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cooliestghouliest · 1 year ago

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PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things

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eddiemunson-reader-shame · 3 months ago

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Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Space Oddity, Part 2

“Fuck the rest of them. Fuck ‘em all. Fuck ‘em all, but us.”

Word Count: 4,509 words (gahdamn)

Tag List (please lmk if you want to be added!): @melodymunson , @ali-r3n , @amandahobblepot , @twihard28 , @hiimjulie

[Chapter One]

Author’s Note: Fuck me Freddy, at last I have completed fanfic. This chapter was so much fun to write, especially after watching Dinner in America and feeling so seen and validated about the weird, off putting girl and the badass boyfriend relationship.

Interesting fact about this chapter, I actually did have two friends who decided one day to randomly exclude me from their friend group. They wrote me two actual, dumb ass letters I pretended to read about how they thought I was weird and they didn’t want to be my friend. The first one they put in my locker and I pretended I didn’t get it. The second one they handed to me in PE where I proceeded to laugh at them, rip it up, then throw the pieces in the trash. People think that only happens in bad 80’s movies, but some high school girls can actually be that stupid and comic book villain mean.

*****

“Mike! Jesus Christ, don’t just throw her!”

You and Eddie were fumbling with the spilled contents of your trapper keeper, trying to collect each sheet of xerox and graph paper. Every so often, Eddie would accidentally bump your shoulder or accidentally knock into you, and when you both went in to pick up a caricature you’d done of Angus Young, his head hit your nose.

Hard.

“Augh! Sorry, buttercup!” He said, quickly reaching out with his hands, “You okay?”

“My nose hurts…” you mumbled.

“Come here, lemme see.”

His hands were on your cheeks, you were in too much pain to realize Eddie Munson was actually touching you.

“Owie… Yup, I can see where I bonked you.” He winced in sympathetic pain as his thumb brushed your injury, “But you’ll be alright, it’s not broken. Come on. Upsy daisy.”

Mike and Dustin were at each other’s throats. Dustin was reprimanding Mike for turning you into a human football, while Mike was defending his actions for making sure you “stopped acting like a tool”.

“Knock it off, assholes!” Eddie snapped.

Mike and Dustin immediately ceased their caterwauling, and looked like scolded chihuahuas, ducking away from Eddie who looked like he was going to throw a chair.

“God dammit, you’re giving me a headache.” He hissed, then turned to you.

All you could do was stand there, awkwardly digging the tip of your shoe into the carpet. Avoiding any and all eye contact.

“You look real familiar…” Eddie said, pointing a ringed finger at you, “I know you… Where do I know you from?”

“… I sit behind you in Mrs. O’Donnell’s Economics class.” You whispered.

Pure, unapologetic joy made his face bloom pink, a dimpled smile gracing his features as his dark brown eyes sparkled with stars. Eddie clapped his hands, jabbing a finger in your general direction and then pacing side to side with his arms crossed.

“I knew it! I do remember you! You’re the funny chick who drew Figment the Dragon on the chalkboard, and then did the T. Rex thing with your hands when The ’Donnell tried to erase it!”

Eddie tucked his arms to his chest and made a terrific mimic of your high pitched screech, causing his friends to laugh hard and their eyes to light up in recognition. Your eyes widened, and you wanted to immediately die. Naively you didn’t think anyone had remembered your stand against O’Donnell and her dislike for Disney related media. She told you this wasn’t Mr. Miller’s art class. Of course, you let her have it, and it almost cost you a detention — and permanent placement in Hawkins High School’s joke of a Special Education program — until your mother came down to the school with her attorney from Indianapolis and raised hell, both of them threatening Principal Higgins, Mrs. O’Donnell, and the school Superintendent with a discrimination lawsuit. Since then you’d done even more outrageous shit to make everyone forget and keep away the bullying, surely this one time would have been buried in the numerous instances of other out of pocket things you did?!

Nope. Evidently the Figment Incident was the talk of Hellfire Club, and your crush could replicate your noises to a T.

“Oh shit! You’re the Dragon Lady!” said a guy in a Black Sabbath raglan with blue sleeves.

“The Badass herself in the flesh!” interjected one with curly hair.

“You’re a goddamn legend, dude!” laughed one guy that was eating Doritos by the handful, “We even made you into a character in one of our campaigns! She’s a wizard with a purple dragon — of course we named it Figment — and they communicate in Draconic Tongue to one another!”

“Like this!”

Eddie screeched again, and the guys burst into laughter.

You couldn’t help but cover your face with your trapper keeper. If there was a God, you wanted him to burst out of the sky in a puff of smoke and smite you and everyone else in the room with lightning bolts.

“After that time, you didn’t ever get out of your desk chair again.” Eddie said, crossing his arms after he stopped laughing, “Always sitting in back, keeping to yourself. I don’t think I’ve even heard you say more than three words to anyone all semester.”

Stepping lightly, Eddie began to circle you. Looking you up and down, cocking his head to the side and doing a little bit of an arrogant head waggle.

“Didn’t peg you for a D&D nerd, buttercup.” He said, his voice gaining a sudden confidence as he stepped to you, “By the look of this dandelion yellow sweater, I would have guessed you’d be more the Seventeen Magazine and like, naked slumber party pillow fights with fellow screamers kind of girl.”

You shook your head. You stopped buying Seventeen Magazine when your attempts to apply their makeup lessons to your everyday routine made you look like a KISS reject. And you’d never even had enough friends for a slumber party.

“You like to draw, huh?” He asked.

He was fishing for a reaction. Trying to make you talk.

You nodded.

“What else?”

“… I like to read…”

His head tilted to the side.

“Yeah? What do you like to read? You ever read anything by Rose Estes or Fritz Leiber?”

“Are you two gonna stand there flirting all night, or are we gonna roll some dice?” Cried out one of the boys, the one with the curly hair.

“Yeah man, does the lady even have a character?”

“Oh she’s got a goddamn character!” Mike interjected confidently while Dustin nodded.

“The best character, a tanky character, real hardcore shit.” Dustin said.

Eddie chuckled darkly, looking at you with a menacing grin as he got in your face.

“What’s your character, buttercup? Level one human fighter?” He teased.

“A cleric…” you whispered.

Eyebrows raised. He looked up, thought for a moment, pursed his lips and shrugged.

“Okay. Yeah… yeah I can see that.” He nodded, looking you over, “A little tough tootsie badass, but you’ve got a soft spot as a healer for a holy order. I can dig it.”

Rapid fire, he then began tossing a million questions your way, so fast and in a run on you had to stop to listen to keep up.

“You didn’t tell me your race though. What is it? Hengeyokai? Gnome? Half-orc? What domain did you choose? Life? Arcana? How about your weapon, did you pick a claymore?” With each question, his sneer grew.

Mike and Dustin looked on fearfully, worried that you could not answer him. They knew Eddie was sizing you up, setting a trap with his trick questions. The claymore was a clever way for him to catch you on your bullshit, to see if you were even paying attention.

Suddenly, as if possessed by a cambion, you began to unload on him in a trance-like monotone. Pulling out a character study where you’d spent all last period drawing the same Siouxsie Sioux-esque vamp beauty of a character that made up your D&D creation, you waved the character sheet in his face while you began monologuing.

“Um no… so, Shadowmoon is a level ten half-elf cleric of Shar — I picked Trickery domain for her — and she’s like cursed by the Lady of Sorrows so her morals are like, super flexible and kinda fucked up. And she’s got like, a Sharran morningstar because I know that clerics in Advanced Dungeons and Dragons can’t have any other weapons besides a morningstar and it’s really useful for her, and I wanted to make her a healer for the party because Dustin said everyone else mainly tanks but no one wants to play support, and I think a cleric could be useful because then maybe she could help be the face of the group — do you already have a group face? Shadowmoon would make a good face because she’s gothic and really pretty. And then like, Shadowmoon would be good at lying because she could like… cast Guidance to help with her high charisma modifier-…”

“How did you end up choosing Trickery?” Eddie interrupted, snatching your character sheet from your hands.

You paused, thought it over carefully, then tried again.

“Uh… Shadowmoon was already part of my story I’m writing, so, I thought Trickery fit her personality best because she’s like, pretending to be this honest healer to everyone when really she’s on a mission to deliver an artifact to her temple on a mission from her dark goddess. She’s um… she’s a Chaotic Neutral so like, she could get along with everyone and either murderhobo her way through encounters or maybe she can change into good halfway...”

You trailed off when you noticed that Eddie hadn’t really reacted at all to your lore dump. He wasn’t really paying much attention to you at all. Nose pressed to the paper, he was engrossed in your character sheet.

Immediately you panicked, thinking Dustin and Mike had been bullshitting and lying to you about Eddie liking girls who knew what they were talking about when it came to Dungeons & Dragons. He almost had that look on his face: the one you dreaded where the eyes would glass over, and you could tell someone wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying. As if they were bored of your rambling. Bored of you. It was the look that made you want to scream and cry, and lash out.

But to your surprise, Eddie handed you back your character sheet, and smiled.

“Not only do you have your backstory mapped out, but you’re making connections to your own story setting… You’re a full on closet nerd, aren’t you, buttercup?” He said.

“… I like fantasy and sci-fi.” You muttered.

Pause, and then he laughed.

“The cyberman fighting the chimera you drew in the corner near the Special Abilities area kind of tipped me off to that.” He smiled, pointing to the drawing on your sheet.

Quickly you snatched Shadowmoon’s sheet back. Tucking it into your body, you shrunk in on yourself and avoided looking at Eddie.

“So you wanna join Hellfire, yeah?” He asked, once again crossing his arms and pacing around you.

“You think you can handle sitting with the freaks at lunch? Take a couple hits to your social life? Maybe even take a few blows…?”

You nodded eagerly. Of course you wanted to join! Your heart was pounding, and your mouth started to salivate. He’d even offered to let you sit at the lunch table with him and his friends!

“You certainly seem like you’re okay with it, but let me ask this…”

Eddie got right into your face. So close, you could smell the lingering notes of Old Spice deodorant and Sea Breeze. Hell, you could even see the areas of his chin that were lightly spotted with acne and the blue of his incoming beard. His breath was warm on your face. Steaming even. A waft of sweet tobacco hit your nostrils.

“What makes you think a mousy little buttercup like you would even fit in with a group of degenerates like us?” He asked, voice so low you had to lean in to hear him better.

“We’re not the chess club, and we’re not the Doctor Who club. This is nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. We’re the freaks, the underdogs of Hawkins High. The losers with too much time and imagination on our hands to do shit else.”

You gulped. He was pressing almost nose to nose with you. Staring you down and following your gaze when you looked at the floor.

“We are the weirdos your momma warned you about, little miss. You think you can handle us?” He murmured.

“… ‘malreadyweird…” you mumbled.

Immediately he pulled back, blinking.

“Huh?”

“I said: I’m already a weirdo.”

The rest was automatic. Shoulders up, arms and trapper keeper tucked further to your chest as you turned away from Eddie, insecurity creeping up into your heart as you grimaced.

“I’m the weirdo bitch who doesn’t have any friends, and who according to Shelley Warab in first period is ‘a fucking lunatic who is always drawing attention to herself’.” You said.

Eddie had looked confused, until the weight of your words sunk in.

“Drawing attention to yourse—… oh, hell no…”

“Drawing” attention to yourself, that was Shelley Warab’s attempt at a double entendre. But it was the furthest thing from the truth. If anything, you hid your drawings after the Figment Incident, and only drew during lecture on your own paper, when no one would talk to or look at you.

“And because Shelley Warab thinks you’re “drawing” attention to yourself, the other girls pick on you too, don’t they?” Eddie asked softly.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed.

