#but it turns out that was just another fucking lie

[syggwolf]

We DO deserve a fucking apology we'll never get, and not to soapbox, but lemme just throw out another fucking explanation of exactly why this shit keeps happening in the slim chance that it helps at least one person not fall for it: Fascism in ANY form will ALWAYS present itself as reasonable to YOUR sensibilities. It preys on a lot of things, your disgust reaction, your fear reaction, your own shame, your need for a tribe, your need to feel like you're part of something bigger than yourself, your need to protect your resources, your need to boost your own ego, your need to feel better than others, and in my opinion, the worst thing of all that it can prey on is your WANT TO DO GOOD. It turns that Want To Do Good against you, gives you "acceptable targets" and sets you loose, thinking that you're being a fucking super hero. Fascism will ALWAYS feel okay when you're doing it because you understand why you're doing it because you've been told why you should be doing it by someone who's fucked the narrative to make you feel good about hurting other people because they've convinced you that you are protecting people by doing it!! Fascism tells you: "The sort of people who value a sex scene in a movie are perverts, and perverts are dangerous, right? Oh god... What if they're a rapist and that's why they like that sort of stuff? Yeah, that trans girl that made that post about movies needing sex scenes... She pisses in a diaper, that's fucking disgusting right? And she likes weird fiction... And diapers are meant for kids... So... Yeah... Exactly, you got it! See you figured out what she was too! So you should trust your gut with these people, you're really good at spotting them! You know when someone is evil! And you DEFINITELY should not listen to a pervert explain themselves, because... Right, exactly, what's the point? They're just going to lie about it and probably say gross shit to you." Did you catch how that worked? It let YOU make the conclusion. It let YOU answer the questions and start setting shit in stone in your own mind. And the next thing you know, you're using fiction as proof, anything outside of your own comfort levels as evidence, you've become an emotionally reactionary fascist who genuinely believes you are making the world better, and safer, for the people you love, and who love you in return. Fascism doesn't begin with violence, it begins with a kind hand held out in your direction from someone else who believes they're helping. You might not even realize you've fucked up. Ever. That's how it works. That's how it thrives.

it's true and you should say it.

[aakeysmash]

cw: toxic relationship. sukuna x f!reader. angst. suggestive. no happy ending. unedited because i can't be bothered.

it’s been years since you last heard his name.

it happens randomly. it's cold outside, your breath forming little clouds near your mouth, making you look like a smoker. you're walking inside a cafè after a long day, trying to warm up your hands and face, when, suddenly, you hear it.

a couple just exited from the door you were about to enter in. you don’t know why you stop to look at them, but you do. they're a bit awkward, averting their gazes, and you don't think the cold is the reason why their cheeks are reddening. fingers fidgeting, mouth gaping before closing suddenly.

"i had a really nice day," murmurs the girl. one of her hands is scratching her ear, the other beside her mouth to warm it up. "wanna do it again?"

"i work tomorrow," responds the guy. a wince. a glance to her lips. a subtle half step to get closer to her.

"oh," her face falls. she retreats on herself.

“but we can still see each other,” he rushes out.

a hopeful look. another subtle half step, from her this time. "where do you work?"

"sukuna's corporations, you know, down the street?"

sukuna. your eyes widen. your breath stops. a chill runs down your spine.

the outlines of the couple and of the café blur. suddenly, you're thrown back in time. you see your face in front of you, but you look weird. younger. innocent.

you’re ten. books are all scattered around you, a big red imprint of a hand on your cheek. your mother is high, tumbling over her words and tripping over her feet, screaming at you in the library. everyone is watching, but you don’t shed a tear. you’re so used to this. security comes, just like last week, and the one before that. a boy a little older than you pushes your mother away, offers you a hand to get up from the floor. you notice him: smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, pink hair, black inked bands on his outstretched wrist, probably done by himself without any parental agreement. let’s get you out of here. i’m sukuna.

the scene changes. you’re sixteen. your left ear is bleeding, but a hand reaches out to dab a cotton piece on it. a whisper. an attempt to comfort you from behind you. you try to turn around but you seem to be unable to. it's okay, baby, you look so much hotter like this, i promise. his voice is all around you. condescending, like he always was. more mature than the last scene, almost as if he developed. he’s eighteen, of course he developed.

the scene changes again. you’re outside of a club, he’s coughing blood. he just got out of a fight, you think. you’re crouching to give him a napkin, your hand on his back to reassure him. he grins up at you, red staining his usually pearly white teeth. your breath gets caught again. did his eyes always look so void? i love you, baby, you know that, don’t you? a lie. a smile. a kiss that tastes like iron.

then, the scenes in front of your eyes blur, like a massive sped up version of your last decade.

a cat on the street, you scratching its furry chin, looking up at the man behind you. it reminds me of you when it purrs, sukuna. a bored look. your smile dropping. a fake smirk, his fake kiss on your cheek. you're so cute, i love it. another lie.

his first car, you in the passenger seat, his hand on your thigh, a song playing in the background. i feel like this is our song, baby. a laugh. a kiss. you two fucking in said car, his breath on your ear, your moans in his. never cum like this for anyone else, do you understand? a nod. i love you, sukuna. he doesn't answer.

him moving in with you, buying you flowers every monday, because you told him you love flowers. you're everything, sukuna. tongues swirling. one of his hands grabbing your left boob. i'll always care about you, baby. a bite on your neck. insincere words floating too high for you to see them.

drinking coffee on a snowy morning, him working on his computer, getting snappy when you ask what he's doing for the third time. i'll be big some day. not like you. your gasp. his indifference.

you and him on a jog, him forgetting you’re there, flirting with a girl that passes by. your hurt look. a sorry, whispered on your lips with a flower behind your ear ten minutes later. i only have eyes for you. your faith in him. his averting gaze.

a man groping your ass. his fist colliding with the man's jaw. never touch my fucking girl again. happiness on your face. his arm draped over your shoulder. him massaging your calfs when you get home. you're mine only. forever. don't forget that. his kisses. his possessive hold on your hips when you sink on his cock.

him wiping your tears. him making you cry. him making you laugh about something stupid on his phone. more tears. love letters on your kitchen counter, signed with his name. glasses rimmed with lipstick in the sink, but you don't own that color. messy sheets after you fuck like animals on his birthday. the house empty on yours. his things gone. no texts. no calls. no signs that tell you he's been living inside your house, your head, your heart for 15 years. your fingers frantically pressing his phone number on your keypad for a month straight, going to voicemail. can you come home? did i do something wrong? please, sukuna, i'll be better. i'll never complain about anything ever again. i promise. just come back to me. you're all i want... you're all i have. i'll be whoever you want. whatever you want. please.

your gaze focuses on the café in front of you again. the couple isn't there anymore, and it makes you wonder how much time you spent out here, freezing. it looks like he made it, at the end. you ignore the poster with his company's name near the street you came from.

it happens randomly.

you put your feet one after the other, entering the café.

randomly.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Eddie drunkenly calls Buck from wine night, confesses some things. On ao3 here.

Eddie calls him at 11:34 pm, and it’s a Thursday, so that means a few things. It’s wine night, the biggest thing. It’s wine night, at Hen and Karen’s, and he knows those start around dinner time so Eddie’s got several hours of alcohol in him. It’s 11:34 pm and Buck got off work at 10:45, another thing, so it’s a toss up whether Eddie timed the call to when he was walking through the door (a feat possible after years of going back and forth between the station, the loft, and the Diaz house at all times of day and night) or if it’s just a drunken coincidence.

“Hello,” Buck answers the phone, dragging out the first half of the word, tossing his keys into the bowl on the counter.

“Buck,” Eddie says, voice bright and not very slurred, but he’s only said one word so far, and Buck sometimes secretly thinks he could probably say his name pretty steadily no matter the situation. Buck is pretty sure he could be all drunk or half dead and still be able to say Eddie just fine, anyway. “Hello. Are you home from, did you get home from work?”

Ah, so, somewhat drunk then. “Did indeed. You still at the Wilsons?”

“Did you, uh- was there fire?” Eddie sounds like he’s trying very hard to sound normal. Buck bites his lip against a snort.

“No fires. Just a half shift, remember. Pretty boring one, honestly.” I missed you probably isn’t fair to say, Buck covered the shift of his own volition, he could have been at wine night if he really wanted. But Donovan’s sister had a baby, what was he gonna do, not let the guy meet his niece? “Hope you had a better time.”

“Great time,” Eddie says, enthusiastic. “They had, uh, mini quiches.”

Buck grins at the empty room. “You’re a man who loves a mini quiche.”

A few seconds of whooshy silence where Buck assumes Eddie is nodding enthusiastically. “The- uh- they had the bacon kind. The kind, and with the- you know, there’s spinach? Can we go to Costco?”

