you prompt as you start to mess with the collar, pinching and pulling the fabric so that it suits his form appropriately. he doesn't ever remember you asking for his size, but you seem to know it anyway.

"it's warm," is his only input. he knows you'll complain— but it's fun to hear you whine.

you frown. "is that all?" there it is— a small, sweet little pout; the minute down tilt of your lips. your fingers dance over his collarbone as you pull the collar of his button up over the rim, and his breath hitches in his throat. kento wonders if you can feel his heartbeat or notice the way his adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

before you— or he— knows it, he's pulling you down to sit on the knee that's still propped up, catching you by the rest and meeting you halfway to press a gentle kiss to your lips. he's met with a muffled sound of surprise that quickly melts into a laugh; he can feel you smile against his lips and he wants to devour it.

"so i take it you like it?" you whispered as you lean in, hands leaving the unwieldy sweater to thread through his hair, messing it up to your heart's content after he slicked it to the side. you taste sweet, like chocolate and caramel-- he must've missed the advent sweet for today.

his only response is a small hum— you can feel the vibration, so you chuckle again and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling away breathless from the kiss to knock your forehead against his, gazing into his eyes. there's an undeniable well of warmth behind your gorgeous irises; if he had the time, he'd get himself lost in them.

"good, because i have socks on the backburner and you'll be getting a scarf next."

whenever the lights are off, kento knows you've gone to bed already, without him. but he thinks he could get used to scratchy, hand-knit clothing if it means they'll always be on and waiting for him after a long day of dreaming in front of a desk, all about your smile.

not proofread my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

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narwhalandchill · 7 months ago

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spicy take incoming but i kinda wish ppl werent so desperately attached to and protective of this moniker of Great Big Brother 100% Perfect So True And Real when it comes to childe bc honestly. he really isnt (perfect or even that good at times) and to me acknowledging the ways both he and his family (for enabling him) are in some ways kinda just. doing teucer incredibly dirty in the long term but only with the best of intentions in the short term is so much more interesting than just pretending hes a flawless brother?? like it only adds to the drama and irony of it all man like theyre rly so dysfunctional as a family unit its great. even if hoyos likely never exploring that shit in its true depth it still lives rent free in my head for sure lol

like. you rly dont have to turn ajax into some sort of unfeeling uncaring monster of a shit brother to acknowledge that he does, in fact, repeatedly make incredibly reckless and selfish choices during his SQ with teucer and in general by choosing to obstruct the truth of who he is from lil bro so completely?

like this stuff can be nuanced and coexist with his absolutely 100% genuine commitment to protecting teucers bubble of a worldview (and w the theme of childlike dreams and wishes being so prevalent in general who knows what could be cooking w that one in particular) and his loyalty and love for his family without just having to whitewash the dumb shit he does lmao

like just bc hes capable of and willing to face the potentially grave repercussions of absolute bangers (🙄🙄) like teaching an actual fucking child to consider ruin machines fun besties and 100% insta ready to fuck himself up by protecting teucer at the cost of aggravating his still-unhealed injuries from the liyue AQ when dottores abandoned lab turns out to be more lively than expected doesnt. make that choice not a very irresponsible one yall im begging 💀

like. hes the adult here . the entire situation unfolding as dangerously as it does in the factory is Absolutely all on HIM for not being able and/or willing to disappoint teucer by just . Doing the mature thing and sending him away to safety because HES gotten too attached to this idea of being his lil siblings' loyal knight and perfect brother that Always finds a way to surpass the expectations no matter the cost its a role HE wants to keep playing despite the risk

like its So obviously a pride thing for him too and thats so fucking interesting because Of how flawed and questionable the logic is!! like yes he truly cares about teucer and ensuring he has a great unforgettable time during this impromptu escapade in liyue like thats not up to debate but the point im trying to make is that the choices he makes are Still very much intertwined with his ego and overconfidence and not really based all that much on Whats Actually The Best Approach Here. he improvises a way to give teucer the best mr cyclops outing he has ever seen bc HE wants to be the one offering him that experience and ends up biting off a bit more than he can chew and he can only blame himself for that one and This Isnt Fucking Sustainable

like i dont think that makes him evil but i do think it showcases his arrogance and flaws in a very concrete way and is a part of why calling him a perfect brother or at least one without an asterix just. rubs me off wrong lmao

like idk feel free to keep calling him that if its important to u and all if u want idc (and i do to some extent get why this defensive narrative of insisting hes great no issues at all emerged bc i remember 1.1 some ppl acting like hes childcare satan for how he treats teucer lol) but. at least like . Be willing to chip in to fund the therapy teucers going to need for those lifelong trust issues in the future man 💀

Bc Thats The Other Thing. now tonia and anthon i dont consider a part of this bc at least they Know hes in the fatui and hiding the gory details of ur harbinger job from ur baby sibs is like. fair enough and reasonable. but. crafting an Entire different AU version of yourself and feeding it to your baby brother as what constitutes actual reality surely is a choice of all times like ajax ily but genuinely . What the fuck if you were real id throttle you

AND HIS FAMILY ENABLING IT THE ENTIRE TIME ITS CRAZY LIKE. As a person with multiple siblings both older n younger with some similar age gap cohorts involved. God id snitch so fucking fast i dont think ppl rly stop and think much abt how objectively horrifying this shit is from teucers long term pov 😭 in the best way obviously given its fiction like its so scrumptiously awful and dysfunctional .