A large hand engulfed your shoulder. Shaking, with righteous fury. You looked up at him.

Eddie looked ready to burn down the school.

“They’re jealous. You know that right? Those jealous bitches are lost souls.” He hissed, “All they know how to do is steal daddy’s money to pay for acid, because they can’t come up with one goddamn original thought while sober. You can conjure up these elaborate, creative pieces like magic, and they hate it. Your talent makes them feel inadequate, so they try to drag you through the horseshit to make you stop. Don’t listen to them.”

You didn’t know what to say. You looked down shamefully, the Bitch of Hawkins High had her walls ripped down at last.

“Come on Eddie… look at her.” Dustin said softly, “You told us to look for the little lost sheep who didn’t fit in.”

All of your classmates said you were worse than the freaks. To them you were a mean girl. A bitch. The weird asshole who screamed at people and didn’t let boys like Tommy Hagan or Billy Hargrove come within five feet of your person before you started throwing sharp things at them.

“You’re damn right, Henderson.” Eddie responded, his voice just as soft as the fluff on a kitten.

“She’s exactly what we’ve been looking for: a shivering, lost little lamb… with no flock of her own to follow.”

His grip loosened, and he began to gently massage your shoulder.

“What say you, buttercup?” He asked, voice sweet and smooth as mulled honey wine, “You wanna be my little sheep?”

…

It had taken four years.

Four long, arduous, horrible years… Four years of screaming meltdowns. Uncontrollable rage bubbling up in your throat at the frustration of being excluded. At the lack of understanding. Nobody ever invited you to anything. No parties. No sleepovers. Not even to go to the bathroom together in solidarity.

Four lonely, long, miserable years… and someone had finally invited you to their group, saying you could belong…

The tears spilled out of your eyes in microseconds.

“Hey, hey! Sweetheart, don’t cry…”

Calloused ringed fingers were immediately wiping tears from your soft cheeks, patting you softly to calm you down. Eddie’s expressive, dark cognac colored eyes looked almost watery — like he was going to cry too — his brows furrowing into a frown as his facade of an intimidating freak immediately dropped.

“No…! None of that, sugarplum. You’re alright. There’s no crying in Hellfire Club, okay? You belong here, don’t cry…”

“R… really?”

His dimpled smile was so genuine, it made you ache.

“Really. You’re one of the black sheep now, buttercup. Welcome to Hellfire.”

The leather of his Schott jacket squeaked as his arm wrapped around your shoulders, free hand rubbing your deltoid as you instinctively pressed closer to him. You would have never guessed, but Eddie was particularly touchy. It was as if he wanted to be close to you at all times. Even if you pulled away a little bit to readjust, his hand came right back to the same position.

“Come on, let’s introduce you to the rest of the weirdos.” He said, leading you towards the others.

You rode the high of the night. You made new friends in Jeff, Frank, and Gareth, as they were chomping at the bit to get to know the infamous “Dragon Lady” who had doodled a near perfect copy of an obscure Disney character. Frank was in the middle of asking you to design a tattoo for him of Maleficent in her draconic form when Eddie called the session to order.

“So we’re going right into our main campaign for tonight, and I’ll give everyone an opportunity to introduce themselves to our new party cleric…” he looked at you and held out a hand from behind his DM screen.

“Shadowmoon.” You corrected him.

“Ah yes, the ever so cunning and duplicitous Shadowmoon; our very own half-elf Cleric of Shar, the shadowy seductress that is Our Lady of Loss.” His voice took on a low, deadly tone, as if evoking the name of Shadowmoon’s goddess would provoke divine wrath, “Hope you and Shadowmoon can handle a few good curveballs tonight, might be overwhelming… but any girl who can pick Lady Shar as a patron can handle my brand of freak.”

“I’ll work hard.” You nodded.

“Good girl.”

The campaign’s overall atmosphere was a success. You asked genuine questions, feeling comfortable when you noticed Dustin was right. No one had all the answers. The boys still looked at their character sheets and flipped through the handbook if they needed to look up an effect (even Eddie did it a few times when a player question gave him pause).

You got to name the party. Gareth had drawn a rather regal coat of arms for your ragtag group, and because he’d added the silhouette of a game bird that Frank argued looked like a chicken, you began to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie asked, his serious facade slipping when he saw you smile and show teeth.

“We… it… with that chicken on our coat of arms… We’re the Band of the Cock!” You shrieked.

Immediately there was a cacophony of screams, chaos, laughter, and a few d4’s launched at your spinning, grinning head as you laughed into your hands. Playing with the boys, belonging to a group… it was all so fun!

Eddie laughed at your jokes, even when they fell a little flat. With the group’s combined social awkwardness and typical behaviors, your own tics didn’t even phase them. If you popped your mouth in a certain way, it would set off the person next to you until everyone was doing it. The guys helped you with math if you fucked up adding modifiers, but they did it in a way that didn’t make you feel stupid. Even Eddie helped you look up spell effects if you didn’t know offhand.

Hellfire Club was fucking fun.

And you were having a blast showing off and earning the affection of Eddie the Freak.

You were sorry when the two hours were up, and everyone was packing their things up and heading home for the night.

“Do you need help cleaning up…?” You asked.

Eddie looked up from rolling up his butcher paper map.

“Hmm? Nah, I got it.” He said, shaking his head as he continued, “You did good tonight, you know. Your timing was perfect, you did well managing your spell slots for Healing Word, and you even took Cornell Notes for our party. None of my little misfits even writes down their damn inventory, let alone takes Cornell Notes for the party.”

You shrugged, chewing on a hangnail.

“I just wanted to be of help… to really try.” You said.

“You didn’t just try, you killed it out there! Now I know I can rely on you to mother hen this gang of muppets that makes up our party.”

There was comfortable silence between the two of you. Even though it was late, you were willing to walk home in the dark if it meant you could just be around Eddie for a little while longer.

But something had been nagging the back of your mind… Ever since you had found out that Eddie Munson was DMing this campaign, the memories of the inception of your middle school crush on him had come back in full force.

“Um… Eddie?” You ventured.

“What’s up, buttercup?” He looked up.

“Um… do you… in middle school… do you remember finding a note in your locker…?” You asked softly.

“… I do, yeah.” He said cautiously, “Why do you ask…?”

“Do you… do you remember the poem in it?”

He stopped what he was doing, looked up at you with wide, dark eyes.

“It um… it was about light and stuff, and uh… it didn’t have a name signed on it, but there was a picture on the bottom of a fairy holding a lantern…”

“How the hell do you know about that!?” He asked.

He began to approach you, his chest heaving.

“I never even told anyone about that poem-… Did… did you write that note? Is that how you know about it?” He demanded.

“… yes…” you whispered.

“Why didn’t you sign it?!” He asked.

His face was contorted. A desperate look. As if he was going to cry.

“… because I was scared…” you said.

“Scared of what? Of me?!”

“No…”

Never. You could never be scared of Eddie. He was amazing. He was the definition of cool. You desired him biblically.

“No… I was scared that… that you wouldn’t like me…” you said softly, “I loved your performance at the talent show so much… and I wanted to talk to you after, but then you got sent to Mr. Coleman’s office for playing Exciter. So I wrote the poem for you, and… I didn’t ever find out if you liked it because I was too shy to ask if you’d read it. Then you went on to high school, and I didn’t see you anymore.”

There was silence. Backing away from you, he wiped his mouth, exhaling a deep sigh.

“I can’t believe it…” he said, shaking his head and running his fingers through his shaggy hair, “I thought about that poem for years… First I thought it was someone playing a prank, but it wasn’t mean. It was so… it was earnest, and heartfelt… and you didn’t even sign it.”

He looked back at you.

“How could you think I wouldn’t like you after you wrote something like that for me?” Eddie asked.

“You always stared at every other girl but me.” You said, “And then I heard a rumor you almost left for California with this punk rocker chick during senior year, and I thought… Well, I knew I didn’t stand a chance because I’m not stylish. And when I heard you got held back, and that you’d be in my year, I wanted to talk to you. But… freshman year I tried making friends, and because I fucked that up, all the rumors started and everyone called me a creepy, angry bitch...”

It all in the end came back to Shelley Warab. She had been the first person you’d tried to make friends with. Moderate popularity, middle class, dirty blonde hair, she should have dominated in the halls as the queen bee. But the cheerleaders hated her because she always tried to hang off the arm of the nearest quarterback or point guard, and the cheerleaders happened to already be dating said sportsmen when Shelley tried to get in their pants. Her locker was often decorated with the word “WHORE” written in red Maybelline lipstick.

So Shelley decided to form her own clique if no others would accept her. That included you: a bright eyed freshman from the middle school that everyone overlooked because you never talked to anyone, along with several other girls of varying degrees of loneliness. She ruled over all of you with an iron fist. Trying to mold you all into her own idea of a clique that would make mean girls like Carol Perkins (the main culprit of the Maybelline insults) kowtow to her self-made band of bitches.

One day at lunch forever changed your fate. Shelley decided to go through each girl’s knapsack and dump out the contents on the lunch table, judging her subjects on the personal effects they kept within. A particularly timid friend was being dressed down for balled up gym socks, and you stood up and asked how Shelley would like it if you took her Avon tote bag over to the garbage, tipped it upside down, and dumped every single bit of its contents into the slop created from a mixture of coleslaw and uneaten sloppy joes.

Justice was swift. Carol Perkins overheard your threat and laughed at Shelley for “getting gutted by a freak”. Shelley told you to leave, and the next day at lunch had the audacity to present an honest to god manifesto written in purple pen about how no one at the table wanted you to sit with them anymore, complete with signatures. Carol had of course laughed at you next for this rejection, so you lunged at her and screeched like a pteranodon in her face, ripping up the letter like confetti and dumping it all over Carol and Shelley’s watery cafeteria spaghetti, before turning over their trays in their laps.

It was a chain reaction of outbursts afterwards. Then the Figment Incident happened, making you untouchable, because the students knew your mother wielded her attorney like a sword. Even bullies like Billy Hargrove who didn’t care about any authority figure or law enforcement officer avoided you like the plague because you weren’t afraid to threaten to use your pencil to blind them.

Your rage kept everyone away. The one armor you possessed.

“You think I give a shit about rumors?!”

Eddie once again had you by the shoulders, his grip tight as he almost shook you with rage. His eyes burned with hurt, betrayal…

And… desire?

“Those rumors… that’s all just fucking bullshit!” He snapped, “You’re not a creepy bitch. You’re funny, you’re exciting, and you make all these adorable noises-…”

“… I am angry and bitchy all the time though…”

“Okay maybe a little, but I am too.” Eddie conceded, “But that’s because everything and everyone in this town sucks. But you don’t suck. You’re smart, and sweet, and kind… and… damn it… you’re beautiful.”

He was so close… So indignant, his righteous fury lighting a spark in his eyes that made you lean into him.

“All of that hellfire in you, that anger… god, it makes you a bonafide badass.” Eddie said, pulling you in close to his chest and rocking you side to side.

When you felt his fervent kisses pepper your scalp, you began to cry again. He pulled you in tighter, his kisses trailing down to your forehead, thence to cheeks, thence to capture your lips in a fiery, passionate make out session where he bit your lower lip to slip the tongue. You both pulled away breathless, and he kissed you one more time before pointing a finger right in your face.

“You’re the most metal fucking girl in all of Hawkins High. And anyone who says differently is a goddamn moron.”