“Sure,” Buck agrees, opening his admittedly pretty sparsely populated fridge. “Could use a grocery run.”

“And get the, get more quiches?”

Buck grabs a protein bar, smiling as fondly as he wants to with no one around to see him. “Yeah, Eds, we’ll get more quiches.”

“And you’ll take the spinach ones? And I get the good ones?”

Buck laughs. “The spinach ones are good. You can barely even taste the spinach, they’re just, like, warm and eggy.”

“Mmm,” Eddie says, doubtfully. “It’s not nice to lie, Buckley.”

“I’m not fucking lying,” Buck cackles. “Your spinach hatred is so unfair, what’d it ever do to you?”

“Taste bad,” Eddie says, adding a blegh sound for emphasis. “It’s like- like- it’s gross, I don’t believe you actually like it, actually. You just want to eat grown up food.”

Buck snorts. “Man, I hate to break it to you, we both turn 34 this year.”

“And I don’t feel like I have to prove that to anybody by eating nasty food,” Eddie says, nose definitely in the air. Buck shakes his head and takes a bite of the protein bar.

“Whatever, man. You just have to live with the fact that Chris is the one sneaking vegetables into your food.”

“You’re so mean. I’m not letting you have any of my actually good quiches.” Empty threat, they always end up sharing, both of them know it. “That’s not even what I called about. That’s not even-“ Eddie huffs so hard it sounds all crackly in Buck’s ear. “I called to tell you that I love you.”

Buck grins. Oh boy, affectionate drunk Eddie is here. He’d wondered just how much wine they’d got through and it seems like Eddie must be nearly a bottle in. “Aw, love you too, bud.”

“No,” Eddie says, and Buck can see the frown from here. “Buck. Listen. I’m in love with you.”

Oh. God. Oh god. “Uh-“ Buck says, stomach swooping all over the fucking place, “Uh- I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having while you’re-“

“Oh, fuck off, shut up. Shut up. It’s fine.”

“Eddie-”

“Buck,” Eddie says, in the annoyed voice he uses when Buck is trying to get him to eat yogurt with his fruit in the morning, or even a dastardly spinach quiche. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I knew you’d- why- stop it. Listen. I feel like this all the time. It’s stupid that I’ve never, like, I never just say this all the time. You’re, like-”

Eddie cuts himself off and Buck waits — sort of fearfully — for him to continue, but the silence keeps stretching on. Buck knows the other side effect of this level on the Eddie Diaz Drunkenness Scale is heightened distractibility, so he probably noticed a nice color or perhaps a bug. They spent a good twenty minutes hanging out with a grasshopper at Hen and Karen’s wedding towards the end of the night, because it was a lovely shade of green and a funny little guy. Oh god, Buck thinks again. I love this man. I love this man a ridiculous amount and we should absolutely wait to talk about it.

But: “You’re tall and you’re in my house,” Eddie says before Buck can do anything to stop him.

“I’m-” Buck glances around the loft. “Eds, I’m at my place.”

“What?” He sounds so indignant that Buck has to cover his mouth to hold a laugh in. “Why?”

“‘Cause I live here?”

“That’s stupid. You should live with me in my house.”

“Should I?” Buck asks, laugh escaping a little bit. “Also, wait, what does me being tall have to do with it?”

Eddie sighs, long and exasperated. “If you live with me you never have to go home and leave me because you’re already at my house. Your house. If you live with me you never have to go anywhere.”

“Never have to go anywhere?” Buck thinks he’s in shock, maybe, about all of this, but teasing Eddie is something that’s always easy to fall into. “I don’t have a job in this scenario?”

“Well you’d go to work. And other places. But you just come back to me all the time.”

“I’d like to come back to you all the time,” Buck says, choking a little on how simply it explains every ache in him. “Eddie-“

“And you’re tall because… it matters because you’re tall because…” Eddie’s voice is soft, his breathing is soft. Buck wonders where he is in Hen and Karen’s house. In a hallway, tucked away from everyone, the nice light from the stained glass lamp they have there warm on his face? On the back porch, out in the cool night air? Buck wants to tell him to come home, wants to make sure he’s warm. “I never had to look up at anybody before.”

“I’ve got like two inches on you,” Buck replies, but his voice is pretty quiet.

“It’s a big two inches,” Eddie says, just as soft. Then, also quiet but of an entirely different flavor, “That's- Sorry- that's what she said.”

“That's-” Buck snorts. “What-” and then giddy laughter bursts up out of him, baking soda and vinegar, foamy and ticklish. He cackles till he’s breathless, listening to Eddie’s responding chuckles over the line, and sinks down to the floor, back against the kitchen island. “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“I scored better on my certification exams than you.”

“That’s not even true!” Buck protests over Eddie’s continuing laughter. “Only in two categories!”

“Overall percentage was higher!” Eddie reminds him, as he does every time they have this argument.

“Well, I remember building construction and related hazards better than you and that’s written down on official paper somewhere.”

“Not fair,” Eddie says, as he always says. “You- you did- you built those. Unfair advantage.”

“I think you’re overselling the kind of experience I got in a few months working construction like a decade ago.”

“It wasn’t a decade when you took the tests,” Eddie points out. “Whatever. Nevermind. And I don’t want to sound like- you’re good at remembering things. You’re not stupid. I don’t want to sound like you are.”

Buck taps his boot against the sink counter in front of him. “I know. You’re not either.”

“I know,” Eddie says, soft again. “But your hands are big, and… you’ve got stubble sometimes, and…” he trails off into just breathing on the other end of the line for several long moments. “Buck,” Eddie whispers in sleepover voice. “Have you ever kissed a boy before?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, knowing Eddie knows this, but playing along anyway. “I have.”

“What's it like?”

Buck hums, closes his eyes. He thinks about the few guys he’d made out with but never followed home when he got to Los Angeles. Thinks about the room he’d crashed in with Connor in Peru, with it’s one mattress and both their clothes living in suitcases because they were too broke to buy any other furniture. He’s still got a t-shirt for a school he never went to, a few sizes too small. The way they hadn’t shared a room once they were in LA, the girls Connor started seeing. He thinks about John from the ranch who left town the next day. He thinks about high school, Len McGuinty under the bleachers in the summer before senior year, both of them giggling and half terrified and the way they’d pretended to barely know each other when school started back up. Hard jawlines and stubble and muscles and height. Having something, for however long you get to have it. Wanting something, very badly. He opens his eyes and it’s almost a surprise that he’s still in the loft. That he’s not at Eddie’s house. All the time in the world there wouldn’t be enough. “It’s good, Eddie. It feels good.”

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, shivery.

“I want to live in your home all the time, and never have to go anywhere,” Buck says, repeats. “I’ll kiss you, if you want.”

“Buck-”

“I’ll love you, if you want.” Eddie is still drunk, Buck tries to remind himself. But it might actually kill him not to say it out loud when Eddie had said he feels like this all the time. How could he not say he feels like this all the time, too? “I’ll love you back. I love you back. I’ll eat all the spinach quiches for you.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t know what expression is on his face, doesn’t know what look is tied to this tone of voice. Is desperate to find out. Quiet down the line for a few moments. And then: “It’s late.”

Buck pulls his phone away from his ear for a second to check the time. Nearly midnight. “Yeah.” His hands feel clammy. It was too much. They should have waited to talk. Eddie wants out now, and that’s fine. Buck will —somehow, skin of his teeth — find a way to be fine with that.

But: “I want to go home,” Eddie says. “Buck. Come and take me home.”

“And then-”

“And then stay.”

“Okay,” Buck gets to his feet, tosses the half eaten bar in the trash. Eddie’s house has food. His home has things to eat.

“Okay,” Eddie says, confident now, everything decided, everything for sure. “I’ll see you soon.

“Minutes,” Buck says, grabbing his keys, half running to the door. “I’ll be there in minutes.”

“Minutes,” Eddie says back. And Buck can hear his smile.

[planetpedri]

All in good time, — Franco Colapinto.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a college student meets her polar opposite in Franco Colapinto, she instantly disliked him. But, Franco was enamored with her and he would get her to like him, all in good time.

Word count: 1.65k+

Disclaimer/s: this is a hockey!au

A/N: this is for @purinfelix and jet only! though i love each and every one of you who choses to read it.. this was. this was ass girl shit i’m sorry i didn’t know where i was going toward the end… i may do another hockey player!franco fic tho but its going to be far more centered around the actual hockey

Franco Colapinto was a force to be reckoned with. Somehow, you’d gotten tangled into his life. When your dorm was being renovated and you needed a place to stay, your roommate suggested her friend’s house—that friend being Franco. A notorious hockey player for the Golden Knights.

He was, in simple terms, agitating. Your two and a half weeks staying in his basement was something close to hell on earth. He held parties, big ones! Ones that interrupted your studying, which he’d half ass apologize for the next morning while nursing a raging hangover, right before asking you to make your signature hangover recipe while he showered.

