#but I've been drawing it the same way for like almost a year now so I wanted to shake it up a bit<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[ask-trashhunter]

Ok folks!!! OOC post!! I have 16 Trash Hunter designs now, which means I should be able to run a bracket tournament that lines up pretty neatly! :D

First though I wanna introduce you to all the designs I've done so far!!

All of these have a unique name for voting purposes, but don't worry about remembering them all I'll show pictures of them every time!

Human Hunter 1

Starting off simple, this is Human Hunter 1! The OG, the classic, my pfp! Honestly I kinda rushed this design bc I made this blog on a whim, so I had to make the design super quick! I spent like a little over an hour on this, and I had only really spent 15 extra minutes beforehand thinking about their design, so that's around 1 and a half hour total...... Idk how long I spent on the others. Anyway, basically their top half is pretty human looking, EVERYTHING about them is as green as I managed to get it (green is Their Color to me) and then their bottom half is basically meant to just be a trashy sludge that sort of melts and merges with their landfill. It's hard to tell where the landfill starts and where Trash Hunter ends. Oh yeah- and I have like 3 drawings of them in this style, their skin tone varies a LOT between each drawing lol. um. you haven't seen. the third one btw haha. it's totally not of me and trash hunter holding hands why would you even say that

Human Hunter 2

Alright, this is my second "human" Trash Hunter design. I wasn't quite happy with my first one, so I wanted to change it to something more like this. However!! I never actually got to finish my design until I watched something that changed the way I thought forever. I finished this drawing just this monday actually, because I'd forgotten I had no finished drawing of Human Hunter 2. I want you to remember that giant grapply arm they have and those spider legs. Also, you'll notice there's a line next to them, and it says "Cop" under. That's how tall Copper would be (per my headcanons) next to the various Trash Hunter designs. They really vary in size. For reference, I headcanon Copper as 152 cm, or 5 feet. I'll add a size chart in at the end- they won't be 100% accurate to the pictures but it'll be in the same area at least.

Trashbag Hunter

Ok this. This is where my life changed. I watched the hodgepodge audio new year's patreon video and got friggen mentioned. Hi Raddagher if you're seeing this I'm still not normal about Trash Hunter. I started feeling a bit insecure about my designs like I'd been boring about them so I was trying to redeem myself. When I started imagining Trash Hunter as a fucking trash bag with grillspyd- er- collapsible grilling skewer thingies- for legs. And holy FUCK I could not get the image out of my head it's hillarious and adorable. Relisten to the episode and imagine Trash Hunter like this TRUST ME /nf

Either way, this is where I started to expand my horizons. The trash bag and the grillspyd are sort of reocurring atp. Also this was my Discord pfp for a while, now I've changed it. Might change it back eventually honestly? I don't do that. I don't repeat profile pictures ever. Ok I might have done that at some point. But for now my pfp stays the same. This is my PFP over on bluesky though!

Anyway this is the cutest shit I've ever imagined- the drawings that follow are mostly random doodles I've made at D&D or during class. BUT FIRST!!!

Pony Hunter

Ok so I play ponytown. I played a bit ages ago and then I almost forgot it existed, then my friendo kept showing off what they were doing on there and I'd seen a few vids on it recently and long story short I've made 16.5 new ponies on there and most of them are Hodgepodge Audio themed. Ponytown Pony Hunter doesn't usually wear that turtle but in this screenshot they do. The drawn version shows a bit more how I actually view them though. Oh and that IS a croissant behind their ear, thanks for asking!! (I've been waiting to say that for months, I'm overjoyed now)

Their tail is a compact mirror btw! And that tarp they have in game, those are actually wings, teehee! Oh and I forgot to say why they have croissants behind their ears- basically I was looking at the horns and realized one set of horns was kinda curvy in a croissant-y way. So I was like eh, heck it. Croissants.

Seagle Hunter

This is where the chaos started. I was at DND, and we were on a quest to help a god. We met a seagull who was definitely not a fucking seagull. I ended up getting downed and when we were like what, 5 hp away from killing whatever creature was wrecking our shit, our 2 remaining teammates fucking left us. My character Thomoras only survived because one of our teammates asked the seagull to intervene, and the seagull fucking killed the creature. Thank you, seagull. I called you Karl but I never got your real name. I'm sure you wouldn't have answered if I asked. Anyway!! All that talk about seagulls that session got me thinking "Seagull. Trash Hunter. Trash Hunter seagull." this is an accurate depiction of how I think Always. So yeah I drew them as a seagle (<- that's how I prefer writing seagull) and I was like hell yes let's draw them as more silly things because I focus better when I draw!

So I started asking people for ideas.

Goblet Hunter

And this is officially were I lost it I think. I mean, I learned to disregard canon with this. I have a few different Little Guys as I call them, and they're definitely not canon at all, BUT THEY'RE SO CUUUUTE HELLO!!! 😭😭 I asked my DND buddy to give me a random item and so I drewed this bc they said goblet....... I fucking love these so much honestly

Soup Hunter

I love soup. What more is there to say? They call me the soup enjoyer. I switch in whenever we're about to have soup. I soup my faves. I spam the soup emoji (🥣) when I get too excited for words. It had to be done! It just had to! If you want you can imagine the soup is garbage soup. Or you know those witch potions a lot of people made as a child? Using acorns and grass and flowers and whatever you could find? Could be that too. Or maybe it's brogle soup becos it's my fave and they are my fave :)

Perfectly Generic Object Hunter / PGO Hunter

It had to come eventually. The Homestuck reference. My friend said for me to make them cube and I was like "I heard Homestuck, yes? Homestuck it is."

So yeha they're a green cube now :3

Egg Hunter

They're an egg now. They're just a huge fucking egg and they roll around. They just roll around.

I'm not allowed to add more images hold your horses for the reblog, I'll get image IDs done before I post this though so next reblog should be up in not all that long

[chipistrate]

No finished art today but here's a wip Just redrawing my PFP and messing with how I draw Gregory's hair ^^

high res version of my pfp below comparison

[prael]

Perks

Kinktember Day 10: Mirror

Twice Mina x male reader smut

words: 4,108 Kinktember Masterlist

Do you ever look in the mirror and see someone who isn't you?

It was a simple question—if a rather loaded one.

"No," said Mina. "No, I don't think so. Not in a bad way, but maybe in disbelief of who I've become. Sometimes I expect to see the same person I was almost ten years ago. A simpler me. Maybe a more nervous and afraid version of me. That sort of thing."

"My therapist told me that was imposter syndrome," you said. "It's common, but it's pretty fucked up, the way we act like we're lying to ourselves."

"Have you thought of seeing her again?" Mina asked.

"God, that'd be awkward, don't you think?" you responded.

Mina paused, holding a glass midway to her mouth as if thinking, 'Between you and her or you and me?' Then she seemed to decide and smiled to herself, "Right."

Mina never erred into the intrusive or tactless. It's why you never have the impression that she is nosing around your life, because she gives you all the leeway to share only what you wish to share. And maybe that's why the both of you have lasted this long; in this arrangement, you found this unique level of trust, and you dare say it makes you damn good together.

"Our friend over there at the end of the bar looks like he can't take his eyes off you," you told her without looking up from your drink, not to draw attention. Mina chanced a discreet glance from the corner of her eye.

She quirked an eyebrow at you, "So? Feel threatened?"

You laughed into your drink before taking a mouthful of it, and then you told her, "I was about to get up, but you know that as soon as I do, he's going to come over."

"Of course, he will," Mina grinned into her own glass, then tipped her chin back to get at the last of it. "You go ahead to the room, I'll let him down gently." She patted at the front of your suit coat, above your breast pocket. It was a playful gesture. She had barely touched you all night until then.

"Early morning tomorrow, Mina, don't waste too much time now."

Mina smiled her "oh-shut-the-fuck-up" smile, before tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear and running her fingers through the thick long black strands. You smiled to yourself and signalled to the bartender.

It's been a long day, and tomorrow will be longer still. Hotel bars had become a sort of ritual for you and Mina, you share a drink the day before you close a deal, half in premature celebration and half as a good luck charm.

And the thing is, Mina is a flirt. Through and through. Charm and wit. It works on clients, and it's an asset. The only problem is, it worked on you. It wasn't difficult to recognise your attraction for what it was, and she obviously took notice of it too. And you, well...

You're a professional, so you would never, ever let yourself act on it. This is why you returned to your room, alone, and why ten minutes later you heard the door open to her (conveniently joined) room. You're professionals, if you're going to fuck, at least you try to hide it.

The adjoining door opens. Oops, did you leave that unlocked? How silly of you.

"Sorry about the wait. Didn't want to seem rude, you know." She leans against the doorframe.

"How long after I left?"

"Barely a minute, he did the whole 'You-look-familiar' bit, so I humoured him..." Mina cocks a smile of arrogance. "For a minute. Before, you know... Letting him down gently."

"Did he go quietly, then?"

"He tried to ask me if I was sure I wanted to be alone." She shakes her head slowly as she saunters forward. "I was sure. Sure about coming up here and riding you senseless. Didn't tell him that, of course, just up and left. Anyway, for tomorrow, I was thinking—"

"Let's rewind to that part about riding me senseless, shall we?"

A playful smile takes to the corners of her mouth. "Let's."

You climb up from the bed, your shirt hangs loosely from your body, no tie at the neck and untucked from your trousers. "So, would you say it's going to be more of a—"

"If you are going to finish that with some terrible sex metaphor, I will kick your ass so hard." She kicks off her heels at the door. That long black dress she wore earlier is long gone, replaced by the lightest of sheer black chemises and a pair of little lacy black underwear.

"Kick my ass," you tell her, placing a hand on each of her hips. "Sure."

"Be quiet." She whispers it before she kisses you, deeply and softly. The sort of kiss that makes you forget yourself. Your arms circle her waist, and her arms rest on your shoulders. You savour it, the smell of her perfume, the taste of her tongue, the feeling of her hands trailing across the skin at the nape of your neck.

But in due time, that kiss breaks apart. Her hand trails down the front of your dress shirt, button by button, she has undressed you so many times now that the motion seems so familiar, and practised, but she still takes her time in doing it, as though with every undone button her anticipation is built upon.

You place your hand against the curve of her hip, thumbing gently, with feather-light touches along the black fabric, her small waist and wide hips, firm and round and so shapely in just her lingerie—your hands could have found no better resting place.

As you slip out of your shirt, Mina slips the delicate straps off her shoulders and the skimpy piece falls away from her body like petals around her feet. Mina is bare for you, save for her panties. Her tits might not be as big as her ass but your mouth still waters at the sight of them.

"Look at me." You love it when Mina demands that, love how she smiles with smug confidence when you have nothing to do but oblige her. Mina turns herself around, and your hands slide down, down the generous arch of her back and cups around her round, firm ass.

"Oh, come now," you can't help but tease her, "How very complacent of you, to think my eyes would look at nothing else but you. You know that I am a man of refined culture." You knead at the ample flesh in each palm, so soft. "I am very clearly an admirer of the finer things in life."

"How very romantic," she laughs, sliding down her underwear with a shimmy of her hips before placing her palms flat against the wall. "Go on then. Enjoy the art, like the cultured man you are."

There is something intoxicating about watching her there, propped against the wall, naked for you, your cock uncomfortable in your trousers. You unbuckle the clasp of the belt, then, in the pause, you approach, letting a single finger trace up the arch of her spine, leaning closer to her neck to whisper, "Not right here. Look over there, the mirror."

A floor-to-ceiling mirror, to be specific. She smiles a devilish little smirk. "And what of it?"

"Mina," you tell her, pressing the front of your trousers against the curves of her body, against the supple flesh of her ass. "I want to see all of you when we fuck. Every beautiful detail."

Mina purred, content. "Spoken like a poet..."

You land a solid and deliberate smack against that big ass of hers, and she lets out a groan. "Don't let it go to your head."

Mina let out an effectual moan, knowing fully how it tempts you. You roughly press your body against hers as she does it. Hooking both your arms around her naked form, you pull her to where you want her, right over to the mirror.

"That's it, take me like you want to." She presses her hand flat against the mirror, pushing back those delicious curves against your body once more. You force down your slacks and underwear until the cool air envelops you, at least until you push against her body once more. You cup both your hands at her full ass, slipping your stiffness between the cheeks and rocking back and forth. Mina is biting her bottom lip as she looks back at you in the mirror, and you look at nothing else but her deep dark eyes, her face framed by that long, dark, glorious hair.

"Your ass. This. This beautiful, beautiful thing of yours, drives men wild, drives me wild," you breathe out as she rocks herself back into your groping hands and your hard cock grinds between her cheeks, slow and methodic. "Drives me a little bit insane."

She deepens her bend, lowering her shoulders level to her ass, and her face presses against the glass. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip again, peering over her shoulder, a shameless erotic, willing for you to take her in the most raw and depraved way. You can't deny the effect it has on you, and it has you raising your right arm, palm poised to land another satisfying spanking to her ass.