(& just in general man im just so obsessed with the way ajax 14 basically broke the eggshell of his past life and emerged to rise towards his destiny drowned in the guts and gore of the place and people and community he once called home unconditionally. Bro he fucked that town UP and now his family relations will never ever be the same its so fucking Delicious. those 3 days missing and what followed are just Actually a literal fucking horror movie when you stop blindly stanning our ginger menace, forget ajax' side and take the pov of his family and morepesok in general Why Are People Not Talking About This)

like. its not that i dont understand Why this is sth childe ended up doing as i said Thats The Point. its human. teucer is the only one in the family who wasnt there during that fateful 3 days/months . Like yea anthon and tonia were prolly sheltered from most of the carnage back then too but they still Know where he was sent when he became literally uncontrollable and almost killed the neighbors (everybody & their mom loves demonizing his parents as if his demon spawn ass left them a fucking choice JFEJSJSJSKDKS) . like its at least Known.

but then theres teucer.

And like. teucers the Only one with whom ajax can even pretend to have that delusion (ha) of normalcy and a family that hasnt seen him gaze into the abyss and stare back bloodied and grinning ear to ear . like. hes the only shot childe can have at even playacting some crude imitation of normalcy before Everything and even That comes with an expiration date hes fully aware of. so theres just lies after lies after lies and the fact that even his family just. if not actively partaking in the charade then at least silently allows the entirety of it to happen to teucer whos the Only fucking one out of the loop is just..... dude its not fair on him At All

Misleading teucer THIS much is just. its fucking horrible man but i GET it. thats why its so delicious man i GET it but god its just . imagine being teucer in this situation.... thats his entire fucking World shattered once the truth comes out. Everyone close to him has been lying to him his entire time. They all knew and they let him be misled. Like sure he might be happier Now with ajax dutifully protecting that childhood dream of his but after that. Just. sit on this for a bit. after everything do we Really think teucers just going to understand why it came to be and see it as worth it???? Will he really????

yet at the same time as awfully cruel it all is its just So human!!!!! Its so human of both ajax and his family to use the innocence of the only child that was spared the aftermath of worlds best/worst 3 month abyss training camp to indulge in this flawed false reality where their third son didnt walk into the void and come back hungry for More until only the fatui could take him and even then it only spurred him on further on that path. Like its all an act and a lie and its just. Not fucking fair on teucer but hes still doing it and theyre letting him even tho they Know it wont last theyre all looking teucer in the eye every day and letting him believe like man....

like in both the entire ruin factory sequence And in general hiding the truth from teucer as extensively as childe does hes being incredibly selfish but at the same time its selfishness only rly in the way all people are when it comes to Wanting to be seen a certain way by the ones they love and care about. and thats what makes it so interesting. bc as much as the choices he makes are dubious (or like. this decision makes sense to him. a morally bisexual total omnivore ethics-wise narwhalpilled since 14 who sees exclusively in abyss shrimp colors and acts accordingly) both they and the motivations behind them are also just. So very human ones . as terrible as the implications and eventual inevitable downfall of those choices can (will) be.

like. is it not that much more fascinating to consider all the ways that childe is neither a particularly exemplary nor an egregiously bad brother just one that. Happens to be wired weird in the head and proud and flawed and with a track record of heavily suspect decision-making but that also very much genuinely loves his family man. Like i can love that about him without dismissing the fact that theres parts to how hes treating teucer that 100% can and imo rly should backfire horrifically bc. It really just is that fucked up

hes not a good brother hes Worse AMD better than that and also not alone in this like. his family is an active fucking part of this . But like still . Is he trying his best with his abyss shrimp colored vision ? Yes. Is his love genuine? Absolutely. What are the marks? 3/10 meet me in the office after class mister youre just actually horrible (affectionate) 😭

A perfect brother? Not My Ajax man 🗣🗣 and like theres SO MUCH to explore in that it makes me so sad you just. Never see any of it p much in fanworks bc we all just call him best bro and whatever and thats that like its so sad. this family is terrible horrible awful and no good and they deserve it but also didnt deserve it it was misfortune it was fate it was inevitable . justice for teucer man i need to get him in therapy asap

#tonia will call him a perfect brother and ppl take it at face value is so.#dude NOBODY in that fuckimg family is in the place to say jack shit abt whats healthy familial dynamics n whats not #now like. do i know that theyll most likely never Truly let ajax experience teucers righteous rage at the betrayal #and instead brush it off where hes like youre still my brother i love u #Yes. unfortunately. but god he doesnt fucking deserve any of that like he SHOULD lose teucer forever #teucer should go full scorched earth no contact the entire family like its r/relationship_advice addressing mild drama #and theyd all deserve it. even as i understand Why they did this.and sympathize with it .#this is why he and the narwhal deserve each other btw hes just kimda fucking terrible sometimes #yes i had to make this about them too #genshin #rambles #childeposting

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markantonys · 9 months ago

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AITA for joining a "cult" that thinks my sister and mom are Darkfriends?