That was your payment for staying there. You nursed his hangovers and helped him come up with various excuses as to why he was late to practice, even going as far as to go out of your way to tell his coach you’d gotten terribly sick and he had to bring you to the hospital.

Two pea’s in a lying pod. That’s what you were.

In the first week, he’d convinced you to go to the rink to help him practice. You—only ever using figure skates—had a difficult time keeping up with him. You nearly broke a tailbone trying to catch up with him.

Franco held a lopsided grin when he stopped, ice shavings flying as he turned to face you. Though, you saw the concern flash across his face as he skated back in your direction, leaning down to help you up.

“I need an ice pack—“ Your lips formed a thin line, “actually, I need wine and an excuse to get out of this hell.”

The curly haired man laughed, pulling your hand over his shoulder as his free arm looped around your waist. Holding you up, he assisted you back to the bench, setting you down carefully.

Once you shifted to get comfortable, wincing in pain, you untie the laces on your skates. “How do you do this for a living? I’m fucking miserable and we’ve done this once.”

Franco shrugs, leaning his head against the tempered glass that separated the rink from the benches. “Maybe I will just have to put you to work.” His lips threaten a smirk, “if it helps, I do prefer practicing with you than my teammates.”

That wasn’t even particularly a lie. He tried to find ways to get to know you, but you were a tough nut to crack. He tried so hard to find ways to get in your good graces, and forcing you to hang out with him was the only way he could get you to spend quality time with him.

His flirting was what annoyed you the most. You couldn’t stand it, only because it made a weird feeling erupt in your stomach. “First of all, don’t let them hear that. Second of all, I will never do this again. Ever.”

Franco was a convincer. He was good at getting people to do things, and you were unfortunately, not exempt from that. Even when you were back in your dorms, he’d convinced you to join him at the rinks.

You rarely ever practiced with him, simply opting to watch from the stands. You hated to admit it, but you’d grown to enjoy the time spent with him. When he took breaks, he’d explain the rules to you, different tactics they used, various things.

When you’d get so engrossed in conversation, he’d slip in a question about you, that you’d answer without thinking. He was good at getting to know people, but you were a difficult case. He’d found a way eventually, only getting you to talk about yourself when you were so distracted you couldn’t think long enough to stop it.

“Hockey pucks are actually frozen before games to make them move faster and glide smoothly on the ice, so they don’t bounce a lot.” Franco was rambling about different facts, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip in a question he’d been waiting to ask for weeks.

“Seriously? So they don’t just stay rubbery and lukewarm?” The last part was only slightly sarcastic, but the fact had actually surprised you.

“So.. are you seeing anyone?”

“No.” You pause, wait—what? You don’t get an opportunity to ask any further questions because he was already onto the next fact. “Franco!” You snap, interjecting his next rant.

Francos eyebrows raise slightly, “yeah?”

You narrow your eyes, licking your lips. “You just asked if I was seeing someone. Then—you know what. That doesn’t matter, what does though, is that you just slipped in a question that was not like the others you’ve slipped in.” His face contorts and you laugh, “i’m going to law school, I notice tactics like that.”

The hockey players mouth quirks, he wasn’t even slightly ashamed. “Oh, I love how smart you are.” He hums, “I was just curious. If you were, thank the lord you aren’t, but, he wouldn’t like you hanging out with me.”

“Thank the lord? Seriously?” Your eyes roll dramatically. The wooden bench beneath you feels stiff and uncomfortable the more he watched you with his stupidly smug face.

Franco nods, “hey—“ He begins untying his laces, “you should come to my game tomorrow. You haven’t come in a while.”

The topic switch was noticeable, but you ignore it. “I have a lecture late tomorrow. I’ll probably be tired.” But when Franco’s face changes into that familiar doe-eyed expression, you cave. “Fine! I’ll come! Quit looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are”

“No i’m not.”

“Are too!”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

“Are—what?” Your brain stops working, words failing your tongue. Excuse you? “Wait a fucking minute—“

Franco watches you carefully. “Is that a no?”

“No! I mean—“ You were still a stumbling mess. Your mouth opening and clamping shut. “It’s a-well, I mean, It’s a yes! Yes, I will! Jesus, Franco. You couldn’t have asked any smoother?”

He’s smiling, finding your stammering all too amusing… and adorable. It was very cute. “It felt fitting to me.” He shrugs casually, slipping off his skates. “After the game and a shower, the diner you like a few blocks from your dorm?”

That was most definitely something he learned during his not-so-secret questionnaires.

“That sounds perfect.” You huff, “now, can you bring me home? I think i’m developing hypothermia.”

After changing into his regular shoes, he stands, offering you his hand. You take it, though it was with an eye roll. Franco smirks at your reaction, not commenting on it as he helps you to your feet.

“Does your body not ache every time you finish?” You ask as the two of you exit the arena, making your way through the dark parking lot.

You regretted your choice of words the second they left your lips. “Don’t even—“

“I have incredible stamina, actually.” Franco cheeses, slinging his arm around you. You allow it, even leaning into his side.

“You are insufferable.” You scoff, but the twitch of your lips betrayed your feigned annoyance.

The laugh that emits from Francos mouth has a smile growing on your lips, it was a sound you’d grown to enjoy.

Franco opens the passenger door for you, which had you suppressing a smile. It was a gesture he made every trip to the arena, in fact—Franco was very much a gentleman, despite boy boyish he could be.

Only when he was the drivers seat with the engine going and heater ablaze, does Franco finally grow serious. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, I know you’re sort of a people pleaser.”

Okay, ouch?

Franco’s eyes widen, “I didn’t mean it like that!” He says quickly, stumbling for a way to fix what he said.

You’d never seen Franco have to search for words to say. He was always so smooth and, well, he was never one to falter.

“I know what you meant, and you’re right. But, when have I ever gone out of my way to people please you.” You reassure him, a gentle look on your face. “I want this.”

The rest was history. You want Franco had been going steady for months. Whenever you had enough time in your busy college schedule, you went to his games, you were his number one cheerleader and support system.

Hockey had easily become your favorite sport, you knew everything about it due to Franco’s inability to ever stop talking. Thats probably what made the two of you such a perfect pair. You were quiet, he wasn’t. He was your polar opposite, the yin to your yang. And thats what made it work.

When you didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t there to fill the silence. When he didn’t want to talk, you enjoyed each other’s silence.

You had never thought in a million years, the man who annoyed you oh so much, was the same man you would grow to love.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future franco posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @purinfelix @sakashq @hrts4havertz @spidybaby

[quarterlifekitty]

Video Girl!AU

this is dumb as hell but i had to get it out there because i am so so so ill for ghoap

Soap did not remember this video store. He’s passed by this street hundreds of times— surely… he would’ve seen it. Then again, maybe heartbreak makes you see the world differently. The clerk hands him a member card with a smile, and a promise that they’d have what he needed.

Yeah, he was doubting that. He didn’t recognize any of these titles. But something catches his eye– a girl on the cover of a VHS. One that’s just his type– a cute face, a gorgeous body, and a teasing little smile.

He turns the lights off in his room, slotting the tape into the VCR. It makes a kinda clunky, scary noise but eventually loads up the movie. It’s got a production logo like it’s softcore porn, which it very well could be– that’s what you get for picking by the cover without reading the back. Not that he’d mind if it was.

The girl from the cover appears on the screen, just as radiant. Maybe more, now that she’s in motion. Her laugh sounds like bells– gentle, sweet, innocent.

“Thank you. Thank you for choosing my video! Oh, why do you look so sad?” What was this, some sort of girlfriend experience type of thing?

 “Oh, I see, unrequited love is it? Don’t let it get you down though, okay? They just don’t understand you. You’ve got a lot to offer another person. I know I’m not much, but. How would you feel about letting me be the one to cheer you up?”

Video girl’s got him right pegged. Though he supposes it's not an uncommon reason to rent a flick with a hot girl on the cover. He sighs. Her expression softens even more in sympathy, her eyebrows drawn in as she pouts on his behalf.

“ I see...it’s that bad huh...? Poor guy, there’s no way just a video is gonna help you…” Ain’t that the truth? Terrible way to get him to rent more tapes, though. An epiphany seems to strike the girl, and a smile spreads over her face.

“That’s it! I’ll stay with you for as long as it takes!”

Imagine being the girl from a video Soap rented while wallowing in his feelings. Rejected by Simon, for reasons he doesn’t understand. They got along so well– different from the other guys. But then again, judging from how Simon looks at Price whenever he steps into the room… Maybe he does know why he was rejected.

When you come from the screen, Johnny’s surprised none of his neighbors call the cops, because he screams bloody murder.