The crack rings out through the room, and she lets out a soft, sweet little, "Oh!"

You wrap a hand around her, over her stomach and down between her legs, reaching for her sweet, slick cunt, and find her soaked, wet with arousal. Wet for you.

"Fuck, you're so horny," you utter hoarsely. You drag your fingers through her juices as you drive your stiff cock over her tight asshole, so much teasing, maybe too much, perhaps too tortuous. You groan into the shell of her ear. "You get so wet for me. So wet. You need it so badly."

She moans, grinding back against you and circling her hips as if it could ease her pain. Half teasing, half goading, she says, "Maybe you should stop fucking playing around and do something about it."

She hisses when you drive your two slick fingers inside her without warning, pushing deeper in one smooth motion, as you mutter into the crook of her neck, "Impatient, aren't we, Mina?"

"Just fuck me."

In response, you slowly withdraw your fingers. She gasps against the mirror, the palm of her hand curling flat into a fist. Her words get you harder as she tries to wiggle her ass and spread herself, desperately trying to draw your dick to the slick pink centre of her sex for you. She doesn't care anymore what this does to your discipline, doesn't care at the prospect of you breaking, turning this into a savage, ravaging of her body; what matters only, at this very instant, is that she gets filled and fucked, fast and hard.

Finally, you give her that. Draw your cock out from between her cheeks, sliding the tip down between her legs, feeling the moisture that glistens on the swollen lips. You don't bother to strap up, or even ask, it's long since established that raw is how she likes it.

Slowly, you push forward. Mina sucks in a breath through her teeth. You know by the arch in the small of her back, the little trembles, that it is taking all her concentration and willpower not to throw her hips back, to force you to the hilt.

You bite the edge of her shoulder, and a shiver travels down Mina's entire body. You pull out, a little, before driving forward a little further.

"You feel..." you groan, your cock feeling like it was engulfed by satin. You sink a little further. "Fuck."

"Mhm, go on," her eyelashes flutter as you begin to take her, in this raw, animalistic way. "Tell me how it feels."

"Every time is like the first time," you continue, sliding in slow, then deeper, bit by bit, until you're all the way in and her big, round ass is pressing hard against your abdomen and her thick thighs against your legs. "You feel warm and slick and tight and wet, and oh, God..."

A sudden thrust forward as her greedy cunt squeezes the length of your shaft. A delicious whimper that sends blood to your head. A long, shaky groan slips from the both of your lips. You buck hard into her ass and watch as it ripples at the contact. "Ah! There, yes. Fuck," Mina moans.

There are two of her, perfect reflections, two Minas taking a rough pounding from behind. Each little expression on her face, each beautiful feature is visible in the reflection. And behind that her body ripples just like the one below you, and she whimpers, helpless as you penetrate her over and over.

"F-faster." She whines. "Harder. God, fuck, fuck me harder."

Mina has always liked it a little on the rough side, so you grab a handful of her hair, ball it in your fist, and pull. "Tell me, how does it feel?" You rear her head back so she has to look at herself in the reflection and tell it to herself. You pick up the pace, beginning to relentlessly pummel her from behind as you bury yourself into her tight heat as deep and hard as you can.

"So... Ah! So good." You yank her hair again, making her ass tense, making her gasp. She pants hard, short and fast as the force and strength of each thrust get stronger. "I love it when you... fuck me like this." Her chest begins to heave up and down. She raises her ass even higher for you. "When you—God, ah! Ah!—make me want to scream..."

You feel that incredible warmth building and swelling in your abdomen as her sex drips around your shaft, and it is so hard to slow yourself down when her ass slaps against you in perfect sync with your every motion, when Mina's knees shake, when her desperate moans urge you to never, ever stop. Still, you would like to do a little something before she orgasms all over your cock.

You roughly jerk out of Mina, pulling away abruptly with no warning.

"No, no! Don't stop!" She cries out immediately, her greedy body already missing yours. The flush at her neck spreading, blossoming down—her shoulders pink. "No!" She whimpers as she tries to throw her pussy back against you.

She cries out so pathetically that she doesn't protest when you roughly turn her around and lift her by her thighs, allowing her to wrap her legs around your hips and sink her to the hilt onto you. You sink her down and up and down again and again, bouncing her on and off of your aching cock in front of the mirror, gritting your teeth to keep yourself from finishing the moment her tightness wraps and flexes around you.

"I'm gonna cum so hard, I swear, I can feel it," she gasps in time with your rough pounding, arms holding onto your neck tightly, fingernails digging into your shoulders. "So close, don't you dare stop."

The harder and faster you go, the louder and harder she screams, eyes rolling back and mouth falling open. She digs her heels into your back, pushing down against you so there's nothing left for either of you but pleasure. You pound hard and heavy into her, chasing her orgasm, and when that perfect heat grips all around you and consumes you entirely, there is nothing in the entire world that compares to it—to this. The thought that very soon you will be cumming inside Myoui Mina.

It is that pure bliss, that power and sense of total control, of giving her such pleasure that you're left moaning along with her, revelling in this wonderful mess. Your bodies are sticky and tangled and you just start to let it go. Filling her pretty cunt as you have so many times before.

You grit your teeth and struggle through the overstimulation, taking satisfaction in how the trembling in her legs persists, her breathing ragged and body shaking. Doing your best to fuck your load into her—she's just so into that sort of thing—you don't think that there's anything, truly, that is better than this.

Not when Mina whimpers as she weakly presses her nails into the skin of your shoulders and when she knows not how to stop trembling. Your limits are worth pushing for a woman like her.

But even then, limits are ultimately undeniable. Her full weight in your arms, your knees weak, your legs tire beneath you and finally, as you plant a series of gentle kisses along her neck and shoulder, her mouth gasping, her nose against your cheek, you give in and fall to your knees. Mina's back leaves a mark of where it was once imprinted against the glass.

"So..." she laughs breathlessly into your ear as you sit with her on you. "Do you think management has any idea how often we fuck during these trips?"

"I imagine that if they found out it would be both of our jobs on the line." You hold a hand on her lower back, keeping her upright and then place your mouth on one of her breasts. Her nipple is firm, you suck on it and run your teeth over its delicate surface. Mina keens with her mouth falling open and her lashes fluttering, a small quiet "ah" escaping from the back of her throat.

"Guess we better stop," she jokes, breathing out in a chuckle and gently, pushing your forehead away from her chest.

You chuckle dryly into her neck, wrapping both arms fully around her naked body to pull her closer. "Something tells me you won't really be able to help yourself."

"Punishingly handsome, smart, a sense of humour—" She reaches down to where your half-soft cock is planted within her cunt. "—Great cock, excellent fuck" As though it were some sort of sales pitch. "No. No, I can't help myself."

"Is this about next week?" you ask.

"They never split us up, we're a team, so why would they send you with her instead?" Mina rocks her hips slowly on your lap. You groan into the crook of her neck.

"It's a one-off, Mina. In two weeks we'll be travelling together again." You wrap your arms around her soft, warm skin and run them down her back. "Another hotel, another set of adjoining rooms."

"Yeah," she sighs as she lazily continues her grinding. "Or, we could... See each other outside of work, you know. Like normal people do."

"We're far from normal, Mina." You let out a soft sigh as you start to harden inside her again. You pull at the small of her back, urging her on. "We're having our fun, right? It works. What reason is there to rock the boat?"

Her arms move up your chest and onto your shoulders. With that same teasing voice of hers, "There's always room for more fun. More sex." Mina pushes hard on your shoulders, and you fall back into the soft carpet. Mina is above you—over you—all-powerful beauty and you want nothing more than to grab her hips and drive up, and into her. Her hair falls over her shoulders and down her arms. Her pert little tits beg to be held. Her face, with flawless skin and those few prominent freckles, is decorated with a filthy smile.

"Two weeks, Mina, two weeks and we'll be back to doing this." You caress the silky soft curves of her sides. "Two more weeks, and then it's a real long trip. Just me and you."

She's visibly more excited, and she rides you harder now than just a gentle grinding and you hear the little wet sounds of your cock plunging into her cum-filled pussy over and over again. Her breasts bounce beautifully, and finally, you do cup one in a hand. A playful glimmer dances in her eyes, along with the lust haze. Mina's wet thighs slap against your hips, the sounds are vulgar in the best way.

"I'm going to fuck you every single morning and night for the whole trip," you tell her, and her grin widens. "Then you won't want for a thing."

Your words only seem to encourage her more, to fuck you harder and harder. She's riding your cock wildly but never has her eyes left yours. She fucks like she does everything else; with every fibre of her being, her passion is unbridled and intense. And oh, when she whimpers, it makes a hot current run straight to the end of your spine, it gets the heat in your head pulsating. That's just what Mina does to you.

"Two weeks without me. You're going to be so frustrated, Mina, so needy. You're gonna make me a promise."

"Mhm?" she gasps.

"You're going to wait for me," you say. "After tonight, for whole two weeks, no cumming."

"No," she says through clenched teeth. "Absolutely not."

"Yes, Mina, absolutely."

You clasp your hands on her hips, slowing down her speed. "Promise me."

She almost struggles to find her voice. "No way. I can't!" Her hips fight against your hold, she fights to drag her cunt over your cock and just feel the pleasure you're denying her. Mina grits her teeth, and the pain is evident on her face. "Okay! Just please fuck me now." She twists her body, trying to release from your hold.

"Promise."

"I promise. I promise. I promise!" Mina squeals, nearly shrieking as you soften your grip and thrust up into her quivering, wet heat. You let her fuck you again and she picks up right where she left off—frantic and wild. She leans in to kiss you deeply, and a little whimper spills from the corner of her lips. "Fuck. Cum inside me again."

The eagerness with which Mina rises and falls on your cock, her pussy taking in all of you, demands only one thing. Cum—the mess of you both—spilling over and running out, all over you and the floor and ruining the hotel's carpet.

"Yes," her voice cracks, high and soft, "Oh fuck. Fuck. God, I'm gonna cum."

It's good, your hands gripping her body firmly, matching her pace, and taking the chance to look behind her, at the mirror, where you can see your cock bury in and out of her again and again. Slipping up below her ass that ripples beautifully every time your hips meet.

Mina cums not even ten seconds later. With an eruption of screams louder than you've ever heard, shudders all over, and more fluid spilling between you both. She's struggling and you feel it. You slap her ass and follow with a groan of words halfway between an instruction and a plea. "Don't stop."

She doesn't stop. She sits up and throws herself back, reaching for something to balance on. A hand against the mirror, her legs spread and her body present to you, she fucks that pretty pussy down onto you so fast, she's struggling to maintain the rhythm but her nails are curling against the glass, her brows are pressed so tense together, her body shakes all over and a cry comes again from that lovely mouth.

She cums again like this as if it's a show for you and what a fucking show it is. Her legs tremble so hard they lose purchase and you begin lifting yourself up into her and the sight, the sound—her sounds—and her perfect body is making you buck and press harder into her. You've become so mindless, so desperate and hungry for her body. You can hardly keep yourself from spilling into her for a second time. But not yet, you think. Not yet and not there.

Mina's leg buckles. She fights for air. "Can't," she chokes out, breathless and shallow. Nothing left to give you. She slips from her perch, collapsing to the floor, leaning against the mirror. Her dark hair matted with sweat, her pale skin gleaming. Her expression is dreamy. "On me. Just finish on me."

On Mina, a work of art. Over her pretty face, or those luscious tits, or that soft tummy. Over that thick, firm and oh-so-perfect ass, or those equally tasty thighs. Maybe even just glaze over her messy cunt. Her eyes flicker as she looks up at you, and you have a decision to make.

"Anywhere. Cum wherever you want."

[multifandoms27-blog]

Hi!! I've been binge watching TFP, as I've recently just stumbled across it. And already wishing I've seen this show eariler!

May I request TFP Ratchet realizing he's fallen in love with a F/human ally? Honestly just love 'grumpy, gruff hero falls for sweet, caring love interest. But denies it at first till something happens' trope. Can be fluff/smutt. Anything you're comfy with 😊

Thanks and feel free to ignore, if your inbox is full.

Oh my God I literally love Ratchet so much, thank you for this. Finish the show and then watch the movie! I was lucky enough to watch it when it was coming out - I loved it as a kid and I love it now as an adult.

Content: TFP Ratchet x Fem! Hum! Reader

Warnings: None!

Notes: I wrote for Ratchet a lot on my old Wattpad account, or at least what I can remember of it. If anybody wants to see my cringy old writing, my username on there is the same here, Multifandoms27. I also have a four-part TFP Megatron series if anybody's interested. Also I apologize if this is shit - this is my first time writing for Ratchet in literal years so uh, hope you enjoy lol

• ───────────────── •

Ratchet usually didn't bother with the whole romance thing. He was too old for that. Even when you came into the picture, he didn't pay much attention to you. He thought humans were weak links - something that didn't belong in his world.

