#comics are like JUST PUT A LINE DOWN AND CALL IT A DAY WHO GIVE A SHIT!!!

[stealingpotatoes]

Soooooo I saw that post where you posted that tutorial how you draw so Im curious if we can get another please ?

you mean another timelapse? yh sure here's a comic one this time!!

[villainbait]

Surprise Encounters

Pairing: None (Sylus x reader distantly implied) Rating: G Tags: coffee shop, secondhand embarrassment, canon sylus behavior, playful stalking, flirting, jealousy, crack, fluff Summary: Sylus stalks you to a new coffee shop in Linkon City, but it seems you two weren't the only ones who wanted to try it. Word Count: 1.1k

Someone was following you. 

It had been a long day at work and now there was the definitive sound of someone’s steps dogging yours as you approached the cafe. It wasn’t the one you usually enjoyed visiting, but you were in a hurry and going to duck in for a quick pick-me-up before heading out on yet another mission. Wanderer activity had been increasing lately, which left you exhausted most days so you were counting on this coffee to work miracles for your fatigue.  

Picking up the pace, you do your best to weave through the crowd and lose the person, happy to find you no longer hear the footsteps by the time you reach your destination. Your phone suddenly rings and you look down to find it’s Sylus. You don’t even bother answering it and reject the call. A text message accompanies the rejected call and you sigh in exasperation but before you can open it, you hear the dulcet tones of the current source of your annoyance behind you. 

“It’s not very nice to ignore a friend, kitten.” His voice is far too close to your ear and you pull away with a frown. Before you can retort, you see him glance at the cafe with a curious expression. 

“This isn’t your usual cafe, either.” 

“I’ve been busy,” you huff and look around nervously, before tugging on his sleeve and pulling him quickly into the cafe. The only reason you didn’t make a scene in public, you told yourself, was because you were worried your connection to the N109 Zone would be severed if Sylus was caught. Just because you wanted to punch him in his smug face sometimes didn’t mean you wanted to see him get hurt or worse. It still baffled you that the most wanted man in the world could simply chat with you on the street like this and not a single person knew. 

“What’s the hurry, sweetie?” he playfully murmurs as you march both of you up to the counter, but he’s more than happy to oblige as you both order. The baristas are charmed by Sylus but you don’t seem to notice, too busy bantering with him. 

“The hurry is that you seem nonchalant for a man in your situation.” 

“And what situation is that?” he replied smoothly, taking his card back from the blushing barista with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know,” you gesture vaguely as the two of you move to the end of the counter. You’re not sure if you want to lean away when Sylus puts his face close to yours but your pride won’t let you even if you did so you meet his gaze head on. “Oh? I don’t know that I do, so why don’t you say it?” He remarked, knowing that you wouldn’t give him away. At least not today, in this sunny little cafe where his defenses are low and there’s too many civilians. 

The little bell above the shop door jingles but you don’t notice it at first, your attention still focused on Sylus who hadn’t moved away despite his teasing. Still, with how he had leaned down you could see over his shoulder and you stopped breathing as a familiar face appears in your line of view. 

What was Zayne doing here? 

Sylus realizes mid-sentence you’re no longer paying him any attention and starts to look around and see what you’re gawking at. 

“No! Don’t turn around,” you hiss and jerk him closer to you, using his bigger body as a shield. He doesn’t mind that but his curiosity burns, one eyebrow raised. Opportunistic creature that he is, he slips an arm around your waist before you can protest.

“Why do you need me to hide you?” Sylus’s grin was anything but comforting. “Are you trying to avoid someone? Do I need to take care of it for you?”

The expression on your face must’ve been comical for Sylus chuckled. “You should see how you look right now. I want so badly to know who it is you’re hiding from.”

Zayne had made it to the counter now and you shifted to stay out of sight, still using Sylus to shield you if the other man looked over this way. The barista has the worst timing and offers your drinks at the same time Zayne steps towards the end of the counter. The two of you lock eyes. Time freezes. Zayne's gaze slowly slid from you to Sylus, whose arm was still slung low across your hips but it was too late for you to do anything but accept that. 

Sylus, meanwhile, doesn’t seem fazed and takes the cups one by one, handing yours to you and thanking the worker with a dazzling smile that makes her flustered and blush. “Hope you and your girlfriend have a great day!” she chirps cheerfully.

That immediately snapped you out of your shock and you turned with a disgusted frown. “I’m not-“

“Now, now there’s no need to be hurtful, sweetie.” Sylus interjects. “She's just trying to be nice. Besides,” he leans in close, his saccharine tone dropping an octave. “If you correct her, she might think she has a chance.” He swivels his cup to show you the number written cutely on the side of it and for some reason it makes you jealous and grumpy. 

Zayne’s order comes up quickly after and he inspects the number on his own cup before showing it the two of you. “Is this a new cup/service they perform here for every customer?” He remarks dryly, but there’s a hint of mischief in his expression. He shows the same number on the side of the cup and you have to hide a smile behind your hand. Sylus looks like he swallowed something sour and pulls out his phone. An awkward silence lingers and you almost wished a wanderer would appear in the cafe to save you from this situation. Still, you had to try to salvage the moment and you searched for something to say.

“Why don’t we sit down?” You try brightly and Sylus’s fingers dig into your hip but he doesn’t look up from whoever he’s texting. 

“Sure, and you can introduce me to your friend.” Zayne said calmly, but you’re panicking internally. “I thought I was your only friend, so I’m glad to see that isn’t true.” He was teasing you and you blushed. The two men turn to each other and Sylus tucks his phone away, business concluded. 

“Sylus.” He held out his hand. “Zayne.” They shake hands and you all find a small table to sit at.

They both focus their attention on you and you realize as your stomach churns nervously that this was going to be one interesting afternoon.

[theminecraftbee]

the summer before THE END...

(this fic contains @hotguycomiczine spoilers! go read it first! i'll wait!)

It’s midday. The sun is heavy and hot, bearing down against the asphalt and visibly making the air shimmer over the road. Summer in Hermitopia can be miserable, and frankly Cuteguy thinks it’s far more miserable than the bruises. The humidity makes his feathers stick together and itch in awkward ways, he’s sweaty twice over because he hadn’t had time to actually wash his costume between the last major villain attack, his recent part-time line cook job, and then this fight.

He’s in his early thirties and he’s becoming an old man, he thinks. His knees should not hurt this much, and yet here they are. Vigilantism is going to give him early arthritis.

They’ve driven off the villain. Didn’t manage to catch him, though. He wasn’t even from Hermitopia. That’s been happening more lately; people who see Hermitopia as some lawless wasteland where they can come visit, avoid drinking any water, and live out their dreams of being a comic book character, damn the consequences or collateral damage. It’s frustrating. Sometimes, deep in Cuteguy’s soul, he sort of thinks the Soup Group has a point in calling out all this bullshit.

Of course, they do all that murder about it. So. Not much better, really.

He leans against a building and tries to breathe. Normally he has a water bottle with his costume, but this guy had homemade napalm. Luckily, not real napalm! The water did work for putting out the fire! Unfortunately, it’s ninety-seven degrees and humid and Cuteguy has just done enough cardio that he’s honestly worried about the odds he passes out. 

Out on the street, Hotguy is chatting with every civilian he comes across. He’s grandstanding. He’s giving blow-by-blows. He’s acting like his sweat doesn’t stink like a mere mortal’s. He has a water bottle, and he’s taking sips of it between chats with reporters and posing for cameras. There are enough cars and civilians that Cuteguy isn’t all that worried about the TCG yet. Hotguy’s still pretty damn wanted, what with the whole possession thing that they don’t exactly have the means to prove to the public, so Cuteguy’s got to keep an eye out for them, but with this many cameras on him? The TCG isn’t about to arrest him on camera. Despite everything, he's still too charismatic; he'd still make them look too bad. 

Cuteguy wipes his forehead again. He does notice when someone starts approaching him; he might be exhausted, but he’s acting as Hotguy’s situational awareness while he’s busy playing up crowds. He can’t afford to be that exhausted, so he isn’t. That, and the woman approaching him is hardly as stealthy as the Bleeding Hart. Another thing he might have to give to the Soup Group were he willing to give them credit for anything: he’s never been able to fully stop noticing where everyone is around him. Hotguy had winced and called it “hypervigilance”. Cuteguy had said that he wasn’t any better, he just calls it a superpower. Hotguy had said it is hardly his fault his superpower promotes vigilance. Cuteguy had—

“Uh, good fight. Thanks,” says the woman.

“Oh, uh. You’re welcome,” Cuteguy says.

She’s tall and blonde. Also, she has four arms. Cuteguy should have probably noticed that first, but he didn’t, and that’s on him.

“Bit of a mess, especially in this weather. Hotter and they’d issue a heat advisory, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cuteguy says.

He is not good at post-battle smalltalk. That’s why it’s Hotguy’s job. He’s good at causing chaos if needed, but chaos is the opening the TCG would need to get to Hotguy. Cuteguy glances in his direction. He’s posing and signing autographs still. He can’t help but sigh. They’re going to be here all day.

The four-armed lady follows his gaze.

“You know, I’d always wondered why you stick to him,” she says.

“Sorry?” Cuteguy says.

“I just mean—I watched the fight. Yeah, he’s good, but you’re decent at range too. You can get enough height to really not need perfect accuracy because you’ll be hard to hit. Wings are, uh, a pretty overpowered combat tool, really, especially when most of your enemies are on the ground. But you’re good at close range, so, uh, inside isn’t awful for you either, really.”

“I mean, you’re right, I am pretty good,” Cuteguy says, interrupting her. “I don’t really get—”

“Look at him,” the woman says. “You ran around more than him and he took the water bottle.”

Cuteguy wants to defend Hotguy for that one; it’s hardly his fault that Cuteguy dumped his water bottle on napalm like it would do anything. It did, which is convenient, but still. Not Hotguy’s call. He doesn’t quite get the chance.

“Even after everything last month, he’s still grandstanding too. Sure, he’s stopped shooting people for not being grateful enough, or holding rescues hostage for cash, but look at him. Hardly any better, is he. Sure, he says he was possessed—”

“He was,” Cuteguy snaps.

“—but like, is the guy he is now actually all that different? Just saying.”

Cuteguy stares at the man trying to get extra photo ops out of a group of passing runners. They’re topless to account for the heat, which is probably why Hotguy wants photos with them. Cuteguy can just barely hear the man asking to trade phone numbers. Is it worse or better, Cuteguy wonders, that the phone number Hotguy gives out just goes straight to Cub’s inbox? Is that catfishing or just good sense?

“He’s trying to help,” Cuteguy says.

“He’s desperate for attention,” the four-armed woman says. “You know, you’d probably be better without him. After everything that happened, your reputation would be better too. A little more in the shadows, a little less associated with his crimes.”

“He’s…”

“I just want the real reason, really,” the woman says. 

“What do you…”

“Why would you stick with him when you’re so much better?”

Hotguy waves goodbye to the runners. He takes another sip of the water bottle. Really, there’s so much that Cuteguy can say here, watching that. He could say something about how, in the terrible days when the Soup Group had first come onto the scene, Hotguy had barely left Cuteguy’s side until Cuteguy started pushing him away. He could say that Hotguy is earnest, that he really does want to save people, despite the fact he also wants attention. He could say that he knows the man behind the mask now, and he’s seen his films, and frankly getting a little recognition as Hotguy kind of makes up for not getting recognition for his decent acting talent. He could say something about playing Mario Kart on the couch, or learning to aim a bow, or fights with Doc, or secrets shared that Cuteguy wants to make sure Hotguy never has an incentive to spread. He could say something about how dangerous fighting alone is. That’s probably the more sensible thing to say, actually; Cuteguy knows exactly how dangerous fighting alone is.

What Cuteguy says is this:

“He makes me happy.”

There is a long not-quite silence as sirens and cicadas fill the summer air.

“Huh,” the woman says.

Cuteguy doesn’t say anything else.

“Well. I mean. I don’t really know how to save you from that, so I guess I’ll just leave you to it,” the woman says. “Consider if he’s really worth it.”

She leaves. Cuteguy stares after her a moment before shaking his head and going back to scanning the crowd for any known TCG elements.

“Birdie!” Hotguy crows, running over from the reporters. “We’re on the 5 PM news!”

“Really? An out-of-towner with questionable pyrotechnics made it?” 

“I got it worked out,” Hotguy says confidently. “But, uh, with that said, you look like you need some AC and a drink. I have so much Gatorade in my fridge that it isn’t even funny. All the labels are pulled off because it’s for that one football movie I did, right? And for some reason they didn’t want to give Gatorade the product placement, so they made all these sports drinks without—”

“Not in-costume, Hotguy,” Cuteguy says, but he doesn’t put any heat into it.

“—oh, you know no one’s listening, lighten up! Anyway, so the movie ended up somehow ordering far too many bottles, and you know what they say about underpaid actors and free food—or, I’m not sure it’s actually an expression, but let me tell you, I have never turned it down. And with the number of ele… electo-mites? I think? You know, all the sweat we’re sweaty about—come on Cuteguy, I don’t want you passing out on the pavement, I really didn’t mean to get caught out that long!” Hotguy says, grabbing Cuteguy’s hand to take him back to his apartment.

Miserable heat or not, Cuteguy can’t help but smile slightly.

“I don’t want to pass out either, that’s why I’m not running, Hotguy,” he says, and he lets himself be tugged along in that man’s wake once more.