First, some backstory. I (30m) have always been an outsider in my family. It wasn't anything to do with my parents - dad (dead) always spent all his time with me instead of my younger siblings, and (step)mom (43f) always gave me extra attention compared to her bio kids because she didn't want me to feel neglected - or with my brother (21m), who's always looked up to me. It was all because of my sister (19f). She's hated and bullied me ever since she was a toddler, and I have no idea why. I guess maybe she doesn't think I'm her real brother, or blames me for telling on her whenever she did irresponsible things like climb trees and talk to strangers. All I've ever done is try to keep her safe, but she's never appreciated it.

Anyway, there's this organization (my sister claims it's a cult, though I don't think that's fair) that's dedicated to serving the Light. My mom always hated them and kept them banned from our country because she thinks they have an agenda against women who can channel, and she's one herself, as is my sister. I used to believe her, but after reading one book written by the organization's founder, I realized that my mom has a totally biased view of them and they're actually doing really important work founded on admirable principles. So when my sister went missing at the hands of women who can channel, I decided I'd had enough of those women lying to everyone all the time and I joined this organization.

I did have my view of them shaken when I found out my mom had been kidnapped, abused, and murdered by one of their leaders (turns out she's actually still alive though, don't worry about that), but I challenged that leader to an honorable duel and killed him to avenge my mom, and my friends and I rooted out a handful of other corrupt members of the organization, so now with that small minority gone, the rest of us can continue doing the Light's work and spreading awareness of the evils of the One Power.

To be clear, I OBVIOUSLY don't think my sister and mom are Darkfriends; it's only everyone else who uses the One Power who is. I've explained this to my sister multiple times but it only makes her angrier instead of grateful that I'm making an exception for her and choosing to believe the best of her. It feels like I can never do anything right in her eyes, but maybe I've somehow got the wrong understanding of the situation. So, AITA?

******

u/dainbornhald: NTA. Your sister's problem isn't actually that you joined this organization (which totally does sound 100% Light-serving). She doesn't think you're her real brother and is just looking for any excuse to continue the bullying, manipulation, and gaslighting she's been using on you since she was a toddler. [+5k votes] u/childbyar: Came here to say this. Sister sounds like a textbook abuser, and, honestly, almost definitely a Darkfriend. I'd go no contact with her, OP, and maybe get a restraining order if you have to - she's obviously unhinged. [+1.2k votes]

u/amyrlinseat: You joined a cult that thinks your sister is a Darkfriend based on an innate characteristic about her that she didn't choose and can't change (unlike you, who DID choose to join this cult), and you're whining that she's mad at you for it??? YTA [-749 votes]

u/luckyfox: YTA for the cult thing, but this whole family's got serious mommy AND daddy issues (take it from an expert). Sister resents you for getting all your parents' attention growing up, and you have a victim complex about being a stepchild/half-brother. I can only wonder what might be going on with the middle brother who wasn't mentioned much here. You guys need to go to therapy. [+2 votes] u/galaddamodred [OP]: My brother always seemed very well-adjusted, but a few hours after I made this post he actually died going on a suicide charge in battle because he thought he was unimportant enough to risk and no one would care much if he died in the attempt. Which sucks because now the only sibling I've got left is my sister who hates me. [+273 votes] u/luckyfox: oh my god [+312 votes]

#every time i read galad's narration of elayne being sO MeAN to him in AMOL #i'm reminded of an r/aita post where the person is skirting around crucial information to make themselves sound like not the asshole jkfg #wot #wot book spoilers #the wheel of time

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scoobydoodean · 2 months ago

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ok lol officially most annoying anon in the world (“mischaracterization” anon who just said they were abdicating from the convo 4 being high as balls which. is real and i should stop cuz atp im p sure the whole point of what ur getting at is going over my head lmfao) BUT in terms of what u said u were getting at in ur poll (like if the writers were cognizant of it or if it’s more a display of their own internal biases? again im stupid and high sorry if im once again missing the point by a mile)… BUT

I don’t have any strong inclinations either way but if I had to choose I’d have to say it’s more their own internal/personal bias’s coming out rather than something they were expecting the audience to pick up on and maybe think about. And the only reason I say this is because the identities/status of the people she killed were never really explicitly stated (at least from what i can immediately recall of the episodes) or brought up again.

like it’s notttt rlly brought up throughout the episode aside from just learning that those people are dead and she killed them? like idk nothing about it rlly inclines me to believe it was anything more than subconscious or latent beliefs in the writers because I do think we were supposed to empathize with her so it does make sense in that sort of lens that the writers chose “criminals” or whatever to kinda “soften the blow”, if u will, of her having killed people?

idk. i wanna know what what u think tho!!! like in terms of the poll u posted what would ur answer be?