But through your own effort to get to know him, he slowly warmed up to you. He thought you were one of a kind - smart, funny, understood him in almost every capacity...he loved you. But he would never admit it, not even to himself.

You had been nothing but nice to him, even in the beginning when all he did was snap at you. Thats what softened him, made him draw closer to you. How could something so tiny be so kind to something so...large?

And then, when the children came and he had to grow accustomed to them, then to June and Fowler, he had realized that you had made him so accustomed to humans and made him believe he could finally...no. No, he did not love you.

...At least, that's what he told himself. Until you got hurt.

• ───────────────── •

Optimus had walked through the groundbridge, his servo raised and, for once, a solemn face. One of their own had been hurt, and Ratchet feared Miko finally had gotten hurt from chasing after Bulkhead. But, when Optimus showed him his servo, his spark nearly extinguished.

"(Y/n)! Oh, Primus, no!" He carefully took your unconscious form in his servos and called for June.

Optimus felt responsible for your state, and so he went to lock himself in his berthroom. Ratchet however, tried to assist June anyway he could. But June eventually grew too stressed trying to dress your wounds and assure Ratchet, that she finally snapped on him and told him to get out of the room.

Ratchet went to find Optimus, to ask how you had gotten so hurt. He was angry. He was so livid. How could this have happened to you? To his favorite human?

He knocked gently at first on Optimus' berthroom door. When he got no response, he began to pound on the door. "Optimus, I know you are in there!"

Slowly, the door opened. Optimus stood, staring down at his medic and long time friend. His gaze was quizzical, but he said nothing. Ratchet was even more put off by that. He began to speak. "How did she come to be like that?"

"She must have snuck through the groundbridge when none of us were looking, and-"

"Just tell me how she got this way, Optimus." Ratchet pleaded.

"Megatron was not so kind to her...that is all I'll say, for your sake." Optimus spoke, sadness lacing his tone.

Ratchet grew enraged. "And you couldn't protect her?! Primus, Optimus! You have had more than one chance to defeat Megatron, yet you stand here, sad as an Earth puppy who got kicked, while my (Y/n) is getting torn apart by the most tyrannical Cybertronian in our history! How could you?!"

Optimus sighed and looked off to the side. "Goodnight, Ratchet. We will speak in the morning."

Ratchet protested, but the Prime had already shut himself back in his room. Grumbling, he turned to find all three children staring from around the corner, accompanied by Bumblebee. He grumbled more. "What are you looking at?!"

Bumblebee whirred that you were awake. Ratchet blinked and rushed back into the medbay, where sure enough, you laid there awake and groaning in pain. June looked up and saw Ratchet once more.

"I administered some pain meds just now. She should be okay in about twenty minutes. Her wounds are all dressed." June backed away. "Do you want me to uh..."

"Yes, please." Ratchet waited for June to leave before kneeling next to you. "How are you feeling?"

"...Could be worse." You laughed, then cringed in pain.

"I'm not sure how much worse you could be. I hear you survived Megatron. Well done, sweetspark."

"Sweetspark? That's a new one." You chuckle this time, careful not to create a big pain response like before.

Ratchet blinked in surprise. "D-Did I say that? I meant-"

"It's okay, Ratch." You grinned and placed a hand on his large servo. "I know what you mean."

Ratchet stopped, then slowly and softly smiled down at you. Yes, you always understood him in some capacity...but not every one. You could never pick up on how much he loved you.

Yes, he loved you.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my Transformers masterlist in case you wanna request something!

[literaila]

three things

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: a fun trip to the grocery store (how do you raise children?)

warnings: a bit of anxiety, a bit too much of gojo

last part | next part

*

year one.

"no, satoru." 

how many times have you said that today? 

how many times has satoru pouted--like he's doing right now--and put back whatever he'd plucked off the shelf, grumbling something about how you hated him or you weren't his mom or how he was the one buying everything? 

oh, too many times to count. you stopped after five. 

megumi rolls his eyes with you, already familiar with this routine, looking at everything in the cart again with the same analytical eye he's had since you all walked into the store. you're pretty sure he's counting the total cost.

it might be cute--the way his frown deepens just a little bit after each new item is added--if it didn't worry you completely. 

because it's the first time you've taken the two of them to the store, and the first time you're trying to recall everything their eyes trail over, the things they want but neither of them will say.

you're trying to remember yourself as a kid--if you begged your parents for anything you could possibly want, or if you stood there and stared longingly. but your childhood has always been a dull memory you keep hidden in the attic of your mind. 

so you're not sure what to expect. 

because neither of them has asked for much, since the first night. tsumiki requested a notebook she could draw in, and megumi asked if you could get gojo to stop talking to him. 

the first which you did immediately, even letting gojo get her some expensive pencils to draw with, the second which you... tried. 

it hasn't been easy, the past few days. settling two kids into a dysfunctional house didn't exactly fit into your schedule for the week. 

"why not?" satoru demands, walking right along slide you, pushing the cart because you'd forced him to. "we need dessert." 

"there are seven different types of dessert already in there. i'm hiding at least three of those, by the way." 

"i'll find them," satoru grins mischievously, but waves a hand. "we've got two extra people in the house now. i'm not just shopping for me. do you want them to starve?" 

you roll your eyes, again. then pull on his hair, which he squeaks at. "you're only shopping for you. i've seen your pantries, you know. and i lived with you for three years. we all saw your grocery lists." 

satoru is about to say something, but tsumiki giggles. maybe at the stupid way his face looks. 

the way he's almost smiling, even in denial. how his eyes show from just behind his glasses, his brows moving like a separate entity on his face. 

you haven't really talked to him, the past couple of days. nothing beyond a question about megumi's technique, or where the two of them went to school. 

how long will it take before you finally ask him--

you look over to tsumiki, shaking your head at satoru and smiling back. 

"megumi doesn't like sweets much," she adds to you, easily.

you add it to the mental list of things you know about them.

you look at the little boy, and he nods, looking straight ahead. his shoes catch on the ground every couple of steps like they don't fit right. 

satoru gasps like this is an outrage. because not drinking straight sugar is offensive to him. 

"what?" he asks, stopping all three of you so he can grab megumi by the shoulders. "were you cursed?" he inspects the boy carefully, peering over the glasses on his face.

megumi seems to sink back with each glance of his eyes, his face turning red. 

"cursed to deal with you, maybe," you tell him, pushing him away from megumi. the boy fixes his hair--which had been pushed over his eyes--and glares at satoru.

"he doesn't like sweets?" the man repeats, mouth open, glancing at all three of you like he's not sure that any of you are sane.

"you say that as if you don't eat enough for all four of us." 

"i need the calories," satoru whines, fluttering his eyelashes at you. you ignore him--and the funny way you feel about the gesture.

you look at both of the kids, observing the two of you closely, and give them a look. a look as in, he's crazy. 

megumi swallows. "i like dango." 

"great!" you nudge satoru to keep walking. "we'll get some." 

"that's it?" satoru prods. "what about--" 

you pinch his hip and shake your head, glaring at him when he pouts at you again. 

you step on his heels as you walk through the aisles, still watching the kids with sharp eyes, trying to figure out anything they might want. 

tsumiki murmurs something to megumi every once and a while, but beyond that, they only walk alongside you and satoru, stepping out of the way of any other adults that pass by. 

honestly, you might as well have taken them to the park. they don't even glance at any of the shelves--except when satoru pushes one of them away to grab something. at least at the park, they'd be getting some fresh air. 

after you sigh in--what? frustration? disappointment?--for the fourth time, satoru gives you a look, raising his brows. you shake your head. 

he nudges you with his shoulder but doesn't say anything. whistling while he sneaks more sugar into the cart. 

after the fifteenth minute of this, megumi falls in stride beside you and you look down at him. his eyes evade yours, focusing on the necklace you're wearing instead.

"um, i have to use the restroom," he says to you, soft and embarrassed. 

"okay," you place a hand on his back, gently turning him around, "i think it's just over here," you say, listening as satoru follows along idly. 

"me too," tsumiki says, trailing on your other side. 

the store is almost completely empty, so you tell the two of them that you'll wait right outside the door, and lean against the wall, watching the both of them disappear. 

satoru is already looking at you. 

"what?" you groan, glaring at the doors. 

"what what?" 

you sigh. his voice is annoying. "why are you looking at me?" 

satoru is too close for comfort, his arm brushing against yours--uncomfortably of course because he is the worst--without a care in the world. "what's up?" 

"what do you mean?" 

"why are you acting weird?" 

"i'm not acting weird," you look at him, frowning. 

he's wiping his glasses on his shirt--like he can actually see out of them--and looking at you quizzically. "oh, so you staring at tsumiki and megumi like they're a science experiment isn't weird?" 

you ignore him and his stupid blue eyes. 

"if i was doing that you'd push me down a flight of stairs, but okay..." 

you sigh again, rolling your eyes. and then again. and then you relent because satoru's silence will inevitably break you. "they haven't asked for anything," you say, almost whining to him. "you told them they could pick out whatever they want." 

satoru shrugs. "so they don't want anything." 

"everyone wants something, satoru. especially kids." 

"everyone?" 

"yes. i'd expect you to know better than anyone," he laughs but you frown. "it's a human trait." 

he smirks, leaning down towards you. "what do you want, then?" 

you scoff, flicking his forehead. "i want them to feel comfortable. and i want you to stop bugging megumi." 

"but he makes it so easy," satoru says, pretending to be innocent.

"you're the adult, here," you say, even though you don't really believe it--nor should you. "act like it." 

"all the kid does is scowl," satoru complains. "i'm just trying to make him comfortable." 

"by invading his space?" 

"you stare from far away, i stare from up close." 

"you antagonize." 

satoru grins, crossing his arms, very pleased with himself. he's silent again. 

the past year has almost made you forget that satoru knows you like this. he's always known how to keep you talking, how to read your face and your hesitant glances. 

it's not like time could make him forget. it's not like you've forgotten anything about him. 

"you aren't worried?" you ask, after a second. 

"about the kids?" 

"yes," you say, obviously, "that we're already messing something up." 

he gives you a dubious look. "it's been four days." 

and he's right. you can't expect to understand either one of them after seventy-two hours of merely knowing about their existence. but you don't know how to treat kids like these, because any mistake you make--anything you say--will inevitably come back to haunt you. 

"it's--" you shake your head. satoru doesn't worry about anything, so you don't even know why you're bringing it up. "it's like when you play with someone else's kid and feel like you're breaking some unspoken rule. except this time we're the ones making the rules. there's no one to tell us if we mess up." 

"i think megumi would tell us," satoru answers, almost sarcastically. 

"he's the kid, idiot," you groan. "he doesn't know." 

"rude," satoru is still grinning. "what could you have messed up, at this point? all you've been doing is asking them questions. that's pretty straightforward." 

"maybe it's too much, too fast." 

satoru snorts, shaking his head at you. "grocery shopping?" 

"everything." 

satoru raises a brow at you, watching as you deflate. you feel like each move you make takes a little more air out of you, and who's to say when you'll finally run out? 

how many mistakes do you have to make to finally get it right? 

and you know--and you know that he knows--that it's not just about them, but about you. is this too fast? is this too much?

satoru rests a hand on your head. "you're too in your head about this." 

"well, i have to do it for the both of us." 

he ignores that. "if they need something, they'll ask," the words are soft, genuine. he's completely sure like he always is. "you made it clear that we're just here to help. it's been four days." 

you sigh, nodding reluctantly. 

"we'll figure it out," he says, simply. "you don't need to worry about anything. i mean, i'm here, so..." 

you push his hand away, glaring. "megumi doesn't even talk to you." 

"hey, yes he does." 

"to call you a freak, maybe. or tell you to shut up." 

"don't be jealous of my relationship with megumi. we're bonding." 

you roll your eyes but find a laugh making its way out of you. 

he's always been good at this, too. making everything seem easy. 

when tsumiki comes out of the bathroom door, she smiles at the sight of the two of you still there--both talking animatedly, with similar glares in your eyes. she settles in beside satoru, copying him as she leans against the wall. 

"you think i'm great, don't you tsumiki?" satoru asks her, goading. 

she nods immediately. 

you snort and look away while tsumiki giggles when satoru leans down to smack a kiss on her cheek. 

something inside of you warms, just briefly. 

and then megumi comes out, rubbing his hands together. unlike tsumiki, he glares at satoru and chooses to stand beside you. 

"okay," satoru clasps his hands together. "are you both ready to go?" 

"um," you turn to him. "satoru we haven't--" 

megumi nods immediately, looking a bit brighter at the prospect, and tsumiki furrows her brows, questioning. 

"great! both of you pick out three things that you want and then we'll leave." 

megumi glowers. 

"three things?" you clear your throat. "they need more--" 

"three things," satoru repeats, looking right at megumi while he says it. some words pass non-verbally between the two of them. you might have to tell satoru not to talk to megumi about anything without you. "we'll get everything else we need." 

tsumiki runs alongside megumi and grabs his arm, which he allows, though you watch his eyes roll. 