[schoenpepper]

Chivalry Should Die!

Intro: Or, how to kill chivalry in five steps, featuring Idia Shroud!

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread I got lazyyyy, mentions of hentai lmao, reader is not yuu, idia highkey being a loser

A/N: This is a request from an anon. Not sure if this is actually what they wanted, but if you're reading this I hope you like it. Kinda short idk I was really busy with that Jade songfic.

Masterlist

Opening the door

As the heir of a kingdom, you've long since been trained to be respectful, etiquette and decorum seared into your flesh and carved into your bones. Perhaps with such an upbringing, Royal Sword Academy would have been for you.

But the invitation is black.

Your first day in Night Raven College is nothing too interesting. You're sorted into Ignihyde (ha!), your housewarden is a floating tablet, and some magicless folk with a rabid cat crashed orientation, starting off the year with a literal bang! You're unphased, a polite smile on your lips as you gather your things and your wits and line up to head to the dorm. You go through the mirror and up the stone stairs that led to the building in its weird mishmash of ancient architecture and blue triangles and holograms.

You, being the very kind person you are, open the door for the tablet.

It stops in mid-air.

"What...? Did you just open the door for a tablet? Lolz! Wtf you're such a weird freshie lmao. Imagine being that person, idk couldn't be me ig."

You keep on smiling.

(But the urge to punt the tablet all the way back to the hall of mirrors is strong.)

Carrying items

"Oh, let me help you, senpai."

"Huh? No, I'm okay..."

You glance at the large box, clearly heavy and stuffed to the brim by whatever was inside it and your senior slash housewarden who was doing his best to lug it up the stairs as he panted. "Are you sure? You look like you're having trouble." You watch him carry it to the second step.

"Totally fine, yep, nothing weird here, nope, nuh uh, I don't need help."

Idia avoids your eyes. The tips of his hair are turning a faint pink, and the fact that Ortho wasn't the one doing the heavy lifting was really the very first giveaway that something was wrong.

You narrow your eyes and step back.

"If you say so, Idia senpai. But why don't you just use—" he accidentally drops the box back onto the ground, watching, horrified, as its contents spilled out, "—magic to...carry it..."

"No, Y/N, don't look!"

You pick up a thick book from the pile on the ground to help him gather it all. Manga, was it? Upon accidentally reading the title, you give him the most disgusted look you could ever muster.

Idia screams until Ortho comes by to help him put his hentai manga back into the box.

Always be on time

You and Idia had agreed; 4 p.m. Not too early, not too late to work on that essay you needed to pass by tomorrow. He's a good friend and upperclassman if nothing else, so he offered to help you with the topic, which was included in his wide range of expertise. The catch is that you had to do it in his room.

You knock on the door at exactly 4.

No answer.

You take out your phone and send him a quick message. When he doesn't immediately answer, you call Ortho instead.

"Hello, Y/N!"

"Hey Ortho, do you know where Idia is? He promised to help me with an essay and he's not in his room."

"Older brother and I are in the Shaftlands!"

You smile (instead of cracking your phone into pieces). "Really? And when did you leave?"

"We left this morning because there's a comic convention that brother wanted to go to."

"I see. Thank you, Ortho."

Help getting down from a carriage

You hop down the carriage and hold out a hand to Idia. He looks at your hand weirdly, hair pink as he murmurs something you couldn't quite understand (you just know it's something annoying though). He gingerly puts his hand on yours and carefully descends from the carriage.

And by carefully, you mean, of course, that he lets go of your hand halfway and trips on the stairs before faceplanting into the dirt.

You sigh and carry him in your arms.

"Eek! Is this a limited edition SSR CG?!"

"What?"

"I mean, where are you taking me?"

You look at him dead in the eye and press on his left ankle.

"Ouch! Oh...okay..."

Paying for a date

First date! You don't know how, but you managed to convince Idia to eat out in a fancy restaurant with you (if only because you know that he will never agree to anything like this ever again). The food is nice and the ambience is tolerable even though the two of you are in a public space (you chose a private room but to Idia it's still a public space apparently). At the end of the night, the waiter puts the bill on the table and leaves.

"I'll take the—" When your hand reaches for the check, Idia grasps onto your wrist.

"No."

"No?"

He shakes his head.

"I'll pay for it because...you asked me out so...it's only fair..."

"No, it's unbecoming of a royal to not even pay for their partner's food."

He is weirdly competitive about this.

Anyway, at the end of the night, the check accidentally rips in half (the waiter wonders why) and you successfully pay for the full meal.

[miraclewoozi]

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away.  notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago. 

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room. 

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right. 

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones. 

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’. 

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone. 

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name. 

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry). 

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen. 

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts. 

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour. 

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed? 

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him. 

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know. 

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans? 

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can. 

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty. 

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it. 

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away. 

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced. 

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there. 

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since. 

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie. 

There is one more. 

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly. 

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most. 

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it. 

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits. 

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask. 

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through. 

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake. 

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so. 

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage. 

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest. 

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning. 

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on. 

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth. 

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle. 

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough. 

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe. 

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.” 

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—”  He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go. 

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him. 

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.” 

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different. 

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms. 

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice. 

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants. 

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured. 

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use. 

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again. 

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans. 

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle. 

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat. 

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like. 

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base. 

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him. 

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming. 

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess. 

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop. 

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name. 

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to. 

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the  steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own. 

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself. 

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache. 

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum. 

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas. 

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

[vase-of-lilies]

❀  Pairing: Dark!Mermaid!Wanda x Sailor!Reader

❀ Non-con, dubcon, Captivity, restraints, slight experimentation, shapeshifting! Wanda, the ocean, sailing on a boat, a storm, shipwreck, a little bit of violence, virgin!reader (she has never had a sexual encounter, period. So she is very innocent), Wanda doesn’t know human anatomy lol, oral (r receiving), forced orgasm, overstimulation, fingering, (this next part is major whump, so PLEASE heed the warnings) Sewing readers legs together for a punishment, holding reader under the water until they pass out, screaming, lots of screaming, making someone stay unconscious with telekinesis, quick acceptance, soft-ish wanda, some fluff, Stockholm syndrome, (if there is anything else PLEASE let me know!!)

❀ Disclaimer and Authors Note: The pictures only represent aesthetics and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. I hope you like this! The pictures go to their rightful owners on Pinterest, and the comic-style picture belongs to the beautiful artist Jenifer Prince. I also have a really big feeling that Mermaids' love language is gift-giving. Because… stuff is all they find lol!

This is for @eloquentreverie 's Dusk Till Dawn writing challenge! I chose the lines “All you are is a liar…” “My love for you is not a lie.”

Bright rays of sunshine reflect off the water, not one cloud in the sky.  The perfect conditions for sailing. You had been planning this trip for ages, and the perfect time has never been seen before now. Packing your bags was an easy task, all that was left was prepping your boat. Aphrodite is what you call her. The beautiful sailboat your father had left for you.

The sails are off-white, the texture of a canvas. In a way, this boat is its own form of art, and the beautiful name that your father picked fits perfectly. She was small, livable, and durable. It could withstand the fiercest of storms, waves, and monsters. Monsters, that you at least think are real. They were all just myths your mother told you about. 

Mermaids that left trinkets on the helm of each ship they came across, an octopus-like creature pushing the boats in the wrong direction, and even the ocean itself; a lively source of nature that will always lead the way when these malicious creatures have any form of malicious intentions. 

Making your way down to the pier, you are stopped by a villager, an older woman who knew your father very well. “Y/n! Y/n! Come here, I have something for your travels!” You hear from her frail yet powerful voice. She gently grabs your hands and pulls you into her home, making you giggle softly as she sits you on her couch. 

“Now, I knew I would see you today because of the conditions out… there. I have this for you, wishing you safe travels and return.” She puts a dainty necklace in the palms of your hands. “It was a gift from your mother, she had told me to wait until you were older, and I think now would be the perfect time.” She smiles as you look at the beautiful oval-shaped locket. 

“My family and I really love you, Eleanor. Thank you for taking such good care of us.” You smile up at her, closing your fingers around the locket with a picture of both your mother and your father. “Thank you, really, for everything.” 

She shakes her head, “The only thing you owe me is a hug and a proper goodbye.” She says, opening her arms for you. You happily oblige, wrapping your arms around her hunched body. She was like a grandmother to you even when she was just a family friend, but you most definitely loved her as a grandmother. 

“I love you so much, and I will most definitely bring you some trinkets if mermaids ever leave anything for me.” She chuckles in response and waves you off, sending you on your way to uncertainty. 

Entering the deck of your boat was a feeling of freedom that you had longed to feel ever since the death of your parents. It was difficult to make it through the day without breaking down into your most vulnerable form; A sobbing, shaking mess. 

Standing at the helm brought mixed emotions. You were finally here. You were finally able to feel like the woman your mother described you as. “You are a brave, independent, beautiful girl Y/n. You will do amazing things one day. That may be tomorrow or ten years from now. But amazing things they will be.”

Those words stuck with you from the day she died. Those words were what drove you to sail alone after all these years. She told you that you were brave, and that was all it took to motivate you to learn, grow, and persevere in your passion for sailing. 

Now all you had to do was make sure you had enough food, water, and supplies in the cockpit, untie the sails, and mark the coordinates on your map. Once those subjects were taken care of, the last was to untie Aphrodite from the pier and raise the anchor and you are all good to go!

With the small gusts of winds every now and then, it would take about 6 to 7 hours for you to make it to your destination. That is if there is no storm, headwind, or pirates that you have to worry about. Crossing Captain Barnes is on your list of “most feared encounters” and you could not imagine getting stuck with him, let alone see him. Rumors say he lost his arm to the Kraken and used the gold from a found treasure to make a new arm. A much more dangerous one than he already had. 