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allforhee · 11 months ago

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*ੈ✩ — 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐒! (TEASER) | LEE HEESEUNG

୨୧ pairing — secgen!lee heeseung x journalist!fem!reader

synopsis: decelis high's academic weapon, future valedictorian, model un prodigy especially in the crisis council, and top-notch secretary-general of the mun club, lee heeseung has it all. from earning constant "best delegate-s" left and right, no one dared to go against his stances in any debate. until a student like you transfers into decelis high. as a soon graduating senior, you were a newbie to press. but with your endless love for writing, you'd managed to steal the hearts of your peers. it was your first mun, and you didn't expect much. but when heeseung finds out about an article you've wrote about his arrogant performance in a recent committee session, he is set to strike you down.

୨୧ genre — high school au, secgen!heeseung x press delegate!reader, academic rivals to lovers, dumbasses in denial, rivals in public but lovers in secret

୨୧ warnings — a lot of model un terms, cursing, hurt no comfort, heeseung makes fun of the reader a LOT, reader is feisty and could care less but she lowkey has parental issues, featuring all the other enhypen members, huh yunjin, and jang wonyoung

୨୧ word count — tbd

୨୧ release date — tba

୨୧ author's note — my baby! i love muns and as a press girlie myself, i had to make an mun-themed fic for my boy. mind you that i don't really understand the ACTUAL muns (unsc, who, etc.) cause i highkey don't want to get involved i just like writing!! this teaser is kind of short and sweet cause i know that the actual fic will be LONGER! so excited for you guys to read my works and what my imagination has to offer!!!!!!! enjoy this lil teaser. press 4 fanfic writers arise!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 had it all.

the walls of his room were littered with delegate lanyards from conferences across the globe, "best delegate" certificates framed all over his house (and a couple crumpled up inside his desk to fit the space), and a collection of trophies that stood in every nook and cranny.

no one at decelis high dared to go against him. whenever it was, whether it was moderated caucus or unmoderated, he'd always have his country or character's placard raised high, ready to speak, or leading whatever bloc was being formed.

it was no doubt that no one has ever beat him. it was no doubt that he was decelis high's mun club's secretary-general. and those who chose to go against him either get crushed in fear or knew when to step back.

even with his "best delegate" status, he wouldn't have gone far without his best mates, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon.

park jongseong or jay, most known for his cold stares in the debate room, ready to make a delegate tremble, would always chair crisis. he was decelis high's deputy secretary-general alongside heeseung. and although being heeseung's best mate, he never favored him when it came to awarding. it's just that he was naturally talented.

sim jaeyun, known for his popular slogan around the school; "jake it till you make it!", was the strongest when it came to knowing what a country or character believed in. his research skills were like a pirate on the hunt for lost treasure, he had all the facts, the data, and the proof to back up any stance. whatever heeseung needed to know, jake already had his back.

and park sunghoon. even though he was the quiet one of the bunch, his position papers never ceased to appeal any chair. even if he wasn't as strong in speaking out during committee sessions, his fingers were his weapon. the guys would always ask him why'd he chair press and not join in the heat with them, he'd always answer with a simple, "my words are stronger than my actions." where jay would always respond with "isn't that the other way around bud?"

the four were unstoppable when it came to model un. lee heeseung was unstoppable. he was. until you came along.

back to my masterlist?

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evereverest2 · 5 months ago

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Little Monster Q&A + author fun facts !!

hello new followers and fans of Little Monster. first of all, i just have to thank everyone for the crazy support ive been getting as of late. thank you everyone. every like, comment, and reblog just pushes me to keep writing, even when it feels like every word i write is garbage.

so i decided to make this little special! idk if anyone will be super interested, so ill put all the stuff under the cut, but i also wanted to add this little drawing i did of terzomega as like extra content. if you arent interested, thanks anyway and enjoy the art!

—

to everyone who stayed, i have no idea why you’re interested, but thanks lmfao. this shit will be long.

Questions

Is your most recent oneshot about the mirror related at all to Little Monster? (from @ofthemorningstars)

i'm glad you noticed that !! in The Mirror, i very purposefully left two hints at the end of the fic to indicate its connection to Little Monster, which was the taco ring reference and Terzo's use of "mostriciatto". to me, mostriciatto will always be the Little Monster version of terzomega. no matter when i finish that fic or if i write more fics after, i will never again use mostriciatto unless im purposefully writing these versions of terzomega. i havent seen anyone else use it (i hope they dont), so i like to imagine this can be forever my impact on terzomega fics lmao. anyway, the purpose of me leaving those references isnt necessarily to say, "this is a future scene of little monster" bc it isnt exactly that (while i have plans that line up with this oneshot, i cannot anticipate that everything will fit perfectly by the time we get there in the canon). the purpose of doing that was to show u cuties that yes, terzo and omega will eventually have a better relationship, and i will be extending this timeline into papa terzo era. just a fun little teaser for my more observant fans.

also, fun fact about how i came up with that pet name. i was writing the first part of Little Monster (that part is now titled Spilled Wine as featured on my Ao3) and i knew i wanted to give terzo an affinity for using pet names, but i didn't know quite which ones to use. i didn't want to be boring, so i googled some. i have no idea where, but i found mostriciatto, meaning, of course, "little monster." i had yet to even really start writing it, but i knew i wanted it to be DARK with a very unhinged omega, so i thought, perfect. ill talk a bit more about the writing of part one later on

2. How many parts do you currently anticipate writing? Do you have a set ending point, or will this perhaps be an ongoing project for the foreseeable future? (from @ofthemorningstars)

i have 12 major plot points (including the first five parts i have written) that loosely translate into parts. this could mean 12 parts, or it could be more depending on what i write. i kinda plan on expanding this to 18 (6 parts per “era” or “act” [you’ll see what i mean]) though i dont quite have a set ending yet, so really its up in the air. i am, however, planning on having a definitive ending, ergo not an endless project. from there there may be some oneshots in this universe, but they will have an ending.

3. In the first part of little monster you put a disclaimer with something along the lines of "if you're expecting comfort I'm sorry to disappoint". The angst is MWAH but do you like plan on giving Terzo like any sort of comfort or happiness?? (from anon)

before i begin rambling, here's your answer: there will be hope and good times as mentioned above, and you might have even picked up on that in part 5. i may have wrote a fucked up versions of terzomega but whats a good story without character growth?? i havent determined the direction of the ending, but rest assured, if it all burns down, they will hold each other close (for the minute it takes).

but also.... funny story about that disclaimer....

soo i wanted to write ghost fanfic to impress my friend who is a VERY avid member of this community. however, i failed to realize they DO NOT like angst without love and care and fluff, so after i showed it to them, buddy did not like it. i took that as a sign that maybe this shit was a little TOO dark.

but my god, i could not stop thinking about it, as the caption said, and i dont always feel that away about what i write. i had recently started to post semi often to tumblr, and i just thought. well, theres gotta be someone else as fucked up as me, and i posted that shit. that disclaimer was a result of taking my friends reaction seriously and realizing that i needed to make it VERY clear that this fic is NOT for everyone. there was a different og caption that was longer and more grave, but i cut it down for aesthetics bc little monster has already seen more success than i ever anticipated.

4. What is your favorite ghost album, and what song introduced you to ghost? (from anon) & Favorite ghost song (or songs) (from @ask-enso-ghoul)

my favorite album is Infestissumam!!! the vibes of the album are so fucking immaculate, even if terzo is my favorite papa.

of course, of course, the first song i ever heard from ghost was Mary on a Cross. it blew up when it did and i loved it. the second song that really made me start getting into ghsot was square hammer, which will secretly also be my favorite ghost song but ive heard it so many times i have to give it now to the future is a foreign land. some of my other fave songs are jigolo, respite, body and blood, faith, twenties, and year zero (there’s just so many)

i want to take a second to say my least favorite album though, which is opus eponymous, or as i call it, pope pussy. it’s ok. it’s just ok. mk. i’m not a fan of that sound. the best song on there is genesis. I FUCKING SAID IT—

5. how do you get into the zone of writing smut-? I’m trying to get into it but it sounds cheesy when I do, so do you do something specific? (from anon)

im gonna level with you. i have been writing for almost a decade, since i was 12, and the first thing i started writing was smut. sex has always been a HUGE creative force for my writing and art in general. as stupid as it sounds, writing smut to me is more than just that. its my art. its my greatest and most inspirational subject. i love being creative with it, bending it to the niches and intricacies of the duo im writing, just playing with it as a medium of expression, of storytelling, of how DEEP it can be.

that being said, one of the easiest ways to get into the zone of smut specifically is being horny ! you imagine your pairing doing some illicit bedroom activity and you pick them up liek dolls and smush their faces together ! let it be fun, and let it be yours. dont write it to please the kinks of your audience, write it to your own taste and enjoyment.

as far as it being cheesy, yeah, it will feel that way. the most important thing is to be confident with your language and don’t shy away from calling a dick a dick, a pussy a pussy, an ass an ass. it feels stupid, but it will read worse if you make up artsy names for them every other line. don’t be afraid to be descriptive either, because that’s what the people want to see, trust me.

apologies if that was unhelpful, ive just been writing smut so long i can hardly tell you how i do it. im jsut super passionate about it and it fuels me creatively….. can u tell lol

6. Favorite work you’ve ever done? (from anon)

so.... ive written many things and that depends. its definitely not anything ive posted on here.

i think my favorite "serious" work is a short story i wrote for a creative writing class, called Abel and Sally. it was an modern inversion of the bible story of abraham and sarah, with a really dark ending (i love to shit on catholicism)

the other work that comes to mind is the first story i wrote about my oc anson, called Anson's Prison. that is something i would potentially post on here, its pretty short but its a good one. its oc content, tho, so i doubt many ppl would be interested lel.

8. will you draw more drawing for your stories in the future? (from anon)

well. heres my thing with art.

ive been drawing as long as ive been writing. but im not an artist; i never learned ANYTHING beyond like drawing itself, i.e. i dont know how to shade, pick colors, do bgs, etc. (can u tell??? do u see that art up there???? can YOU TELL??) thus, i have a sort of love hate relationship with drawing, and i usually dont like my own stuff. i didnt pick up drawing as easy as i did writing and its not nearly as intuitive to me.

that being said, it is sometimes fun when the drawings turn out just right and i get super passionate about something i draw and i can create the image in my head. so if the mood strikes me, i probably will draw more terzomega stuff in the future.

but why do i need to?? feeds you all SO WELL with little monster stuff you dont need my shitty art lmfao

9. MILK OR CEREAL FIRST? (from anon)

cereal. bc the moment the milk hits that cereal u are on a speedy ass countdown to devour that shit before it gets soggy, and brother, u better eat quick.

Things I wanted to share

Little Monster was supposed to be a one shot

so, Little Monster started as one thing and turned to something else entirely. originally, i wrote the beginning of the first chapter (where they are flirting in the church) in about april of this year. in this version, they were supposed to already be in love, though hiding it, and terzo was not drunk at all, just teasing. i eventually scrapped it because i wasnt very passionate about it and got p bored. then, in july, i had the itch to write something dark, but none of my projects at the time had characters i could really write that with. i came back to that scrapped fic and i thought, damn, i could really fuck these guys up, and i did.

little monster immediately became more successful than i thought it would be, and that was only about 10 notes and a comment in. i was happy to leave it at that, but then, i just started writing part two on a whim. if you look at the og post in the comments, i mention that im writing a "follow up". thats bc even when writing part two, this was not going to be a series !! but then, as i kept writing, part two became so long i had to split it in half, meaning there were suddenly 3. by the time i posted part three, though, i was shocked at the sheer amount of attention i was getting. at the same time, part three ended in such a way that i knew this story needed to keep going, to give these two a resolution. now, little monster will be a full fledged story thanks to all the support ive received :3

2. im an english major

yeah, you got me, im a college student majoring in english creative writing. is it obvious? my penultimate goal is to one day be a published author. it’s crazy surreal to me how much people express to me how they enjoy my writing~~ i hope i can one day make my dream come true 🥰 the unfortunate part about this is i go back to college next week and im uncertain how that will affect my writing schedule :p i’ll stick to weekly uploads for little monster tho dw !!