"go on," satoru shoos them away, smiling all proudly. when they're gone, he turns to you again. "there. now you don't have to worry about picking something they like." 

and he reaches his hand to grab yours, as a simple habit. 

satoru has never tip-toed around the line of physical contact. even with shoko, even when she would push him off.

something passes between the two of you. holding his hand is familiar; egged on by four years of standing alongside him. 

you try not to flinch away from the contact. 

and, sure, satoru probably just lost both of them in the store, and you don't actually have everything else you need, or know what those things are, but he's smiling at you. 

he's trying to be reassuring. 

so you smile back and let him hold your hand. 

"we'll figure it out," he whispers to you, and you push the cart this time while the two of you try to find the children he just lost.

*

later that night--after forcing satoru to put away the groceries with the rest of you--megumi lets you sneak into his room with a (third) bag of candy that satoru grabbed last second, acting like you wouldn't notice. 

"where's the best hiding spot for this?" you ask him, looking around.

it's pretty doubtful that satoru would risk going into megumi's room just to look for it. and, you're sure, that megumi probably wouldn't let satoru open the door, nonetheless go through his things.

the boy points at his dresser and moves some clothes so you can hide it at the bottom of one of the drawers. he doesn't even question your motivations.

as you back out of the room again, you make him promise not to tell, and, for a single second, megumi smiles back at you, crossing his heart. 

*

next part

[doomdoomofdoom]

With the ongoing investigation into the CEO Killer, it's interesting to see how little people know about police investigations. Which is funny, because most of that stems from Copaganda and is now kinda biting the cops in the ass.

Semi-Educated rambles about copaganda and real procedures below the cut

I say semi-educated because I am writing a thesis paper on copaganda, but much more about the brutality aspects and not the crime solving ones. I did write a much less intense paper on that almost ten years ago, and presumably some things have changed. Take my "expertise" with a grain of salt.

The Copaganda Thing

Copaganda (Cop Propaganda) is basically what the name suggests. Anything that makes police look good. Social media posts about community outreach, the adorable little K-9 units, kneeling next to a protestor that you brutalize after the camera turns off. But the massive elephant in the room here are Cop Shows. There are literally too many for me to name. NCIS, Blue Bloods, True Detective, any of those weird "live" police shows, and yes, Brooklyn 99, too. These shows (often produced in cooperation with the police btw) serve to humanize cops and portray them as good, honest people, who maybe have to cross the line sometimes but it's always for a good reason and they're always right and save the day! The other half of it is vastly misrepresenting how (and if) crimes get solved.

Reality

Ripping this band-aid off first: Police are dogshit at solving crimes. There are aspects technically outside their control, like that only about half of all crimes (excluding murder) actually get reported to the police. (Based on comparing the 'Uniform Crime Reports' and the 'National Criminal Victimization Survey') But this also means that the Police Clearance rates are only half of what they calculate. Numbers get further skewed by not accounting for a lot of online crimes because the system hasn't caught up with like, the 90s. Anyway, for reported crimes, investigations will lead to an arrest in about 20-25% of cases. Three out of Four cases die without ever apprehending a suspect. (While there are ways to deal with a case without an arrest, ask yourself if you think that's likely in a system that measures success by arrest numbers) Conviction rates (which vary massively depending on crime) even out to about 4%, or 2% of total known crimes. (x) Worth noting: Generally, violent crimes have higher clearance and conviction rates. For murder, the conviction rate is around 60% while larceny-theft can dip below 1% of reported crimes. (It's generally assumed that the number of known and reported murders is the same, as the NCVS doesn't track it. Because murder victims are bad at filling out surveys.) To recap: Police solve about 4% of crimes reported to them. Meanwhile in your average cop show, you've got a success rate of about 100%. That's a stark difference, even if you take only murder rates of 60%. If you're an average citizen who's the victim of a crime, the most helpful thing the cops will do is file a report you can submit to your insurance.

Forensics & Procedures

I've seen these float around a bit and it's mildly ridiculous. Supposedly they've found a bottle and a protein bar of our killer and will be testing fingerprints and DNA. If those worked flawlessly, they still would only bring up results if the killer has been detained before. Databases of random civilian fingerprints/DNA samples are not kept by law enforcement. These analyses only work by having a point of comparison (and even then fingerprint analysis remains subjective), so they won't actually help finding the culprit, but they would be relevant to confirm the identity of an apprehended suspect and as evidence in an eventual trial. (There is also something called familial DNA which would work if they had a couple of relatives in the system, but that's both a flawed and incredibly time intensive approach. We're talking months of drawing family trees.) Also your average DNA test takes like 24 hours and fingerprint analysis is algorithmically supported now, but still mostly done manually. And both require a clear sample, so good luck with that. Fingerprint might as well be the clerk who sold the bottle. There's an infamous case of a serial killer whose DNA kept being found on crime scenes all Central Europe with no connection to each other. Turned out the Swabs were contaminated during production. There was no serial killer. Quickfire round of unrelated notes: 1) Lie detectors don't detect lies, they detect stress, anyone can trick one with some practice. the guy who popularized their use thought they could detect stress in plants too and that the plants could read his mind. 2) We're not actually sure if all fingerprints are completely unique. 3) Bite mark analysis is a pseudoscience that needs to be removed from criminal and legal proceedings asap. 4) Any algorithmic detections inherit the flaws of their human predecessors. Those are their training data. (That's also how they keep turning up racist)

And as a final note, it's common for the police to not share details on their ongoing investigations. That's just common sense. The only details that get released to the public are ones that could lead to direct hints or vague ones if there's a lot of public attention, to assure everyone there is progress. For similar reasons, while everyone and their grandma has put together the motive from the bullet casings, cops can't actually go out and confirm that. It's like how Bulbapedia has to say Flamigo appears to be based on a flamingo. Contrary to the cops, Bulbapedia does not have to carefully watch what data they release that might elicit more sympathy for Flamigo.

Why tho

So after literal decades of copaganda brainwashing, the public perception of crime and punishment is heavily skewed. We've been told over and over that cops can catch any criminal in a matter of a 60 minute episode, max. And that's by design. Aside from the image polishing, copaganda is a deterrent. If you're convinced you'll be caught after committing a crime, you wouldn't commit it, right? You don't wanna go to jail. And the bad guys always get what they deserve on TV, no matter how smart they are. You're not gonna risk that, are you?

That's why we keep using lie detectors, that's why the news are full of arrests being made constantly, that's why cop shows get so much support from the police. That's also why we keep pouring money into policing. Part of it, at least. We've built a police force that isn't about solving crimes. If that was priority, we'd invest more into forensics and labs to keep up with the demand of samples that need to be analyzed. Instead, we built a police force that gets new tech gadgets and military gear. It's an arms race against the general public that isn't even running. We take cops and we give them paranoia, weapons, justifications for violence, and targets to brutalize. I don't have to remind you of the riot gear and responses to peaceful protests. The police isn't your friend and helper. You must fear them. Fear their superior intellect, fear their crime solving abilities, fear the high tech arsenal at their disposal. Fear them so much, you won't even think of doing a crime unless you're rotten to the core. And if someone's rotten to the core, then surely the violence is justified.

But that's also why this guy in particular is so dangerous. They've built up this image of being near infallible (to anyone who never actually interacted with police proceedings, at least) and being able to stop any threat, catch any criminal. And yet, this guy shot someone in broad daylight, in the juristiction of the country's largest police department, and he's currently getting away with it.

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

Are you sure they like each other? (Alyssa Naeher x Reader)

Barely edited and I don't know if I happy with this, but I wanted to put something out. I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: Alyssa and reader are together, but very stoic and not affectionate in public. Think the team know they're together, apparently not. Start to question if they even like each other. Alyssa and reader turn into soft, love sick people when alone.

Warnings: Tiny bit suggestive, some swearing

Words: 3.3K

Alyssa had slipped out, taking our bags up to the room while I was surrounded by some of the team. I had offered to help, but she had insisted I stay to catch up, leaving before I could protest. Neither of us would be considered extroverts, though I was the one who liked to talk a bit more. Kristie pulled me into a tight hug before a few of the girls following suit, "How was your break Y/n?"

"It was pretty good. Alyssa and I just took it easy. Spent some time fixing up some of the stuff around the house I haven't had the time to do. Visited family, that sort of thing."

Confusion covered their faces, Kelley being the first one to speak up, "Wait. You spent the break with Alyssa?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. Alyssa and I had been together for almost 5 years, living together for 3. It wasn't something that had been hidden. Our relationship wasn't public knowledge, but friends and family knew we were together, or so I thought anyway. We weren't an affectionate couple in public or even with our friends, barely ever touching past an occasional hand on the back, a short hug after a game or if we were going to be apart. Occasionally, we would hold hands at home with family or I would lay with my head in her lap during movie night. I loved Alyssa more than words would describe, there was no doubt in my mind she felt the same. Public affection just made us both very uncomfortable.  

"Why wouldn't I? We live together."

"Wait what? You and Alyssa live together?"

"You didn't know? We weren't hiding it. You know we're together right?"

Kelley looked as if I had grown a second head, "You and Alyssa are dating? No we didn't know that! What the hell Y/n?"

Alyssa's hand touched my lower back, letting me know she was there before dropping back to her side. "What's happening here? Why is there yelling?"

"Apparently they're just finding out we live together and have been together for the last almost 5 years."

"5 years?!? And you didn't tell us?"

Even Alyssa looked confused at this point, "What do you mean didn't tell you? It was never hidden. We assumed you knew."

Accusatory glares were sent our way while Alyssa and I just stood there confused. This was not how I expected my morning to go. "You've never kissed, held hands, cuddled or done anything remotely couple like. How were we supposed to know?"

"We've held hands a few times and I sleep against her on the bus sometimes. I get her coffee and breakfast every morning, Alyssa gets me flowers every week even at camp. Pretty sure we've mentioned our anniversary before. We say 'I love you' to each other all the time. Did none of you find that weird?"

"You're always sitting next to each other on the bus so no and we just figured you were close friends or something. I think there's been one time that you've gotten flowers from her in front of us."

"I've seen that a few times actually, but its always when she seems to have a bad day," Tierna spoke up. 

Alyssa shrugged, "Well yeah, I get them every week, but if she's having a bad day then I'll get them on that day to cheer her up. Look, we just don't like PDA, we weren't hiding anything from you. We really thought you knew about us. And before you even ask, no we're not going to prove it. Now we're going to our room."

As soon as we entered our room, I flopped down on the bed, scooting over slightly when Alyssa lay down next to me. I pushed myself into her arms, leaving kisses on her jaw, her hand slipping under my shirt to draw random patterns. "You unpacked my stuff."

Alyssa held me closer, kissing my forehead. People held the impression that Alyssa disliked physical touch, which she did with most people. In reality, Alyssa loved cuddling with me, she loved holding my hand and kissing me. Just touching in general actually. When we first started dating, it was a welcome surprise. I expected some affection, but not as much as I received. There was definitely no complaints from me, I loved cuddling with my partners. "I always do, don't I?"

"You do and I appreciate it, but you don-"

She cut me off with a quick peck before speaking up not giving me the chance, "My love, how many times have you said I don't have to, yet I do it anyway?"

"Pretty much every camp," I mumbled against her neck, knowing what her response was going to be. It was always the same.

"Exactly. I do it because I love you and I want to make your day a little bit easier so how about you just accept it and let me do it."

It wasn't that I didn't like it, in fact I loved that she did it. I just always felt slightly bad when people did things for me. "Fine. I still can't believe they didn't know about us. I really thought they did."

"So did I. Maybe they just don't listen to us at all. It was all kind of entertaining though."

"It was, I can't believe they were so clueless. I have a feeling Emily is going to be annoying though. She had her mischief face on."

Alyssa's hand traveled further up my side as she rolled on top of me, "Unfortunately, I think you're right, but right now there are other things I would rather do than talk about Emily."

---

Just as I sat down for breakfast, Emily and Kelley slid onto the chairs in front of me. They just stared at me until I snapped, asking what they wanted. This was not what I needed early in the morning especially when I had only been awake for like half an hour. Alyssa was always down for breakfast after me, preferring to take her time to get ready and do her puzzles, while I just wanted coffee. 

"So you and Alyssa are together right?"

"Uh yeah, why?"

"Just checking. How long have you been together?"

"Almost 5 years."

"How did you meet?"

I looked at between Emily and Kelley, trying to figure out why I was being interrogated once again, about my relationship. At this point, I was pretty sure the team believed we were lying or something. "You know this already."

"We forgot."

Alyssa approached, giving me a quick smile which I returned, "Perfect timing. I'm being interrogated about our relationship again."

"Why?"

I shrugged, pushing Alyssa's breakfast in front of her receiving a quite thank you. I didn't answer Kelley's question, instead deciding to eat breakfast before it got cold. "Are you two being forced to be together?"