The thought of seeing him gives you chills in of itself, so you decide to put your mind to something else. You begin to steer the boat in the direction of your destination, your blue navy-themed sailing dress your mother made you flowing in the wind. You smile as the smell of salt and cold water fills your nose, the ocean and wind guiding you in the right direction.

~~~~~~~~ 3 hours later ~~~~~~~~

The clouds had come out of nowhere, casting a large, dark shadow over Aphrodite. The wind was skin-biting and strong, the waves getting unruly as she becomes angry with something. What? You had no idea. You had prepared for this, but the worst thing that could happen happened. 

As you put on your dark blue cloak to keep warm, a large wave crashed over your boat. With much luck, Aphrodite held strong and pulled back up from the water. Raindrops soaked your clothes as well as waves that rolled over the surface of your boat. As you were pulling on the sails, you froze in fear. A colossal wave formed. Bigger than anything you have seen, towering over you. At this point, you knew your fate and you fully accepted it. 

As the wave crashed over your boat, the water engulfed you into a frigid and bitter hug. The sheer force of this wave cracked your beautiful boat in two, ripped the sails a part as if it was cut by scissors, and lastly shredded your near-perfect map to shreds. It was a saddening sight to see to anyone on the outside. 

As your vision fades to black, numbness takes over your system and you are finally at rest. 

Or so you thought. 

“Is she ok? She- Oh she’s breathing! She looks ok, just a little roughed up.” 

‘Squawk!’

“She’s a human! She’s beautiful, she looks so cute in this little dress of hers.”

‘Squawk!’

“Can we keep her?”

A pause…

“Let's bring her inside, but we have to make sure she doesn’t escape. Grab some of the rope from her boat, that will hold her.” 

“She scared? She scared?” The animal squawked. 

“For certain…”

The voices were faded and muffled, and you felt like you were held in a bubble. Everything was quiet. The voices were smooth, siren-like, minus the power. There was something dark in the woman’s voice that hovered over you. There was something in her voice that sounded almost… dark and evil. As if she had malicious intentions with you. 

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of waves crashing against the sand, but you were not on the beach anymore. You were in a cave, a dark, cold, dreary cave. With a pounding in your head, you moved your hand to your temple. Well, tried to. You look to your left, letting your eyes get used to the darkness and you see rings of rope around your wrist, holding you to a rusty bed frame. Looking to your right you see the same.

Struggling was your first instinct, but you were frozen in place. It was fear taking over your body and you didn’t know what else to do. There wasn’t much you could do in your state. It was so cold, and you couldn’t find a way to get warm. 

“H-hello?” Your voice echoes in the abyss of the dark cave in front of you and you have yet to hear anything other than that. But moments later, other voices fill the cavern's echos. 

“I wonder when she will wake up, oh I sure hope it’s soon.” One voice said. Were they talking about me? You think to yourself. 

“Well, when she does, it will be quite the surprise don’t you think?” That voice, it was the voice that sounded evil… 

In an instant, the dark cave was filled with lowly lit torches. From what you could see was a room full of different trinkets, a makeshift vanity with a sea-glass mirror, shelf portions of the cave filled with sea shells, and lastly her.

A beautiful woman walks into the cave carrying what looks to be wood, sail rope, some canvas sails, and cloth. It took you a moment to realize that these were parts of Aphrodite. Your precious boat. 

“Ah, she’s awake.” The woman says to her accomplice, a parrot on her shoulder. 

“Awake! Awake! Awake! Awake!” The parrot responds, making the woman let out a soft chuckle. 

“Please, let me go!” You plead. 

“No, you are mine now and I get to do what I please,” She gives you a smug smile and sets her trinkets and shells down on her vanity. You watch her carefully, salty tears falling down your cheeks as you pull at the ropes around your wrists. “There is no coming out of those ropes, darling. I know how to tie a good knot” She emphasizes the ’t’, making you jump slightly in response. 

“Such a curious creature humans are. They move around on these water contraptions just to go see another piece of land. Can you imagine that?” She says, chuckling at her own question. “Well of course you can, you were doing just that!” She moves towards the makeshift seaweed and canvas bed and sits on the edge. 

“I have yet to see a real human up close and see what they are really like. How much pain and torture they can take, just like my sisters had to endure.” 

Her intentions scared you, and her smirk told you that she already knew that. “P-please don’t hur-” she cut you off with a laugh and a mockery of your fear. 

“Puh puh puh, please! Oh don’t be so cute, I love hearing screams of fear…” She leans close to your face, her tongue sliding against your cheek and picking up a tear. “Mmmm, tastes so good. I can’t wait to taste the rest of you.” You whimper as her eyes turn bright red and before you know it, the clothes are ripped from your body leaving you nude, cold, and exposed. You flail your feet attempting to kick her, but she quickly pins them down and wraps more rope around them, connecting them to the bed posts at the bottom.

She shakes her head at your action and gently slides her fingers over your now exposed belly, “Nuh uh, none of that. We don’t need anyone else to get hurt, right?” You shiver in response, making her smile grow even bigger. “Oh, so you feel me…” She realizes and she runs her fingers up your belly, and to the valley of your breasts. 

Your reactions are very minimal at first, but then she starts going in other directions. “Hmm, I have little buttons like these too, I wonder what yours do?” She moves and grazes her fingers over your nipple, making you shudder. A new feeling has come to you, and the woman takes note. “Ah, how interesting. This little bud of skin is much more sensitive than the skin over here…” She does the same motion of rolling her fingers but with just a small section of skin from your breast. 

“What if we do both?” She inquires, moving both her hands above your breasts. Taking both nipples in her fingers, she smiles at your reaction of curling in on yourself. The little noises you make are what set her off. “Wow, how amazing,” She whispers, smirking at your reaction. As you whine and shake your body slightly, you try to get her off of you, but she is just pulled towards you again. 

“Someone is a little feisty,” She slaps your breast harshly and you yelp in pain. She chuckles and stands up. “Now let me introduce myself. I am Wanda, and as you can see I take the shape of a human, like you. But I am nothing of the kind. I have morals.” She pauses, and moves between your spread-open legs. “When I got the ability to use my shapeshifting power, I first wanted to try to be human. Just to see what it feels like to walk and run. I liked it at first, but then came this feeling that I can’t describe. It is like a fire was lit right here,” she puts her hand just above your lower regions, goosebumps pebbling at the touch of her skin on yours.

“There was nothing I could do to put it out. So I explored down there… I have a button down there just like up here,” She rolls your nipples in her fingers once again, making you whine in protest. “Oh, my Poseidon… it felt heavenly when I rubbed it just right. I thought the feeling would never end! But then it did… it felt like I exploded. It was like getting caught in a wave, only to fall back down into warm water again.” She smiles down at you from her spot between your legs. 

“I want to see if you feel it too.” She smirks and you whimper as you pull at the restraints around your limbs. Dismissing you, her fingers spread your slick petals and she gently rubs around the top of your pussy. A soft moan emits from your mouth and she gasps. “Oh, I think I found your button too,” Wanda continues to rub your clit, loving every single reaction from your mouth. With curiosity, she pokes at your entrance with her fingers. When she enters her fingers into your wet cunt, the moan from your mouth is beautiful. 

“That was beautiful, I need to see more!” She exclaims and starts to move her fingers in and out of your hole while rubbing your clit. With never feeling these things before, you are like an exposed nerve and are oh, so, sensitive. 

You soon start to feel what she was describing, the fire, the riding up the wave, and after seconds, the falling from that wave and into warm water. As you cum, she smiles at the feeling of your walls clenching around her fingers. “It feels nice, doesn’t it…” she states, not addressing it as a question. You vigorously shake your head, denying her. She smirks, knowing deep down you absolutely love it. 

The ropes burn your limbs and you were tired. But Wanda was far from done. She had so much more planned as she was infatuated with your pussy and how it pulsed around her fingers. “Should we see how many more of these little episodes we can see today?” 

“N-no! No, please no more, I- I want to go home, please,” You beg, knowing deep down you most likely won’t make it out of here. Not without a fight. Already you were scheming how you could possibly escape her, but your thoughts were shut down as Wandas' fingers intruded your hole at a fast rate. Her fingers moved in and out of your cunt, a burning feeling bubbling inside of you once again. 

“Oh, you’re so wet down here, little one. I swear if I go too fast, there may be a tidal wave coming at me.” She smirks at her words, not slowing her pace as she curls her fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion. Your moans were music to her ears, like putting a sea shell to one's ear and hearing the beauty of the ocean on the other side. 

Failing miserably, you try to quiet your moans. But the feelings are just too intense for you to handle. She leans down as she continues to pump her fingers inside of you and smiles as she licks along your red, hot clit. Your legs jolt once a more sensitive wave of pleasure falls over you, her tongue moving expertly over your little bud. Your back arches as much as it can with the bonds keeping you down and you try to enjoy your current state under Wandas' domination. 

In a matter of seconds, you are crumbling at the feel of Wandas' three fingers inside of you as well as her tongue licking your clit over and over again. Cumming a second time was even more of an experience. You saw white as your orgasm came crashing over you once again. Whimpers come out of your mouth as tears are falling down your cheeks. It’s too much, and your cunt feels like it's on fire. 

Finally, Wanda has had enough, and she lets out a sigh as she looks down at your abused petals. “Aw, look how red you are. You must be so sensitive, hm?” She chuckles at your fucked out sounds as she grazes your clit with the back of a finger, your hips pulling away in retaliation. You whimper as she suddenly stands up, her other fingers leaving your hole in an instant. You shudder at the emptiness, letting out a sob as your emotions take control of your body again. 

“Sweetheart, don’t cry, we have just barely begun.” Her smile is malicious and full of evil. There is nothing welcoming about her smile, almost like the waxing gibbous, right before a full moon. Only a sliver of a smile of the night sky, then the werewolves come out. Her teeth were sharp but smooth enough to look human. But she was far from human.

You found out she was a mermaid while she let you roam the beach a little bit. All she gave you for clothing was a paper bag-type dress made out of the canvas of your sails, and a rope around your middle as a belt. She took the chains from the anchor of your boat and kept it around your ankle, the other end under a very heavy bolder that she moved with her powers. 

While you stayed on the beach, chained to the rock that gave you the shade you needed, Wanda was hunting. There was a little bit of forest above the cave you both took shelter in, but she warned you to never go in there. Well, not without her. You were curious as to know if there was danger, or if she just didn’t want you out of her sight. But it was easy to say, she did not want you going anywhere. 

Sitting on the beach was the little bit of freedom that you looked forward to every day. One hundred and eighty-two (182) days of being in Wandas' captivity. You learned on day seven (7) to never run away from her. She will make everything hurt. She will take everything away from you if you try to take yourself away from her. 

On day seven (7), you found a way to rub the chain links together and break the loop off of your foot. Making sure she was in the water, you made a run for it on the wet sand of the beach. Trying to go around the island and then out into the ocean was your goal. Wanda sensed you were gone the second the chain broke. It was no use trying to swim away from a mermaid. 

She caught up with you in a matter of seconds, her webbed tail making her swim much faster than you; A mere human. She grabbed your ankle from underneath the water, dragging you down to the ocean floor. Not too deep as she knows the pressure builds, but deep enough where you would not be able to escape. She smiled as you thrashed against her iron grip, your arms trying desperately to reach the surface, and the last few bubbles exited your mouth as you finally fell unconscious. 

Once you were out, she pulled you to the beach, getting the water from your lungs and making sure you are breathing again. She sent a wave of energy over your body, keeping you in an unconscious state. Picking you up, your head hung over her arm as your legs hung over her other arm. She looked at your sleeping face in slight disappointment as you were doing so good the few days before this. She knew that the time outside was going to be limited as part of the punishment she was going to give you. 

Laying you on the bed, she gathers a few trinkets she has found. Including a sewing kit. She looked over your body and stripped you of your canvas dress. She laced the rope around your arms and fastened them to the rusty bars above your head. Angrily, she stares, thinking of the things she is going to do to you when you wake up. She growls and pounces on top of you, grabbing your legs and putting them together. She takes more rope from your boat and wraps your thighs and ankles, rendering you unable to walk. 

Now comes the painful part; She threads the thread through the eye of the needle and pinches the skin of your thigh. Carefully she puts the needle through your skin, puncturing through the layers mercilessly. As she pulls the thread through the hole in your skin, she meticulously sews your legs together in an intricate zig-zag shape from your left leg to your right leg. Once she gets to just above the rope around your ankles she hums at her work, making sure that you won’t be able to pull the thread out of your legs, even if you tried as hard as you could. 

Waving her hand takes away the power keeping you unconscious, and she makes her way out of the cave, not wanting to hear your screams as you realize what she had done to you. Of course, she loved to hear you scream, but not in pain. It was never meant to be this way. If you had just listened and stayed where you were put, this never would have happened. As she transforms into her mermaid form, she dives into the ocean to cool off as she was much too angry to argue with you, worried she would kill you in the snap of a finger if you said the wrong thing to her. 

You started to come to, becoming more and more aware of your surroundings by the second. Once again, you tried to move, only to be stopped by the ropes around your wrists, but there was much more than what was done to you last time. You looked to the source of the tension of your legs and your panic set in. Screams of pain and horror echoed through the cave, tears and sobs were heard for miles outside of the cave, and Wanda was nowhere near where she could hear them. 

~~~~~~~

More than a few hours later, your sobs had calmed to nothing more than whimpers. Your legs were screaming in pain, blood dripping from each of the holes Wanda's needle had made, soaking the thread and keeping them together. You closed your eyes, hoping that someone would find you, help you, kill you. But your wishes were only met with more fear.

As Wanda entered the cave, she had a whole net of fish, more shells, and trinkets from the ocean floor, as well as the part of your ship you were going to miss the most: The picture of you, your father, and your mother. It was still in its gold-plated frame, the monotone black and white of the picture still prominent. “I brought you a couple things,” Wanda says, unapologetically. Setting the net down, she places a pink and coral-colored conch shell next to you on the bed, the picture, and what looks like a shell necklace that she put together herself. 

You did not acknowledge her in the slightest. From the moment she walked into the cave, to the moment she begged you to talk to her. She even untied your arms and helped you sit up, but you didn’t say a word. In a fit of rage, she throws your body against the bed, letting you curl against yourself as you try to undo the thread. 

“It's not going to come off. I put a spell on it, and until you talk to me, it will stay that way. Do you understand?” She holds your chin in her hands, her sharp nails digging into your soft, beautiful skin. You whimper in response, tears pooling in your eyes. A few fall, but Wanda is quick to wipe them away as you look up at her. She gives you a soft smile and your brows furrow. This smile is different, it's out of pity, and out of a different type of intent. “Please, say something…” She whispers, tears of her own filling her eyes.

“Wh-why did you do this to me?” You whimper, pulling your hands away from the thread and to your chest to cover yourself. 

“Because you ran away… I told you to stay here, and you disobeyed me. This never would have happened if you just stayed, and enjoyed the sun like I so generously allowed you!”

Her eyes close, and she covers them with her hand. As she removes her hand, she sits down on the bed and her eyes soften as she looks at you. “I never wanted this to happen, love. You are mine, but I never wanted to hurt you.” 

"All you are is a liar..." You respond, with no emotion in your voice, eyes, or heart. Wanda sighs and helps you sit up once again. 

“My love for you is not a lie.” She says, moving to the floor as your legs drape over the side of the bed. She unties your thighs and ankles, her hands glowing a soft red color. Your legs lose feeling for only a moment, and you watch in awe as the thread is removed without pain or discomfort. It floats out of your skin, and the holes where it once was were closed. “Please forgive me, my little human. I won’t do this unless you make me angry. You won’t be punished if you don’t do something punishable. Do you understand me?” 

You nod softly as the feeling returns to your legs. You stand up, as does Wanda. You stumble at first, but you slowly make your way out of the cave and over to the rock where your chain lay. You wrap the chain around your ankle and hold it up for Wanda to seal with her magic. She looks at you, confused. 

“What are you doing?” She asks. 

You sigh and you hold up your foot again. “Im showing you I can be good. That I can keep a promise of being good.” She understands and seals the lock over the two open links. You stand up again, and you make your way to the water. You have already accepted the fact that will rip the dress off of you when you get back inside anyway, so you stand in the sun, bathing in the warmth as you stand nude. You are grateful that the chain grants you the length to reach the water. 

The waves make you sway slightly, and you close your eyes. Your destiny has proven itself, and you were to stay captive with Wanda. 

Soon enough, day three hundred sixty-five (365) hits and you are smiling with Wanda. Happily letting her devour you every night to her heart's desire, as well as shower you with gifts and jewels she finds on her hunting trips. In a form of trust, you both agree to a collar around your neck. One that claims you as well as keeps you on the island when Wanda is away. It was a way for Wanda to make sure you were safe, and a way for you to feel secure in someone's watch. And if any pirates come to the island, it would notify Wanda if you were in danger. 