I have mixed feelings about it, because I think the previous associations the writers have made with Sam and class (as well as Dean and class—for example—in 2.20 "What Is And What Should Never Be") make it very possible it's intentional. Sam justifies Amy's actions partly based on class, and Dean condemns her actions partly for the same reason—that she doesn't get to kill people and get away with it just because they're beneath her on the social ladder. It seems so obvious that one wants to assume it's very intentionally and purposefully done.

At the same time, you are right that the presentation of the story—told through the mouth of a cop and a few newspaper clippings—is heavily biased against the victims. The cop says the third victim deserved it because he had been in and out of jail for petty offenses, and Sam calls him a "low life". You have to work very hard to capture the story of the second victim in the newspaper article. You really can't capture the story on those pages without really sitting down to read, paused on the correct frames. A prominent part of the article is focusing on the victim being a heroin addict who had relapsed and was high when he went to the park. He was vulnerable and "in the wrong place at the wrong time". What gets me the most though is the prominent headline for the first victim: "Body found in park, victim known to police". What a gross way to poison the well. The barely visible subheading reads: "Man had been arrested multiple times, had outstanding warrant". (Again—these multiple arrests indicate petty offenses rather than felonies—probably another addict). When Amy makes an attempt on another victim in the park (only to be stopped by Sam), the target is drunk and fumbling with his keys, trying to get into his locked car. So in every case, the presentation not just from Amy and Sam and the cop but the episode as a whole attempts to bias the audience against the victims, trying to paint them as people who shouldn't be missed, who deserved what they got, and/or whose vulnerability was to blame for what happened to them.

Amy seems to target people who are high or drunk in the park at night because they're vulnerable and alone. I think some fans jump to frame her choice of targets as vigilantism that helps assuage her guilt, but none of those people deserved to die—and it really isn't vigilantism—she's simply following her own mother's shrewd M.O.—you target people who are alone and whose situational awareness is impeded by substances and whose deaths the cops won't put much effort into investigating because they don't see them as victims.

I also think this episode tries very hard to paint Dean in a negative light even prior to him killing Amy. Bobby insists Dean's concern over Sam's well-being isn't warranted when it is perfectly warranted. (We've seen Bobby brush off Dean's reasonable concerns before in 6.06). Then Sam pops off, cutting Dean off to throw a bunch of nonsense in his mouth, and conflating himself with Amy in an absolutely ridiculous way. Dean's voice is suppressed (which is also imo—a prominent feature of the Dabb era in general later in the series). On top of that, this certainly isn't the only episode where Dabb and Loflin's most overt messages try to bias the audience against Dean.

#writer disk horse #dabb disk horse #7.03 #season 7 #pk rewatches spn number ?

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valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn · 1 year ago

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There's things I am understand from Tony Stans when they write 'Steve mistake ',

1. They will using reason Steven choose bucky over tony

2. Steve hide / lie the fact about tony parents death

3. Steven is not read accord and not make negotiations about accord

4. Steve recruit clint, sama and wanda and make them in raft. So it's steve mistake

From the four point the third point is bothering me. I am not gonna lie I kind forget the detail civil war but, steve did and the only one that read accord. Also if I am not wrong Ross didn't give chance go steve and everyone to negotiations about accord at all, I meant he said avenegrs onel have three days accept or retired. I menat what kind f&** is that. They have no time to negotiations about accord at all

And Tony said the can make negotiations after they sign the paper, that not how work. You can't make negotiations after to signed the papers, the UN won't considered that they want control, you signed you follow what is inside

So I think it's was weord they blame steve no want negotiations at all. Because there's no time for that, also Steven considered the accord if they for innocent protection and not for government to controlling innocent peoples. So why they keep point that?

I think they need to come up with excuses, half-truths and lies because no matter how hard the Russos tried to paint both teams as equally right, Team Cap is the only one in the right.

To your first point, Steve is against the Accords way before Bucky is even in the picture.

This is something that not only the haters but many fans seem to forget: Not everything Steve does has to do with Bucky. He has a separate life and a mind of his own, and those Accords go against everything that makes him who he is.

To your second point, Steve had no way of knowing Bucky had murdered the Starks. Zola said this:

Zola: "For 70 years, HYDRA has been secretly feeding crises, reaping war. And when history did not cooperate, history was changed." Natasha: "That's impossible. S.H.I.E.L.D. would've stopped you." Zola: "Accidents will happen."

And this was shown:

This required Steve to assume Bucky had been the only Winter Soldier at the hands of Hydra. He could have guessed but he didn't know for sure. And going to Stark to tell him "I found out your parents were murdered but I'm not sure of what happened", over 20 years after the fact is not exactly ideal. Not to mention Stark had hacked Shield's systems two years prior. He didn't exactly do a good job of digging there, and Steve and he weren't that close.

To your third point, whoever says that is lying. Steve is the only one shown reading the Accords:

My man has perfect memory. He knew very well those Accords were an abomination.