You vow to help him… to help him be less lonely. To help him get the guy he wants. For the one month that his rental lasts, at least.

When you meet the guys, Soap is able to put together some lie about you being a friend of his sister who’s staying with him while you’re in town.

It’s just your luck that Ghost has a sixth sense. Man knows there’s something strange about you. The otherworldly knows the otherworldly.

And to make matters worse… You’re supposed to be a world-class lover. A teasing, minxy girl who knows just how to make a man fall over himself and beg for more without breaking a sweat. Or, you would be– if you hadn’t been played on a broken VCR.

Now you’re so damned timid. Incredibly sensitive, shy, stuttering whenever you make eye contact with any guy that isn’t Soap. And to Ghost, it’s like smelling blood in the water.

He’s constantly cornering you, chatting you up, trying to fluster you. He hardly knows he’s doing it, sniffing you out and trying to get you to crack. Quite frankly, you’re doing a terrible job of getting the two of them together.

And when Soap sees this all happening… He feels like he’s supposed to be jealous of you. He is–but it isn’t just that. He’s jealous of both of you… and at the same time, seeing you together seems so natural-- and it turns him the fuck on.

[thesassypadawan]

Make Them Blue (A.J. X FemReader) *Blurb*

Summary:  It’s No Nut November and, like every year, your smooth criminal and the rest of his goodfellas are having a friendly competition.  Starting out strong aka avoiding you like the plague, he unfortunately falls when he comes home early on laundry day.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there’s sooo much of the smut.  Fun from behind (giddy up), a washing machine, dom Man With The Plan, slight making fun of hat, and… A.J.’s big, fat dick.

Notes: Happy No Nut November all you, lovelies! 🤍💙

- “All right, gentlemen…  End of the month, ante up…  Let’s see that cash…”

- Perched on the arm of his chair, you watch with mild interest as each took a turn.  Poking fun, taking cheap jabs at one another.  Retelling their own screw-up stories while they slowly make it around the circle.  Setting varying stacks on the table along the way…fanning them out for all to see who lost worse.

- So far the amounts haven't been too exorbitant, at least not in terms for these goodfellas.  A cool thousand here, an easy two there…even two and a half.  However, when it finally came to your smooth criminal's turn.

- “Five…grand?  FIVE GRAND?!”  Jake exclaims, smacking A.J firmly on the back.  Shaking his head, laughing heartedly with the rest of the guys.  “How the mighty have fallen!  Man, this got to be good!”

- “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles.  Setting his hat on the table, you run a hand through those fluffy locks.  “Well…”  While he accidentally reaches for your drink instead; making a slight, knowing face the second the taste washes over his tongue. “…I blame stupid laundry day.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Groaning above; he pins, presses you against the washer.  Inked arms caging you in on both sides.  He mutters low, gruffly; dragging his cock between your soaked folds  agonizingly slow.  “Walkin’ around the apartment, wearin’ MY shirt…nothin’ else?  Fuck…killin’ me, doll.”

- “So-Sorry…”  You barely manage to stammer out.  Fingers scrabbling at the cool, smooth surface.  Trying to center, but losing yourself more and more from the continuous jostling of the machine on your pleasure button.  From his fat tip teasing, occasionally catching on the rim of your needy hole.  “Not my fault that…that…”

- A loud, dry sob falls from your lips as he suddenly slams into…stretches, spreads you onto his thick length.  Almost feral growl rumbles in his chest when your gummy walls clench, grip in response.  “Bullshit, don’t lie to me!”

- Wasting no time, not giving you a moment to adjust; he sets a fast pace.  “Ya knew exactly what you were doin’…”  Pounding away roughly, brutally.  Nearly bottoming out with each wild drive.  Undoubtedly bruising your poor hips and backside.  “Workin’ me up, so ya could get what ya want…”

- Big hands grasp the rounded sides…hard.  Hard enough for his knuckles to turn white; to create small, slight dents.  “That’s it, huh?”  Giving himself the extra leverage needed to sink deeper; hit, bully your cervix.  Punching the air, weak gasps from your lungs.  “Admit it…say it…SAY IT!” 

- Tears fill, sting at the corners of your eyes.  Coil in your stomach wound so tight, slick running down your thighs.  “Jay, s-swear…didn’t think you’d be home to-today!”  Nails scratch frantically at the lid, a few chipping, breaking.  Leaving knicks and marks of pearly pink in their wake.  “Just wanted to…to get a few lo-”

- “You’re gettin’ a few loads, all right,” he grunts.  Speeding up further, putting his full weight behind those harsh thrusts.  “‘Til my balls are dry…”  You can feel him twitch, throb.  “‘Til I make sure we still win that money…”  Know that he’s about to pump you full, to the absolute brim.  That it’s too late to stop him from taking the biggest gamble of your lives.  “Somehow…”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- “Somehow,” Jake echoes and scoffs.  Placing the smallest bundle on the pile, smirking at you two.  “Okay, let’s hear this ‘somehow’…before I collect my winnings.”

- “Go on, angel…tell ‘em,” A.J. chuckles.  Tapping your bottom affectionately, smiling up at you encouragingly.  “Explain why you’ve been nursin’ a pop all night.”

- Without hesitation, you fish something small out from between your cleavage.  “Might want to consider donating that jackpot…”  Happily setting the positive on the table, mischievous grin on your face.  “…uncle.”

- Minute or two of silence falls over the group, followed by… 

- “You know what, here…”  Scooping up all the cash, Jake generously plops it into the upturned hat.  “Take it, get the kid whatever they need…just make sure it ain’t one of those ugly ass things.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @laylaplease, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @lotte08, @rafeswifeyy2, @exsamlockwood-kate, @sythethecarrot, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @fuckmyskywalker, @everydaydreamer, @jediavengers, @anisangeldust, @fredswrite, @xhunnybeeex, @vaderswifey, @anakinstwinklebunny

@littlelamy, @khoatic-with-no-energy, @raiwpenl, @malinadbbdh, @strokingforyou26, @xspacexwitchx, @em-21, @hearts4sammonroe, @shouldbetakencareof2, @loxbbg, @supersoldatbarnesstuff, @thesilentreaderrrrr, @theoriginalsinner28, @dumb-slut-things, @indigoblues1207, @ald6518, @julxstrawberry, @wh0sl0ttie, @tojis-missing-arm, @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo, @theladykassia, @doblasftcisco, @morguexmvp, @f4iryjinsworld, @nyxiesstuff, @heymamasblog, @justsomeimbicel, @prettywhenicry-777, @femme-is-typing, @maddis0n4, @ttdrake, @melmurkun, @brattyyybbg, @zara13ts, @bigaoibhe2024, @neocitywhore, @ter-luer, @ladyanaschmidt, @sarahflores07,  @death934, @dovepevensie, @adorebambie, @pookiswookis, @icecoldhearts, @elliemariscal, @allievalll, @moonlxght-tyler, @1-racha, @tosterwwannie, @inejghafawifesblog, @carlgrimeswifeofficial, @hellemo666, @pitas-star, @sapphirefrog-blog, @carlgrimeseyepatch, @melonmochi, @coldcupcakedinosaur, @juli007, @skyguy8108, @frogtowne, @jennasco, @nothinspecial1000, @burnthispls666, @dovepevensie, @xxxxxxctu, @abobiwan-kenobi

[everseens]

hooking up with a fan was nothing new to him, but there was something about vienna that was different than the others. it was as if she would go to no ends to please him, and that's what turned him on so much-- that eagerness. he was never one to lie or ruin the mood, but it seemed that he didn't need to here-- she might easily be the tightest he's ever had. maybe it was that or that his head was a bit foggy from the alcohol, but he couldn't imagine another time where he had felt better. that giggle of hers was addicting, almost as addicting as her cunt. the way she began to bounce on his dick in perfect rhythm was hard to describe, and he just wanted to take it in and watch the way her tits jumped each time she went down on him. "tightest cunt i've ever fucked, that's for sure. gonna make sure to stretch you out real good, though-- you'll be ruined by the time i'm through with you."

watching his face as she teased him was like a treat, the night was still young and she has a whole lot of energy built up just for him. wasn't going to just stop after a couple rounds, no she was going to exhaust him to no other -- drain his balls. "am i the tightest you've ever gotten?" she teases, giggles falling from her lips at his demand. hips slowly pulls him out before bouncing down again -- finding the perfect rhythm as her tits began to bounce along.

[ponyosmom35]

better off

simon ghost riley x reader

synopsis: simon and soap discuss their plan to keep reader safe from their enemies.

Link to master list:https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

Soap set down the phone and looked at Simon, his expression a mix of exasperation and sadness. "Happy now?" he asked, his tone sharp but edged with concern.

Simon didn't respond immediately. He stood still, his face as unreadable as ever. His fingers flexed at his sides as if trying to find something to hold on to. After a moment, he let out a slow, deliberate breath and looked up.