She loved to see you in the sun, the jewels around your neck shimmering in the bright sunlight above you. A bright ruby right at the center of your neck, represents the love that Wanda has gifted upon you. Every morning when you woke up in her arms, you felt safe and sound, and no longer in danger of her. Of course, you were never going to make it home to Eleanore, so you threw a bottle with a letter in it into the ocean hoping that it finds her well. 

Yours and Wandas' routine grew every day, her even letting you go for a swim. She would transform into her mermaid form, and you would hold onto her shoulders as she sped through the water at speeds you have never felt before. On other days, she would take you to the edge of the forest above her cave. She told you stories of the cannibals that lived among the trees but willingly agreed to keep on their side of the island and never venture past the river about a mile into the grove of trees. 

You would tell stories of when you sailed with your father and cooked with your mother. Wanda loved to hear about humans and the hobbies or skills you can acquire with the right supplies and practice. She was infatuated with humans just as she was with you. 

One of your favorite things to do with Wanda was lay out on the sand at night, a soft seaweed blanket underneath you both, the water reflecting the moon, and the stars shimmering above you. For every shooting star there was, you would point to it and give Wanda a soft kiss on her cheek, making her smile and return the kiss. That was a nightly ritual you both had and when the both of you had soaked up the moonlight for the perfect amount of time, she would take you inside and make love to you. She would worship you, and care for you. She gave you meaning in a world where you had no one else to be there for. 

She loved you.

Your keeper loves you, yet you love her too.

[in1-nutshell]

I would like to request Fearless getting a trip to earth, finally being able to meet up with their crush.  Only for the lost light to be completely obvious in their spying.  The two of them are out at a cafe, the same sports car has driven by several times, two ‘grandmas’ are at another nearby table, who happen to have exactly the same wigs and comically cartoon looking nightdresses because that's what grandmothers wear right?  Someone is watching the two of them from over a newspaper.  That baby has a fake mustache.  There's a pair of binoculars popping out of a bush.  The crush is completely oblivious to this while Fearless is feeling fear for the first time.  And finally, Whirl appears in his holoform.  “Fearless, is this a friend of yours?”  “He’s my… sister.”  Who knows where Megs is or how hes actually handling this.

Now some Fearless fluff to balance yesterday's angst.

Hope you enjoy!

Fearless meeting their crush in person

SFW, Platonic, Hinted romance, Familial, Human reader

MTMTE

Fearless’s superiors had called in and had scheduled them to come to Earth for a couple of days.

They were lucky that the Lost Light managed to travel close to Earth on time.

There was a good number of bots excitedly talking about sight seeing and talking about old stories about their time stationed on Earth.

Fearless was just happy to be on Earth for a bit.

It certainly would be a good change of scenery.

Upon landing in the base, Fearless was already walking down the platform with an away bag.

Rodimus looking at the bag. Rodimus: “What’s with the bag?” Fearless: “I’m staying at a friends place for the time being.” Several bots look at Fearless in surprise. Tailgate: “Does that mean you won’t be coming back to the ship?” Fearless: “It’s not like I’m never getting back on the ship Tailgate. My friend just offered to let me stay for the few days we’re going to be here, nothing more.” Chromedome: “Who’s your friend?” Fearless: “Just a friend.” Rewind: “That still didn’t answer the question.” Megatron: “But you will be on base at the end of the day?” Fearless: “Megs my friend has nothing to do with my job.” Megatron: “You still didn’t answer the question.” Fearless: “I’m not staying on base Megatron. I’ll still be coming back for work, but—” BEEP! BEEP! A smile appears on Fearless’s face as they race to the sound. Fearless: “Bye guys! Be good! And tell Whirl to stay away from the electrical lines!”

The bots just watched their little human run to the direction of the car honk.

Out of pure curiosity, some tried to go see who was picking them up.

Put the hangar door had closed before they had the chance to see.

The next few days ended up in a pattern of sorts.

Fearless would come in for the morning, stay for the meetings, make sure the bots were doing okay before spending the rest of the day out.

Many bots tried justifying their behavior.

They had been gone from Earth for a while and just wanted to get in as much of their planet before they had to leave it.

It seemed to do well with most of the bots…

And then there were the outliers of that group.

Fearless was in a coffee shop waiting for their crush to return with the orders. They looked around and for a split second thought they saw a familiar-looking orange vest. Brushing it off as soon as their crush sat down in front of them. ‘Crush’: “Here you go.” The crush gives them their cup. Their fingers brush. Their crush looks behind them a bit confused. Fearless: “What it is?” ‘Crush’: “There’s this lady doing some Victorian era cosplay near the napkins. Fearless stops mid sip. ‘Crush’: “And she also has a little kid with a fake mustache.” The crush laughs a bit. ‘Crush’: “I should go ask what convention they are heading to.” Fearless quickly grabs his hand before he starts to get up. They quickly scan the room. Sure enough, the lady in purple and the baby with the fake mustache where by the napkins. A table away was another familiar pair. Two blonde men with grandma hats. One of them with a large camera and the other had a familiar looking tie. Fearless grabs their crush’s hand and their drink and starts heading out the door. ‘Crush’: “Hey you, okay?” Fearless suddenly makes eye contact with a woman with purple top and Autobot insignia on her belt. Fearless slightly sweating: “Peachy. Let’s just go!”

Fearless was now hyperaware of their friends holoforms around.

And actively following them!

They swore they even saw Magnus’s holoform in an alley.

They were not ready to have their crush meet them yet!

What if they ran away?

What if—wait they weren’t even dating yet! Why were they so worried?

Fearless knew exactly why.

It was hard enough to find someone outside work to hang out with.

Much less someone who made them feel good.

They were not going to risk it, at least not yet anyways.

Thankfully their crush didn’t seem to be bothered about suddenly moving from place to place without a clear direction.

Eventually Fearless managed to lose the group near a park.

They sighed in relief before noticing that they were still holding their crush’s hand.

Fearless quickly let go spouting out apologies, but quickly stopped when he grabbed their hand and carefully laced his fingers in their hand.

He gave them a sheepish smile and quietly stated he liked their hand in his.

Fearless swore they melted a bit inside.

Fearless’s crush pointed to a swing set. ‘Crush’: “You want me to push you?” Fearless smirking playfully. Fearless: “As long as I return the favor.” Their crush gently pushes their shoulder. The pair reaches the swings when they notice a girl sitting on them. A girl with teal hair… in pigtails… and was that an eye patch? Fearless starts sweating more when the ‘girl’ turned to their direction… and started walking to them! Whirl: “Hey Fearless, missed you today at the meeting.” ‘Crush’: “Uh, you know her?” Fearless: “I… babysat her a couple times. A chaotic little fiend, aren’t you?” Whirl just puffs her chest a bit. Whirl: “Only doing my best.” Fearless: “Hey do you mind waiting a second? I need to remind this young lady that her new babysitters are looking for her now.” Whirl: “No they—OW! Fearless!” Fearless grabbed Whirl by the ear and walked a few feet away before whispering harshly. Fearless: “Whirl?! Are you kidding me?! What are you and nearly half the ship doing here?! I think I saw Magnus in an alley way!” Whirl: “Sightseeing… Magnus took a wrong turn.” Fearless: “You gave him those direction, didn’t you?” Whirl: “Maybe…” Fearless: “Back on topic, why, oh so conveniently, are you all ‘sightseeing’ in places specifically I go to? I don’t think that a coincidence.” Whirl: “You’re a smart Fleshy you figure it out.” Fearless: “Primus, Megs is going to have a field day when he hears about this.” Whirl just gives them a cheeky look. Fearless pauses and looks at Whirl mischievous smile more closely. Fearless: “Whirl… where’s Megs?” Whirl: “As much as I’d love to tell all about our plan—” Fearless: “Whirl…” Whirl: “I might be worried about your little boyfriend over there.” Fearless: “He is not my—wait what?”

Whirl just points behind them.

Fearless feels all the blood from their face drain.

Their crush was talking to MEGATRON!

Fearless never sprinted so fast in their entire life.

They were red in the face, they didn’t know if it was from anger, embarrassment or from being flustered.

When they got back to the ship, they were going to be EVERYONE’S problem.

Their crush waves at them. ‘Crush’: “I didn’t know your dad was cool.” Fearless: “I’m so sor—did you say cool?” ‘Crush’: “Yeah, we were talking about human poetry and what writing styles we liked.” Fearless gives Megatron a look. Fearless: “Was that all… Dad?” Megatron: “Besides an introduction to your male companion.” Fearless looks at their crush who just smiles and nods in agreement. They look down at their phone and notice the time. Fearless: “Well, we got to go now. Gotta get dad his pills on time.” Megatron: “I don’t—” Fearless giving him a side glare. Megatron sighs and begins to walk away. Fearless: “…Was that really all you talked about? There was no threatening or anything?” ‘Crush’: “Nope, nothing weird.” Fearless looks down a bit. Fearless: “Sorry that our last day was all…this.” Their crush gently takes their hands in his. Fearless is fighting a blush best they can. ‘Crush’: “We can’t plan everything right? I’m just glad I got to spend it with you.” They get pulled into a tight hug. It lasts a minute before they both let go. ‘Crush’: “Give space a taste of Earth Fearless!” Fearless waves back and starts jogging to catch up with Megatron. They don’t see their crush’s image sigh, flicker and disappear.

Fearless on the inside with their crush.

[cienie-isengardu]

Cienie's Star Wars sidenotes

While doing research and writing down the last pieces of Funeral Rites of the Clone Troopers, it became even more clear how The Clone Wars animated TV series did a great disservice to Jedi, especially in the context of medical care for clones.

TCW has clone medics, both as part of combat units (e.g. Kix from 501st Legion) and working apparently in the medcentre as sometimes was presented on the screen.

The role of doctors treating wounded troopers was given to Kaminoans (Nala Se) and droids and sure, those two groups were part of the whole GAR’s medical system in the Legends too. However Jedi Healers (doctors), as far as I remember, were seen treating mainly other Jedi like Yoda

and even then TCW barely paid attention to force healing as an important skill. 

The research about medical care for clones gives a pretty drastic idea of what was happening during and after battle which is understandable why the show destined for younger viewers didn’t go into full details about triage of wounded but considering how many dark themes were put in the same show, I dare to say not showing medical care provided by Jedi or common Republic doctors and nurses (who btw are a rare example of republic citizens conscripted into army during the war) actually is unfair. The show reduced one very important aspect of Jedi - they weren’t just generals and commanders either sending or leading troops into battle, they also provided medical help, whether they were specifically trained at healing or not. 

In Legends, we could see Jedi Healers assisting the army on various occassions, working in triage area like in Republic comics series:

The triage unit, where Jedi healers labor to save the lives of the wounded, was set up safely behind the line of battle. But as the fortunes of war shift, so do the battlelines.

and worrying first about wounded even in the face of serious danger

Master Saa! We’re cut off! There’s no way to get the wounded out!

and searching for survivors

Master Saa is hurt! She pulled the trees on top of us for protection...

and working in hospitals

Follow me Skywalker. We have much healing to do. The Jedi sickbay, where we treat the most severe injuries. And our own, of course. Master Offee has saved countless lives. She seldom leaves her post to rest. But we all work long hours.

Not to mention the whole Medstar duology dedicated to padawan Bariss Offee, doctors and nurses serving in Republic mobile hospitals close to frontine - and yes, forever I’m gonna be bitter about how TCW/New Canon treated the most iconic Jedi Healer.

(The cover art for Medstar: Jedi Healer by Dave Seeley)

When padawan Skywalker arrived at New Holstice with his troops, he was immedialy called to assist in the nearest sickbay

“Are you injured, master Jedi?”

“Not really, no.”

“Good. You can make yourself useful by heading to the nearest sickbay. We need all the Jedi healers we can get...”

and for context, this is Anakin two days after after Jabiim, one of the worst war campaigns Republic experienced so far, the solely survivor of Jedi Pack traumatized both by the loss of his comrades and what happened on the planet and forced to make a devastating choice is literally told to get at work ASAP because every Jedi in between assignment was working here hard to heal the most wounded..

Though no healer himself, Anakin even force-healed injured trooper on battlefield to stop him going into shock:

Supporting the commando trooper with his left arm, Anakin warded off blaster bolts on the run. The rest of Squad Seven supplied cover, blowing STAPs out the sky with uninterrupted fire. Cody motioned everyone into a shallow irrigation trench just short of the mound. By the time Obi-Wan arrived, the troopers were deployed in a circle, and continuing to pour fire into the sky. Anakin slid into the trench a moment later, lowering the commando gently to the muddy slope. Squad Seven’s medical specialist crawled over, removing the commando’s ravaged utility belt and deeply dented helmet.  [...]

The harvester’s pincers had crushed the armor into the commando’s abdomen. His skin was intact, but the bruising was severe. With only half the original army of 1.2 million in fighting shape, the life of every clone was vital. Blood and replacement organs - - what the regular troopers referred to as “spare parts” - - were readily available - - “easily requisitioned” - - but with the war reaching a crescendo, battlefield casualties were on the rise and treated as high priority.

“Not much I can do for him here,” the medspec told Anakin. “Maybe if we can get an FX-Seven air-dropped - - ”

“We don’t need a droid,” Anakin interrupted. Kneeling, he placed his hands on the injured commando’s abdomen and used a Jedi healing technique to keep the clone from going into deep shock. [Labyrinth Of Evil]

(and included request for evacuation of the wounded trooper when Cody called for artillery support)

In Republic comics series alone we could see Jedi showing concern for the wounded troopers at various moments, putting their well-being as priority:

or helping (healing) wounded enemies:

And I won't lie, it is frustrating how Legends, especially Republic comics series that had around 40 issues put so much pressure on Jedi Force healing and how Jedi care for wounded troopers while The Clone Wars (New Canon) that lasted for decade or so kinda ignored the issue? Which is unfair to Jedi and clones alike. The first are presented as less caring, at times indifferent? the latter deserved to have all the available medical help, not just Kaminoans and droids.