And to your last point, Sam, Clint and Wanda have agency and they knew what they were getting into before they went to the airport. Unlike Peter Parker who was lied to by Stark, Steve was very clear that he wanted his team to know who and why they were fighting, and the consequences of doing so. Even with a stranger like Scott:

They chose to follow Steve because they knew it was the right thing to do. Clint left his family, Wanda risked her life and her freedom, so did Scott, Bucky and Sam. All of them followed and did the right thing because they're heroes, it's what they do.

Ross knew very well what he was doing. As Secretary of State, not only did he keep the Accords under wraps until only three days before the UN meeting, he kept from the entire team that an Accord is not the same as a law and it was a constitutional violation to try and enforce it on the team and the citizens.

They had no time to negotiate. They would have needed to lawyer up and do everything in a short period of time: the meeting was in Vienna and they were in NYC, if you count the time it would have taken them to get there, the time they needed to find a lawyer they trusted to go through the whole thing and come up with a good enough case to stand up not only to the US Senate but the UN… yep, they had no time to do so. That was Ross' plan all along.

Stark telling Steve the Accords could be amended after he signed them was no more than an attempt at manipulation. There is something important to keep in mind here: Stark would NOT be affected by these Accords at all. As shown in the movie, he broke them when he flew to Siberia and nothing happened. Ross called him and he put him on hold, and nothing happened.

Stark is used to doing whatever the hell he wants (like basically telling the government to suck it when he refused to give them his suits. What happened to him? Nothing) and facing no consequences whatsoever. So in his mind, signing these papers means nothing, he can break them whenever he feels like it and he'll find a way to get away with it. For Steve and Wanda, the Accords were a direct violation of their civil rights. It's not the same.

Steve was never against accountability. The Accords were:

#team cap #steve rogers #anti tony stark #anti sokovia accords

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oh-no-its-bird · 20 days ago

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Send me a photo of your "I voted" sticker and I'll write 200-500 words for a prompt of your choosing!

@twhiddlestonmuses

yk what? go ahead and actually take the intro to a fic I started writing fucking forever ago but ended up abandoning. It's a bit of a heavier mdtb so I hope u werent hoping for fluff, whoops

It was no secret that Uchiha Madara and Senju Tobirama got along like a particularly territorial cat who'd been kicked one too many times and a rabid dog with violence on the mind and enough rabies packed in one bite to kill a man. Which is to say, very fucking badly. Alright, that wasn't quite true. They could be almost civil about their dislike for each other. Madara was honestly proud of how neatly he could tuck away his urge to launch himself across the table and wrap gloved hands around that damnable throat every time Tobirama gave one of his half scoffs— always so filled with sharp disapproval and thinly veiled disgust. Maybe seeing a bruise or two on that pale neck of his every time he looked in a mirror would remind Tobirama to keep his unwelcome words to his damn self. Madara would say that sharing an office space with him was almost an endless game of “who snaps first and starts the days first argument.” But if he did, he would probably have to admit that he may be losing that game. It really was hard to keep track. But really, how was Madara to blame, when Tobirama made the act of provoking him such an art? In this new era of peace, Madara had quickly found that the only way to make his blood sing like it once had on the now empty battlefields, was to get a reaction out of the Senju ghost. To make his face flush with anger, to see him grit his teeth as he stood up to shout, to see that damned icy mask of his splinter. Watch it crack in half to give way to the burning, all encompassing passion buried underneath all those layers of disdainful manners and passive aggressive comments. And Madara knew, he knew, that Tobirama’s blood must sing the same way as his own when they argued. Or why else would he keep coming back? Ignoring, of course, he didn't have much of a choice. After all, the village was a team effort. With Hashirama now dealing with the bulk of public politics, more behind the scenes work was left to the two of them. Which meant countless nights shared debating paperwork, up in arms and at eachothers throats over street placements and food stall permits. Tobirama couldn’t avoid Madara if he tried, and the knowledge weighed warm in his chest, knowing that to run away from him would mean to abandon his duties. And Senju Tobirama, horror that he is, was not one to shirk his duties. That, Madara knew intimately. He’d known it before, distant though the fact was. And he’d learned it, been reminded of it, over and over, day and night again with each passing week spent in painful collaboration. If only that duty of his could have been redirected, played against him perhaps. A dutiful man was a man prepared to give all too much of themselves away, under the right circumstances. And Senju Tobirama was a very, very dutiful man. A man as horribly loyal as Tobirama was a very valuable man to have in one’s pocket. What Madara wouldn’t give to have someone like the ghost at his own side. Someone willing to tear their own heart out, still beating, and place it at the feet of the one he was sworn to. Ah... and that would make for a very pretty picture too, wouldn't it? “What are you smiling at?” Scowled the man himself, squinting up at Madara suspiciously from a desk across the room. “Ah.” Madara hadn’t even realized his lips had begun to pull into a low smirk. He brushed his gloved hands against his mouth as if to banish it, and shook his head. “Nothing.” Tobirama's eyes narrowed further, obviously unbelieving, but he made no comment. Returning to his work in silence, and allowing Madara his peace.