"Yeah," Simon said, his voice flat. "I'm ecstatic."

Soap shook his head, pacing the room. "I don't understand why you can't just go home, get her out of there, and put her somewhere safe while we finish this."

Simon's jaw tightened, his eyes darting to the floor as if it held all the answers. "It's not that simple, Soap. If they catch even a whisper of me going near her, they'll know. And if they know, she's dead." His voice was strained, as though each word was a weight he could barely carry. "Right now, the safest thing for her is to think I'm gone."

Soap stopped pacing, turning to face him. "So what's your plan, then? Once she gets here, we just pick her up and take her to the safehouse? She's gonna freak out, Simon. And when she finds out you're alive, she's gonna bloody kill all of us. She'll never forgive you."

Simon's shoulders sagged slightly, the faintest crack in his stoic demeanor. "I know," he said, his voice quiet. "I know." He exhaled sharply, straightening his posture as if to shake off the weight of his admission. "But what choice do we have, Johnny? It's her life or mine. And I'll be damned if I let her die because of me."

Soap crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "So, you think sending her on a 'vacation' is safer? Mate, this is fifty shades of fucked up."

Simon's eyes narrowed, his tone cutting. "Watch it, mate. I know it's not a perfect plan. But it's the best I've got right now. As long as she's in the dark and keeps moving, she's safe."

"And if Makarov gets wind she's in the country?" Soap's voice dropped, the gravity of the situation pressing between them.

Simon's voice dropped even lower, cold and dangerous. "If Makarov spots her, I'll bring her in myself. And I'll rip apart every bastard in his crew before I let him touch her."

The finality in Simon's tone ended the conversation. Without another word, he walked to his room, the door closing behind him with a resounding thud. He leaned against the wall, his head hanging low. The weight of it all—her absence, her safety, the lie he was forcing her to live—crushed him.

He clenched his fists, the guilt and desperation bubbling to the surface. With a sharp exhale, he slammed his fist into the wall, the pain radiating through his knuckles barely a fraction of what he felt inside. He stood there, breathing heavily, trying to push it all back down.

He missed her more than he thought possible. Every second apart felt like a fresh wound, a new reminder of what he'd given up to keep her alive.

Later that night, sleep found him, but it offered no relief. His dreams turned into a nightmare—her, standing in front of him, her eyes wide with fear. Makarov's men surrounded her, guns raised. Simon tried to move, to grab her, but he was frozen, powerless as the worst unfolded before his eyes. The gunshot rang out, and her body crumpled to the ground.

He woke with a start, gasping for air, his chest heaving as sweat soaked through his shirt. He pressed his hands to his face, the image of her lifeless body burned into his mind.

The rest of the night passed in restless silence. By dawn, Simon was in the gym, punishing his body in a futile attempt to quiet his mind. When his muscles screamed for mercy, he retreated to his office, staring at the live feed from the security camera outside her house.

The sight of her home brought him no comfort. He told himself it was to ensure she was safe, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn't go a day without feeling connected to her.

As he watched the screen, he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the hum of the equipment. "I'll fix this. I'll make it right. And then… I'll stay out of her life for good."

But even as he said the words, the thought of never seeing her again felt like the cruelest punishment of all.

[katerinaaqu]

Have you heard of the korean bl manga Ennead that takes the actual Egyptian mythology and twists it so much it's not even a joke?

Especially about Seth, for some reason in the manga he gets assaulted more times than any dark romance on booktok and then have him and Horus his niece be a thing.

Now some will say "Greek myths did the same with relationships" and i am like are they aware that these ancient myths with this modern adaptation isn't the same thing???

Especially Egyptian deities who were religious figures and now if you search online well be prepared 😭

I am aware of its existence but never read it. I have to confess some of the arts looked nice but just by looking at that I was like "nope! Another modern 'adaptation'!

Not gonna lie, first time I saw it I was like "oh finally we have some egyptian mythology mention!" but then I saw some clips here and there and I was like "Nope!". Then I must confess (if you see my profile and my takes on the ATROCIOUS adaptations of my culture's mythology -Greek-) I was like... "oh...someone else's mythology is butchered for a change!" So yeah basically a twist of the actual myth behind Seth and Horus where Seth pretended wishing to bed Horus, Horus deflects him and gathers his seed in his hands. His mother spreads then Horus's seed to some lettuse that is Seth's favorite so basically when Seth eats it and "takes in Horus's seed" without knowing, he brags to the council of the gods that he has managed to seduce and conquer Horus so others would mock him but then the gods call upon each of their seed from the gods and of course Horus's seed appears as a halow around Seth's head so Seth is humiliated instead I am not even surprised anymore that they do this at this point! They just take a mythical and symbolic scene and they turn it into some twisted SL whatever version to get others to get excited!

But man yeah I know it is terrible! I keep struggling with it every day especially with mainstream stuff that basically RUIN the myths for the world in my opinion especially with the changes (see for example PJO, Miller's books or Epic the Musical's plot) that basically make the world SOOOOOO revolved around these modern "adaptations" that is not even a joke, they literally use them almost as sources or as substitute for them! And it is infuriating to me. And yeah not only do they speak on them as if they are the substitute of sources but also they speak to those who point out that they are NOT as if they just bring up the usual "the myths have versions. This is one of them" like noooooo? If I create an SNL version of Star Wars does it make me an official creator? If I make Lord of the Rings Characters fuck with each other does that make me equal to Tolkien?! And yeah that is of course not even the same level as people who use ancient cultures' "modern adaptations" to not only substitute the actual sources but also to speak as if they are equivalent! Or even worse as if these "modern adaptations" are somehow "correcting" the ancient sources! That is what infuriates me the most when it happens!

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Fifteen

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Sorry sorry sorry for how long it's taken for me to update!! Had a lot on and then I got real sick. Hope this is an alright update though:) Continues on from the last scene where they were at the cinema!

Enjoy seeing the articles I tried to make too lmao, they're there not too far down after the first couple paragraphs. Idk what I was thinking w that one, but it felt necessary after the long wait!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy @helloitsme1223 @geekchic48

Masterlist

It was Saturday, and Saturday typically meant that the weekend had finally come. And both of those things had yet to occur whilst I’d been staying in Detroit. Which, in truth, wasn’t the only thing to throw me completely off my game this morning.

Although honestly, it was a really big change.

Rosie wasn’t around yet. Apparently Saturday’s were sacred days within the Mathers household, seeing as the pre-teen liked to sleep in on the mornings she had off from school, which also meant that Marshall got to finally have a lie-in. Or, at least it seemed that way when I’d decided to venture from the confines of my room around about nine, after having had a brief breakdown over everything I’d woken up to.

The media was in meltdown mode.

Every news outlet from here to Beijing was talking about the pictures that had been captured last night in the car park to the theatre, as well as the one’s I’d taken with that particular girl outside of the women’s bathroom. It seemed that other fans had connected all the dots in the time between my head hitting the pillow and now. 

I had zero idea as to what I was meant to do about it all. My phone was blowing up with notifications from every account that I held, as well as friends and even some family members I hadn’t spoken to since I’d told them where they could shove it the last time they’d come sniffing round looking for a payout. 

It was the most nauseating feeling, believing that you’d lost complete control over a situation.

But it was just as I’d gathered up the courage to go knock on Em’s bedroom door that my phone rang once again. Only this time, it was one of the names I’d been hoping to see. 

“Elia, you there?”

A shaky breath escaped me as I pressed my phone closer to my ear, hastily turning on my heel to head down the stairs. 

“Mila.” I exhaled, but even I could hear the anxiety that lined my voice and it wasn’t because Mila and I had barely spoken since the whole argument we’d had over Lottie. No, this was down to me knowing that things had to be really fucked up because my manager had shared that same wavering tone. “I don’t know what to do. Everything– it’s all just blown up in my face.”

There was a long pause which followed my clumsy reply, I used it to slip out of the back garden door to escape the sudden confining feel the house had started to give me. Which seemed so stupid in hindsight, what with how big it was, but that thought alone allowed me to take another deep breath. 

I shivered at the cold that overwhelmed Detroit in the early throes of winter but didn’t care enough to head back inside to grab a cardigan or even a pair of shoes. My mind honed in on the way my life seemed to be crumbling piece by piece, first with Lottie and her dad, then that whole back and forth thing with Marshall, and now this.

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

Rolling my eyes at the answer Mila gave, I could only huff out a mirthless laugh, stressed beyond belief. 

“Yeah, it’s not like my face is plastered over every gossip rag across the world– oh wait, it is.” I sniped back, “And they’re all painting me out to be Marshall’s next big fling, and if not that, then some fucking groupie. Like I’m not a nominated artist too, as though all I am is someone to mooch off of his fame.”