[all2angels]

hi im the stoner gee anon.. :3 im back 4 more.. and its bad its not even stoner gee anymorw..

2019 gee who grooms u and wants to make u his oblivious-to-how-wrong-your-relationship-is gf/bf!! you guys would meet at some umbrella academy panel thing. he's so enamored by you when you walk up to the table, so much so that when you ask for a signature and drawing, he just HAS to put his number on there..

you're happy, anyone would be happy that a celebrity noticed them. but no, this is gerard way.. the man of ur dreams. as soon as you get home, you lock yourself in your room and text him, shuffling around and pacing like crazy as you anticipate his response. he starts off easy, just making small talk and asking you about your dreams... then a few weeks in or so, he'll drop the bomb that he slipped you his number 'cus he thought you were so beautiful. just stunning, actually.

he eventually starts talking about issues in his own relationship, telling you about how the sex is just so boring and sad.. how his marriage doesn't even feel like a marriage anymore. you feel a little uncomfortable that he's telling you this, but anything to help your heroic idol, right?! then he goes back to how pretty you are, saying that he wishes he had married you, that you were older so he could've met you earlier, so it could actually happen.

there's a night where he calls you, and he's breathing quite heavily. you ask, "what's wrong?" and he brushes it off, replying with a dismissive "nothing." on the other side of the line, his pants are tugged down, his hand's just ghosting over his cock, and he's so turned on. he's been thinking about you so much lately. "how was your day?" he asks, now teasing the tip of his cock, smearing pre-cum over it.. you're not even sure what's going on, but you oblige, telling about how mundane it all was. you can hear small whines over the phone, but you keep going. his hand is going so fast, pumping up and down with every word you say. you get to how you took a shower earlier, a fleeting comment, and he quite literally cums seconds after, with the photo in his imagination. he tries to hold the moans back, but he can't. and it's all finally clicked in your mind.

that was so long. i'm so sorry. but i'm not. i love your posts and these r my gifts to you <3

tw: MAJOR TW! underage, grooming, weirdo behavior. dead dove don't eat i didn't edit this this is literally my pure, unedited thoughts. i did not hold back LMFAO

STONER GEE ANON 😭😭😭😭 i want to give you the world. THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!

i love this dynamic so much ong MY TAKE BELOW

you swear that it wasn't creepy. like, a man in his forties giving his underage fan his number sounds bad, but it didn't sound bad to you. because he was your hero, he saved your life! it's not creepy.

it was when he admitted that he gave you his number because he thought you were attractive that you were hit my a bad, nauseating feeling. but you buried that feeling deep, deep down. he was just complimenting you. gerard way thought you were attractive circled your head alot.

gerard likes to talk a lot. he can go on and on about media that he likes. whether it be a book or a music album, he can go on for ages. you don't have the heart not to listen or tell him you were busy or anything. this was the person that gave you comfort for years, how could you deny a chance to talk to him? even if he's the only one talking.

then it stopped being about comic books, music, or books. things got personal. really personal. and, honestly you were a little uncomfortable when he shared graphic descriptions about his sex life. did you stop him? no. it was gerard way. you awkwardly laughed when he said he wished he could marry you, hoping he was joking even though you knew he wasn't.

this goes on for almost everyday. he'd lock himself in his office, talking to you for hours. when you told him you had school or anything, he'd guilt trip you until he settles for a quick (2, 3 hour?) call before you go to bed.

but despite your gut telling you that he has ill intentions, you were so attached. you were already attached before he gave you his number. and maybe that's why he felt so comfortable sharing these things with you like there were no possible consequences. he knows you can't let go of him.

and maybe that's why he has no shame when he calls you, dick in hand, painfully hard and asking about your day. your voice sounded so good to him, he could've finished just by listening to you. but when you let it slip that you showered was more than he could ask for. he let out a moan that you could hear from your end of the call and when you realized what was happening you hung up quickly.

nothing changed after that. he messaged you asking when you were free so you both could hop in a call, like he didn't just have a one sided SOP with you. you obviously didn't address it. but, you also gave him the time you were available. because how could you decline talking to your hero?

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step Part 4

One month later...

Sorry about that guys. Hopefully now that Batshit Soulmates and Not All That Glitters is Gold is coming to end next week, you'll get more of this story.

In this we have the relay race, Steve getting weird vibes from his teammates, and finally putting his foot down with Nancy.

Again Nancy will get worse before she gets better.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

Steve kept catching Ezra looking at him at the strangest times. It made something between his shoulder blades itch. Like it had back in the junkyard with the demodogs. Just that feeling of...not evil. But danger. He just couldn’t shake the feeling.

He stood behind the jump box and shook his arms loose. He hopped up and down on the balls of his feet trying to stay warmed up. All along the line the other competitors were doing the same.

He got into position and pulled his goggles down. Then the shot went off and they all dived in.

Steve was going up against his teammates for the individual events and knew that for this first one, he had it in the bag. Butterfly was his specialty. So he focused on beating them and not worry about the other competitors.

He knew his form was good, his strokes powerful. His breaths perfectly timed.

Before he knew it he was touching the end plate and getting out of the water.

He saw a couple other boys getting out of the water after him, but it was clear he had beaten them.

His coaches were cheering almost as loudly as the crowd was and Steve felt a sense of accomplishment, one that wasn’t tied to other worldly dimensions and protecting nosy ass teenagers from monsters. He smiled up at the stands and waved.

He took off his goggles and waited for the judges to read the results. A boy from Chicago was second and third place was from Minnesota. But Steve was the undisputed winner.

His teammates mobbed him, jumping on him and cheering.

He watched as his teammates won medals in their heats too. Then they called it for the boys for the day.

Steve hit the showers ready to get that oil slick feel of the chlorine off his skin. Grateful that the cap protected his hair.

He scrubbed his skin with the soap and again he could feel someone watching him, but this time when he looked up, he couldn’t tell who it was as there were so many people around.

It made his skin crawl. It was like sharing the shower room with Tommy and Billy all over again. An experience Steve would rather not repeat. But it wasn’t as though he could go to the coaches with anything, either. There was always going to be boys staring at you in the showers. It didn’t necessarily mean they were gay either. Hatred. Envy. Even curiosity.

He quickly got dressed and hurried out to his waiting friends.

Jeff put his arm around Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

Steve looked behind him, but didn’t see anything. He nodded. “Just jumpy being so far away from home, I guess.”

Eddie frowned.

Wayne clapped his hands together. “All right, Jeff and I are going site-seeing this afternoon. You boys behave yourselves.”

“Never!” Eddie cackled.

Jeff gave him a high five. “The only way to be.”

Steve and Eddie watched as they walked away talking about all the places they were going to see.

“This about your comic, baby?” Eddie whispered.

Steve shook his head. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get to your hotel room.”

Once they were up in Eddie’s room, Steve flopped on the bed dramatically.

“I would give up sports all together if I didn’t think my dad would kill me if I tried.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean, gorgeous?” He got up onto the bed next to Steve.

“Ever since I fell from popularity or lost my crown or whatever,” Steve grumbled, “it’s been really hostile in the locker rooms.”

Eddie laid down next to him. “Even with the swim guys?”

“Before this trip I wouldn’t have thought so,” Steve murmured. “But I’ve caught Ezra staring at me more than once and it’s making my skin crawl. And I’ve been feeling it when he’s not around, too. I don’t know, it might be in my head.”

Eddie pulled him close. “I doubt it’s in your head, Steve. I know you better than that. You wouldn’t be feeling it if there wasn’t something to it.”

Steve let out a sigh. “I guess.”

Eddie pressed his lips to the column of his throat. “I know just how to distract you.”

Steve hummed. “I was hoping you might.”

****

Steve stood in line for the final event. The 4x100 m/yd medley or relay swim. They were all bouncing on their toes, trying to shake off their nerves.

Steve was up third with the butterfly and Ezra was last with free style, with Nike and Lyle starting for back and breaststroke respectively.

Lyle was their weakest link, and being second, it could really hurt them if Steve couldn’t pick up time. Ezra was by far and away their best and fastest swimmer. His front crawl was incredible to watch.

Nick got up on the podium and readied himself for the starting shot. Steve nodded in approval. Nick’s stance was good.

BANG!

And they were off. Nick slicing through the water like a knife. He spun around and began the backstroke. He had an instinct that couldn’t be taught and that’s why he was the best at his part of the relay.

He touched the plate below the podium and Lyle was off, showcasing exactly why he was on the team. His broadstroke was good, but not great. What he was great at was getting off the starting podium at the precise moment Nick touched it.

Steve got up and focused on Lyle coming back down the length of the pool. Lyle was doing well, keeping up with the other teams and not losing any ground that Nick bought them.

He leapt in and all the roar of the crowd, the splashing of the other teams’ members, even the sound of his heart beat went away. It was just him and the water. No distractions, no worries, no fears, just the way the water flowed around him.

Each movement was flawless, breathtaking. Then he was touching the pad and Ezra was splashing into the water above him. He pulled himself out of the water and the world came rushing back in.

He was handled a towel and he began scrubbing his face so he could watch Ezra finish their heat. It really wasn’t even contest. Ezra turned before the other teams were even half way. Ezra would have to get a cramp and drown in order for them to catch up.

Something he obviously didn’t do. He tapped the panel and pulled himself out of the water. He looked up at the time clock with a frown. They had won. Of course they had, but even Steve could tell that hadn’t beaten the record.

Even though Steve and Ezra were co-captains, they had flipped a coin in the locker room to see who would be on the podium if they medalled. Ezra had won.

Steve smiled at his teammate. They had kicked ass.

They all hurried to get showered and changed so that they could celebrate with the people that had come to see them compete and their coaches.

Then they got the news. Nationals were going to be held in California that year in two weeks. They only had two weeks to raise the money to go all the way out to California and Steve felt in the pit of his stomach that Nancy was going to bring it up again. But he pushed it as far to the back of his mind as he could.

Now was the time celebrate.

All throughout dinner and as they got ready for bed Steve still felt like Ezra was watching him. It seemed less hostile then from when they were in the showers, but it still sent a chill down Steve spine as he tried to keep the conversation light with the other boy.

The next morning they all packed up, ready to go back to Hawkins.

It had been a fun trip, the weirdness with Ezra aside. Steve had a few medals to take home with him. A couple of golds, three silver, and a bronze. And they were going to Nationals. It had been one hell of a trip.

****

Of course, Nancy had made a fuss about them going to Nationals. She had ranted about it in the school newspaper again.

Even Tommy H stopped to ask him if Nancy had it out for him in particular after the article came out.

It was the first nice thing that Tommy had said in literal months. And the thing was, Steve didn’t know.

In fact Steve was speaking more to Jonathan at the moment than he was Nancy. A fact that hadn’t escaped him.

So he finally cornered her about it at her locker after school a couple of days after the article came out.

“Seriously, Nancy,” he growled. “What the hell is your problem with me?”

She straightened up. “My problem, Steve, is that you played with my heart for almost two years and I’m suddenly supposed to be okay that you’re dating a man?”

Steve looked around to make sure no one was around to hear that. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to an empty class room.

“Are you trying to get me beaten up?” he hissed. “First this campaign of yours against the swim team and now outing me in the middle of the fucking school, Jesus Christ!”

“Does Eddie know he’s dating a coward?”

Steve straightened up and squared his shoulders. “You’re jealous.”

She folded her arms and leaned back on one foot. “What? No I’m not.”

“You are!” he laughed. “This make so much more sense!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve leaned down into her space. “Oh but I do. You see, Nancy. Despite everything I did love you, but you never loved me. You’ve always been waiting for something better, for someone better and you moved on the instant you found it.”

“That’s not true!” Nancy hissed.

“You didn’t even wait until we had officially broken up to sleep with him for fuck’s sake!” Steve hissed back. “And now that I’ve found someone who loves me for who I am, you can’t deal with it. Because you want to remain as your second option. Well, I’m not some college you can fall back to when your first choice falls through. I’m a human being who just wanted you to love him.”

She stomped her foot angrily. “You don’t get to say that. You’re gay, Steve don’t give me this bullshit about loving me. Because you can’t.”

“I did love you, Nance,” Steve insisted. “Maybe I wasn’t sexually attracted to you, but we both got off and you know we did. Love isn’t just about romance and sex. There are other kinds. But I won’t let you continue to hurt me because you’re jealous.”

“What are you going to do about it?” she huffed.

“I’ll tell the journalism teacher that you have a vendetta against me and to talk you off writing sports,” he said with a shrug.

Nancy scoffed. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Steve tilted his head. “You’ll find I still be pretty persuasive when I want to be. And who is he going to believe? Co-captain of the swim team or little Miss Priss?”

Her jaw dropped.

“That’s what I thought.”

And he walked away.