3. this is the first time i’ve written fanfic in several years

when i first started writing it was frerard and peterick fanfics on wattpad in middle school (huge shoutout to the ones that know lmfao). i stopped writing those before hs and haven’t written fanfic since. i think it’s very funny that i have come full circle back to writing band fanfic, altho ghost ofc is way more intricate with its canon

4. I LOVE YOU GUYS

i know i’ve said it a dozen times already on this post, but god it’s crazy. it’s nuts !! i’ve already made a handful of super sweet mutuals who i appreciate with all my heart, and even if you’re just a lurker, I STILL APPRECIATE YOU. EVERY SINGLE NOTE MAKES ME SO HAPPY. EVERY COMMENT AND RB HAS ME BURSTING WITH JOY.

it is entirely thanks to you all that i write terzomega and ive become so passionate about it. if it weren’t for your support, i would probably still be writing my silly little stories that no one but me could possibly understand, rotting away and wondering if anyone would even like my writing. terzo and omega are such a unique pairing compared to what ive written before, and writing them is a really cool feeling. i truly love it, and i hope i can continue to feed this side of the fandom for a long time.

from the bottom of my heart and with all my writing soul, thank you. i want to keep writing for u guys, and i want to satiate ur dirty terzomega fantasies >:) this is such a sweet and inclusive fandom and im glad i’ve been welcomed in so quickly. i hope i can continue to grow my talent here :3

ok that’s it bye teehee

#terzomega #my art #ghost bc #ghost art #everest the thinker #worship the eversnake

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immeasurablesaladagere · 5 months ago

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Hellor!!

I was wondering if you can bless us with some little chase who has ADHD struggling to deal with over/under-stimulation and caregiver house happily helping him true it ?

(Would be really nice if you also include little Cameron and foreman helping as well)

Thanks!!!—💎⚜️✨

Yaaayy little!Chase fic :) Fun fact: the first fanfic I ever wrote and published online was about sensory overload (it's long gone now, lol). Gosh I've improved a lot since then.

-----

Word Count: 1539

Summery: House is looking after a regressed Chase, Cameron, and Foreman during a playdate when everything starts to become too much for Chase.

-----

Allison squealed excitedly as she placed a plastic tiara on Foreman’s head. “Eeee! You’re so pretty now!”

Foreman chuckled, humouring her, and straightened it. The little plastic combs meant to keep it in place didn’t work on his bald head, so the crown balanced precariously. “Why am I the princess again?”

“Because someone has to be, and I’m the knight already! Robbie, are you sure you don’t wanna play kingdoms?”

Chase glanced up from his colouring page. He really didn’t. Ally’s games of pretend were fun, and if she had asked an hour ago he would’ve agreed to play even if that meant he had to be a princess, but now everything was just too loud. He wished that she didn’t want to play at all, but he knew that wasn’t fair for her to have to stop having fun because of him. Besides, Foreman was big-brother today, so he didn’t feel too bad. “I’m sure. I don’t wanna play with you guys, I just wanna colour.”

She huffed. “Fine, but you’re missing out!”

He tried not to listen to them as they began talking loudly about the kingdom they were in and the evil wizard coming to capture the princess, pressing one hand against his ear while he used the other to shade in the octopus he was colouring. He wished that Ally liked quieter games. But it wasn’t just Ally and Foreman; everything was too noisy, and it was making him upset. He could hear the air conditioner, and the fridge rattling as House moved around in the kitchen to make them an afternoon snack, and the terrible sound of his crayons scratching against the paper, which made his teeth hurt.

“Okay kiddies, come and get it!” House announced, presenting a big plate of snacks and three drinks; two sippy cups of orange juice for Chase and Ally, and a big-kid cup of apple juice for Foreman.

“Yay, snacks!” Ally exclaimed, and grabbed a handful of animal crackers and fruit. Foreman took a few squares of cheese, and Chase took a few grapes and nibbled on them slowly.

The sound of Ally chewing made his skin feel itchy. “Ally, don’t eat with your mouth open.” He scowled, “It’s gross.”

She looked a little hurt at his tone, and Foreman raised his eyebrows. Maybe that was a little too mean. “Okay, sorry…”

He awkwardly went back to his colouring. Thankfully she didn’t seem to be upset for long, and she dragged Foreman back to continue their game after eating most of the animal crackers and strawberries.

“You doing okay there, pipsqueak?” House asked, not loud enough for Foreman or Ally to hear, and Chase nodded.

“Mhm.”

House gave him a strange look, then shrugged and turned to go back to the kitchen. “Alright. Let me know if you guys need anything.”

It got harder and harder to focus on his picture as Ally and Foreman’s game got louder and louder. It was bad enough that even House had to ask them to play a little quieter, and that worked for a little bit, but they just got loud again. Chase’s hands were almost shaking, he was so frustrated. Every time Ally shrieked or laughed it made his ears hurt and his skin crawl, and he had already snapped two crayons by accident because he was pressing too hard on the paper. He wanted to shout at them for being so loud, to throw his crayons and rip up the paper, but he knew that only naughty kids did that. He wasn’t going to be naughty, he told himself, he wasn’t going to be—

Ally gasped, and suddenly his shirt and lap were drenched in something cold and wet. Her eyes were wide, toy sword outstretched mid-swing, and Foreman’s cup of apple juice was knocked over, spilling all over him, his picture, and the table. At first he just sat there, too stunned to react, and then he felt his wet clothes shift against his skin. He snapped.

“ALLY!” He yelled. His picture was ruined, his clothes were covered in juice, and when it dried he was going to be all sticky and disgusting, and everything felt awful and he wanted it off, he wanted everything to be quiet.

“Robbie, I—“ Ally tried to reach out towards him and he smacked her hand away.

“Get away from me!” Everything felt sharp. He couldn’t decide between pressing his hands to his ears and never taking them off and trying to get the feeling of wet fabric away from him. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a muffled scream through his teeth. Get off, get off, go away, he wanted everything to go away.

An unsteady set of footsteps approached him, which meant House was there. He clamped his hands over his ears. No, please go away. No more people, no more.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ally asked nervously.

“Robbie.” House was talking very softly. “Take a deep breath.”

He sucked in a breath and forced it out, cringing as his damp shirt moved against him.

“Good. Another one.”

The next try was slower, and after a few more, the buzzing under his skin began to go away. It was still there, but he didn’t feel like screaming anymore. He slowly opened his eyes to see House half-knelt in front of him and Ally and Foreman watching anxiously over his shoulder.

“There you go. Allison, get Robbie’s change of clothes from his bag and Foreman, can you get me my headphones? They’re on the kitchen table.” They both nodded and rushed off, and House stood up. “You, come with me.”

He slowly waddled after House to the bathroom, where House handed him a washcloth. “Cover that in warm water, take your clothes off and wash yourself off so you won’t be sticky, and then you can change into your other clothes.” He instructed quietly, “…Do you need any help?”

Chase’s cheeks burned. “No.”

Ally and Foreman came up and handed over the clothes and headphones, and House sent them back to the living room. He put everything down on the bathroom counter and pointed to the headphones. “Those will make everything less loud. Don’t let them get wet, Papa House needs them back.”

He nodded, and was left to his own devices. He shedded his soaked shirt and shorts and began wiping off the juice. The more he started to calm down, the more shame he felt. He’d been naughty. He’d just thrown a wobbly because Ally spilled juice on him, and she didn’t even do it on purpose. He changed into his old adult clothes and then hesitantly slid the headphones over his ears.

The background noises went away. There was no more talking, no more fan, no more apartment sounds, and the knot in his chest began to unwind. He took a big, deep breath, and left the bathroom.

When he came into the living room, House was on the couch and Foreman was reading a picture book to Ally on the floor, their dress-up toys put away in the bin.

“Is that better?” House asked. He sounded funny with the headphones, like he was underwater. Chase nodded. “Good. We’re going to have quiet time for a bit, you can put your wet clothes in here.” He handed him a plastic grocery bag.

He put the clothes in the bag and dropped them by the door, then wandered over to the toy bin. He didn’t really feel like playing or reading; he wanted something to cuddle. He carefully sifted through it until he found the big stuffed bear, Teddy, at the bottom. Who left Teddy down there? He was probably really lonely all by himself. He pulled Teddy out and was about to go sit on the couch when he made eye contact with Ally. He quickly looked away.

“M’sorry for yelling at you…”

“I’m sorry for spilling the juice on you an’ being loud,” She said earnestly, “I didn’ know you weren’t feeling good.”

He shrugged bashfully. “S’okay.”

With apologies said and all right with the world again, Chase climbed onto the couch and curled up, hugging Teddy close to his chest. Teddy was soft, and he was tired. He tucked his face against Teddy’s fur, and he felt light and very, very small.

“House? I think Robbie’s really little.” Foreman said, pointing.

House smirked. “I think you might be right. Can I get a number?” He asked.

He had to think about it for a second before lazily holding up three fingers.

Ally cooed. “Awe, he’s just a baby!” She exclaimed, then her eyes went a little wide. “Sorry, I mean awe, he’s just a baby.” She whispered.

“You’re right, he is, and I think it’s time for the baby to take a nap.” House said, turning to grab the blanket thrown over the back of the couch and draping it over him.

Foreman got up and walked over to Chase’s bag, digging through it until he pulled out a yellow pacifier. He came back and held it up to him. “Do you want this?”

Chase easily accepted it and snuggled back up against Teddy, eyes slipping closed.

...

“…Can we play kingdoms again if we’re really, really quiet?”

#sfw age regression #sfw agere #agere blog #age regression #fandom agere #house md #house md agere #fanfic #gregory house #robert chase #allison cameron #eric foreman

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thcscus · 3 months ago

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fic author q&a <3

tagged (kinda but i wanted to join bc it looked fun lol) by @zannolin the beloved

why do you write fanfic?

because it's so so so much fun. because i think about the characters too much to just not Do anything with them, you know?

but mostly, it's a case of, "I'm writing this because I want to read this."

which of your posted stories do you think of the most even though the story is "finished"?

i mean, technically, passerine because I have a copy of it sitting above my study desk so every time I look up I think "oh damn yeah i wrote that. insane"

but, creatively, i think about the challengers series a lot because i feel like i have one more story out of me for it but i just don't know What yet

if you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

hmmmm i don't think i have any because my relationship with fic writing now is the same as my relationship to fic writing then. it's all just fun :)

what's your relationship to fic stats?

eh i don't really care about them. i generally don't look at kudos and hits. but comments and the little notes people put on bookmarks? now Those i will refresh for every time

is there a pairing or scenario or friendship that you miss writing? if so, why? if not, why not?

how do i answer this without kicking at a hornet's nest. i guess if you know, you know. That Era really was a great time to be alive as a genfic writer. unfortunately, *waves vaguely*

what motivates you to write?

the fact that when you finish writing, you get to read it. and it's tailor-made for you, with everything you want from a fic, because YOU put it all there!! it's like serving yourself a plate of eggs done just how you like them

also, i look forward to comments every time just to know i'm not the only one going insane over it lol

why do you write for the fandom(s) you write for?

no other reason than i want to, i guess. i love the story. i want to expand on it. and that's how the insanity starts, baby

if you're stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

just put it down. inspiration will find me eventually. i'm not in any rush :)

what do you wish people knew about comments?

when you quote the exact lines that made you feel something. THAT. that could be your entire comment and i'd still be twirling my feet kicking my hair. genuinely when people quote my lines in their comments AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA <- me going crazy

maybe there's a question you wish had been on here. what's that question (and answer)?