Mila sighed softly, even after my heated retort, and I could hear it clearly over the rustle of leaves as well the birds that seemed to be chirping in the distance. I tried to let them ground me. “I didn’t mean it like that. It probably does look pretty bad from your end–”

I cut her off with a scoff– so much for trying for a bit of calm. “Bad? Mila, bad would have been me spotted leaving Detroit and people conspiring over why I was here in the first place. Not this.” I dragged a tense hand through my hair, “Em is gonna flip his shit when he sees everything.”

She sighed, again, and I could only rub tiredly at my eyes. “Babe, listen to me. You’ve not ever really had any publicity like this,” Mila started, and before I could think to lash back at that remark, she was already beating me to the punch, “And no, before you say anything, not like that. I know that you don’t want anything out of this whole fiasco, believe me the amount of times I’ve had to suffer through just because your ego wouldn’t let you take anything for free is insufferable. But anyway, I simply meant in the way that you’ve not really had many big knocks or hits like this throughout the press. Sure, your family and your background’s been brought up a lot, but babe, those are just conversation starters for you now, it sort of was back then too. This is all just scarier to you because it’s new.”

I had to take a second to really hear Mila’s words, for them to sink and settle before I could analyse them. In a way, she wasn’t completely wrong. I could at least admit that. Didn't mean that I hadn’t faced my fair share of backlash though, just maybe not on this level? And not over someone I was supposedly dating either, my brain unhelpfully supplied.

I closed my eyes, silently wishing for a cigarette I didn’t have, and then unclenched my jaw.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” I confessed to her quietly, then shivered when another harsh wind blew through the garden. I wrapped an arm around myself, to shelter me from the cold air or how exposed I felt, I didn’t know.

Mila stayed silent too, until I heard a large intake of breath and the sound of a door closing on the other side. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re going to talk to Marshall, you’re going to figure out what it is you want, not just him or his team.” She added as a forethought, knowing me far too well. “Then the pair of you, you and him, can decide how and where you want to take this.”

I exhaled slowly and watched as my breath clouded the air, it made me wonder how cold it might have been over in London. “Right.”

Mila continued on, her familiar lilt taking back the weariness which had homed it minutes earlier, “I mean it’s not like anything’s actually happened, if you want to you two can just ignore it easy, wait for this all to blow over. It’s just gossip.”

My eyes widened and I stilled at her words.

But I must’ve been quiet far too long though, because Mila called my name and suddenly I was forcing myself to blink as I attempted to swallow back the memories of that kiss, of him holding my hand with all the care in the world. 

“Right,” I repeated again, then cursed the way my voice cracked on the vowel.

Mila caught it right away and I felt rather than heard her internalise exactly what that could possibly mean, “You haven’t done anything– right?”

My mouth worked over words that wouldn’t quite come out and then winced when I heard my manager drop the phone to curse heatedly in Spanish.

It took a long minute before Mila had seemingly calmed herself enough to return to the call, time in which I spent worrying my knuckle between my teeth and wondering if everything that had happened with Em was even worth mentioning. If it mattered enough to him for me to voice it now. 

“How long have I been telling you that you need to get back out there, to meet somebody and have some fun? I’m glad you took my advice, really, but I didn’t quite mean wrangle the biggest old-school rapper into your bed whilst holidaying in his mansion!”

I let my head fall into the hand not holding my phone and pinched at the bridge of my nose. I didn’t want to regret it, the things that had happened with Marshall, but Mila was sort of right. What had I really expected to happen between the two of us? He was a Dad, more famous than anyone could hope to be, and a tad bit older… Okay, a fair bit older– a decade, sue me. Hollywood had seen worse.

That wasn’t even it though, how had I yet to consider what the media, the press, the fans would think of it all? I supposed I’d pretty much found out.

“I didn’t sleep with him.”

Mila made an odd sort of noise at my admission which sounded tinny through the speaker, “Don’t lie to me now! Those photos don’t offer much, I’ll give you that, but babe, there was some sort of connection there.”

I fish mouthed again. 

Mila didn’t seem to note the silence, “People are in actual awe over the look one picture managed to capture on his face! There’s no way you haven’t got that man wrapped around your finger.”

Blinking, I tried to recall what image she could possibly be talking about. I hadn’t seen anything of the sort. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Mils. Nothing like that has happened. It was just–” My mouth felt dry, the sort of dry you’d experience after being lost in a desert for days or just swallowed a spoonful of flour.

“Just what?” Mila prodded.

And I forced myself to finish my sentence, stare caught on the dampness that clung to the soles of my feet, “A kiss.”

–

I had a list now. 

Of tasks to complete, one of which warned me to stay off all social media for my own good. Mila’s orders, not my own. But still, I couldn’t quite part with my phone even as I stepped back through the garden door into the kitchen, shivering at the rapid change in temperature and the sick feeling of anxiety that welled inside of me. 

Even with that though, I noticed how the house now seemed to buzz, in a way which had me figuring that I was no longer the only occupant awake. So I swallowed back the lump of worry that sat heavy in my throat and made to trail my way further inside, ignoring the slight chill of tile that followed my feet. 

I found him stood at the very top of the stairs with Rosie hanging off his hip, the silliest of grins plastered across her face which only appeared to brighten upon seeing me. “El!” She called out in excitement before she turned to fix her father with a ‘told you so’ glare, “See, she is awake!”

Marshall rolled his eyes at the rebuttal, but did evidently blow out a huffed chuckle in turn, choosing to let his daughter slip down his side and out of the captive hold he’d had her in for my supposed sake. He shook his head at her before he then turned to me, the exasperated look he’d gifted her disappeared the moment he saw my face. “You good?” He asked me, brow furrowing as Z peered between the pair of us.

“Where’s your phone?” Is all I answered him with.

His expression deepened at the nonanswer, but he scratched his head in thought before he recalled, “Chargin’ downstairs, I think. Died when we got home.”

Home, home, home.

I realised, not for the first time, that I’d taken to thinking of it that way too. Calling it London and not home each time it got brought up.

Swallowing once more, I felt another wave of nausea overwhelm me. Rosie’s head tilted in confusion as she quietly made her way down the staircase, hand sliding over the wooden rail. “I–” I tried, but fumbled for the right words to say. If there even were any. I let go of another breath, “You should go take a look.”

Marshall greeted my words with a look of reservation but did move to step down off the landing, making it to the bottom just as Rosie crowded me, her smaller figure slotting into my side with ease. I allowed a hand to come up and cradle the top of her head, hoping that whatever transpired from this wouldn’t sour things enough to send me back to London early.

And why was that my only hope? Instead of the way this could all impact me and my career, or the people around Marshall?

I didn’t move to follow Em as he made his way into the kitchen, socked feet padding over the tiled floor, much preferring the warmth that radiated from Z as I fought not to worry at my knuckles once more. I didn’t know whether or not I wanted to bear witness to his reaction. 

“You’re freezing.” 

The words caught me by surprise and so I blinked away from where I’d just been staring off into the distance, then peered down at the girl whose arms were wound around me. Rosie had her head tilted back, chin resting on the curve of my arm as she waited for an explanation. 

“Sorry, just stepped outside for a minute,” I apologised to her whilst simultaneously answering the unasked question. It was subconscious, the action to rub a gentle hand up and down her arm in hopes to warm the pair of us up a tad, and Z countered her previous words by burrowing in closer. 

“Are you leaving then?” 

That next question immediately had me frowning, wiping away all the previous doubts that had just been running rampant through my mind. 

“No, not yet.” I assured her softly, peering down at her once again. Her face was half-hidden, blonde hair mussed by sleep, and in that moment she looked so much younger to me. “Why you asking, hoping to get rid of me?” I teased sweetly, hoping that the method wouldn’t send her skittering into her shell and instead give me something of an honest answer.

The girl shook her head against my arm, then shrugged, “Just, you looked sad.”

A sad smile slowly eased over my features at that and I couldn’t help the way I squeezed her tighter. “Busy morning, I think.” I said in comfort, then thought about my next words, “But even if I was sad, doesn’t mean I’d just pack up and leave. Me and you, we’ve bonded, gonna have a hard time getting rid, okay?”

I pinched her side playfully with that, a move that had her squeaking and tripping over her feet to get away from my attack whilst still staying plastered to my side. “Don’t! You’re actually the worst!”

Laughing as she dissolved into giggles too, I relented on the tickling. And it was just as I went to reply that a sound had my head snapping up and over towards the kitchen doorway, heart stilling in my chest at the sight of Marshall stood there, phone in hand, his face void of any emotion.

“We need to talk.”

Rosie appeared to be all too aware of the sudden tension that dragged between us then, as well as the coil of nerves which straightened my spine, because she let her arms slip from my waist and took her hand in mine, squeezing ever so as she turned to look up at me. Obviously confused, she had no words to offer but the sentiment was clear anyway, she cared enough to stand against her Dad without even knowing what was going on.