Maybe I'll finish the fic one day, maybe not. The entire fic can basically be summarized as "genderbent au tbrm gets zapped into canon and Madara, who is deep in denial ab being attracted to Tobirama bc of period accurate internalized homophobia, maybe loses his mind a teeny bit as Tobirama suddenly becomes someone he is ""allowed"" to be attracted to (doubly so bc he views it as "giving him the disrespect he is owed"), and proceeds to be a bit of a fucking freak about it all" Canon compliant, very messy and complicated mdtb, which I always love to see

Thank you for your vote!

#birds writing #birds writing snippets #mdtb #tbmd #madatobi #tobimada #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #naruto #tobirama senju #senju tobirma #us election #us elections #naruto founders #birds fic talk

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monbebe-monstax · 4 months ago

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I'm tb but seeing tg stans blame aemond for everything that's happening amongst tg is crazy

He had multiple reasons to do what he did to aegon he should've done that shit sooner preferably in the damn brothel

Yall are mad that he called alicent by her name and not "mother" as he should, alicent still trying to strike up a conversation with the enemy in time of war and is still trying to find excuses for it ( they killed her son why would they want to talk alicent) he feels like shes choosing them over her own children and yall are mad cause he took her from off the small council, AS HE SHOULD!!!! The only reason they took rhaenyra throne from her was because she was a woman what purpose does alicent serve on the council???

He ain't do shit to Helena idk why yall are trying to make it look like he wronged her

Criston...... I think he just scared of aemond, that's what it look like to me after rooks rest imo, maybe it's shock idk I would be scared too

yall keep on trying to make it seem like aegon been the best big brother to aemond, like he ain't bully him his whole life, he ain't take him to that brothel to be raped when he turned 13, or like he ain't sit there and humiliated that damn man..... and yall are trying to use the excuse " b-but aegon called him a loyal hound" where in the fuck does being compared to a damn dog is a compliment???

Yall can sit there and hate all u want but the only person on ur team with any actual good war plans is aemond (he ain't even been to war before so yall really ain't got no choice) not criston not those other lords sitting at the small council but aemond.... the rapist yall keep trying to defend is a drunk crybaby ass fucking idiot u should be thanking aemond instead of trying to spew out as the villian ( he is but he isn't the only one)

#hotd #house of the dragon #team black #team green #anti team green #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #anti aegon ii targaryen #anti aegon ii stans #pro team black #pro aemond targaryen

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healer-pop · 7 months ago

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U know what I been thinking abt.....an aphrodisiac fic. I've got it all written out in my head, reader and Sloane are out camping. They are having a good day, set up camp and while gathering wood reader gets poofed in the face by a flower (sporess ooo). Sloane laughs their ass off, and reader is a little peeved getting spores all over themself.

Fast forward, dinner is being cooked and reader starts to feel weird. Hot, high, and really bothered!! They go into the tent to hide, and Sloane knocks on it saying dinners ready. Reader never comes out tho and Sloane goes in to see them sweating, hot and almost sick looking. Sloane tries to tend to them, a wet rag and asking what's wrong are they sick?? The second Sloane touches reader tho...they mewl. Almost a whine that creeps out of the back of their throat. Super sexy sounding. Sloane chooses to ignore it because they think reader is sick... it's just them being sick.. yes obviously.

Maybe Sloane helps them sit up to drink some water and the touch has reader grasping onto their leg HARD. Readers panting like a dog and got them bedroom eyes...

Was toying with the idea of Sloane and reader being best friends everrr with some huge unresolved romantic feelings. This is just the dam that breaks it all open. Obv all consent is given and gotten, and I think it was actually well talked out. Reader reassures Sloane they've wanted this for so long, but if they said no that they could forget it ever happened. I'm crazy insane I'm shaking the bars of my cage.

Googling, “can I sue the anon that wrote the hottest, absolutely most well thought out, mentally damaging fic in my inbox for emotional reparation?”

LIKE HOW DO U DROP THIS AND NOT EXPECT ME TO FROTH AT THE MOUTH???? Anon, I don’t know how you knew that sex pollen fics have always been my favorite but I do blame you for the fact that this kept me up last night!!!! mainly because this is so spot on and also why I don’t really get together fix with Venture, especially with my flowery writing, lengthy ass. That shit would be like 20K before you guys even touched. To me, Sloane is not the one to make a first move. And if you aren’t either, it’s just never gonna happen. Once you’ve actually gotten established, they’re super touchy and able to respect your boundaries, but before? They are wayyyyy too nervous, their biggest one being that they’re just overthinking your interactions with them and they don’t want to mess anything up. Unless you directly say, “I like you and want to date you,” it’s gonna go over their head.