The line you're most proud of.

"... to be able to love something enough to also love what grew from its ruins," is still so beloved by me because it was genuinely something i'd felt in my personal life for so long but could only put into words when i was writing it for the fic. it was a lightning bolt of an epiphany that wouldn't have been possible if i hadn't been writing. writing fic saves lives, folks!

tagging literally anyone who sees this because i want to pick at everyone's brain

#tag #writing #ask

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nnaminxz · 1 year ago

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“𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖞 𝕲𝖎𝖗𝖑𝖘 𝕯𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝕮𝖗𝖞“

↳ 𝔰𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔯𝔲 𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔬

⤑ 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut & angst

⤑ 𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: if the saying is “misery loves company” why isn’t Suguru happy right now?

⤑ 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰: Gojo Satoru slander I’m sorry but I had too, I love him very much tho, sad feelings, sad reader, suguru is kind of ass too, maybe a lil ooc but it’s fanfic so don’t attack me, vaginal sex, riding, the ending may be dumb but it’s whatever, minors dni

⤑ 𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: I wrote this for an another fandom a WHILE ago and always wanted to redo it so I thought why not redo it for my first jjk fic. I hope you guys enjoy this is my first time posting for this fandom so I’m vv nervous/excited. Pls be kind

Suguru always thought this would make him happy.

Seeing you around campus with Satoru made him angry enough, so he just knew that when the inevitable happened and Satoru started acting like well—Satoru again the sight was guaranteed to bring much happiness to his heart.

He knew it was sick, that he wanted to see whatever you and Satoru had going on fail but Suguru couldn't help it.

None of it mattered though because it didn’t happen.

Suguru sat in the same place for two hours watching the two of you—waiting for the feeling of bitter happiness to fill his bones but it never came.

In fact, it was the exact opposite.

Watching you fight to get Satoru’s attention made him sad. Seeing how no matter what you did he would rather pay more attention to everyone else made Suguru angry. And watching you finally leave the room and the other boy not even bat an eye made him furious.

If he was truly surprised or even thought the other boy would care, Suguru would’ve went over to him and said something but it wasn’t worth it. Satoru was just like him.

An idiot.

A dumbass.

They couldn’t tell when they had a good thing even if it’d slapped them across the face.

“Where you going?” Haibara questions as Suguru stands to his feet.

“Need a smoke,”

“Ah,” The other boy nodded his head. “Are you having fun?”

Suguru decides to lie again. The happiness on his friends face to pure to ruin with his sour mood.

“I told you coming out tonight would be a good idea.”

“Yeah,” Suguru fakes a grin. “I’ll be back.” He took the pack of cigarettes out his pocket waving them before walking away.

Suguru easily maneuvers his way through the thick crowd until he was standing on the back porch. The screen door shut with a thud causing you to swiftly snap around. There was a hopeful and expectant look on your face but when you saw it was him all that fell as you turned back around.

“Well, hello to you too,” Suguru jokes trying to hide the actual physical pain he was feeling in his heart.

That used to be him you were so eager to see.

“What do you want?” You huffed softly.

“Needed a smoke.”

The way you turned to look at him with such concern almost made Suguru laugh. Here you were angry at him, going through your own shit, and still somehow harbored enough care to be concerned with his health.

“I though you quit?”

Suguru plops down next to you pulling the carton out his pocket flipping the cap open. “I did.” He says showing you the empty pack..

“You carry around an empty pack?”

“It’s a good way for me to make an exit,”

You left out a long sigh. “I looked that pitiful huh?”

“You don’t look pitiful. He just looks stupid.”

Though you didn’t say anything back you didn’t need to for Suguru to already know what you were thinking. He knew you like the back of his hand and no doubt you were beating yourself up, angry with yourself when in reality you should’ve been focused on the one who deserved it.

“I’m so stupid,” You whisper and its so low that it Suguru wasn’t already so hyper-focused on your very existence he would’ve probably missed it.

“No, you’re not.”

“You told me he was like this.”

“People told you about me and you still gave me a chance,”

“So I am stupid.”

“You’re trusting,” Suguru counters. “You give people the benefit of the doubt.”

“why is it that trusting people always end up looking stupid?”

“because others take advantage of it.”

Something he knew all to well.

You both fall silent again. The only noise filling the space are the sounds of nature and the muffled thumping music that escaped the noisy house. Suguru looks over at you wishing there was something he could to do. Something he could say. Seeing you like this hurt him.

He hated seeing you cry.

He felt like dying when you were upset.

But it also hurt to see you happy so Suguru wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted.

All this shit was so weird. An uncharted territory before you came along.

Every time the screen door would creak open you’d twist around to see if it was him and every time you ended up turning back around in disappointment. As your disappointment grew, so did Suguru’s anger.

You only deserved the best things in life. None of this push and pull, ‘I’m here but around others I’m not’ bullshit.

Suguru was such a hypocrite.

Here he was furious with Satoru when he used to just as much of an asshole to you as well. He too would push and pull right until he pushed you away completely.

“I’m sorry,” He quietly apologizes. If he’d just gotten his act together sooner there would be no you and Satoru. You wouldn’t be sad and he would still have you.

You shake your head softly shushing him. “Not right now please,” You say. “Can you take me home? I just really want to go back home.”

Without saying anything else Suguru nodded. As both of you were walking to his car you passed a big window. Sadly it was a clear shot to Satoru who now had another girl seated next to him in your place.

Not only had he not noticed your absence but that easily he’d replaced you.

“He’s such a fucking ass.”

“Yeah,” You agree. “Let’s just go,”

Suguru had evert urge to go in there and go off but when he looked back over you were already halfway to his car so he kept it moving. Satoru wasn’t worth it anyway. He was just another dick who thought way too much of himself.

Satoru didn’t deserve you.

Neither did Suguru.

One in the car Suguru sent Haibara a quick message saying he was going home before shifting the car into gear.

As expected the drive was silent. There wasn’t much to say. As much as Suguru wanted to comfort you he didn’t know what to do even if he did you probably wouldn’t want to hear it from him. Why would you?

Suguru knew every route to and from your apartment but decided to take the longest one. If you noticed you didn’t say anything. All you did was keep quiet as you looked out the window.

You stayed that way until he pulled up to you complex. Before getting out of the car you whisper as soft thank you and force a smile.

“yeah, no problem,” Suguru murmurs.

He’s about to pull away when out the corner of his eye he spots your small tube of lip gloss sitting in his cup holder. You had a million of them and even thought you probably wouldn’t even realize this one was missing Suguru still found himself on a journey to your front door.

Who know this could’ve been your favorite one.

The one in the pink tube was your favorite actually.

But Suguru already knew that.

“You left this,” Suguru says once you open the door.

“Thanks,” You mutter grabbing it from his hand. “I have a million in this flavor.”

“I know.”

For the first time tonight a genuine smile filled your lips. It was small and not the one he was used to seeing but for right now it would do. It was better than nothing.

Though your eyes were sad and bloodshot you were still as beautiful as ever to him.

“Please don’t cry over him. He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

“I just want something real,” You say in a small voice your arms wrapping around your body.

“What we had was real.”

“You were just like him.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” Suguru adds, his voice wavering as he tries to get out the words. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” you say this time.

Suguru is walking away when you call out his name. As soon as he turns back around your lips are on his. He’s shocked for a moment, standing there with wide eyes, but quickly he fall back into your old routine. His heart is pounding so hard against his chest and Suguru wonder if you could feel it as well.

With every kiss he pulls you closer to him. It’s been months since he’d last had you this close and Suguru didn’t want it to end any time soon. He missed this, the soft breaths that escape you, the fruity taste of your lip gloss, the way your hands cradle his face.

Slowly your hands roam from his face to his jacket and then finally when they land on his belt Suguru forces himself to pull away.

Suguru lets out a sigh resting his forehead against yours. “We can’t.” He mutters.

He wanted you but not this way. Not when you were like this.

“Why?”

“You’re….” his voice trails off.

“I’m sober,”

“You’re sad.” He counters.

You give him a shrug. “ I want this. I need this.”

Suguru knows what this was. A rebound fuck. Simply a way for you to get back at Satoru in your mind but couldn’t bring himself to care as he kisses you again. He knows this was going to hurt in the morning but he’d deal with that when it came.

A satisfied moan leaves your lips. “Please,” You beg and Suguru nods, not even needing to know what exactly you were asking for because he already was prepared to give you everything.

Reaching behind him Suguru pushed the front door closed. “Where?” Without saying anything you guided him both over to the couch lightly pushing him down before climbing on top.

You pulled off your dress and without a second thought, Suguru hands find their way to your breast, lifting the mounds out of the cups. His tongue gently swipes over both nipples before picking one to suck on while he twisted the other between his fingers.

“Fuck,” Soft moans escape your plump lips as you arch further into him. “It’s always about him.”

Suguru pulls away for a brief moment and shushes you before taking in the other nipple. He didn’t want to hear about you and Satoru. The thoughts tortured him enough.

It did bring him a sick satisfaction to know that Satoru was a lazy lover.

“M’sorry,”

“Don’t be. This is just about us right now.”

You nod, pressing your fingers underneath Suguru’s chin as lift up his head so you could kiss him again. Suguru’s hands were everywhere. From your ass to your stomach, your thighs, he couldn’t get enough.

“Touch me,” You command.

Suguru happily listens, his fingers easily finding their way into your panties. You were already so wet. The juices soaking him with just a few movements. His fingers dances across your clit pulling airy groans from your mouth. To him you look so beautiful, your head tossed back, eyes fluttering, as your hips rocks into his fingers.

“Need you in me.”

“Wanna taste you.”

You shake your head, big glossy needy eyes focused on him. “Next time maybe.”

His heart jumps at the words ‘next time’. Suguru really hopes there is a next time. Not even for the sex. He just wanted you.

You lift up allowing Suguru the room to pull his pants down. After pulling your own panties to the side you grab his cock and align it before sinking down.

Groans leave both of your mouths and before Suguru can even collect his thoughts you began to bounce up and down. Suguru isn’t even sure were to focus. Your bouncing breast, the perfect contortions of your face, or the lewd scene between your legs.

He leans forward and takes your nipple into his mouth again. You felt so good. So wet. So warm. The tight grip on his hair only sending more pleasure through his body while you alternate between bouncing and grinding. Your eyes were closed and you weren’t focused on anything but yourself.

You were using him but none of that mattered.

“Suguru,” you whine, finally looking at him. “feels so good. It feels so good.”

“Only ever want to make you feel good y/n,”

Suguru says it so quietly that he wasn’t even sure you’d heard or if you did you’d understood what exactly he meant but when your eyes began to water again Suguru knew you had.

You hide your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. When your hips began to falter in pace Suguru knows your close. Once your pussy tightens and your legs begin to shake, Suguru lets himself fall apart too.

You both stay like that. Breathing labored wrapped in each other's arms not saying anything. You stay that way until he hears your little sniffles and feels the tears falling onto his shoulder.

“Don’t cry. Pretty girls don’t cry.”

“Then stop making me.”

#geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #getou suguru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #getou suguru x you #suguru smut #suguru angst #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #jjk smut #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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everythingwasnormalhere · 4 months ago

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i don't really wanna do much today so...

what about an analysis of I've Got You, Brother because i wanna rant about it >:3

(i've been thinking about all this a lot since I wrote it lol)

huge spoilers under the cut so please i beg you don't read it till you've finished the fic ;w;

probably the first scene of this fic i thought while knowing i wanted it to appear in it, was the scene after lucas' funeral. a while before that i already had the headcanon of kevin giving kenny that red scarf of his, but that scene, unlike this one, wasn't fully developed when i daydreamed it.

my kenny, slv kenny, has a lot of trauma as a kid, trauma that shapes his personality later on. yet, he's learned he needs to suck it up, not tell anyone - mainly because his uncle taught him so. lucas was gay indeed, stuart got that one right at least, but after he did what he did to kevin, he decided it was too dangerous. kevin would snitch, surely, he was old enough to know it was wrong, he had proven this. kenny was not.