Both of our heads shot up at that. It was such a ridiculous question. There would be no logical reason for us to be pretending to be together especially considering we weren't public knowledge. I bit back my laugh before answering, "What? What makes you think that? Why would that be a thing?"

Emily shrugged, "You just don't seem to like each other like that."

"Go away Kelley," Alyssa mumbled before going back to her breakfast. I ignored her again, getting up for Alyssa's coffee instead. When I returned, Kelley and Emily were still there, giving Alyssa a suspicious look. I handed Alyssa the cup before sitting down again.

"Thank you love."

Emily narrowed her eyes at us, "Suspicious."

Alyssa rolled her eyes while I flipped Emily off. This whole thing was starting to get old. "Go eat your breakfast."

Later that day, we were back in our room, enjoying the time we had before practice. Alyssa was reading, while I lay in the sun on the balcony. I started to want cuddles. I wouldn't say I was clingy because it was true. We could spend hours doing completely different things. Sometimes though, I just craved touching or being held by her. I gave her a few minutes before calling out to her, knowing she would come to me without hesitation.

Alyssa groaned, but got up, slipped off her shirt and sat down behind me with my head in her lap. We met in the middle, lips connecting briefly before I wiggled around to get into a better position. Alyssa eyebrows raised, amusement shining in her eyes, "Comfortable?"

I smirked, lacing my fingers with hers that rest on my stomach, "Very. Do you like me Lyssa? Is someone forcing you to date me?"

"Not even a little bit. Don't you know I'm only with you for your body?" 

"That's what I thought. Maybe I should confess that I'm only with you for your abs."

She smirked at my response, "I had my suspicions. You're obsessed."

"Not my fault they're great abs."

Fingers ran through my hair as Alyssa leant down to kiss my forehead, "You know I love you right Y/n/n? I don't want you to ever doubt that because I don't show you affection in public."

"You know how I feel about PDA, I don't like it, I never have. I have never once doubted your love for me Alyssa and I hope you haven't doubted mine. I love you."

"Good. I have never doubted your love either."

---

Anger and worry coursed through me when I saw Alyssa go down. It was always my worst fear during games, but it didn't really happen during practice. I know we got competitive, there was no reason for it to happen during practice though. I ran up, kneeling beside her, hand grabbing hers, "Are you okay Lys?"

"This ones going to hurt," Alyssa winced, but quickly grabbed my arm when I turned to Rose who had taken her out. "Hey, it's not her fault, it was an accident. Go see if she's okay and be nice."

I took a breath to calm myself down before walking up to Rose. Rose started fidgeting nervously as I walked up to her, "Hey, are you okay Rose?"

"Y-yeah. S-sorry"

I hugged her, feeling her relax against me. Hugs weren't necessarily my favourite thing except when it was with Alyssa, but I knew Rose liked them and I didn't want her to feel bad. It wasn't actually her fault. "Rosie, it was an accident. Don't beat yourself up because of it, but maybe don't make a habit of taking out out keeper during practice, we kinda need her."

---

"You guys coming to dinner?"

"Uh yeah, just going to drop our stuff off."

Once we were in our room, Alyssa sat on the edge of the bed as I knelt behind her, arms wrapping around her shoulders loosely. She lent back against me with a sigh, kissing my hand. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Think my shoulder might bruise, but I'm okay hun. Don't worry so much."

I lift her shirt over her head, lips meeting the spot that was already starting to bruise then moving around to her neck, cheek and lips, "You know I can't help worrying about you, even if it's a bit ridiculous."

Alyssa turned around, pushing me back and hovering over me, "Well, I'm the same so I can't really say anything. I love you Y/n/n."

I looped my arm around the back of her neck, pulling her down so I could peck her lips, "I love you Lys, but you need to get off cause we need to go down for dinner."

She rolled off me with one final kiss before standing up, "Fine."

"Shirt."

---

My eyes fluttered open to the feeling of lips being pressed to every part of my face and neck. I giggled, arms wrapping around her neck to bring her lips to mine. You wouldn't guess it, but Alyssa always kissed me softly, as if I was something precious. It honestly drove me crazy. 

Alyssa pulled away slowly, grin plastered across her face, "Happy anniversary love."

My grin matched her, as I pecked her lips, "Happy anniversary Lys. I love you."

We spent a little longer in bed than usual, lazy kisses and cuddles shared before reluctantly dragging our selves out of bed and into the shower. Unfortunately, we had training today so we couldn't give in to the clear desires we both had, instead rushing through the shower and downstairs before there was anymore temptation and we ended up late. 

Alyssa and I were discussing dinner plans when we walked into the meal room. We never went out on our anniversary, always staying in and just being with each other in the comfort of our own home. This year was different because we were in a hotel, but we would make do. Just as we sat down, Kelley sat across from us, our conversation ending as we waited for her to say something. "Do you guys even like each other? I mean you guys just seem so indifferent around each other, sure you talk and even joke around sometimes, but it's no different then if you were talking to team mates, we've never heard you talk about anything remotely relationship like."

My arm rest on the back of Alyssa's chair, playing with the baby hairs at the base of her neck. That wasn't a usual occurrence, but it was our anniversary. I was feeling a mix of different, slightly overwhelming emotions from love to happiness, and nerves from the fact I was proposing tonight. I just wanted to be close to her right now and the usual leg against mine wasn't enough. Alyssa must have sensed it because her hand rest on my thigh under the table, squeezing gently as I spoke, "Of course we do. We were literally just talking about our plans tonight for our anniversary."

"That was talk about your anniversary? It sounded like you were talking about grocery shopping."

"We were, but in relation to our anniversary."

"So what are you going to do for your anniversary?"

"Chill out in our hotel room. We never do anything big."

"Yeah okay. That tracks with the appearance of your relationship."

Alyssa had gone back to our room after training while I had gone to the store to pick up a few snacks to sneak in and some flowers for her. She always got me flowers so I wanted to return the favour for once. We were planning on ordering in and watching movies before likely ending the night doing inappropriate cuddling.  It was our favourite way to spend our anniversaries. Thankfully, we had an off day tomorrow so we could get away with it. 

After placing the bag down on the table, I called out for Alyssa, getting a response from the bathroom almost instantly. My arms wrapped around Alyssa when she emerged from the bathroom, leaving a lingering kiss against her lips. Her eyes dropped down to the bouquet in my hand, a small smile appearing. "This isn't your actual gift, but you always get me flowers so I thought it was my turn. Your gift is running late."

"They're beautiful, thank you Y/n/n. You know you didn't have to get me anything."

"I know, but you also always get me something despite me saying the same thing, therefore shut up."

Alyssa laughed, pushing me away gently and taking the flowers, "You speak to me so romantically my love."

I pulled her back into me, peppering her face with kisses, "I love you."

"I love you. I ordered dinner already, it should be here soon. Also here," Alyssa handed out a small wrapped box. Inside was a gold chain with a small keepers glove attached. It was something I had mentioned wanting, a way to have her close when she wasn't there physically. 

"You remembered. I love it Lys."

"Of course I did."

After a short make out session and dinner, we cuddled up in bed to watch a movie. Maybe 15 minutes had passed before I started getting restless. My focus dropped from the movie, instead playing with Alyssa's fingers. I never was the best at staying still. My mind soon drifted to the pool downstairs, it had been a while since I got to go and the urge was suddenly there.  

When I shifted position once again, Alyssa chuckled and paused the movie, "I've lost you haven't I?"

I grinned up at her, kissing her softly. Alyssa always knew me so well. "Do you want to go swimming? It's late so no one will be around."

Alyssa knew I loved swimming so she agreed pretty easily, after some teasing of course. We made our way down to the pool, both wearing tank tops and shorts. No one was around so it didn't matter what we wore. I jumped straight in, swimming around a bit while Alyssa sat on the edge of the pool. After a few minutes, I swam up between Alyssa's legs resting my arms on them as I lent up connecting our lips in a lingering kiss. 

"Come in."

"It's cold."

"Love, it's a heated pool."

"Okay fine, I just enjoy watching you swim around."

"But, if you come in then we can cuddle, kiss," My hand ran up the inside of her thigh, "Touch."

Alyssa instantly slid into the pool, arm wrapping around me and pulling me against her. "You're a tease."

My hands slipped under her tank top, nails scratching down her back and over her stomach, "It's only teasing if I leave it at that. Just wait until we get ba-"

A loud voice interrupted the moment, annoyance crossing Alyssa's face as she stepped back slightly, but didn't let me go. "Oh my god! They really are together."

I groaned, turning to glare at Emily and Kelley, "Fuck off and stop ruining our anniversary."

Once they were out of sight again, I pulled myself out of the pool, Alyssa rest on my legs as I had done earlier. "What are you doing?" 

I pulled the towel that I had hidden the little black box in closer. Inside was a a plain gold band with a round cut diamond. Alyssa didn't often wear jewelry and she liked simple things so I knew she would love it. "I have something for you."

"You waited until we were at the pool to give it to me?"

"Well it wasn't the original plan, but I got nervous." My fingers laced with hers, Alyssa looking up at me curiously. "Never in my life did I think I would fall for someone as hard or fast as I did with you. From the boring, quiet days at home spent doing housework or errands to the movie nights and dinner dates, I love living life with you. I love the adventures we've had, I love working with you, fuck, I just love being with you Alyssa. I look forward to every new day because I get to do it with you. With you by my side, anything is possible. This is a shit speech, but I'm nervous and you love me anyway."

Alyssa chuckled, tears already forming in her eyes before I revealed the little box. "I love you Alyssa, I love you so much more than I thought possible. I want to live life with you forever. With that being said, Alyssa Naeher will you marry me?"

Arms wrapped around my waist tightly, lips connecting with mine, in a soft, emotional kiss, "Yes, yes I will marry you Y/n."

I slipped the ring on her finger, connecting our lips again. Alyssa pulled away too soon for my liking, reaching for her own towel, pulling out a black box similar to the one I had moments before. Alyssa opened it, revealing a plain rose gold band with three small gems set into it. I soon realised it was both our birth stones and one I wasn't quite sure of. "You beat me to it, but will you marry me Y/n?"

"I suppose I can't say no seeing as I just gave you a ring."

Alyssa laughed, sliding the ring onto my finger before kissing me again. "These are our birthstones, what's this one?"

"When we first started dating."

"I love it, I love you."

A crash from behind us instantly caught our attention. About half the team stood there, sheepish smiles in place and a phone pointed in our direction. Seeing as they were caught, everyone started talking over each other, congratulations being thrown our way. I rolled my eyes, turning back to Alyssa. "Let's get out of here before they surround us. We have celebrating to do."

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Is shattering permanent in the comic (especially with the force fusions and cluster) or can it be fixed down the line like future did? Asking for your opinion on this too bc I found out about it in Future and it makes me feel weird (bc now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension, so haven’t been able to read or write stories). Maybe I’m seeing this wrong? Would love your thoughts

Hmm...

So to answer your first question: The comic for WDAU works on the same rules as canon does. I have no intention to over-write anything canon clearly stated to be true.

The ability to put back together shattered gems is definitely a part of that.

So yes, theoretically, even in WDAU, gems being shattered is not 'the end' because they can be eventually re-instated through the work of the diamonds, IF they someday decide to Change Their Minds like they did in the original series.

That being said...

I want to talk a little bit about something you said, because it tickles my brain in an interesting way:

"now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension"

And the best way to talk about stuff, I've found, is to ask questions about our underlying assumptions. So my questions for you (all) today are:

For us humans, death certainly IS a constant that remains ever-permanent, and thus it's easy to compare it to shattering and draw that parallel... but is that a fair comparison?

In fiction, death is often circumvented and there still remains reasonable tension in things like magic-heavy worlds, vampire novels, sci-fi where almost any sickness is eradicated, etc. Is this not quite similar to what shattering is for gems?

Is the perceived permanency of shattering the only reason it feels like a heavy consequence?

Are there OTHER consequences of being shattered that make it just as interesting, if not more than, to be explored as a plot device?

Must there be an ever-looming threat of something horrible and permanent happening to make a story good?

There isn't a right or wrong answer to these questions, necessarily. I'm not posing these in order to lead you to a singular, 'absolutely correct' conclusion or way of writing.

For some stories, death DOES need to be permanent in order not to make light of what the characters go through! In some forms of writing, there IS no other way around that consequence.

But I daresay SU is not one of those stories.

Let me put it this way - 100 years ago, medicine had only BEGUN to develop into the thing we know it as today. Sure, there were therapies and treatments for diseases, broken limbs, poisonings, etc. Some of them were quite good, even! But overall, the death tolls back then from basic illness were MUCH higher than they were today.

Pnumonia, Malaria, Syphillis, Smallpox, Bubonic Plague, AIDS.

These were things that people died from, with near CERTAINTY, for the LONGEST time. They were considered the road to a permanent black screen.

And today? Even though they are still, without proper intervention, JUST as deadly, we now have new tools and vaccines to combat them. Hell, if you get vaccinated fast enough you can get bit by a rabid dog and live to tell the tale, unscathed! Rabies used to be a one-stop-shop to the afterlife.