It threw me completely.

Marshall seemed to catch on to the silent protest too, his blank expression flickering with evident surprise before he managed to unclench his hand from around his phone and drag it over the top of his head. He slumped, the ridgid stress he’d just been wearing melting ever so slightly. “We just gone talk, Z. She ain’t goin’ nowhere, I swear it’s work stuff. Something happened and now we gotta work out how we gone fix it, baby. That’s all.”

Z stared long and hard back at Marshall and the man met her eyes dead on, showing her he only meant the truth. His words seemed to appease some part of her, I deemed, enough to have her tightening her hold on my hand once more before she reluctantly pulled away. 

I only wished that they’d had the same effect on me.

“That mean we’re not having pancakes then?” She wondered as she trailed across the hallway to head towards the kitchen, Em’s shoulders dropped slightly when she approached and he moved to run a hand through her hair.

“Promise is a promise. Jus’ have to wait a little longer, cool?” He answered, gazing down at her before he finally allowed her to slip by after she’d given him a nod. It was with that in which he turned to face me again and I had no idea what was going to go down, let alone how he was going to react. So when he silently gestured his head off to the side, I could only force my feet into following behind him.

We ended up in a small office just off of the living room, one I hadn’t really been in before now and that was decorated sparsely enough to ensure that no one else did either, at least not often.

Marshall took perch at the desk in there, large and mahogany, and leaned across it to start up the computer monitor stationed on its top. I found myself trailing after him, shuffling awkwardly on a dark rug for a second over where to sit before I just rolled my eyes at myself and moved around the desk to sit on its corner, uncaring for the way Marshall’s brows lifted in slight surprise. Because honestly, if we were going to do this then I wanted to see what the fuck the media was rioting over too, and how was I meant to do exactly that from the upholstered cushion sat on the desks opposing side?

He didn’t comment on it, though his eyes did trail over me for a split second before the screen flickered through the usual start up and login. I watched him type in his password, noting how he didn’t much seem to mind me peeking, before my eyes flitted back down to his face, taking in the way the monitor's light flickered over his skin and how his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip.

I wrung my fingers together in a way that would occupy my mind, mouth pursing at the sight of the slightly reddened knuckles I’d abused earlier. My stare must have caught Marshall’s attention too because I startled a tad when he reached out to pause my fidgeting, gaze lingering on the raised skin before the pad of his thumb moved to soothe it. 

Suddenly my tongue felt too big for my mouth and all I could do was stare before his startled gaze flickered up to meet me. It almost appeared as though he hadn’t even realised he’d done it. 

“Z’s okay, right?” I found myself asking him as I cleared my throat after he’d withdrawn his hand.

His sniff filled the silence as his arm jumped over to grab the mouse, now focused on the screen. “She um,” He coughed lightly, the click of the keys filling his tense pause, “She gets a little weary about shit like that, I guess. People leaving. Had a lot of ‘em come in and out of her life, figure it fucked with her a bit.” Marshall admitted gruffly, purposely paying attention to the computer now instead of meeting my eye. 

I continued to watch him though, content to wait. My patience earned me a little more.

“Thought she’d grown outta it though, you know? Used to cry for her mom when she’d drop her off, or when I took her to school. Shit was always worse when I had to tour. Couple years back, she even got upset when Maria, our cleaning lady, moved States. Didn’t come outta her room for days.” He shrugged lightly as he recalled it, acting as though it didn’t much bother him anymore, but I could tell that it was eating away at him still, how much he blamed himself for Rosie’s struggle. “Figure she likes you enough that it’s sort of– I dunno.” He sighed, then waved it all off, desperate to move on it seemed, “You know what, don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.”

I wanted to sigh then too, because how could he think that I’d allow that to just slide?

“I’m here for her too, you know.” I heard myself say after a second or two had passed and kept myself from looking over at him to garner his reaction to that particular statement. This was meant to be work. I was just here to work. Though, that reminder had long since grown old. “I get it, being scared to attach yourself to new people in fear that they'll hurt you by leaving too. And Rosie, she’s not messed up for feeling that way, it’s just a coping mechanism. One a lot of kids experience–”

Em scoffed at that and my eyes instantly snapped over to find him shaking his head at me.

I narrowed my eyes a tad, but not unkindly or in defence, just a little perplexed. 

“It’s true. Sure, they might not all have had a childhood like hers or mine, or even yours.” I acquiesced, “But even the kids who have that apple pie type life and grow up with cookie cut families can still be scared about those they love leaving. Like because their Dad works abroad a lot so they don’t see much of him, or how someone forgot to pick them up this one time and made them wait so now they’re fucked up forever.” 

I smiled at the small laugh that escaped from Marshall at that, probably thinking over how normal that had probably been for him as a kid. I got it. “Mind’s weird, man. Kids are adaptable, but they get just as scuffed up as the rest of us. Z’s the same, but she’ll figure it out.”

“Or, jus’ do what you did and hold onto it so tight that people have to fight their way into her life.” Em countered easily, earning an audible gasp from me before he was smirking away and reaching out to poke a finger into my knee, assuring me that it was all in jest, “And don’t call me man, that shit’s weird.”

“Why not? What’s wrong with man?” I protested, grinning now as I started to pester him, “We’re homies, aren’t we? Buddies? Brothers?”

I cackled when he reached up to crowd a hand over my mouth, shaking his head all the while, even as I shimmied to try and escape his onslaught.

“What about bud?” I asked him from over the top of his hand the second I could, trying to steer my head away as I swatted him with my foot in retaliation, “Or dude? Hey, how about bro? Bro’s a good one!”

“Elia.” Marshall warned in a low tone once he finally caught my wrists in his hands, stilling me completely. Though I could see the tiny beginnings of his smile.

My eyes flashed upwards to meet his when he stood up from the desk’s chair, “Yeah?” I only continued to push, hoping that it would get me somewhere. Where though? I had no idea.

“You talk too much.”

My smile was far too smug.

“First time I've ever been told that.” I rebuffed, letting myself lean a little further into his hold.

“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

Humming, my eyes flickered between his own. “What do you want me to call you then?”

Marshall stared back at me unblinkingly for a long second, before his gaze dropped to my mouth then away again. “Guess that’s jus’ another thing we can go ahead and figure out.”

[dezwade]

started thinking about Marcus too hard again. 50 dead, 100 injured

[vaggieslefteye]

CHARLIE MAGNE from HAZBIN HOTEL (2019): Pilot - "That's Entertainment" ↳ "So, I've been thinking: Isn't there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through... redemption?"

[kinokoshoujoart]

romeo!! or rock….? idk he’s the ds guy. y’know

[manglam-marfach]

dyke!Chilaios has me understanding breeding kink all of a sudden

[basicallyjaywalker]

Wanna ramble about a moment/character in ninjago you think people need to talk about more?

I don't know who you are anon, but I'm glad you asked!

I am desperate for people to character-analyze Wu. I'm desperate for a lot of character analysis including Nya but since I got a lot of my Nya feelings out with some lovely folks the other night (edit: the other night was a month ago dw about it. this took a minute) I'm going with Wu this time

Master Wu to me is such an interesting case of a character who it is so easy to ignore the bits of the show that hint at his wider issues and traumas. He is a man defined heavily by his family and by his past. A lot of criticism he gets, I think, is due in part to that.

I've mentioned before that I've been rewatching S1 with a friend of mine and intermittently pausing to infodump on them about interesting character things I notice from that season. A lot of that has been Wu-focused because despite having seen RotS dozens of times throughout my life (watching it on CN, watching it on Netflix when only it and Legacy were around, rewatching it with friends) I have only just started noticing the seeds of character written in.

I might also just be reading too much into things, but hear me out

In S1 (and by extension, the pilots), Wu is characterized as your typical old wise teacher. In the first few minutes of EP1: Rise of the Snakes, he is chewing out the Ninja for playing video games instead of training. The line he uses? "Never put off until tomorrow what can be done today."

It's a line that gets repeated throughout the series. In fact, it gets repeated that very episode when the ninja go (pun not intended) to fight the Hypnobrai and a literal pre-teen. At first, it seems to just be a piece of wisdom. Some old proverb Wu's picked up over the years, possibly one he even coined himself. However, in EP7: Tick Tock, Wu tells the story of who, possibly, first told him this.

(Source: Tick Tock/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom, highlight added.)

It was Garmadon. Now, I'm not gonna dwell too long on Garmadon, if you spend five minutes talking to me you'll learn he was the first character whose story I obsessed over and I want this essay to be about Wu, but I think he plays a role in Wu's overall story, as does Wu's family as a whole.