****

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

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@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

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@greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

[gelpensoncomics]

Guy Gardner: A Study of Heroes and Head Trauma

SO! It's July, which is disability pride month here in the United States where I live! I figured it would be appropriate to kick things off by talking about a character who has a mixed reputation, to say the least: Guy Gardner, Green Lantern. He's been around since the Silver Age of comics, and his characterization has been through some serious ups and downs over the years! But what if I told you that it's not inconsistent writing? What if I told you there is a lens with which to view his shifting behavioral patterns and at times abrasive and offensive personality that makes it all come into focus and make perfect sense, and it's all already there on the page? I'm here to give you that lens, and it's viewing Guy Gardner as a man who has suffered multiple traumatic brain injuries and managed to heal over time. Buckle up, this is probably going to be a long one, and it's pretty image heavy as I try to back up as much as I am claiming that I can.

So the first thing I will start with is establishing Guy's former baseline. This is not the post where I will go incredibly in-depth on Guy's full family history and his education, I'll save that for another time. Here, I simply aim to sum up. Guy Gardner met Hal Jordan for the first time in the 1991 title Green Lantern: Emerald Dawn, a volume that served as an updated backstory for the Silver Age hero after Crisis on Infinite Earths. Hal was in prison to serve a 90 day sentence for drunk driving. Guy Gardner was Hal Jordan's caseworker.

"What? Huh? That's Guy Gardner?" You, the hypothetical reader ask. What happened to him?!

A lot. A lot happened to him, and it took him from a man who gave the advice to "Use your rage! Don't let it use you!" to a man who is known as the rude angry ginger lantern. First off, he got hit by a bus. No, I'm not being metaphorical or making a joke. See, he quit his job as a prison case worker because he didn't like how the job made him feel, especially after he was caught up in a prison riot and threatened with death at the hands of a prisoner there. So he put his second degree to use and he became a teacher. Specifically, he became a physical education teacher for disabled children.And then there was an earthquake, and he was hit by a bus while attempting to rescue one of the students on a field trip he was running, nearly dying in the process.

Now, I will say: he got better. This time. See, no sooner had he recovered from this incident, as he was filling in for Hal as Green Lantern he was exploded in the line of duty and sent to a parallel dimension. In that parallel dimension he was tortured, and Sinestro used a dangerous and severe form of mind control that, when it was finally broken, left Guy... well, the comics call him comatose, but he is conscious, he is just not responsive to the environment around him or able to care for himself.

For years, he remained in this state, with his care at a top-notch hospital paid for by fellow superheros. And then, during the Crisis on Infinite Earths event, a miracle happened. Guy regained consciousness.

But the Guy who came out of that vegetative state wasn't the same man who fell into it. Or at least, not exactly. He was angrier. His fuse was shorter. Perhaps most upsetting of all, one of the first actions he took upon regaining consciousness was attempted grave robbery.

"Gelpens, what the fuck," you ask me. I know. It's a lot. Bear with me here. See, he didn't wake up on his own. The Guardians of Oa woke him up, using their tremendous cosmic powers to attempt to heal his brain damage so they could deploy him to help during the Crisis.

Sure, Guy got his strength back. He was able to function as a Green Lantern. But he still wasn't the same as he was before his coma. He stayed angry, and confrontational, and was frequently known to make inappropriate comments that failed to fit the setting he was in or the bounds of good taste. He had a constant chip on his shoulder, very different from the man who was concerned about controlling his anger so it couldn't use him.

This all came to a head in a series of events that is frankly infamous in comics circles. Almost every fan I know of who knows Guy Gardner knows about the time Batman got fed up with his confrontational rude attitude and laid him out with a single punch to the face.

The thing people don't remember about that punch is that, seeing as it was the 90s, and comics writers had learned a few things about the brain, they decided to use it to make... let's call it a running joke. See, after Guy regained consciousness, he was much more like the guy he was before all that head trauma. He was polite, cared about being a team player and not trying to prove himself, he didn't go for lethal force!

Of course, this didn't last. No, the whole 'joke' here was that Batman punched him hard enough to rattle his brain, and he would occasionally jump from being a sweet, friendly team player to, in the words of the narration box the first time he got hit on the head again, his new old "thoroughly rotten" self (I know). Slowly but surely though, Guy did get better, and start to stay better. His mood stabilized, he gained more self-control, he started making better plans and he was much less angry as a default. And it's kept going! This train keeps chugging along! He isn't so angry anymore! He has it under control!

And honestly? This moment, right here? This is the crowning jewel in my thesis, I think.

Guy has a Red Lantern ring and a Star Sapphire ring. For those of you less familiar with the extended Green Lantern lore, the Red Lanterns run off rage. The Star Sapphires are powered by love. Outside of willpower, the emotions that are the most powerful within him are his rage and anger, and his love for his friends. And what does he fuel them with, when it comes down to the wire? When willpower alone isn't enough? The thing he hates most is being filled with rage. The thing he loves the most is his friends.

So. I don't think Guy was ever just an angry, sexist, rude asshole at his core. Is he the same as he was before the injury, before all that happened to him? Of course not. Nobody goes through life completely unchanged by what happens to them.

I think he injured his brain and lost his ability to regulate his emotions and impulses for a while. The road to recovery was far from smooth. It just took him some time to heal and be in a place to act like the man he wanted to be all along. But in my opinion? I think he's there now.

[2deadkat]

i'd love to hear ur complaints abt modern geronimo! If u'd like to share that is

Thank you for asking anon, I’d love to share and you have inadvertently entered the dragon’s den/lh

But fr tho, it’s a lot. It’s mostly pertaining to the writing.

The reason why I hate modern Geronimo is in the biggest nutshell possible, they screwed up the original dynamic for the Stiltons, a majority of the books is just one big game of Geronimo torture porn between the other characters, and overall a lot of wasted potential for unique interactions between the wider cast and the rest of the Stiltons as its limited to just Geronimo himself. Hell a lot of the plots could have the input from the other Stiltons if they were brave enough. And there seems to be a new character every few books and there’s no rhyme or substance to it anymore. Since when did trap reproduce???

And you’re telling me von Volt has another relative???? Yk at some point you just stop reading the books. Oh and do not get me started on the Thea problem…

Let me start with the Stiltons real quick, somehow they got worse by watering down their personalities to a bunch of cheap jokes.

What made the classic (or early) books work was that the whole point of Geronimo’s character is that yes he’s a wimp, but that’s because he’s a tired boss who gets dragged into his family’s shenanigans, and by extension his friends and allies around him. Everyone has some eccentric personality that shocks or baffle him in some way, and that’s where the comedy comes from. He’s able to stand on his own because of his duties and eagerness to stay in his comfort zone is where the meat of the interactions come from.

His family especially Trap and Thea were meant to be respective foils to him. Trap consistently bullies him and Thea is meant to be the direct opposite of him, she’s the driving force in the group and has more pants to cover up what Gerry doesn’t have. She’s the one behind a lot of their adventures or scoops, hell she’s also the one who keeps finding them in the first place and drags her family and connections into them which makes sense because that’s her job and also where a lot of the plots start from. She fills out the spots that Gerry doesn’t have. Trap is just pure comic relief and is basically that outside force to the group. Hell the two even have a dynamic of their own where’d they just fight over the most trivial things and that makes us side with Geronimo more because of the ridiculousness of his family, that’s what made it click (to me). Highly recommend you read the early books, it shows the strongest character imo (#1-20).

Now Geronimo has all his autonomy stripped away and he’s been reduced to a nothing but a punching bag for everyone around him. I hope I’m not kidding here but try reading a classic book (let’s say #7 or #26) and compare it to the writing in a modern book (let’s say #46 or #74) it’s very jarring. They put more emphasis on different ways his day is ruined and give him no room to breathe or stand on his own. There’s just no charm to that anymore. There’s no fine line with his relationship with the other characters (Run for the Hills Geronimo is probably the worse one and represents everything I don’t like about the new dynamic)

Now over time that initial draw to action is also done by Trap, which I thought was cool because it still plays into the idea of Geronimo’s family dragging him into their shenanigans and the motives make sense to him specifically. It’s like he keeps getting calls from his relatives on schemes which is fun. But the more you keep reading the modern books the dynamic gets skewed over time and here’s the part I’ve been waiting for…Thea gets shelved completely. And now it’s somehow the GOD DAMN GINGER BROS SHOW?????

Now I think about it, Trap used to be a lot more clever in the classic books as well, he’s essentially a bumbling fool who keeps falling into the wrong situations to make a quick buck which slowly backfires on him. If you know me that well you know I’d call him a less scummier Grunkle Stan. The fact that there’s no Thea to balance it out or at least ground the dynamic to some level feels really annoying now.

You don’t really see much of her anymore as she’s either smiling at the back or doesn’t say more than five lines anymore, which is baffling because she’s the one who can pick up the pace the most. I really wished they showed more of her involvement again…They’re a trio, not a duo…and the books are suspiciously phasing her out to make room for the ginger bros fail routine and it ultimately feels very empty…there’s not much acknowledgement or involvement from her really like they could say she’s busy at mouseford or something but nope! Shelved completely without an explanation or a missed opportunity for a tie-in mention.

So far the only redemption I see is the Mayan Mystery one and the Soccer one where she had a more integral role which are way more recent but it still bothers me that they just shelved her for a majority of the modern run.

Listen if the modern books weren’t cowards she would SOLO all these people

she’d probably have an interesting dynamic knowing that she gets along with everyone well and is technically an adventurer. It’d be such a good parallel to her brother to play off of.

hell it’s even worse in the comics. Like there’s legit no acknowledgment of her at all, when trap is absent that gets an explanation but she’s just suspiciously…gone and the only time she does have a major role is when she’s used as a fake mask for a psyche-out to the villains (I’m sorry but if the comics are gonna pull that shit then I’m baited to believe that Thea and (cat lady) would have a homerotic switcheroo fight akin to Ms.Bellum and Sedusa. SHES THE TOUGHEST AND SMARTEST RODENT, USE HER GODDAMIT)

Idk man I tried reading some of the comics and it never worked out that much, again the dynamic feels suspiciously empty with zero acknowledgment. It’s not the Stiltons it’s just the fucking ginger bros for some reason. It doesn’t feel solid like it used to. I really can’t get into them which is a shame, and tbf why would I want to read a comic where Geronimo goes back in time and helps a colonist do his thing 💀

I’d be very happy if someone here can give me one good reason to get into them somehow, I want to like modern Geronimo, please/s

Look if there’s one character I don’t mind them putting in complete absence it’s probably the unaccompanied minors/s…Or Petunia which makes much more sense since she’s a family friend!

Look I actually like Ben and Bugsy as a duo, I think their whole concept is really wholesome, but the books don’t really push their parts that much, like there’s no meaningful interaction they have with the adults which is a lot of missed potential that or it’s just limited to Geronimo. Like listen I get that the whole point of the books was that it was from Geronimo’s perspective, but it’s not like everyone else was just “present”. They had more active roles and Gerry would just write all his observations down. You want a good example? The Mona Mousa Code.

Still…Benjamin had more charm and a bigger role in the classic books…that boy can hyper fixate and master niche skills in anything and was the emotional rock for Geronimo. But now he just goes along with his uncle being a punching bag routine :/ and I KNOW they could do a lot more for Bugsy here, especially since the paws are practically family friends.

—-

But you know…I’ll do give it credit here this era has one of my favorite art styles in the series and notably the one I grew up with the most (classic books illustrations still hold more charm imo) but the way action and expression is illustrated is just *chefs kiss* there’s a certain bounce to it that makes it so memorable.

And I’ll do admit all those geography facts (even if it’s just basic facts I mean it’s a kids book) and long detailed lists or charts about a characters detail is really cool and somehow makes it more immersive.

And it’s really nice to see the universe get expanded.

But overall, the writing is not the same anymore, the original dynamic is screwed up, and lots of missed opportunity to round up the cast together. It’s either empty or I’m just getting too old…Maybe I’m just nostalgia-biased in different areas who knows. But that’s pretty all my thoughts I can pull out.

[starcrossedreaders]

Are You Really Okay?

Chapter One: The Art of Bullshit

Chapter summary: Tuesdays for Jean were easy days, he had two classes to go and the rest of the day was his to waste away, until today.

Warnings: Cursing

Notes: This will be a slow-burn type of story,idk how slow it will be. Also if you have any ideas on where to take this next please share them, So enjoy!

Genre: "Enemies" to lovers Jean falling first??

Pairings: Jean x F!Reader

word count: 1,758

Next Chapter

The cold wind scarred Jean's cheeks as the cold air bit at his lungs. The walk to his creative writing class was always the worst. Having to walk across campus from the art building to the English building was always the worst part of his Tuesdays and Thursdays. He had 15 minutes to make it to class, and the cold wind of the departing winter still ran through the air as spring came closer and closer each day, making the walk worse than it needed to be. 

The entrance to the building came closer to sight as Jean picked up his pace to run away from the cold air. Opening the door, warm air sucked Jean into the building. He pulled his hood down, shook his hair into place, and rubbed his hands together in the hope of bringing the heat back to them. Quick to make it to class on time he skipped a step or two as he went up the stairs and turned right to go to his lecture hall. Normally, he would never be in this big of a rush to get to class on time but after a few phone calls from his parents about how if he loses his scholarships to dumb habits like that he would be on his own. Normally he would never be this negligent, but ever since June 16th of last year Jean never really seemed to be himself. 

Swinging the classroom door open, he was quick to take a seat somewhere in the middle and pull out his sketchbook. The empty page with a few pencil lines stared back at him. Resting his head on his hand he tapped the desk as he desperately searched his brain for some idea for his assignment. His thoughts were scattered as the chair next to him screeched in agony against the floor, the thump of someone sitting in the chair and a sigh followed right after had him looking to see who sat next to him. 