And that would work perfectly for this fic, it would be such a desperate, hot sloppy mess for the both of you: With Sloane, trying to preserve your friendship and not mess this up despite their desire for you, how much this is actually you and how much of this is just the pollen and desperation. And you pleading with them, trying to get across that no, you have wanted this for so damn long and it sucks that it took some stupid horny flower to make you say it, but please, for the love of AURORA, Sloane, TOUCH ME. God I could imagine how red their face would be. They would keep checking in with you to make sure they’re doing it right for you, whether they’re sliding their fingers in your cunt or sucking on your tits!!! You’re almost tempted to go and grab that damn flower and shove it in their face so they can loosen up, but… the way they take care of you, trying every single position to quell your burning arousal…. so loving and tender… it’s honestly what you crave more. They have you on your knees, thrusting back onto their fingers as they encourage you, their beaded bracelets click with every motion, their hand on the small of your back, kneading your ass. On their sleeping bag, legs wrapped around their shoulders, eating you out like you’re as yummy as those s’mores they had earlier, telling you to wet their sleeping bag, they’ll just cuddle naked with you in yours while you put that one out to dry. And yes…. you CAN fall asleep with their strap in you, if it feels good. You can wake up at any time and fuck yourself on it. Sloane will be awake in an instant, helping you roll your hips back, digging into them because god, this has only been a dream. Feeling your flesh in their hands, being able to touch and hold and clench. Might keep a mental track of how many times you’ve cum. You know. For posterity.

And after you’ve been fucked through it? When you wake up with the worst bed head you’ve ever had, covered in sweat and bruises, naked and pressed against Sloane in your sleeping bag? Sloane will kiss your lips shut, guide you back down, and show you the most loving, intimate sex, you’ve ever had. You’ll feel like you have never connected with a partner more than you have right now. Whispers of love from Sloane, complementing how pretty you are, how perfect, how you were made for them, how good you are to them, how they want to see you every day of their life. Completely overwhelming, yet so needed, especially how you were held so helpless to your own lust. They make sure you know that they aren’t leaving. They’ll be here by your side through anything.

#𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ messages from the red string of fate #WAHHHHHH HOW DID THIS GET SO LONGGGGG #🌸 my aphrodite anon

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mxmarsbars · 14 days ago

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i need specific songs on when the pawn and who they relate to on the life series immediately.

THIS IS MY TIME \^u^/

spoiler alert. most of them link back to either traffic!impulse/clock duo or traffic!pearl (and sometimes traffic!tango) because i’m crazy and am mentally ill about them specifically >_< sorry

this is also all just my interpretations and if you want to see if these songs are applicable to your favorite characters, LISTEN TO THE ALBUM. IT’S SO GOOD.

ANYWAYS here’s my list. explanations below the cut.

on the bound: impulse (clock duo?)

to your love: impulse (clock duo)

limp: impulse (clock duo), tango (tangdubs), pearl (her + scott/divorce quartet)

love ridden: impulse (clock duo)

paper bag: impulse (clock duo), pearl (her + scott)

a mistake: impulse, pearl, tango

fast as you can: pearl (her + scott/divorce quartet)

the way things are: impulse (clock duo), pearl (her + scott/divorce quartet)

get gone: impulse (clock duo)

i know: impulse (clock duo)

on the bound:

this one specifically reminds me of 3l and dl impulse kind of centering around him putting so much faith into certain things, bdubs specifically. these decisions have never ended well for him and often get him into even deeper trouble, but he still thinks it’ll do him some good. even if something inside of him is smart enough to know it won’t.

to your love:

very liml clock duo to me. impulse just trying so hard to move on and distance himself from bdubs but seeming to still have that soft spot for him. he tries to hold his ground, stick to the promises he’s made to himself, but bdubs always seems to make him break. think back to the clock giving scene that season, how impulse crumbles and shuts up when bdubs refuses to listen to him but is still so sweet to him. bdubs never takes him seriously and it makes cutting things off so hard. even with the distance and resistance, impulse folds.

limp:

what is something impulse, tango, and pearl all have in common? the people who have hurt them just seem to refuse to take accountability! ever! hell, they even egg them on just to get a rise out of them and to vilify them later.

bdubs is the common perpetrator for two of those three. impulse and tango never wronged bdubs, and yet he betrayed them mercilessly anyway. and then he tries to paint himself as a hero and saint later, deny his sins to their faces, laugh at them. he fondles their trigger and blames their gun. gives them a reason to get revenge and gets mad when they do it.

very similar with dl pearl, it’s kind of self explanatory. even if she wasn’t perfect, she’s never given any closure and her life is actively made worse by those just as bad as her. they claim to be above her, to have some moral high ground, even when they abandoned her just like they accused her of doing. and they never fail to hold it above her head.

love ridden:

more clock duo, just following their relationship as it slowly but surely falls apart. they just don’t work, no matter how hard they try to push down the problems and start over. they have such a beautiful relationship arc to me, and this song specifically reminds me of how liml serves as their breakup. impulse finally puts his foot down and realizes he can’t put up with bdubs anymore. he’s not his soulmate or husband anymore. he’s just bdubs. and that’s okay. they’ll both move on one day.

paper bag:

oh, the pain of wanting someone so badly but knowing you can’t because they only hurt you. even attempting to make things work is futile. all hope is done in vain. so maybe it’s better to not hope at all.