Prior to this, Wu and Garmadon's relationship has been more of a sibling rivalry taken to a good vs. evil extreme. We didn't know why Garmadon was evil and we didn't know about Wu and his relationship as kids. However, this scene establishes the backstory. They were, as Wu puts it, "the best of friends." That is, until Garmadon gets bit by the Devourer going to get the katana Wu lost.

Now, I know the Devourer bite was destined to happen because of the Overlord or some shit, but Wu doesn't. As far as he's concerned, Garmadon getting bit was a direct consequence of both his mistake and his cowardice. He lost the katana. He was too scared to get it. Garmadon went over instead. Garmadon got bit.

The scene goes on to show the FSM tending to Garmadon in the aftermath. Wu is watching from behind the door, likely told to stay back, but concerned. And in his POV, we get this intense moment, where Garmadon turns, looks directly at him (his eyes turning bright red for the first time), and says "It's all Wu's fault!"

(This clip should begin at the start of Wu eavesdropping. If it doesn't, skip to 0:58. I highly recommend also paying attention to Wu's body language during this scene.)

The camerawork does a great job of showing how this probably felt for Wu. It zooms in, Garmadon's voice echoes, and the background blurs. We see in the flashback that this is a moment Wu has etched into his memory. Not to mention, he was likely a very young child when this happened. LEGO characters' ages are weird, but Wu in this scene has the Big Eyes, which always seem to be used for characters under 12. We don't know exactly how much older Garmadon is to my knowledge, but he doesn't have the Big Eyes, so he's probably closer to 12 and a few years older than Wu for sure.

Imagine that. Being in elementary school and your older siblings gets hurt. They're acting strange. They're lashing out at your father. Then, they blame it all on you. They're hurt because of you. Wouldn't you internalize that?

I could go on about Wu's relationship with Garmadon, but again, I think I've spent enough time on it and I don't want to only focus on that. It's an important part, but there are others.

Let's talk about Wu's relationship with his dad.

Now, I have not yet read the Spinjitzu Brothers series. I cannot speak to any development of Wu and the FSM's relationship in there. I have, however, read The Book of Spinjitzu and blogged some of my thoughts on it here, including some of what it says about Wu.

For those who haven't read it, first, there is a Google Drive folder floating around with all of the canon spinoff books/graphic novels in it. Here's the link if you wanna read them!

The FSM is an... intriguing figure. I mean, in the series he's basically god? He made the entire world. That's already a very high bar to live up to. Then, in Book of Spinjitzu, there's a few specific parts that, when I read them, signaled that Wu internalized a specific message when he was young.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, Page 3).

Wu does not want to disappoint his father. It is up to him (and Garmadon until he turns evil) to "uphold the legacy of Spinjitzu" and, by extension, his family. He says he was "very young" when this was explained to him. Considering he seems to already be training at an elementary age, "very young" means VERY young.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, Page 16).

Here, we again see Wu being very aware that he has some large burden to carry. Something else interesting here is that the thought of the Green Ninja Prophecy is already weighing on him too. His considering if he might be the Green Ninja is of extra interest because of how the Green Ninja Prophecy and the--I wouldn't call it obsession, possibly fixation?--with who it is factors into his later actions, but we'll get to that later.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, Page 19).

This one in particular gets me because it comes after Wu mentions Garmadon becoming more evil. It is a statement of power. Wu knows that the legacy of Spinjitzu now rests in his hands alone. He cannot let himself fall the way Garmadon did. He cannot disappoint his father. Whether or not the FSM intended it, Wu always knew the fate of the world rested, at least in part, upon his shoulder. He knew this from the time he was a young boy and it remains in his mind to this day.

Now, these quotes are indirect, but they all point to one clear idea: As a child, Wu internalized the idea that he alone is responsible for keeping Ninjago safe. He will play a pivotal role in its history.

There's not evidence in this book that the FSM's was a bad father, per se. However, just because one doesn't set out to harm their children, doesn't mean they won't. I often say Wu has an "Atlas complex," which I have no idea if it is an actual concept but use it to refer to this idea. Wu feels as though he is responsible for holding up the world, much like Atlas. He must keep the balance, he must solve the Green Ninja prophecy, he must make his father proud.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, page 61).

I'm going to get further into what this means for Wu as a teacher to the current Ninja Team, but for now let's look at Wu's first foray into teaching.

Morro. Wu's Biggest Mistake.

That might seem like an overstatement, but it's not.

(Source: Ghost Story/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom)

Okay he says regret, not mistake, but I was paraphrasing.

Let's turn back to his quote about his destiny. Wu writes, "Is my life's mission to be the Green Ninja? Or maybe it will be to find the Green Ninja and protect him (or her)??"

From a very young age, Wu was not only aware of the Green Ninja but prophecy but also thinking about his place in it. We see this again when he takes Morro in and trains him.

(Source: Ghost Story/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom, highlight added)

A big thing Wu is criticized for here is making Morro believe he is meant to be more. That he is the Chosen One. And Morro, being a young homeless orphan just now given some semblance of power and protection, latches onto that. And I can see it, but when you take into account the above that he was trained from (likely) a younger age than Morro and given a similar level of responsibility, it becomes more understandable. Wu is just doing what he was taught. He doesn't believe that he is harming Morro until it is too late.

This is the entire story, but I'm specifically going to be discussing 1:36 onwards here. I also wanted to add that rewatching this scene made me lay down on the floor! What the fuck! But I digress.

There's a lot going on in this scene. For one, Wu washing his hands of Morro in some ways, but not others. He turns his back on Morro when he tells him that destiny has decided, but looks at him again when Morro storms out. He goes to save Morro from the Grundal, but decides that he cannot "teach those who would not listen." Most importantly, when Morro leaves to go find the Tomb of the FSM, Wu leaves the door open. He waits for Morro to return, but never goes after him. And Morro never comes back.

Wu gives Morro's fate a dismissive response at the end of his ghost story ("I am saddened he was banished to the Cursed Realm") but it's clear he still cares deeply about him in the finale of the season.

Wu's VA in this is phenomenal btw. That "Please Morro!" and "MORRO!" make my heart ache.

Morro believed Wu stopped caring, but he didn't. Even after all he's done, even after trying to destroy all of Ninjago--destroying what Wu had spent his life trying to protect--Wu tries to save him. He begs for Morro to come with him. Morro refuses, Wu watches him perish.

Someone else Wu is close to is gone. Wu again considers himself responsible. Everything is his fault.

And finally, we reach Wu today. A cautious, secretive man. He loves his students, this much is clear. Even as early as the pilots, he drops his wise teacher persona to joke around with them.

As with Morro, he trains them like his father did him. He even uses the same methods his father used when he trains them.

(Source: The Book of Spinjitzu, page 32)

While he is hard on the Ninja, wanting them to succeed and training them to help defend the Realm, he lets his guard down more than it seems he did with Morro. He also learned a valuable message from his experience with Morro when he hides the Green Ninja Prophecy from the Ninja, getting angry when they start to push themselves in the same way Morro did upon learning about it. It's clear he doesn't want a repeat.

Now, I can't speak for later seasons (I will eventually) but this fear of repeats, his students going down a dark path because they're tempted by power or greatness, losing someone else, likely drives Wu not telling them other important information. That is just a passing thought though.

Final notes:

I'm currently in the process of rewatching S7: Hands of Time. I actually got this ask right after finishing EP68: Scavengers, which opens with Wu having a nightmare. In it, he and Misako are walking outside of Yang's temple. While walking, Misako delivers this line in response to Wu reminiscing about the time they've spent together:

(Source: Scavengers/Transcript | Ninjago Wiki | Fandom)

This line, to me, is Wu's subconscious trying to tell him something he needs to hear. It's hinting at what might be his greatest flaw. Wu is haunted by his past, by his mistakes. He finds it difficult to tell others because of both his guilt and his desire to not put that worry upon them. In this very season, he makes the mistake of trying to face his past on his own, and he nearly dies for it.

In the same episode, you see Wu trying to make sure Lloyd doesn't make the same mistakes.

(Source: Prev)

Wu stresses the important of the team. It's as if he sees Lloyd blaming himself for what happened to Wu, sees him doing the same thing Wu has, and is trying to prevent him from doing the same thing. This is further emphasized when, after Wu falls asleep (well, fakes falling asleep), Lloyd says "Wu's mistake was going in alone. So was mine."

Master Wu is, like many characters in this show, someone who is more complex than meets the eye. He is not just a wise, old teacher. He is a man who, throughout his life, has made mistakes and carries the weight of each of them on his shoulders. He is a man who tasks himself with making up for those every day. He is a man who wants better for his students, his family.

Until the day he dies, he will guide and protect his students. And possibly? Even after death too.

[justablah56]

hmm this whole lying down after fucking up your back in a four wheeler accident thing sucks ass .