His eyes widened a little as his breath hitched. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight next to him. You. Your cheeks were raw from the cold air as your soft lips slightly parted as your panted. Your hair framed your face perfectly as you fixed a few stray pieces. One last shiver ran through your body as you huffed leaning back into your seat to get ready for the next agonizing 95 minutes. 

“You could not have been any louder when sitting down.” Jean mumbled to himself more then you.

You scoffed and right as your opened your mouth to give him some snarky remark, the classroom door swung open as the professor scrambled in the room.

“Sorry for my tardiness, I was helping Professor Levi with his technology.” In one big breath she set her stuff down on her desk before she went around and started to set up the lecture. The class snickered before she turned back around and began her lecture.

While she spoke about your next assignment, you mindlessly doodled in the notebook in front of you, trying not to pay any mind to the guy sitting next to you. The constant tapping of his pen on his desk was driving you nuts. There was nothing more you wanted to do than to just tell him off right then and there.

“For this assignment, I don’t just want you guys to right some random fictional piece, at this point you should be good at that. Instead, I want you guys to take parts of your past, good or bad and put it into a story without using yourself or the others involved.” The professor was very animated as she through her hands around trying to explain the assignment.

“Take the storyline or plot and write about it in a creative way with new characters. Be creative, maybe put it in a fantasy world, or turn it into a comic strip instead of novel…” Jean drowned her out, not really interested in what she was talking about.

“...You guy’s will be doing this assignment with the people sitting next to you. Everything you need to do it is on the website. Good luck.” Jean groaned at the idea of having to do partner work.

Pulling out your laptop you sigh. “You’re the type of person that makes these stupid assignments worse then they need to be.” You mumbled as you logged in.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jean closed his sketchbook and followed your actions.

“Exacatly what is sounds like.” You deadpan as pulled up a google doc.

“Whatever, what are we writing about.” Jean clicked a pen as if he was ready to jot down notes in his notebook. It was very obvious he could careless about what was being written, as long as it got done with a good grade.

“I don’t know. Have you had any interesting events forever changing the trajectory of your life? The more we trauma dump the better the grade.” You mumbled as you traced out random shapes on your laptop. 

Your indifference to the words you spoke is what caused you to miss the way Jean’s shoulders tensed up. The way he stopped spinning his pen between his fingers. The way he stared off as his mind ran straight to the one place his mind had been playing on repeat for him for the past year.  You didn’t miss the silence though, or the way his pen made a soft thud as it dropped on his notebook and rolled off the desk. Turning your head to face him you noticed the way his lips pressed together to form a straight line, the way his brows furrowed, or the slight twitch of his left eye as he stared off. Clearly, you touched a hard part of his life without realizing it.

Sighing, you bent over in your chair to pick up his pen. Slapping it down softly on his desk your voice pulled him out of his trance. “Here, you dropped this.” 

Leaning back in your chair you began to type out some ideas. Jean’s eyes slowly moved to look at the pen you placed on his desk and back up to you. Mumbling a curt thanks. Not really paying him any mind you turned your laptop to face him. 

“Here are some ideas what do you think?” Jean merely gazed at the screen before he shrugged his shoulders.

“If I’m being honest, I have more important things to worry about then writing a stupid story.” His cocky words itched you the wrong way.

“How unfortunate, because I rather not do all the work, so pick a topic and we can split the work.” You tried to reason with him, albeit not in the nicest way, but you still tried.

He rolled his eyes as he adjusted himself in his seat, god the desks were so uncomfortable. “The third one I guess.” Jean didn’t even know if there was a third a idea, he just wanted to comprise, split the work, and go his separate way.

You turned your laptop back to yourself as you mumbled. “Heartbreak… interesting.” You began to type away while Jean just spun his pen again. 

After a few heartbeats and loud keystrokes from you computer, you turned to Jean. “I have the work split and mapped out, do you have anyway I can contact you?” You did not seem pleased to be basically asking for his number. 

Based on his demeanor, the tattoos that peaked from under his hoodie, and his messy mullet you would have guessed him to be some frat fuckboy who probably has more girl numbers in his phone than he can actually remember, but it was worth a shot.

He looked at you with annoyance that made you cringe a bit. Sighing he shuffled in his chair as he pulled his phone out, unlocking it with face ID he handed it to you. You gripped the device in your hand as you pulled it back towards you. Quickly, you filled out your contact information, trying to ignore his shattered screen protector. You send a quick text to your phone before you hand it back to him. 

“I’ll text you the details.” You started to pack your things up in your bag before you stood up. “So please do the work, I gave you all the easy shit.” Before Jean could get a word out you were walking off to head back to your apartment.

You didn’t even ask him what his name was.

Something about that rubbed him the wrong way, he was never used that type of behavior from girls. They would fall to their knees and beg just to even get to do partner work with him like this, and yet here you are so standoffish and almost…cold.

The vibration of Jean’s phone in his pocket pulled him out of his conentrated state of rolling a blunt. Quickly licking the paper and sealing it shut he handed it to Connie before he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

[Y/N]: *2 attachments*

Here’s you half of the work.

“What a buzz kill.” He mumbled before he looked at the two pictures you sent. He was appalled to say the least. Everything you gave him did not seem like easy work at all.  Annoyed with the work load you just gave him he had to response, as much as he just wanted to leave you on seen.

[Jean]: That does not seem easy at all, why the hell do I have to draw for a writing class?

[Y/N]: It's a creative writing class so idk be creative maybe?

Your quick response had him snort and shake his head.

[Jean]: Wth do I draw then?

His cluelessness made you role your eyes, everything he needed to go off of was literally in the pictures you sent.

[Y/N]: Idk you’re the artist, just use the art of bullshit and figure it out.

[Jean]: Real helpful

[Y/N]: you’re welcome.

Before Jean could give you a snarky remark Connie was pushing on his shoulder. “It’s your turn man.” Connie held out a burning blunt, the same one Jean just rolled.

Jean took it inbetween his fingers and took a long drag as he thought about the what the hell he was supposed to draw. Taking one more hit he passed it on before he looked at the pictures you sent. 

Writing prompt/ idea: The art of losing those closest to you.

Maybe he should have paid closer attention to the options that were given to him.

[sunsetsandsunshine]

If me and my mutual’s were the Spider-gang…

❤️EMERY AS MILES MORALES🖤 @sunsetsandsunshine

Y’ALL ALREADY KNOOOOWWWW 💘💞💖💕💗💓

Artist of the group

My Dad is a police officer AND detective sooooooo…

He has done the “You gotta say I love you back” thing to me multiple times…

Fucking loves having friends and talking to people

COMIC BOOKS ARE LIFE‼️ COMIC BOOKS ARE LOVE‼️

Keeping the collectibles I N S I D E of the box!!! IT STAYS NICE AND FRESH THAT WAY— LIKE PRODUCE YK???!!!

Tries to be quote on quote “cooler” in front of others…

Newsflash? It never works

💝 Family lover all the way 💝

Music is LIFE 🎶🎤🎵🎼…idfk what we’d do without it…

A collector of many random things— rocks, toys, bracelets you NAME it

Hyperactive as HELL

Has a hard time accepting loss

“NAH” “🫠” “UHM…” “AAAAAAAAHHHHH”

A sketchbook for literally every season

When it comes to friendships, I will try everything in my power to maintain it and try to keep it going but once I’m done? I’m done 🫶🏾

A singer 😩🤚🏾

Physical affection 🫣💕💓

Apologies WAAAAAAY too fucking much

H A P P Y. S T I M S.

Suppressed anger issues

Knows way too many people both online and irl

Becomes a whole different person when angry 🥸👍🏾

Beatboxes and raps horribly

Basically Miles is me and I’m Miles ❤️🖤

🤍JOJO AS GWEN STACY🩵 @shut-up-jo

Cool af legit why the hell are you friends with me man—

Musician of the group 🪗🎷🎻🎺🎹🥁🎸

Shows up to your house without warning like you owe her money

In a band (most def)

Says the most DIABOLICAL and out of pocket shit known to MAN

🔥 Would burn down the kitchen if she ever cooked 🔥

Listens to Billy Joel 😌

POPULAR AF

Short af too 🤪🫶🏼

BAD PICK-UP LINES…

Would be cancelled if any of her texts got leaked

“DIE” “KYS” “CHOKE” “STFU”

Had the WORST 2020 phase (I’m sorry ilysm please don’t kill me 🙏🏼)

AOT lover (as you fucking should )

Honesty is the best policy 💋

Changes her voice depending on who she’s talking to

Has the most fucking unhinged and cursed FYP page

Doesn’t matter what social media app…it’s just straight up CURSED

Gives the best advice like oml

Could host a TED-talk but would there’s a 99.9% she would get cancelled

Needs to take a flipping BREAK 💕

Could make a TV show with her life (with like a million specials and crossovers)

Licks the powder off the Doritos and/or Taki’s and puts them back in the bag 😶…

Has burned Barbie’s before

Unironically sings 'Dance Monkey' just because

Your so so silly I love you so much 🤍🩵

💛SANA AS PAVITIR🩷 @itzsana-kiddingmenow

If sunshine were a person 🌞

Has a really toxic fanbase…

✨Anxiety✨

The best cook out of all 4 of us probably

“🥺” “GRRRRRRR” “🙈” “NAUUUR”

Calls people adorable, cute etc but can’t handle when people say that to her 🥹💓

Your adorable btw ☺️

When she’s mad she doesn’t cuss that much but most def just says big words

#TOXICFRIENDSGANG

Takes selfies like every single second 📱

Has Snapchat probably

Has listened to JoJo Siwa’s Karma WAAAAY too many times…

Would fold like a lawn chair if poked in the side 💕

FANGIRL

✨ Bilingual queen ✨

Sobbed for DAYS when MatPat dropped his departure video…

Is way too fucking smart 😉

Has the Ultimate Alpha Sigma Gyatt Rizz but doesn’t know it quite yet 👁️🫦👁️

A tea lover ☕️🍵

Would go to antique stores with people to just look at things and then end up buying the whole ass store

Does cartwheels for funsies

Overthinker ☹️

Could solo Bakugou and win

Is going to be a menace one she learns how to drive

Needs more sleep frfr

My lil sugar cream puff over here you guys 💛🩷

💙ZEEZIE AS HOBIE BROWN❤️ @ziipzeepzop-eez

101% effort in E V E R Y T H I N G

Side-eyes 🤨

Has more rizz than the whole Earth population combined

“FW” “THAT’S RACIST” “TWWINNNN” “YUUURR”

EMOJIS EMOJIS EMOJIS EMOJIS EMOJIS EMOJIS

Did I say emojis?

Comes up with the most cutest freaking nicknames for people 🥹💕🩷☹️💓✨

TAKE A BREAK 😡😡😡

Can most definitely win a dance battle against anyone but acts like she can’t

Dad jokes 🫶🏽

Uses finger guns unironically (through text and in person) 👉🏽👉🏽

Could make a diss-track about so many people 🫢…

Would have a million cats if she could

Probably had a Gacha Life phase

Would go to a movie theater just to watch cat videos on the big screen

Popular af 💕

Friends with legit everyone 🙏🏽

Would actually murder a man if they hurt one of her friends

Has watched Coraline and The Nightmare Before Christmas soooooo many damn times

Guillmero Del Toro’s Pinocchio made her ugly cry (Same here 🫠)

Could solo everyone here on Tumblr easily 👁️👄👁️

Hates Twitter/X but only has it for the ✨drama✨

FAIRY LIIIGHTS

Is most def someone’s opp ☺️

Can multi-task like crazy

So cool and dazzling and aahhhfhfhds 💙❤️

(If any of this makes any of you guys uncomfy just DM me and I can erase it 🫶🏾)

[alreadyjackbestfriend]

I’d like to request a Jack fic where reader (who is a fan and is shy) and Jack go on their first date and she is nervous but Jack notices and acts all cute about it and calms her down (like I thought about the ‘don’t be anxious, I got you’ line from poison). Please and thanks. (Fluff)

DON'T BE ANXIOUS, I GOT YOU.

GENRE: fluff

A/N: I think I had this request over a month ago and I saw the same one on another writer's page, so I thought about not writing it, but in the end I decided not to read her version so that it wouldn't influence me unconsciously, and I wrote my own. I hope it doesn't bother anyone (I don't remember who the writer was anymore). All the love <3.

Looking in the mirror, you even thought about taking a pill that your friend offered you to calm you down a bit, it was from a prescription that had been prescribed for her, and she would never have offered it to you if it weren't for the situation you found yourself in now: about to go on a date with THE Jack Harlow.

The way you had met had been a bit comical, almost like a romantic comedy. Jack had given a concert in your city the day before, and you had taken the opportunity to buy merch, specifically a t-shirt, which you decided to wear the next day to go have breakfast with your friend. You never imagined that you would meet the person with the name on your shirt face to face that morning, you already imagined him in another city, inside his tour bus.

But it seemed that luck was not on your side, or maybe it was. Jack seemed delighted with your outfit decision, laughing adorably, and inviting you and your friend to his table with Urban and Neelam, whom both you and your friend pretended not to know (so that the level of fanaticism wasn't so evident).