"never tell anyone about this", he had promised, and so kenny never really specified it - loyalty, fear, who knew. but he couldn't help but take kevin's word that lucas was gone, and maybe that's why he slipped. kevin never asked any more questions, kenny never gave him any more answers.

(Brother by Kodaline - the song this fic took its title from - just started playing, and that is incredibly fitting XD)

"“You look like shit” Kenny pointed out. “You should see the other guy” Kevin smiled, sitting next to Kenny."

a fun fact about this scene, is that i thought of it before anything else in this fanfic, yet with a different theme. i was feeling pretty dysphoric, my parents were being transphobic assholes, nothing new, and i said "why not project this onto kenny?". in the original scenario, kenny would come out to his father, or maybe he'd be outed by some reason, and stuart would be no good about it, so kevin would jump in and defend his brother. then, everything would turn out as it does in the fic.

but slv kenny's agab is left ambiguous, and it will stay that way, which makes the original idea lose all its sense. yet, as i wanted to write it and add it to the story, i figured out another thing the fight could've stemmed from, and rolled with it. it being kenny's birthday was just something that came to me as i wrote, but it makes a sensing way for him to receive his parka so all good XD

next scene is probably the closest these two ever went to talking about their feelings. "He wanted me to go with his friends, he didn't want to hang out with me." was a typical occurence by the time they were twelve/thirteen, which is when that happens. kenny had gone to that type of hang outs a few times already, and always felt as if he wasn't welcome there, his presence and his exit equally unnoticed. butters had always the best intention, but are good intentions ever enough? the spot at the rooftop became kenny's favorite place since that night.

kevin isn't too talkative, or at least not slv kevin, but he knows his brother all too well, as shown in the next scene.

i needed it to be from kenny's pov, even if just to show the shock at "Kevin had never hit him sober." - because kevin had hit him drunk, not even just that, but typically kevin was at least a bit tipsy. him being violent yet sober showed the importance of the situation - and also showed how easily kenny would accept kevin becoming stuart 2.0.

it was short before butters ran away from home, and kenny was going through possibly the worst moments of his life till then. it was also the time in which he would kill himself every other day, trying to find a way that stuck. the broship had broken, kenny's home life was as shitty as always, what was the point? "But- Kenny, I can't let you waste your life like that. I'm probably gonna become a poor drunk guy like mom and dad, but you're smart dude. You have a future. Don't throw it away". those words likely saved kenny's life. kevin knows him, but he's too quiet to show it. yet, when he sees his brother in that state? he can't help but try and pull him out of it.

"This was the first time Kevin had seen his brother in weeks" says a lot about the mccormicks, actually. kenny, spending his days out with his friends or stuck in his room. kevin, not coming home until he has to. they had lost each other, grown up enough to stop needing the other as much. yet, kevin's always up to helping kenny out.

their conversation on the couch, just proves how much they really love each other. kenny doesn't really cuddle with anyone besides butters and his siblings, and kevin isn't much of the type to be physically affectionate with pretty much anyone. yet they enjoy being in each other's company, and they trust each other enough for it. "“Fucked him yet?” Kevin half joked." also shows how much kevin really knows his brother - even after they're not that in touch, he's noticed how close butters and kenny really are. he's also proving to kenny how he will not judge, allowing him to open up if he ever wants to, without fearing a reaction like the one their parents would likely have.

("“I love you”, is what Kevin would've said were he more vocal about his feelings. But he wasn't, so he took a sip of his beer and turned up the volume.". fun fact, they never said they love each other, and now you're forced to live with this information :3)

"“Showed up when I died, haven't left ever since” Kenny nonchalantly said, and Kevin shrugged it off". I don't have much to say about this scene, but fuck me if kenny isn't like this. he's sincere with kevin, yet aware he won't be believed, so he doesn't really press it. kevin, meanwhile, is used to his brother saying stuff like that. if kenny had ever told kevin about his curse? i like to believe kevin wouldn't have hesitated to believe everything about it.

aaand we're at the final arc of igyb!!

(after i took a tiny doomscrolling break bc fingers hurt smh)

i think i should first talk about why i did what i did. and that is, killing kevin off.

you see, in most stories and universes where kevin dies, he does it heroically. saving his siblings from their parents' wrath, getting in the way of a gunshot, taking part in a fight - he dies a hero. that's not how real life works. people just... die. without a warning. without a reason. one day they're there, the next they're gone forever.

kenny thought he understood death, mostly after having died so often, but he didn't. kevin's death, it made him realize people just leave forever, not giving any warning, not saying goodbye. human life is such a fragile thing, and he won't waste his stuck in the shithole of a town south park is. he's terrified of losing his friends the way he lost kevin, he's terrified of permanently dying with nobody to remember him.

he was lucky laura offered to take karen in, because otherwise, he probably would have stayed. but he knows, she'd be kept safe, and most importantly, away from their parents.

and, kenny?

he is going to live.

#this fanfic is everything to me actually #kenny's character development... poor little guy man 😭✨#i put a lot of thought into this so if u read it all tysm<33 #south park #south park fandom #south park au #south park hcs #south park headcanons #south park fanfiction #kenny mccormick #kevin mccormick #i've got you brother #starlight chronicles #my au #my fanfiction #my fic

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avelera · 2 years ago

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"I read it to find out what the fuss was about, and remained somewhat puzzled; it seemed a lively kid’s fantasy crossed with a school novel, good fare for its age group, but stylistically ordinary, imaginatively derivative, and ethically rather mean-spirited."

- Ursula K. Le Guin

It's been understandably popular to take pot-shots at Harry Potter lately because of JK Rowling's truly disgusting and reprehensible comments lately. This quote above by Le Guin, which I agreed with even while a teenager, got me thinking about my own views on the series and apropos to nothing, I felt this was a better place to expound upon them than Twitter.

I have a knee-jerk dislike of the very human condition of saying we, "Always knew something," after the fact, that we "Always knew" someone problematic™️ was problematic or we always knew this thing that was popular was Bad Art after it became less popular. I find it intellectually dishonest.

So I'll preface all of this by saying: I had minor issues with the Harry Potter series back when it came out that went against the mainstream view of it, in that I thought it had many good qualities as a book series, but not enough to warrant its popularity compared to other, similar YA and fantasy series. I was genuinely baffled by its superstar popularity but as a fantasy book reader in the days before it was easy to access online fandom, I would take what I could get and I certainly didn't mind fangirling about Harry Potter stuff with friends even if it wasn't my #1 favorite series of all time. I enjoyed the fanfic for Harry Potter immensely so that allowed me to sort of blend in with those who enjoyed its popularity. (Special shoutout to MY favorite Harry Potter book of all time, "Harry Potter and the Battle of Wills" by Jocelyn over on fanfiction.net, that was MY Harry Potter series lol.)

So here's the thing, it's easy to say, "I always hated Harry Potter" or "I always knew it was trash" and that's a lie. For me, the truth is:

I enjoyed Harry Potter much like I did many of the fantasy series of its day.

What they had going for them was their pacing, whimsy, and inherent mystery structure in the first 3 books. They're fast, fun, easy reads with a likable protagonist. They are not bad books. But as Le Guin says, they're stylistically ordinary and imaginatively derivative. There's a lot of books like them.

I did not think the books were better than Pratchett, or Gaiman, or Garth Nix, or Dianne Wynn Jones, or any of the many other fantasy authors I was reading at the time. I was confused by their popularity as compared to better books like Pratchett's Discworld which, while popular, never got a theme park made for them in terms of order of magnitude popularity.

Now, JK Rowling on the other hand I had some issues with from the start, if not the ones that emerged later with her being a bigot. It is worth mentioning for the sake of intellectual honesty that decades ago, she gave a lot to charity and was a voice for tolerance in the early 00's when Bush/Blair, the Iraq War, etc were in full swing. It makes it all the more heartbreaking and baffling to see her swing towards bigotry on LGBT+ issues. Truly, a lot of young people first learned to stand up to fascism and be accepting of those different from them because of Harry Potter, just like they did reading the Ender's Game series by Orson Scott Card, and in both cases it's absolutely heartbreaking and so very confusing to see these authors fall to the very dark side they wrote against in their books. I have no answer for how or why this happened. I don't say this to make an excuse for either of them, simply to express confusion and mourn the loss of someone who was once a voice for some level of good in the world.

Now, my issues with JK Rowling were writerly, and they are the ones I feel somewhat empowered to say I "always knew" and "always had an issue with" and that, like the worst sort of hipster, "I talked about before it was cool".

Really my dislike began when JKR very famously said in the early 00s that she didn't read any fantasy before writing Harry Potter. Considering how derivative it is (heck, Neil Gaiman already had a YA series about a black-haired wizard boy with a scar) it left one wondering if she was lying or she truly was that ignorant in the genre in which she wrote. Either way, not a good look, and it soured me towards her pretty permanently as an author.

Terry Pratchett, the author I would actually follow into Hell, criticized her for this comment and got a lot of flack for it, asking how in the world she could not realize she was writing fantasy. This solidified my opinion of her as something of a hack, even if she had stumbled upon a winning story. Neil Gaiman also chimed in saying he didn't feel ripped off but seemed to tacitly agree with Pratchett that her lack of institutional knowledge about fantasy was odd.

As a big fantasy fan of the early 00s, I can say that fantasy was still a bit of a forbidden genre (at least in the Anglosphere), one not taken seriously. So for JK Rowling to be asked if she wrote fantasy had a layer of nuance, basically she was being asked if she meant to write a fantasy novel, ie, in a "lesser" genre, barely above dime story penny dreadfuls in value.

No one literary would admit to writing fantasy at the time, it was a whole thing where if you admitted to writing fantasy you were "downgraded" as an author in terms of prestige (Stephen King went through a lot of this). BUT, if a fantasy book achieved popularity, it was labeled as "literary" so the literary folks could claim ownership of the quality genre fiction, and never have to admit that "literary" is a genre and not a mark of quality (a deep-seated rage button issue for me and a rant for another day).

So when JK Rowling said, "She didn't know she was writing fantasy." That meant something. And what it meant was she was throwing the rest of the genre under the damn bus. With her visibility she could have helped actively tear down the biases against fantasy (something she did indirectly with the popularity of her books). Or she could have simply had humility and said she wasn't as versed in the genre as she should be given where her book ended up being shelved, but there's a lot of good works there and she's honored to be among them.

She did neither. She stuck to her ignorance (what would become a common trait of hers, apparently) and did very little to elevate others in the genre, or the genre itself, and indeed, seemed to try to distance herself from it in what was the safe move at the time.

I cannot stress enough how intellectual dishonest, arrogant, and safe it was for popular writers who got dubbed "literary" when they were in fact writing genre fiction to cleave to that title of literary, guard it jealously, and refuse to acknowledge that literary is a genre of its own, not a mark of quality. To be labeled "genre fiction" was to be considered "lesser" and that stigma is still out there, though much lessened by the wave that began with the Lord of the Rings movies, Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, and the Marvel films making so much money and really setting up genre fiction to at least be seen as lucrative if not artistic. We have come a long way from how fantasy was viewed 20 years ago.

JK Rowling also said she wrote no other books before Harry Potter. That's another puzzling instance where either she's lying, sold her soul to the Devil (and hey, maybe she did and he's collecting by making her turn into a frothing bigot), or was simply a more lucky and less skilled writer than people realized. Every writer has a closet full of short stories and novels they've written before publishing their first work. I can't stress enough how bizarre it is for her to claim she never wrote anything else before putting pen to paper with Harry Potter, that simply does not happen. Then again, her later books make it seem more likely that is true.