Despite this, we still view these diseases with appropriate fear. They are still dangerous - in the right conditions.

In the right conditions, the consequences for a LOT of things can be permanent. If permanency is what you're looking for.

So alright, the Diamonds can heal shattered gems now. Booooring. How easy it is to fix any shattered gem! What a simple solution to anything tragic.

But................... will they ALWAYS do so?

In fact...will the Diamonds ALWAYS be around?

Will the gems who got shattered always be picked up, piece by piece, and be brought back to them, perfectly preserved? Or will they lose pieces of themselves along the way - literally?

And what NEW consequences can we think of, when we stop thinking of the permanency of death, and start thinking of the Impermanence of those tools that keep us here longer and longer?

Just food for thought. 👀

[librababe99]

Kinktober Day Twelve: Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers x Female Reader | Breast Worship |

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, breast worship, titty fucking 

Summary: Steve worshiped your beauty with tender devotion, using every kiss and caress to show you that you were his greatest treasure.

Word Count: 778

| Day Eleven | | Kinktober Masterlist | | Day Thirteen |

Steve Rogers had always been a man of deep intensity. It showed in the way he led, the way he fought, and the way he loved. Tonight was no exception.

The soft glow of moonlight streamed through the curtains, casting a silvery hue over the bedroom. You were sprawled beneath him on the bed, the heat between your bodies only growing stronger with each passing moment. Steve's touch was reverent, his eyes dark and full of adoration as they roamed your skin.

"God," he whispered, his breath warm against your collarbone, "you're so beautiful."

His lips traced a path down your neck, soft and teasing, sending shivers across your body. His hands, large and rough from years of battle, cupped your breasts with a reverence that made your breath hitch. Steve's gaze flicked up to yours, and there was a worshipful hunger in his eyes. He moved slowly, savoring every moment, as if you were a treasure he could never tire of.

He kissed your breast softly at first, his lips brushing your skin like a promise. Then, his mouth opened wider, and his tongue flicked over your nipple, drawing a gasp from your lips. You arched your back, pushing yourself into him as the heat between your legs pulsed with growing need.

"Steve..." you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging gently to bring him closer.

He smiled against your skin, the warmth of his breath mingling with the cool air of the room. "I've always loved these," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He swirled his tongue around your nipple, drawing it between his lips and sucking softly, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your body responding to the way his mouth worked over your breast. His other hand massaged the other, thumb brushing across the sensitive bud. Every touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring every second of worshiping you.

He switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, sucking, licking, and kneading with a possessive yet tender touch. You felt the wet heat of his mouth, the gentle pressure, and it made you ache for more. Steve, sensing your growing need, looked up at you with that intense gaze, his lips glistening from where they had been worshiping you.

"You're perfect," he growled softly, his voice thick with arousal.

You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as he kissed down between your breasts, his strong hands sliding down to your hips. His movements were deliberate as he lowered his head, pressing your breasts together, sliding his cock between them. The weight of him against your chest, the heat and hardness, made you whimper in anticipation.

Steve's breathing was heavier now, his eyes never leaving yours as he began to thrust slowly. His cock slid between your breasts, the sensation of him rubbing against your skin almost too much to bear. You could feel the pulse of him, the heat, the way his breath quickened as he moved.

"You feel so good," he murmured, his voice gravelly with need. His hips moved in slow, steady thrusts, and the slick sensation of him between your breasts was intoxicating.

You moaned softly, pressing your breasts together tighter, watching the way his cock slid between them. The sight of him, the sound of his breath growing more ragged, sent a thrill through you.

"God, you’re driving me crazy," Steve groaned, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he lost himself in the sensation. When his gaze met yours again, it was filled with pure, unadulterated lust.

With every thrust, he came closer, the rhythm of his movements growing faster, more intense. You felt the heat building inside you, your own arousal almost unbearable as you watched him come undone. His grip on your hips tightened as he continued, his breath ragged, his body trembling.

"Just like that," he whispered, his voice husky and low, "just like that."

The pleasure built between you both, tangible in the air, thick and heavy. His thrusts became faster, harder, and you could see the strain in his jaw as he neared the edge. You whispered his name, your voice breathless, and that was all it took.

With a low, guttural groan, Steve's movements became frantic, his body tensing as he released, hot and pulsing between your breasts. He collapsed against you, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding against your chest.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy rise and fall of your breaths. Then, Steve leaned up slightly, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss.

Taglist: @ahreumnim @Therealnekomari @superstar-lover863-blog @iloved1lfs0 @serendippindots @nyxoneiros @omgurhot @chaoticweirdogeek @5soscrack @screechingdreamercollectorsblog

[beneaththebirches]

Seafoam Green

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

Summary: Rafe and the reader meet at Midsummer and continue their most recent naughty shenanigans.

A/n: Just a reminder this is a repost from my original account @sublimecatgalaxy! Love you all!

Midsummer is the same every year.

Loud music, drunk adults, bored teenagers wandering around, stealing sips of parents drink when they're not looking, too enthralled in conversations of wealth and status with others.

The whole night is just a fun excuse to get dressed up and pretty, an excuse to make people look at you with wide, intrigued eyes- it's like the one night of the year where girls can be princesses without strange looks. Pretty but dainty diamond tiara's, flowing dresses, a sneak peak underneath for those you end up going home with.

My dress is green, his favorite color, a dash of silver and green on my eyelids, sparkling under the twinkling lights just enough to get the attention of who I want.

It's been all night and he's yet to notice me from across the room but I've noticed him; black suit, a pale green shirt underneath, his hair swooped to the side in a calculated way and it makes me feel drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

When he notices me, he looks around- almost to see if anyone's watching- before he approaches me with a kind smile, eyes dipping down the front of my dress, giving me a once over as his cheeks blush an auburn red.

"You look stunning." He smiles, holding his hand out to me which I gladly take, slipping my hand into his as he leads me away from the bar and to the wooden floor where, mostly, the older people dance. He pulls me flush against him with a grin, hand slipping down my exposed back and I instinctually wrap my arms around his neck, securing myself to him.

"You look good too, Rafe." I soothe my hands down the front of his suit and he grins, hands gripping my waist as we wander slowly throughout the dance floor, skilled and untouched by the laughing couples around us. Like it's only us.

"We matched." He smiles, pinching the fabric of my dress as I give him a simple knowing nod, shoulders shrugging.

"I'm smarter than you think I am." He grins wickedly at the confident smirk that I give him and he bends me back over his arm, dipping me skillfully without wobbling in the slightest.

"You're more beautiful that you think you are." His eyes seem to be fixated on the ways that my lips spread out into a bashful smile, tongue sweeping out to wet my lips as I lift myself to his ear, whispering quietly so only he can hear me.

"I just thought you would like to know that I’m not wearing any underwear right now." His body turns to stone against mine, hands stalling momentarily from the sweet circles he was drawing into my skin with his thumbs and I feel a rush of confidence wash over me as I lower myself back down to my heels. "Do what you must with this information."

"Come with me." He says without another word, gripping my hand and dragging me past both of our parents and into the building. I can already see the bathroom in view and know what this means, nervous butterflies swarming in my stomach at the thought of feeling him. "I want you to bad." He mutters, shoving the door open with a bang and locking the door after giving the bathroom a once over as we finally find ourselves alone. "Sit down." He orders and my brows furrow, not sure why I would have to be sitting down for him to fu-

"What're you-" I start but he forces me down into the seat without looking up into my eyes, his whole body lowering in front of me so he can kneel on the ground between my thighs, hands already working on pushing up the fabric of my dress as it dawns on me what he wants. He's never done this for me before.

"Bend your legs, sweetheart." He pats my thighs gently and I do what he says, not in the mood to argue and give him any push back when he's look up at me like that, eyes full of excited lust as he whispers against the sensitive skin of my thighs. "Fuck, you're so beautiful."

[occasionalsnippets]

Okay I'm so very curious on what would happen in case fd!mc died. I've not caught up on all the lore but the idea that they'd focus on everyone elses tragedies, only to forget they're now a character too with their own problems and enemies and that (or something else) being their end. Like the angst potential just calls to me.

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream

Asdlaskjdh I would love to kill them off, maybe like a bit after Jason comes to the manor. I just know that everyone is going to be trapped in the shadow of the pedestal they built for you!!!

Like, Bruce’s perpetual longing to make things right by you. He forever catches himself thinking “what would you do” and “what would you tell him to do”, but never able to rely on your guidance to fix things again. Even though you acted essentially as his emotional crutch and translator and the initial impression of you basically being a (not) adult in his life, he’s eternally going to wish he could’ve done better for you. He isn’t your father and you weren’t his daughter. But, maybe you could’ve been something. It’s too late now, regardless.

Even though you’re six feet under, you’re no farther than you were in life. Dick remembers the distance between you and him more than anything else. Be it the distance he placed between himself and the manor or the ravine you dug yourself. He had always been more focussed on Tim than you and in many ways, you had orchestrated things so that it would be that way. You didn’t need him. Not like everyone else. And that leaves him with nothing of you but distant text messages and memories of you, dancing just out of his reach.

Jason remembers you amidst fluttering fabrics and blurry faces, shutters of a past he can barely recall. Your face in childhood is smeared in washes of green, blending with the images of the you of now that blares with every headline of your death. He’s never gotten to know who you are now when you aren’t hidden behind velvet curtains, in dresses covered in rhinestones worth more than an apartment complex. It haunts him. Just a bit. The same way he knows the memory of who he was before his death haunts Bruce.

Tim mourns in the Drake manor that has always been filled with more you than either of his parents. You’re gone now, just like them. It hits him harder than anyone he’s ever lost. Unlike everyone else, he almost had a surplus of memories of you, the good, the bad, the annoying and kind. It casts a daunting shadow of a role he’ll never be able to fulfil. A role that you, his perfect, unfailing, older sister, have left behind. The lingering warmth will kill him someday he thinks as he traces your path and follows in your footsteps.

Damian only knows you from stories and photographs and the half-aborted actions that the rest of the family takes. They are all trying to be something good for him and in the depths of the records his father keeps, he knows that it is your doing. You have always been larger than life to him. An idol-like figure he can never reach or know. There are millions of photos of you, thousands of angles, all of which he has learned to draw. He can imagine the gentle curve of your smile, mimic the posture when you stood, count the number of lashes on each of your eyes. But, he can only grasp at the ghost you left behind, unable to reach who you truly were.

The family will grieve. They will mourn. But, they will collect themselves eventually. You did not spend the last years of your life forcing them to communicate only for them to fall apart after you’re gone, after all.

[moralesmilesanhour]

teamwork (makes the dream work...?) pt. 2

summary: miles is not exactly a productive work partner

wc: ~800

A/N: not much plot movement here, but a tiny bit of exposition sort of. Miles will calm down in the following chapters...maybe 🥴

prev. next

"Oh Miles? He's in some of my AP classes. Honor student," Your friend's voice filtered through your phone speakers while on the FaceTime call. She popped a potato chip in her mouth as she sat in bed and sniffled, at home with a nasty cold.

"I've heard his name before. I think his dad died, that true?"

"Yeah, a couple years ago. Say he used to be really sweet, and now he don't talk no more."

"That's sad," you remark. "Maybe that's why I'm only seeing him now."

"You actually saw him in class?!?"

Your friend's face was the picture of disbelief, eyes wide as saucers as if this was a rare event.

"Yeah, he's my partner for the week cuz you decided to go and get yo ass sick!" you explained, dramatically jabbing a finger at your phone screen.

"It's not my fault that kid from AP Chem sneezed on me, damn!"

"He's really smart, but his attitude fucking sucks. He draws good, though," you think out loud.

“It’s just a week, sis, give it four more days, you’ll be fine.”

“You’d better hope so, for your sake.”

-

The following afternoon saw you asking around, trying to piece together a picture of this kid that everyone simultaneously knew and didn’t know. By the time lunchtime ended and Ms. Jones’ calculus class rolled around, you had heard the following:

‘Almost flunked out of school…on purpose’.

‘Did graffiti on the school walls once.’

‘Freakishly quiet’.

‘Secretly joined a gang’.

That last bit made your stomach turn a little as you approached your new temporary seat. Sure enough, Miles was already slouched at his desk, twirling that same pen between his fingers like a drumstick. You didn’t bother to say ‘hi’ this time. He didn’t bother to look up, either.

Miles didn’t say a word during the lecture portion of class, not even to answer questions. Would explain why you’d hardly noticed him until this week.

As the heavy-set math teacher scanned the classroom, she frequently craned her neck and made brief eye contact with Miles, but never cold-called him.

Her skin was a chestnut shade, and she kept her dark hair pinned back in a tight, slick bun. The way she pressed her lips together as she moved on suggested that they’d been through this before, and she'd be sorely disappointed.

When her lecture ended, Miles suddenly stood to his full height.