Your luck lasted a few minutes, since Neelam received a call that made Jack have to leave, but not before apologizing a thousand times and asking for your number. he didn't give you his phone so you could write it down yourself, you thought it was a way to protect his privacy, after all, he was a celebrity. So, instead he wrote it down as you dictated it to him, and he made no attempt to hide that your contact name was "my prettiest fan".

Adding the finishing touches to your makeup, you wondered if it was really necessary to put on blush, because with this simple memory you could feel the heat spreading across your cheeks. As if life was giving you an answer, your apartment doorbell rang, leaving you with no time to add anything else to your face. Anyway, you knew you weren't going to need it.

When you opened the door, you could swear that Jack's black outfit made the blue of his eyes and the white of his smile stand out more, leaving you breathless.

"Hey," you said, on a shaky breath.

"Hey," he replied, "you look beautiful," he added, and you chuckled mentally because you knew your face was probably already pink.

"thank you" you replied shyly, "I'm ready, just let me go get my bag"

You saw him nod before running to your room and grabbing your bag, checking to see if you already had your keys, your phone, and some money (although you suspected that jack was the type of man who wouldn’t let you pay anything).

On the way to the restaurant you were making small talk about things you both were currently doing. Since Jack was driving, most of the time his gaze was glued to the road, but as soon as you got to the restaurant, you noticed that he was very observant, which made you nervous, his gaze sometimes felt like a dagger going through you, but in a good way, if that was possible. It was as if he was examining you, trying to figure out what you were thinking through eye contact. During dinner, you looked away probably a million times, and every time you did, Jack smiled.

But this last time, it was different, Jack took your hand across the table, and began to caress it with his thumb.

"You don't have to be nervous, y/n"

"is it that obvious?" you replied, even more embarrassed, but Jack thought it was adorable.

"A little," he replied, "and even though I find it very sweet, I want you to feel comfortable with me. I know that we are not in a normal situation, that since Ii'm a celebrity", he made quotation marks with the fingers of his free hand as he said the last word, "you think that maybe you have to impress me all the time for me to like you, but it's not like that." this time you looked at him, "I just want you to be yourself, really"

"I am" you replied.

"cool"

"although...the shy version of myself" you admitted, making Jack grin.

"You can be any version of yourself, as long as it's real. And I promise you the same"

"Deal" you said, freeing your hand from his caresses, and reaching out for him to shake it.

"Deal"

After that, your mind took a bit of the pressure off, making you a bit more free, even though you didn't show your full personality on this first date, there were things you wanted Jack to find out later, leaving a trail of mystery behind you. However, the shy version of yourself still accepted the little kiss on the lips that Jack gave you at the door of your house, before he watched you disappear behind it, wishing he could meet all the other versions of you soon.

[bigskydreaming]

I’m rewatching X-Men (2000) for the first time in a long time and besides finding it exquisitely nostalgic, I keep finding myself thinking, “Damn, [character] is kind of OP” with literally every. Single. Character. And it’s funny now to think of how crazy powerful all the X-Men are compared to say, the Avengers, where I feel like the only god-tier power the MCU ever delivered was Captain Marvel and maybe Thor in Ragnarok. I guess the first X-Men kind of downplays Jean Gray’s powers, and there are cool take-downs like Magneto’s iconic “That remarkable metal doesn’t run through your entire body, does it?” line and Toad getting fried by Storm, but I feel like it’s so fun that most of the time literally every character is OP. Anyway, I wanted to ask you as an X-Men expert, have they always been so cool and powerful, or do the comics toggle back-and-forth with how powerful they are like the later X-Men movies did? And did comics Avengers and Fantastic Four ever think they had a chance vs. the X-Men?

LOL its ironic, I kinda consider them to be massively UNDERPOWERED in the X-Men films, but also I hate everything about them because Singer, so who's unbiased, not THIS guy!

For the most part it depends on the character. Like, you know Bobby's my Blorbo above all Blorbos there, so the X-films in particular did a shitty job of depicting his actual power levels, but in their 'defense' I guess, so does every other adaptation. Nowhere but the comics has been consistent about him being portrayed as ridiculously OP as he is, which is kinda funny because for all that Iceman doesn't SEEM like he'd be a top tier power level kinda character, he's consistently been that way since the early 90s. Hell, for that matter, he and Jean were the original omega level mutants used to debut the term in its modern interpretation.

(A lot of people point out that omega was first used to describe Rachel Summers, who isn't considered an official omega level mutant these days, but that was by Sentinels describing her as an omega level THREAT, so I don't consider that the same thing as the OL classification mutants use among themselves, but just throwing that out there).

In the comics, there are different classifications, kinda, that mutants use to describe different power levels. Most mutants are gamma or beta mutants. Most combatant mutants like major X-Men and foes, such as Cyclops, Bishop, Psylocke, Emma Frost, etc, are alpha level mutants.

Omega mutants are the rarest of the rare, and are, simply put....god-tier mutants. Their literal definition is mutants whose upper levels of power are beyond any ability to measurably quantify. A lot of people default to calling them infinitely powerful, which isn't quite INaccurate, but also isn't quite accurate....its more like....they're mutants who will never stop finding new ways to grow and advance their abilities, who have no upper ceiling to their powers...though all of them reach different tiers of ACTUALLY utilized power at different times/lengths of time.

A ton of people HATE the omega concept because frankly, it DOES make those with that designation overpowered as fuck but I like to point to DC and the Justice League which has always been full of god-tier characters who are nevertheless possible to write for and give relatable issues and equivalent foes. Personally though, I've always loved it for the narrative possibilities rather than the power levels per se. I like it because omegas are like, ultimate examples of evolution (Marvel style, lol, as in the kind they always have go hand in hand with mutants but uh, isn't always scientifically on point haha). But I mean, they're individual mutants who embody the concept of constant, unending evolution. The view of omega mutants as just the most powerful misses the point, IMO...part of why I hate Bobby's constant cycle of 'untapped potential' storylines (his most often recurring narrative) is because it fails to acknowledge that omegas like him CAN'T ever fully realize their potential, just MORE of it, because like evolution, there is no actual intended ENDPOINT for his or any other omega's powers. There will always be more. Further they can go.

Anyway....I know X-Men '97 emphasized Jean, Storm and Magneto as omegas, but even it didn't actually convey the level their powers are at in the comics, other than Magneto doing the global EMP thing. Omegas can pretty much all affect things on a global scale. A group of twelve of them in the comics recently terraformed Mars, in order to relocate a bunch of mutants called the Arakkii there after they returned from their 4,000 year long war in a demon dimension, protecting Earth from being invaded by it. (Long story).

But yeah, so omegas are a thing in the comics, and no adaptation has quite yet even scratched the surface of what they can do in the comics. There's only 12 acknowledged omegas out of all the Earthborn mutants (though Hickman's list is shit IMO and its ridiculous that there's only one person of color on it, Storm, and there's several other mutants of color I'd happily add to it if given the chance to balance things out), but the Arakkii (who are all black-coded if not actually black, because of where and when Arakko/Okkara originally existed on Earth before Amenth invaded 4K years ago), have a similar number of omegas of their own. But again, we're talking around 12 mutants EACH, among their total respective populations of about a million mutants each.

Anyway, the big four of the omegas, the major names among the X-Men, are Jean, Storm, Bobby and Magneto, with the other Earth omegas being Exodus, Elixir, Hope Summers, Absolon Mercator, Jamie Braddock, Proteus, Gabriel Summers/Vulcan and Quentin Quire (sigh). And then on the Arakkii side there was Isca the Unbeaten and her sister Genesis, Apocalypse's wife, Lactuca, Sobunar, Xilo, Ora Serrata, Lycaon, Tarn, Lodus Logos, Idyll, Kobak Never-Held, and Apocalypse and Genesis' kids, the original four Horsemen. Plus they keep going back and forth on whether or not White Sword is an omega or just a really powerful External, but whatever, I digress. Anyway, that list isn't accurate anymore because as of Genesis War, a few of them are dead, just like on the Earth list Hope is....transcended I guess you could say, lol, and Elixir and Proteus are back in the White Hot Room with her and who knows where the fuck Mercator is these days, but like.

Point is, the omegas are cosmic level. Jean's current solo literally has her being called a cosmic entity, because yeah, she's one with the Phoenix again but since the Phoenix has long been described as a future point of her own evolution and was recently solidified as like, a mass gestalt of mutant life force and psyche that was collected within her and her power like a nexus point, its kinda one and the same. Storm's solo is said to have plans to have her interact with the Abstracts of the Universe (the like, ultimate top-tier beings in it), Eternity and Oblivion.

Bobby's been quite literally unkillable since the early 2000s at least, as in he's been hit with a nuke and atomized, been blown up MULTIPLE times, and he just makes himself new bodies out of the next nearest moisture. He once started a new Ice Age, can create armies of semi-autonomous ice giants, teleport anywhere there's water, etc. Oh yeah, and since he's the walking embodiment of the future heat-death of the universe, he's also frozen reality on a quantum level to quarantine a cosmic tier threat. Oh AND frozen Hell. Jean reignited a sun recently. Storm took out an alien mercenary army in seconds by just hitting them with Jupiter-level atmospheric pressure with a snap of her fingers, and the only thing about that which actually required she exert herself came from holding BACK enough that her allies standing mere feet away weren't affected the same as her targeted enemies. Vulcan talked about obliterating Mars when he got cranky, and everyone took that very seriously because he can absolutely fucking do it. Any of them can.

There's a reason X-fans are sore about how editorially scripted AvX went, and not just because the X-Men were known to be a lesser priority at that time due to the film rights, so they were never going to get to be the 'winners' of that, ideologically, even though the optics for how that fight started were not actually as great for the Avengers as Marvel seems to think they were. But it also has a lot to do with the fact with all credit to the Avengers heavy-hitters, which there are quite a few of, they tend to get their powers/origins from cosmic storylines far away from Earth, hail from other dimensions like Asgard, etc, whereas mutants have been home-growing cosmic tier fighters on Earth for decades now, and that was pretty much treated like a non-factor.

None of the omegas (and Magneto and Storm may not have OFFICIALLY been listed as such yet, but Bobby was, and its not like they actually got any power UPGRADES when they were finally canonized as omegas, it just was a label change acknowledging the power they've always been depicted as having) actually played definitive roles in that, and again, when you've got global threats in one side's ranks that you refuse to acknowledge as such in order to make sense of pitting them against opponents they should be able to handle with a finger snap, it does tend to make stans cranky. Its like yeah, they gave me a panel of Bobby fighting Red Hulk in the background, but that was the extent of his impact on AvX as a whole, even though he'd quite literally taken Thor on, solo, mere months before during the Dark Iceman arc.

But yeah, you say AvX around X-fans, we will hiss at the memory like a snake. Was not fun for us. And again, this isn't to disparage the cosmic tier characters the Avengers have, and of the Fantastic Four, Sue and Johnny are right up there at the top of any power ranking system one might care to devise. But...like....mutants tend to deal with their threats internally in the Marvel universe, so every mutant alive has known for decades that Magneto, Storm, Iceman and Jean should not be locked in a room together and told to fight because without nonomegas who can't actually survive the stuff they can around them to remind them to keep their power levels DOWN, those four could very easily blow up the Earth before they even realize what happened since omegas vs omegas equals unlimited escalation.

Meanwhile, it was literally only during the Krakoan era that anyone OUTSIDE of mutants sat up and took note of the omega classification (which has existed for decades) even being a THING, let alone mutants casually being like 'oh yeah, we have like, twelve of those guys.'

LOL, so anyway. Yeah, it is kinda funny to hear the X-Men in existing adaptations described as OP, because none of them even come close to scratching the surface of how many of the X-Men are portrayed in the comics. I have very little interest in the MCU as a whole, and am not expecting to be a fan of their take on the X-Men but I am very curious to see which X-Men they emphasize as the heavy-hitters and what level of power they depict them as being at. For better or worse, whether fans like it or hate it, there's a good dozen of them who can go toe to toe with literal gods without breaking a sweat.

(Like, literally literally, not how Kalen usually uses literally literally. Bobby single-handedly thwarted a Loki 'take over Asgard' scheme in the EIGHTIES, at a time when only Thor himself was going one on one with his brother and if he wasn't around, Loki was considered a 'bring your whole team' kind of threat. And this was a full decade before the omega term was even a thing. Thor's canonically been wary of Bobby since the latter was SIXTEEN because he considers him to be a baby Ymir, the father of all frost giants. He was literally playing poker with other Avengers when he sensed Bobby go Dark Side during the Dark Iceman arc and his face went 'oh fuck.' You know how powerful you have to be to make Thor's face go 'oh fuck'?)

(Fimbulvetr is the Asgardian term for the Everwinter, the start of Ragnarok. Its a Ymir thing. Incidentally, after AvX when the X-Men and Avengers were making a point to cooperate, Thor and Bobby teamed up against Ymir himself, and THEN Marvel was perfectly happy to allow Bobby to kick his ass solo and be like 'what, was that supposed to be hard' to an incredulous Thor, BUT I DIGRESS).

But anyway, the official omega list is very recent, but everyone on it like Storm, Jean, Bobby and Magneto have all been consistently powerful as fuck since the 80s, MINIMUM. Bobby's 80s solo was used to debut Oblivion, an Abstract of the Universe, Storm was channeling the energy of multiple stars when fighting the Brood in space, and that was all decades ago. They've all had occasions of being nerfed since then, but for the past decade or so, the Big Four have had relatively few occasions of that compared to any point before, and Marvel's been more pointed about keeping their upper ranges of power more normalized for them.