Writerly aside, but JK Rowling is utter garbage at structure. She lucked into the perfect scaffolding for a basic plot with the Harry Potter school year, but as Fantastic Beasts and her other, non-school based plot structures reveal, she didn't realize what a crutch that was for her because the woman does not and has not learned how to build a plot that isn't strung up on the structure of a school year for building tension and story beats.

Look, JK Rowling has always been a weird author. She really did come out of nowhere in terms of previous works. She doesn't acknowledge her peers in the genre that built her fortune, not even to confess that while she didn't know about them, she's now learning about a wonderful rich genre out there. She went the other direction and disavowed fantasy (it's possible she backtracked since and had nice things to say about the fantasy genre, I'd love to hear it if so).

There was in fact always subtle bigotry and a ton of tokenism in the Harry Potter books. That said, in the 90s, that was pretty par for the course, and she deserved some kudos for making the books so explicitly about fighting fascism, even if I'm not sure she fully understood her own themes.

To say these books were unpopular or that they had no writerly merit at all is intellectually dishonest. They were popular for a reason, mostly because they're fun. However, they were not unique, there were many like them, she got very lucky and it's bizarre how little she's acknowledged this or her peers. Of all the negative tendencies any human has, I'm shocked and dismayed that her tendency to stick to her ignorance like she did with the wider fantasy genre is the one that won out and was transferred to LGBT+ issues, to the point of doing active damage to her works and brand. But as her attempts to branch out from Harry Potter have further confirmed, JK Rowling was always a stylistically ordinary writer. Her mean-spiritedness didn't stand out as much in the 90s but it absolutely does now and it's ugly how she leaned more into sticking with the moral heights she reached at that time rather than trying to learn and grow as a person.

JK Rowling went full Whedon and figured because she was slightly ahead of the curve in the late 90s that she had nothing more to learn and it hurts when people who are creative, people whose job it is to have empathy for other walks of life, never learn or grow and stick to their old laurels that are increasingly out of date. I personally don't think myself as a hardcore Harry Potter fan, I have no horse in this race for the redemption or lack thereof of JK Rowling or the book series. I can only offer my view as a fantasy writer and someone who grew up through the cultural phenomenon of these books.

But, as usual, Ursula Le Guin was right, I agreed with her then, and her words have only borne out more and more with time.

#jk rowling critical #hp meta #hp critical

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kaiserposting · 1 month ago

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⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

hi. a few days ago i read perpetual chase for greener grass and i asked if it was okay to write you an essay. well. i did and it is 25 pages long (double-spaced, w/ a title page, footnotes, and a bibliography, i'm not insane. honest.) on sakura characterization and misogyny and a little about why i like your fanfic so much. you can i think read this here, if the link works: https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/bicwciufqc49203xmvzoa/you-didnt-ask-for-this-and-im-sorry.pdf?rlkey=fcob3k3lvokzkfg2gi0z3hh2f&st=83vb0rm6&dl=0

it's not particularly funny or interesting and while i try to stick to my thesis i'm sure there is a lot in here that doesn't need to be. as a warning it has been forever since i read naruto and i have nver read boruto so i be wrong on some places, although i did try my best to research and support my claims. to save you some time if you choose to read it, i'll break down the sections:

page 1: title

pages 2-4 (very top): intro with context about naruto, with thesis starting at the very bottom of 3

pages 4-5 (midway): on canon sakura

pages 5-7 (very top): explanation of misogyny and premise of essay

pages 7-16: analysis of sakura's characterization through 8 fanfic examples

pages 16 (bottom) - 18 (midway): analysis of perpetual chase for greener grass specifically

pages 18-21 (top): reflection on examples and their significance

pages 21-23: another analysis of perpetual chase for greener grass and what makes it so good

pages 24-25: bibliography

you really don't need to read this all and you don't need to feel obligated to write a response. ik i sound insecure but its more like i don't want anytone to get their hopes up on what is technically a silly-for-funsies essay dkfjsd THAT SAID... i do invite feedback especially constructive criticism or discussion on my points... i don't want to use your blog as a platform for it more than this so if i may plug my side blog @moonlitjellies people can talk to me there with questions concerns thoughts etc

thanks

OK YAYYY SAKURA DISCUSSION TIMR

First off all...... Here is the link in the ask for anyone who wants to read What were talking about: x / link to the fanfiction i wrote taht is mentioned in the essay: x

Anywaysssss

This is funny

I do think nowadaysss... or like for a few years since I became an oldr teenager and then an adult... the fun of being into Naruto comes Mostly from the fandom side of it. Like all the reinterpreting the characters, meta, AUs, etc, I think are prolific more here than most other fandoms (perhaps because in other fandoms it's just... less necessary lol). There was a lot of wasted potential in kishimoto's writing Unforchies... Particularly I am a fan of reading and writing about Sakura ^_^^_^^_^ but we knew that lol so why am I saying it?

Fun fact: Sakura is actually a lot more popular and beloved among the Japanese audience. I don't really know what that says about the Western audience & their expectations for the heroines 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

YAYYYY WE GET A MENTION OF MY LEAST FAVORITE TROPE WHICH IS Homophobic Sakura randomly getting in the way of their yaoi and being evil. Wait the fact that the first fanfic you mentioned was written/last updated in 2024 is wild wow.. I was reading it under the assumption it's some 2009-2014 FF.net relic RKWEKREJR (because I think that trope was more predominant then. I know you yourself are not dogging on this fic or condemning it so maybe I'm being mean but I do think the production of such a thing in Todays Age a bit ridiculous personally). Although it does provide a good example of uplifting being a gay man through belittling women, making them seem frivolous and incomplex in comparison, an efficient example of a still existing social trend

IKTR #girlboss #femalemanipulator 😍😍😍😍😍

This is an irrelevant side note... as a Sakura scholar... I do think of her as a tomboy. Particularly in part 1 I find her presentation as one of a tomboy badly performing femininity because she thinks that's what will attract the object of her affection because He's a Boy.

I don't believe it fits Sakura or most of the Naruto women who are ninjas and career women and clan leaders to be stay at home mothers or even mothers at all in Boruto, but it was for sequel bait so idk how much we can condemn Kishimoto for that writing decision lolllll. Like obviously there is patriarchal bias here (having a family maybe to him and many shounen writers comes across as wrapping up the story as like a sense of "achievement" and "fulfillment" has been made without having to write an extensive epilogue esp. for the girls due to existing preconceptions that women only get life affirmation from becoming mothers, though I do not agree that is the case, and a lot of shounen post-canon families, not just those in Naruto, ironically come across as very unhappy due to such fumbling), but I think it was mostly an excuse to have a big chunk of the cast off-duty and have children so that Boruto could exist and the kids could do stuff. There is both misogyny and misogyny weaponized to create opportunity here Ig as a marketing ploy imo (also possibly to come across as more likeable to the audience bc they are mothers now, taking advantage of the existing mass subconscious bias).

Waittt this is word salad whell whatever im not editing it idc...take it or leave it

Im sooo sorry but I DIDN'T EXPECT WEREWOLF ITACHI TO SHOW UP HERE 😭😭😭. Ok anyways let me not speak because that's not the point of what you're talking about anyway it just caught me off guard...

OK ANYWAY WE COME TO THE PART I GET MOST EXCITED TALKING ABOUT... MYSELF !! 😍

Since you start off by saying we the audience are meant to like Sakura I guess I'll talk a little bit about how I perceive her here (which I don't believe I have done before).

It's hard to say if she is completely likeable here or not. I think among many of the characters who make shitty decisions and say shitty things or show unfavorable personality traits, Sakura is more "agreeable" and easy to like than them. But I also think a lot of her actions are a bit ambiguous. I know you talk within the essay strictly about Sakura and not so much so the specifics of the Ino-Sakura friendship/almost-romance or the Reader-Ino-Sakura situation but I will talk about it here since that's the reason why I find Sakura slightly "questionable" (and the reason why that decision was made).

Sakura is presented in my fic as having more of a "traditional" upbringing, I don't believe super tradcath freak parents but more so what the average woman could possibly go thru - raised with certain patriarchal expectations. I think here she doesn't get in a lot of trouble and is generally perceived as others to be good, quiet, restrained as you called it, i.e. fitting the patriarchal ideal.

But because of this, I think some resentment (subconscious or to some extent she is aware of it) starts to build. She doesn't like these expectations and she doesn't like herself for seemingly fitting into them and she doesn't like others for viewing her that way. So she starts acting out slightly in a way others wouldn't expect of her like for example hanging out "with the boys" even after Ino stops going, smoking weed, whatever who cares... But the questionable part is particularly in the form of Y/n (who is at this point Ino's partner) and Ino herself.

Y/n very obviously I think has a wandering eye. They are not quite infidelious but they come across often like they want to cheat. I think Sakura is aware of this, particularly that she is in some way the apple of their eye at certain moments (unknown whether she is the only one), but indulges in it because it gives her a feeling of "being bad" and fulfills her desire to be "rebellious".

Ino is her best friend who Sakura is defensive and protective of and thinks no one deserves her (I think there are some homoerotic feelings at play pretty obviously here but she was raised in such a heteronormative way she doesn't register things like that, which is made obvious when Y/n says they think Naruto and Sasuke are gay and Sakura is like huh really? - not judgemental of it but just like genuinely surprised), yet at the same time she is getting some amount of gratification from Y/n's attention on her and there are many times where she doesn't seem interested in telling Ino that or telling Y/n off (almost as if she doesn't want to lose their attention not because she likes them as a person but because of what their attention fulfills for her in this phase of her life - the feeling of "acting out" and "being bad"). Anyway I consider this decision of hers to do this some shade of gray but I do not believe it's a crime and I think the fic itself focusing on her POV still leaves her as portrayed positively i.e. just as a person who sometimes makes sympathetic decisions and other times doesn't and who has many problems in her life that lead to those things.

Also I tried to be gender ambiguous about the Reader here as usual in most of my works but since the story largely deals with gender and sexuality I would describe their character as functioning as "socially male" whether that be just a regular cis boy, some closeted genderfuck spectrum case, or a butch lesbian who was rejected from the typical girl groups in childhood and therefore tries to fit in more with "the boys", or any other possibility - which is why their attention serves Sakura who otherwise is oblivious of LGBT things to an extent. Like for example Naruto and Sasuke both come across as pretty typical boys so she does not consider they might be gay (again coming from the way she was raised where someone is only obviously gay if they are GNC - "if you got a pixie cut the neighbors will think ur a lesbiannnn and that's badddd it's badddd if they think ur a lesbiannnn").

I also tried to do a bit of a role reversal flip here where instead of Sakura solely exists as a one note character who is defined by her love for Sasuke (common in both Naruto and fanfiction), it is Sasuke who comes across as quite one dimensional and is defined by his relationship with Sakura instead. There are several hints that his character and story here are more complicated but it is simply not of interest. It's a bit of a fringe choice and makes his character portrayal look admittedly weak and OOC/inaccurate but I quite enjoyed presenting it that way you know as a little laugh to myself.