You weren’t able to tell by the way he sat, but the boy was quite lanky. Even with his awkwardly-broad shoulders slumped, he likely was a half a head taller than you. Ms. Jones stopped her slow pacing around the classroom and sighed.

“Miles, sweetie, what did I say yesterday?”

Miles looked up at the ceiling and sighed in exasperation before plopping back down into his chair. He raised his hand as if it pained him to do so.

“Yes, Mr. Morales?”

“May I please use the restroom?”

A few snickers could be heard erupting around the classroom, and the woman rolled her eyes. An innocent smile was plastered over Miles’ face, revealing two deep dimples in his cheeks. If the smile had actually reached his eyes, you would’ve thought he was cute.

“Go ahead,” Jones relented.

The boy dropped the smile and noisily pushed his chair aside; As he shot back up from his seat and strolled past your desk towards the door, Jones narrowed her eyes at him.

“Hold it. Sir, where are your glasses?”

Miles stopped in his tracks, groaning loudly.

“Oh my god, I don’t need glasses to go potty, Ms. Jones. I can aim, I promise.”

“Make sure you put them on as soon as you get back, your mother told me to remind you. Go,” Jones said, waving her hand dismissively.

“Uh-huh, thank you, ma’am!” The boy was already in the hallway, letting the door slam behind him.

Today's partner work was just a packet of long equations to simplify, so you were only mildly irritated that Miles never seemed to return from his impromptu bathroom trip until the last fifteen minutes of class.

You looked up as he sauntered over to his desk, hands in his pockets.

“Where were you? Class is almost over,” you demanded.

Miles ignored you and sat down, picking up his pen to work at a long string of equations at lightning speed.

Suddenly, you reached over and snapped your fingers in front of him. The boy looked up with his lips curled into a grimace.

"What's good witchu? You got through the work, didn't you?" Miles hissed in a low whisper to avoid catching Ms. Jones' attention.

You frowned deeply. "And what if I didn't? I'd be struggling while you were off running around the damn school-"

"I needed time to myself," he interrupted. "To think."

" 'Think' about what?"

"Personal shit," Miles resumed his problem-solving. "Any more questions, officer?"

The school bell rang, pulling from you a sigh of relief that you wouldn't have to see him again for another 24 hours.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been thinking the kind of writing I do and the kind of reactions it gets. Some authors get goofy comics of their works. Me? I just got a comment on my Captain America: Winter Soldier fic that I helped the reader understand 9/11. I am, by the way, delighted by that.

I struggle to describe my own writing style. It's wordy, I know that, and favors a LOT of detail, to its benefit and detriment. I'm indulging this tendency for my current fic because it's fanfic and I am having a lot of fun seeing what details I write that I end up elaborating on, but my number one style goal this year is to work on brevity and a snappier pace. My style is so introspective; characters spend a lot of time reflecting on themselves. I put a lot of work into making my characters complex, even at times contradictory because I think that's true to human nature. And by god, do I think about a story's themes. Do other writers think about themes this much? Sometimes I'm like, hey brain, I'm actually good on themes. Would love to get some plot.

Not to entice all the sapiosexuals out there, but I take a very cerebral approach writing. (This does not btw mean that the fic itself will be particularly intelligent.) I'm not saying this is a good or bad way--it's one way to write. My writing can feel very cold to me. Very same-y as well. That's why writing SQQ pov is so fun, it's such a radically different voice than my usual.

The fic I'm writing now was supposed to be a lighthearted fic that was an excuse for me to practice writing a sex scene. Almost 80k words in, it's so super not that. I just can't resist the thrall of complication. Although you know, as I'm writing this, I'm not exactly sure what an "intellectual approach" to writing even means to me. I use big words? I overuse semi-colons?

Maybe it's the way that I'm so language-forward in my writing. Like, what I love doing is crafting a sentence. Someone described literature to me as writing where the main draw is the author's technical accomplishment in executing their style. I definitely favor authorial voice, to the point where the stories I write that I like least feel like balsa wood gilded over. It looks nice, but you quickly realize it's weak as hell.

There's works that clearly value style over plotting, and vice versa. You need both when you write--all plot with no style reads like a synopsis of itself and all style with no plot is imagery in pursuit of nothing. Both very boring in their own way. It's interesting how totally which one weighs more affects every part of the story. Mrs. Dalloway is not a fast-paced page turner, and a thriller doesn't halt itself so we can read really beautiful, pointless paragraphs about how the color of the sky evokes memories of a long ago time when you were so different.

Maybe what I mean is that my stories tend to evolve out of the ideas that I'm exploring. In the fic I'm writing now, I had this core conceit of misunderstanding: people failing to interpret something without knowing they're doing so. In a way, the entire story is about the hard work of moving from misunderstanding to understanding. Getting information, interpreting it, having that interpretation challenged, exploring what that challenge provokes, moving either closer or further from "the truth". Shen Qingqiu misunderstands basically everything, and basically everyone misunderstands Shen Qingqiu. What situations can I make that center on misunderstandings? I also think a lot about the concept of fault--how have people failed in the past, how are they failing in the present, and how do you make up from what you have done wrong? Do you get to just move forward? Are you always at mercy of whatever you did in the past?

So a lot of the plot of the story stems out of ways that I can bring those ideas to the forefront. When I get stuck, I think of different ways these concepts can manifest. Ming Fan's getting a whole plotline because of this. I like my writing, I do, but I’ve really been thinking about the way I write affects what I write. And then in turn the reactions I get to my writing. And then I wrote this whole post because ao3 was down and I couldn’t post my chapter. And now here we are.

Also general DVD commentary on OOC fic--I hit such a roadblock because we're very close to the point of the story where Big Things are going to happen, and I could not decide on exactly how those things should occur. I had about three ideas that I was excited about. None of them were compatible with the others and each would have very different emotional implications. It's hard to write when you're essentially juggling three different drafts. The only way I got myself to commit to one was promising myself that I could always write AUs of my own fic. I honestly doubt I'll get around to doing that, but who knows. Maybe someday there will be a fic of (spoiler warnings ig for things that aren't going to happen) this fic's version of sqq and lbh in the endless abyss together.

Also you would not imagine the amount of thought I've given which conversation should happen before the abyss and where each character relationship needs to be. I have dithered like crazy. And there's so many relationships I'm working with. I'm keeping track of Shen Qingqiu's relationship with: Luo Binghe, Liu Qingge, Yue Qingyuan, Mu Qingfang, Ming Fan, Shen Jiu, Qing Jing Peak as a whole, a couple of OCs, the System, and his concept of self. Mu Qingfang has not been on screen for a minute but it's not because he doesn't haunt my plot outline. Sorry, bud, everyone else just keeps getting more pressing stuff.

[dark-bakura1]

Okay lovelies, now that the year is almost over and there are only a few hours left, I have to use this time to get something off my chest. It's just been on my mind for a while and I want to end the year with a few nice words.

When I found my way into the DCA fandom by coincidence last year, I never expected to find a digital place where I feel so comfortable - besides various communities in the horse art role play game, in which I have been more or less active for years. I never expected to start REALLY enjoying drawing again, but these two characters just made that happen. For years I've been drawing just thinking about how many points I can get out of leveling my horses, how much effort I have to put into an event picture to have a chance at one of the top three places and somewhere along the way I totally forgot to have fun with this hobby. Fun has turned into a compulsion to always aim for the best possible result. I started to overthink pictures for so long and wanted to create something so complex that I ended up not starting at all: Because I could never have realized it the way it looked in my head.

But since I stumbled into the DCA fandom myself - by pure coincidence, I'd like to say again - and started being active on Tumbr, I've found my way back to the 'origin' for myself: Having fun with what you do. This fandom has captivated me so much that I started reading English fanfiction about our two beloved robots - something I NEVER thought would happen. Simply because my concentration is totally limited and it's hard enough for me to read and understand texts in German. For me, it was never even conceivable that I would read something in a language that is not my mother tongue: And now here I am, doing it more often than I thought. Not only that, I've even started writing again myself, have an account on ao3 and upload stories there myself. I take the trouble to write, translate, proofread and upload things… and some people even think it's really great :3

And do you know why? Because behind the DCA fandom there is an incredibly large group of people like me: Who carry around a lot of problems themselves and seek refuge with two fictional characters in a fandom that is incredibly cozy, understanding, lovable and friendly. Of course, I could also create things in a fandom that isn't that… but for me it makes an incredible difference. I have an anxiety disorder around people. Even the monthly supermarket shop is a huge challenge for me. Every trip out the door is exhausting and I don't really have contact with anyone in RL. I have my mother and grandma. I go to the doctors, to Ergo therapy and I have BEWO people on hand to support and help me… but I don't have any friends. Not because I don't want to, but because friendships are incredibly stressful for me. I can't maintain them. I haven't said a word to the person I would most likely call a 'friend' in a year - because I simply don't have the strength. Talking, listening, reacting… it's all incredibly exhausting for me. But as soon as I open Tumblr and especially Discord, I see a bunch of great people. I can join in if I can and want to, but I don't have to. And to top it all off, I see so much self-insert stuff that makes me think, 'Man, you're not so alone after all' - and on top of that, even more people who also think it's good and can relate. I know that not everyone in the DCA fandom is so nice either, but the ones I've had the privilege of getting to know are just balm for my soul.

If someone had told me at the beginning of 2023 that I would find my way into a great fandom with even better people at the end of the same year, I would have declared them crazy. I don't have it in for people and since I've almost exclusively had really shitty experiences so far, they're welcome to stay far away from me. Most of them have expectations: Expectations that I can hardly, if at all, fulfill. But there are so many great people behind Sun and Moon who are simply supportive. Not toxic, not mean, not patronizing. No. They are people who are super wholesome. I don't need someone who pushes me, teaches me, corrects me or otherwise wants to educate me with phrases that they themselves don't live by. I don't want someone who puts even more pressure on me. I want people with whom I feel safe and comfortable. people with whom I can get what other people don't want to give me. When I think that I didn't like Sun or Moon in the game, I find it amazing that they are now my refuge and straighten me out mentally so many times a day. And thanks to them, I found you. Yep - YOU. Anyone who wants to may now feel addressed. Even if we've certainly never had any contact with each other: You are part of the community that I have come to love and that I am addressing here. There is so much hate, I love a Safespace that simply has love for everything and everyone. I've been here for a year now… and I hope for MANY more years with one of the greatest communities I've ever been a part of.

Hugs to ALL of you, lots of love goes out to everyone. Happy New Year, stay healthy and I wish you and your loved ones all the happiness in the world. Thank you for existing and just being amazing people. please keep that forever <3

[itsbeeble]

I saw your post about having Bang Chan brain rot and honestly, same. He has filled every waking thought I've had for the last year and I'm big mad over it.

So my fic rec is a little angsty/suggestive with him being as obsessed with y/n as we all are with him. Like, he's angry that he can't focus on work because he's too busy thinking about them but can't have them for whatever reason. All the features he possesses that we love that he can't see in himself are exactly what draws him to y/n. (I feel like crushing on Chan is an exercise in learning to love yourself, and that's a lesson he needs to learn as well).

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME I LITERALLY FELL TO THE FLOOR WHEN I FIRST SAW IT (that first statement is so real actually)

OBSESSIVE

Summary: Chan has always been obsessed with you, but he's been too afraid to act on it until now.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Pairing: bestfriend!Bang Chan x (implied)fem!reader

Warnings: a little angsty but mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, some uhhh sexual themes but there's no actual smut or anything, small make out scene teehee, swearing, insecurities briefly mentioned, I think that's it

WC: 2462

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

A/N: guys look it didn't take me 10 years to post! Also i'm gonna add to my masterlist a "Brainrot" section bc i'm not officially gonna write for certain groups but fuck do i get brainrot

~

Chan is restless in his studio, staring at the walls in front of him unable to focus. He can’t get his brain to work, to think, to do something. 

It’s your fault. He knows it’s your fault, but he can’t figure out why. Had you said something to him? Had you done something? 

No. The answer is no, you hadn’t done anything to him. At least not technically. 

In fact, it’s more him that's the problem.

It’s almost unhealthy the way he’s obsessed with you. Unhealthy and almost annoying considering that you hardly ever give him the light of day. 

Chan adores you. Adores the way you don’t care about what anyone else thinks of you, the way you laugh too loudly, the way your nose crinkles when you smile, and the way you can hold conversations so easily. He adores the way you never seem to care about looking put together, dressing in whatever you find comfortable that day, and somehow still looking beautiful. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way about anyone before. He hates the swirling in his stomach, the way his heart beats faster, and the way he can always tell when you’re close to him whether you want him to know or not. Chan can always tell from the smell of your perfume, that sweet, subtle scent you’ve worn since the day you met him in your days as trainees. 

These emotions…he shouldn’t be feeling them. Not about you, his best friend. His confidant. The one person he can trust to always be there for him, for everything. He’s tried so hard to will these emotions away, to force himself to like other people. He’s tried hookups, blind dates, dating apps. He’s tried imagining it was his grandmother instead of you whenever his thoughts dive into dangerous territory. 