which is why i think it fits liml clock duo very well (the first verse being the disappointment impulse felt during either his 3l or dl death, you choose). impulse, despite everything, is desperate to make something work. and he tries, but bdubs just refuses to do the same. impulse and his trauma is the mess he doesn’t want to clean up. and every time he tries to get closure, to talk to bdubs about how he feels, it’s shut down. bdubs just doesn’t seem to understand and can’t take him seriously. impulse thought he was a man, but he was just a little boy. so he turns to starving, to distancing himself, to abandoning that hope. it hurts, but it works.

and dl pearl! funny coincidence that the song references a star and scott is associated with those. she’s still lingering on the good things they had in last life and has that hope that it might be the same this time around, but it isn’t. scott hates her, and y’know what? she hates him, too. because she has to. he denies her feelings and calls her crazy, how can she not hate him? she’s forced to distance herself for her own sake and his by extension. she’s the mess he doesn’t want to clean up. that he doesn’t want to face and accept. it’s killing them both, but if starving is what it takes to survive, she’ll do it. she has to. he left her no choice.

a mistake:

i love when normally relatively level headed and smart characters go batshit. that should happen a lot more often. please.

this song has and continues to remind me so much of traffic!impulse, specifically his ll, liml, and wl variants. he’s forced to be responsible and mature and good all the time, it’s exhausting. so when he starts going array, he can’t stop himself. it feels so good letting lose, dabbling in the chaos, letting that imperfection shine through. impulse is a kind person at heart, of course, but he’s just so tired. why does he have to always be the bigger person? why can’t he just make a mistake? and he will always be vilified for this, which is all the more encouragement. if they’re going to treat him like the bad guy, he might as well give them a reason.

this song reminds me of pearl (dl + wl) and tango (liml + wl) for very similar reasons. they are so often made out to be a bad person whenever they act out of line, even if that out of line is just acting like everybody else or having a valid reaction to being wronged or hurt. a person can only take so much demonization before they crack and be the villain they’re painted as. what’s the point in being good if nobody even cares?

fast as you can:

dl pearl time! she cannot catch a break and neither can her soulmate and the rest of the quartet (and anybody else caught in the crossfire). she is crazy and she is messy and she is ruthless. it’s all she’s allowed to be given her circumstances. and towards the end, when she has to band together with those people who drove her to that state, it’s hard. she can’t just forgive them for all they put her through, but she won’t deny that it’s nice having a place in the group. being taken care of. having someone sacrifice themself for you. but the fight is never over. she’ll always be choking on “why”s.

it also kind of reminds me of clock duo and tangdubs, but that’s just me being crazy. i don’t think it warrants an in-depth explanation.

the way things are:

imagining being stuck with someone who’s hurt you so badly, having to stomach being by their side because you can’t escape them. that could ABSOLUTELY be impulse and pearl.

honestly for clock duo, it reminds me more of liml than dl, despite the soulbound. but there’s definitely still some footing in the latter. impulse is still linked to bdubs, even if the soulbound is broken. and it’s hard being apart the next season, but it’s for the best, impulse knows that. he hopes that eventually all the pain and suffering will be worth it. that he’ll be able to move on. and y’know what? he does. he’s forced to bear every dismissed concern and unreasonable excuse and betrayal, and it hurts, but he moves on.

very similar for dl pearl, especially at the end of the season. she ends up teaming with the people she hates the most because she kind of has to. she knows it’s her best bet, even if it’s nauseating. and it’s hard, fighting on their behalf, by their side. but she manages. even with all the name calling and victim blaming and fighting, she moves on as well. maybe not entirely, but enough to get her through the season and the ones to follow.

get gone:

this is one of THE liml clock duo breakup anthems to me. impulse just wants bdubs gone. he’s put up with his shit for too long, and he can’t do it anymore, and he’s completely in the right for that. because he tried. he tried to make things work and talk about their issues and come back stronger, but bdubs just won’t listen. and impulse is tired of waiting for him to. he’s tired of sitting around, hoping bdubs will care, praying he’ll change. impulse knows now what is good for him, and it’s not bdubs. and he can only take so much of that man before he just can’t anymore. before that price needs to be paid. before he makes sure bdubs finally pays it.

i know:

clock duo are never beating the dysfunctional and miscommunication allegations. impulse knows what bdubs did. bdubs knows what he did, too. he just won’t admit it. and for a long while, impulse is able to handle that, even if it aches. he lets bdubs ignore their past, ignore all the mistakes he’s made, all of what he’s ruined. but eventually impulse realizes he can’t let him bury it any longer. it’s not helping either of them. he’ll be there if bdubs does confess, but if he doesn’t, that’s whatever. impulse will be gone by then. hopefully.

#the box #mars rambles #i don’t even know how to tag this #sorry this took so long anon #i was putting it off until i felt better so i could explain it somewhat coherently #and these blurbs don’t even do my thoughts justice #but i hope they still make some sense #i drew traffic!impulse as the when the pawn album cover for a reason #trafficshipping #even if not all of the songs and my interpretations are shippy #clock duo #impdubs #tangdubs #do scott and pearl have a duo name #galaxy duo #i think that’s it if it’s not i’m sorry #divorce quartet #trafficblr

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