And no, the grandmother thoughts didn’t work. His thoughts kept returning to you, how you would look under him. How you would look with your hair splayed out, your hand cupping his cheeks, and your lips sending him the sweet smile that you seem to reserve for him.

Fuck, he’s doing it again.

Chan takes a deep breath, sipping at the day-old water and grimacing at the stale taste in his mouth. His computer screen is still blank, the screen off from the time he’s spent staring into space and thinking of you. 

A knock on the door and then you’re slipping in quietly with a plastic go-cup filled with iced coffee. 

“Hey.”

Your greeting is simple, but you flash that smile and Chan’s heart starts doing flips. He hates it. He hates that you make him feel this way, hates that he gets nervous whenever you’re around. 

He feels you at his side, your arm on the back of his chair, fingertips brushing against his shoulder and sending jolts of electricity down his spine. He turns his head, angling his neck to look up at you. 

You with your calm eyes, with your gentle brushes against his skin, and the way you somehow soothe the storm that you caused inside of him. 

The cup in your hand is angled toward him, and he shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t be drinking that, you know,” it’s almost instinctive how he scolds you, a frown on his face when you just roll your eyes and pull the cup away from him. “Especially right now. You should be asleep, Y/N.” 

“So should you,” you hum, rolling your shoulders back and wincing when something cracks. 

“I’m working.” He nods his head at the computer, and you raise an eyebrow at the black screen.

“I can see that. Working very hard, just like you always are.”

Your hand raises to his head, ruffling the soft strands of hair. Chan clicks his tongue and pulls away from you. Your hand drops down to your side, and your small drops slightly. Barely noticeable, but enough for Chan to feel a pang in his chest. He rolls his chair back slightly, spinning it to face you. You pull a chair up, sitting directly across from him, and delicately place your coffee in an empty space on his crowded desk. 

Chan feels your knees brush against his, and heat scorches his body again. Why do you do this to him? Is it on purpose? Do you know he loves you more than a best friend should?

“Are you okay, Channie?” You lean toward him, the open part of your button-down shirt dipping to expose more skin. You would think he’s never been around a woman before.

He clears his throat, tries to look at you, and then clears his throat again. You’re biting at your lip now your eyebrows furrowed together in thought. 

He leans away from you when you lean toward him. Your knees are between his thighs now, unbeknownst to you but he is all too aware of it. You rise from your chair, coming closer to him and standing between his legs. One of his hands twitches, fighting to raise just a little bit to touch the side of your leg. 

“You seem a little feverish,” your hand is cold against his skin, and he almost chokes on the air he’d been struggling to inhale without the sweet scent of you overpowering his lungs and making him do unthinkable things. Your lips are twisted into a pout, your hand moving to his forehead and then his cheek. 

It takes Chan a moment to realize that he’s grabbed your wrist. 

It takes another moment for him to realize that his lips are against the back of your hand. 

Another moment and you haven’t pushed him away. Is it shock? Are you too disgusted to do anything? Fuck, why did he have to do that?

“Y/N—” he’s stumbling over his words, trying to grasp any thought that runs through his brain. An apology, hopefully. “I’m so— I didn’t mean—” 

Your lips are on his before he can say another word. It was a quick, fleeting kiss. Heat of the moment, maybe. 

You pull back, just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

Chan opens his mouth, ready to speak again.

The door slams shut. The space you stood in is empty. Chan’s heart sinks to his stomach, his skin still warm where you touched him.

“Fuck”

~

It’s three days before Chan hears from or sees you. Three days of absolute radio silence. No one forcing him to stop working, to look away from the screen and lay on the couch for a while. No wild laughter, random coffee dates. Nothing, and he knows why.

He knows you’ve been avoiding him. It’s not that difficult to figure it out. Whatever happened that night…it scared both of you. What frustrates him isn’t the subtle rejection. No, he could never be mad at you for that. He loves you too much to be angry about that. 

No, he’s mad about the fact that you’re running from this. You who regularly gets into heated arguments with the staff when they’re working him and the other members too hard. You who always accepts when you’re in the wrong, actively seeking a solution. You who has never had problems with communicating your emotions. He’s angry that the one time he needs you to communicate with him, you disappear. Now, after three days of you avoiding him, he isn’t quite sure he wants to see you anymore. He wouldn’t have minded if you told him you hated him for what happened.

Radio silence is…quite possibly the last thing he expected.

A knock on his door jolts him out of his thoughts. Three raps, then two, and the door opens. He knows it’s you by the shuffling of your feet against the ground and the sound of ice against plastic. You come to stand near him. Not next to him, no, it’s like you can sense the anger in him.

Or you can hear the angry typing. 

“What are you working on?” Your voice is quiet, so quiet that he almost doesn’t catch it. 

He doesn’t respond, at least not at first. The typing doesn’t slow, and he hears a small exhale from you. 

“Chan?” Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and the typing stops. You drop your hand to your side, biting your tongue and forcing the tears back. “Channie, can you please talk to me?” He turns to look at you, trying to hold back all of the emotions he’s been feeling these past three days. 

“About what?” He plays dumb. Maybe if he acts like nothing happened, you’ll just drop it and you can start avoiding each other and he can move on from you. 

“About…about what happened.” Your voice shakes, and he almost feels bad. 

Scratch that, he does feel bad. 

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.” Chan dismisses, “You made it clear how you feel and that’s fine. We can forget about it.” He avoids your gaze now, but he hears a sniffle coming from you. Hears a sob that you made a poor attempt at concealing. He looks at you again, and your hand is over your mouth while you try to calm yourself. He bites the side of his tongue, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily. 

“Come here,” he raises his hand and lazily beckons you over to him. You don’t move at first, still focused on calming yourself. “Y/N, come here.” 

Your steps are slow, almost nervous about approaching him, and suddenly all the anger is washed away from Chan’s body. All he can think about is the fact that he’s made you cry, made you upset, and he wants to fix it. 

“Why are you crying, pretty?” You’re standing in front of him, all too similarly to three days ago. Your cup has been placed to the side again, next to his keyboard, and your hands are in his. 

“I feel like…” your voice is thick with emotion, tears rolling down your cheeks that Chan wants nothing more than to kiss away. “I feel like I messed everything up.”

“How could you possibly think that?” Your best friend frowns. 

“I— I kissed you.” Your sentences are stuttered. “I fe—feel like I me—messed everyth—everything up. You— You’re my bes—best friend, Channie.” 

“Look at me,” he holds his hand to your chin, tilting your head to look down at him. “You did nothing wrong. In case you forgot, I kissed you first.”

“But that was diffe—different!” You cry, yanking your hands out of his grip and turning your back on him. Chan rises from his chair, carefully watching your movements. “I kissed you!” 

He’s curious now. “Do you think I hate you because of that?” 

You turn around, and a gasp escapes you. He’s only a few inches from you, his breath kissing your cheeks. You can see a dark tinge on his tanned skin. Was he blushing? Was he mad? 

“I— I mean—” Chan steps toward you again, practically backing you into the wall.

“Because you’d be wrong,” he continues. “In fact, it’s probably made me even worse.” 

What? “Chan— what does that—”

“I’ve been obsessed with you from the day that I met you, Y/N.” Here goes nothing. Chan takes a deep breath before continuing. “Everything you do, everything you say. I’m addicted to you. You know, I couldn’t tell at first if I envied you. It was the way you carried yourself, the confidence you had in every little thing. The way you fought so hard for the things that you loved and the people you cared about. I thought I envied the way you could laugh as loud as you wanted without fearing what other people thought of you.” 

You’re against the wall now, but he hasn’t caged you in. No, he leaves you room to escape should you so choose. Your tears have stopped and Chan reaches up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the streaks that were left. 

“I was wrong.” His voice is so quiet, so much quieter than he probably intended it to be, but it has a zoo erupting in your stomach. “It wasn’t envy.”

“Then what was it?” Your voice matches his in volume, your eyes flicking from his lips and back up to meet his gaze. He takes a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of your cold hands twisting into the fabric of his shirt, your knuckles brushing against the skin of his stomach. “Channie?” 

The way you said his name should’ve been innocent. It should have just grabbed his attention, snapped him out of the spell you’ve cast on him. 

The air is knocked out of your chest at the first touch of his lips on yours. It isn’t rough, not by any means. 

His lips move smoothly against yours, slow and sure of every move he wants to make as if he’s always going to be two steps ahead of you. One of his hands slides down to cup the back of your head, right at the base to allow him to angle your head and pull your body closer to his. Your hands have tightened into his cotton t-shirt, holding so tightly you’re positive the fabric has stretched. 

Your chest is on fire, whether from lack of breath or the emotions running through you like wildfire, you aren’t sure, but you don’t want to stop. You can’t stop. Not when he tastes so good, not when he’s kissing you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. 

A whine escapes you, and you feel his body go rigid. His lips stop moving, and he pulls back from you. You see his chest stuttering as he tries to stop himself from taking deep breaths. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you for a long time. 

You don’t have to, though. The drawings he traces into your hip with his finger and the hazy, starstruck look in his eye says enough.

His eyes meet yours when you clear your throat to get his attention. 

“So,” your voice is slightly hoarse but you can’t find yourself caring. Not in front of Chan. “You never answered my question.” He bends down, his lips lightly pressing into the skin of your neck. Your breathing hitches, and you feel him smile against you. 

“What question was that?” He asks, and his voice is right in your ear, and you can’t help but pull him closer to you.

“What was it that you felt?” 

He just laughs against you, finally taking his hand out of your hair. 

“You know what it was, pretty. Don’t pretend.”

You smile, your arm coming to wrap around the back of his neck. 

Love. It was love, and you knew it the whole time.

[natsunenuko]

TW // mental issues, mental absue, harassment, surgery/blood

I'm sorry this one is so long, but please carry on reading. It's a chance for me to not only speak about the situation but let out some steam too. It is unfortunate this announcement comes at the same time the flood occurs on the south of my home country (Poland) and I'm in the endangered zone, luckily so far safe, as I feel my head can't handle more stress.

It's been so long since I've been this personal online. I realized how I didn't feel the urge to vent for 3-4 years by now which is a sign of improving mental health. But my healing is still a process, and I'm afraid it's too hard to carry this rock alone at this point. I fought my thoughts if I should do this and I think just as deeply as I write right now. Yet, I know it's better late than never and I thank deeply my friends for helping me out recently as well as in the past in my lowest. I wholeheartedly owe my life to you.

I couldn't ask for better friends. As years verified, even long lasting relationships might be nothing but a mask and I had to learn the hard way. I ended a friendship of 13 years at the time over a misunderstanding. Other person I put my trust on was nothing but a groomer with morally corrupted sexual tendencies who would take advange of a group of minors while being the only adult among them, yet acting like a person much younger than all of them and pressuring all their mental issues on children instead of seeking help. The latter, I might speak of more in detail when I'm ready.

Long time ago I tried calling out for help but back then, the intrusive thoughts won; "Others have it worse, just work harder.", "No one will give you anything for free, no one will care.", "What people will think of you?". and I would only speak about these things in a closed circle of my friends.

I tried my best in silence by not giving up on my creative passion, working restlessly for years, improving. Hoping I could reach the point I can sustain myself purely on what I make.

But the problem is not being self-sufficient. And it's not about my art...

All of my life it has been me, my momma and my granny. The other two important figures weren't there for us, by choice. (which is hard to say if losing someone you loved is worse than not being cared for in the first place) My rather young self at the time didn't put much thought about it as I didn't understand it but something always felt wrong; my only issues at the time was being "that weird, quiet kid with little to no friends". But despite the hardships, my momma has always been my hero, working without a time for a break or rest so we could live happily, to afford something special from time to time.

However in 2014 my momma has been hospitalised and almost lost her life to wrongly treated ovarian cyst (cyst rapture), with enough blood loss to require emergency surgery...

From that point on things went downhill and the result of that we feel to this very day. To stay afloat we fell into a severe dept. (We didn't have any savings, could only rely on borrowing money or loans) And since I was a child as all of this happened, I've only learned about it all throughfully as I entered adulthood, so I wouldn't need to worry about anything and "just be a kid". Which I really understand, but it doesn't make it easier to handle.

And by now, for several years I keep on trying to earn money, so I could free my momma from this chain and let her live, not survive. I always wanted to get through this quietly, because I never, ever wanted to burden anyone with my home problems. But it grew to a point I might need to grab anything to climb towards the light

The goal is $10 000... which is scarily large number.

I list all the options but Kofi is preferred to keep track of the funds!

My commissions are HERE! (the sheet will receive a slight update in upcoming days) My Kofi is HERE! (Level 4 Tea is free headshot drawing every month!) HERE's other services I do (adopts, brushes, etc) I plan to do paid requests for my friday streams on occasion! Anything else I come up with I hope to include in here! Every person who donates will be part of "Thank you" list where I hope to shoutout everybody, cause every penny matters. I want this situation to end...