Yayayayaya lovely work thank you so much! I was glad to read it and enjoyed it a lot, though the topic of misogyny/gender roles does often make me quite angry (particularly why this one shot was written with a lot of vitriol in like two writing sessions, I think I was mad at the time about all this, like straight up just woke up angry about it) I think it's important to engage with it and I thik u did a good job ^_^. I don't have any criticisms of it, I think it was solid and engaging 👍 but maybe I am biased... lol. Thank you for writing and sending it!! Hopefulyl my reply wasn't stupid/irrelevant lawl

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seraphjewel · 6 months ago

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Star Trek Prodigy Season 2 thoughts

This show is everything I love about Star Trek. It may be produced by Nickelodeon, but it doesn't dumb anything down just because it's "for kids." I love how none of the main characters are humans, which not only takes advantage of being animated to give us cool alien designs, but also acts as a great visual for Starfleet's ideals. It's visually stunning and the writing is superb. It gives a season-spanning story while also making time for those wacky space shenanigans we expect from the franchise. It's funny, it's creative, it's heartfelt, it's emotionally powerful. The season finales for both the first and second season had me in tears.

Aside from adding to the chorus begging people to watch season 2, I'm just going to share some thoughts on this season. I tried so hard to watch it slowly but it's easy to binge. I'm now watching through it a second time. Cut for spoilers.

As a fan of the older Trek shows, I love how much the show clearly loves older Trek. We saw it a lot in season one, but since season 2 has the legacy characters in more prominent focus, it's more obvious. They are written with such loving care, every part of who they are is nailed down perfectly. There are so many callbacks and references and small touches that are scattered in the dialogue and visuals. Amazing Easter Eggs for Trek enthusiasts-- and another reason to go back and watch, to find ones you didn't notice!

This season made me much more interested in Chakotay and Wesley as characters. I was pretty ambivalent toward them both when watching their respective shows. I didn't find Wesley annoying, I just didn't care for him one way or the other. So having him return as this slightly unhinged Time Lord made him so much more appealing to me as a character. The fact that he was willing to go to some extreme lengths in order to get the timeline just right was some fun gray morality. I also liked that he seemed like he wasn't always sure when he was in the timeline. It reminded me of Mantis in the Guardians of the Galaxy game. And that made perfect sense coming from someone who could jump through multiple timelines just through thought. Wesley was complex, intriguing, and I'm so glad for him and his actor. He deserved it.

In a similar vein, Chakotay was one of the least interesting Voyager crew members to me. This isn't necessarily his fault. He was going up against some pretty big personalities, like the Doctor, Tom, B'Elanna, Seven, and Janeway. I also don't think the writers really knew what to do with his character. But again Prodigy wrote in some depth and complexity. They actually identified what tribe he was from. Watching the episode where the Protostar crew finds him made me want to write fanfic about Chakotay. That's how good they were at making this guy interesting for me! I loved seeing his slow descent into isolation and bitterness; I loved how almost insecure he was at times; I loved how he took command and led the crew. I'm a fan now and I want to go back to watch Voyager for him.

The season also made me a Janeway/Chakotay shipper. I saw the episodes in Voyager where they were feeling things, but personally I'm glad that they never crossed that line. There are way too many stories with female leads that act like they have an obligation to give her a romance, when the same would not be true if the lead was a male. In my opinion, it was better there was no definite love story for Janeway on Voyager since that was going against expectations. As Prodigy season two told its story, I was definitely picking up on strong love vibes between Chakotay and Janeway. I was convinced they were separated lovers, and when they were together they couldn't keep their eyes or hands off each other. It was excellent visual storytelling. I wanted them to be together at the end. For someone who didn't ship them before (I was more into Tom/B'Elanna), I'd say that's a big achievement for the show.

To sum up, I love this show so much! My only request is they try to incorporate Deep Space Nine somehow. #SetCoordinatesforSeason3

#star trek #star trek prodigy #spoilers #thoughts

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mybadlywrittenstories · 1 year ago

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Two Different Worlds (Jasper Hale Fanfic)

A/N: Hey guys it has been FOREVER since I wrote fanfic and I completely forgot my old Tumblr stories, but I am back at it fellas, please feel free to give any feedback just please be respectful. Also I prefer writing using my OCs instead of using y/n stuff)

Word Count: 2,022

The gentle drumming of raindrops melodically dropping onto the windshield lulled me into a peaceful half-sleep in the back of my father's police cruiser. I was vaguely aware of the light conversation between my father Charlie and my younger sister Bella.

The awkwardness between those two was palpable in the air, for two people who hardly got along they truly were unbelievably alike. I let their uncomfortable discussion pass me by and focused on the other issues that were running rampant around my mind. The first was the fact that I was halfway through my senior year, and now I had to transfer to a new school. Well, I didn't have to per se, but considering I was still freshly 18 and the only job I held back in Arizona was a retail warehouse job that paid 7.15 an hour-- and I still had to buy my own car and pay for my own college-- I wasn't exactly in a situation to move out on my own back in my sunny home of Pheonix Arizona.

Not that I hated Forks, it was definitely a quaint little town that held a certain charm to it. Truthfully, I don't quite understand my mother Renee's and Bella's pure hatred for this place was, but to each, there own I suppose. I was just disappointed to leave Arizona, so close to graduation, my two friends Liv and Abbi, and my now ex-boyfriend Mark, had to stay back in Arizona.

A throb of pain ripped through my chest and tangled itself around my heart when I thought about Mark, more guilt than grief. We had only been dating casually-- more so for the fun of it than due to any real feelings we had shared-- or so I thought. When I had ended things with him a week before my departure, He revealed he harbored much stronger feelings than I knew. Our breakup was still amicable however, in the end, he agreed long distance was not meant for us-- well more so, me.

I had also promised to call him, Liv, and Abbi, as much as possible and Skype at least twice a week. The guilt-ridden thorns pressing into my heart tightened a bit as I remembered his hopeful expression when I left, Liv later informed me that he was harboring hope that he'd be able to convince me to try long distance with him once I was settled in. It wasn't out of the question I supposed, but I never saw our little 4-month fling lasting longer than the end of senior year-- but who knows where life will take me--

"Cali"

I hope I can at least make some new friends here, even if they only last a short time.

"Cali wake up, Sweetie."

Scratch that-- I hope my sister can make some friends. She's always alone. We lived in Arizona for years and she never made any real friends, that's not healthy. I hope--

"Calliope Swan!"

My father urged, shaking my shoulder gently. My eyes snapped open, my body jerking forward as I took in my surroundings. My father had parked his beat-up cruiser in the driveway of my second home. A sense of nostalgia washed over me unexpectedly, I had very few memories of my time living here but some microscopic part of my brain still recognized this home as my childhood home; I did spend the first 2 years of my life calling this two-story rundown house as my home.

"Sorry," I sighed groggily, "I didn't realize I had fallen asleep."

"It's alright." My dad smiled, his endearing awkward smile, "I already brought in your bags, so why don't you go make yourself at home."

"Aye Aye Captian." I joked, mock-saluting him before I climbed out of the back seat, grabbing my over-stuffed backpack and messenger bag. Charlie showed me up to my room-- completely unnecessary considering I've spent two weeks of my summers and all of my spring breaks here for the past 16 years-- and I had spent the first 2 years of my life living here.

My room was just as I had left it last summer, with the same sage-green walls and dark oak floors. My stormy grey curtains were slid open, the sun illuminating the room to the best of its abilities despite the gloomy weather outside. My full-sized mattress draped in a deep blue cover and covered with small stuffed animals I had collected over the years was shoved into the far left corner in front of one of the two windows. At the foot of my bed was my old wooden storage chest, the small metal latch holding down the lid was the only thing holding back the absurd amount of clutter I knew it contained-- all those distant memories.

The rest of my room was pretty simple but cluttered. A bedside table was tucked next to my bed, and a llama-shaped lamp sat on it with photos and books stacked upon it. On the opposing side of the room was my comfortable but old faded emerald green plush chair, and a matching ottoman. My dresser was overflowing with clothing and I cringed at the idea of having to go through all of them to make space for the new clothing I had brought. The mirror attached to the dresser has polaroids of me and all my friends, from both Forks and Arizona. Directly next to the door was my hooded desk, again more random items, and my ancient computer decorated it. In the final corner was my sauder wooden shelves, stocked full of all my worn-out second-hand books.

I breathed in the sweet-- slightly dewy scent of my room and let out a relaxed sigh. This won't be so bad, this is just as much of my home as Arizona was.

Taking note of my plethora of bags stacked in the corner next to the bookshelves I decided I should probably thank Dad for taking them upstairs for me, There really was a lot of them. However, when I turned around I saw my dad's back as he made his way down the hallways toward Bella's room

Oh well, I'll tell him later.

The rest of the day passed by swiftly and without much incident, other than a very swift visit from the Black family where Charlie had very graciously bought my younger sister her first car. Then, very sheepishly informed me that he'd go 50-50 with me on a used car-- that definitely stung a bit but I could understand. Bella was not the fondest of our dad and it was an obvious way of trying to get her to warm up to living in Forks, and to his credit, it did work. She was practically bouncing with excitement when she explored her new car, little Jacob Black following her around like a puppy while she did.

Jacob Black was adorable and sweet, he'd make a good friend for Bella. She would just have to open up to him, he's a few years younger so she used to gravitate toward his older sisters Rachel and Rebecca although they've both moved away from Washington. Last I heard Rachel was away at college and Rebecca was married to a Samoan Surfer. So Bella would have to make new friends, and the twin's nerdy little brother looked like he would do; he certainly seemed eager enough to befriend her.

Other than that though, the day was mainly uneventful. Charlie ordered some celebratory pizza and wings from a local joint, I made some idle chit-chat with Charlie as we ate, but Bella mainly stayed quiet; Stewing in her self-pity a little more than I would've liked.

I helped Charlie pack up the leftovers for his lunch at work tomorrow, making a suggestive comment that perhaps he should consider eating a more healthy lunch, which was quickly shot down by him.

"I'm as healthy as a horse, Cali. I wouldn't be sheriff if I weren't."

"Okay, Okay, Whatever you say Pops. Just don't want to have to rush you to the ER one day due to a heart attack. I get enough ER time because of Bella."

This elicited a small chuckle from him, "That girl sure is a magnet for trouble isn't she?"

"I don't know where she got the clutz gene from, but I think we single-handedly kept the Pheonix ER in business. It was just a month ago we had to take her in 'cause she burned the crap out of her arm on a tea kettle." I laughed, remembering the look of horror in her eyes when the doctor had to inform her that she needed to keep her arm bandaged up for the next week-- and in that AZ heat that would get rather sweaty and uncomfortable quick.

When I noticed Charlie had gone silent while washing up a few dishes, I looked over at him. His face was pinched up in deep thought and from what I could tell concern. "Hey, you good dad?"

"Huh?" He looked over to me and met my gaze, looking a tad embarrassed he had been caught zoning out, he dried off the last dish in his hand and looked over to me seriously, "Can I ask you a serious question, Cali?" He asked, taking on the voice of a worried father.

"Ya, go ahead."

"Do you think..." He paused and thought for a moment, sorting out whatever thoughts were running around his mind. "I know, me and you are very different people. Everyone always says me and Bella are a lot alike but... I know you. I know you're gonna be okay here even if it wasn't necessarily what you wanted."

I opened my mouth to object, I didn't not want to move to Forks. I just was hesitant due to almost being ready to go off to college. He continued on before I had the chance to interrupt though.

"But Bella, she's so quiet, and I can tell she doesn't want to be here. I hate seeing her so upset... I know I'm not the most fun person to be around and I'm going to try and change that but do you think you could look after her? Let me know how I'm doing... If she is happy? Make sure she's doing okay at school and stuff."

"Of course, Dad. I'll keep an eye out for her." I smiled cautiously. This was the first time in a long time I had seen him this worried; the last time was when I came out to visit one year, and it was the first year Bella had decided not to come to Forks to see him. He talked to me back then, asking if Bella was okay and if he had done something wrong. My heart throbbed when I imagined what it must be like for him, loving a daughter so much and feeling so hopeless; as if nothing he would ever do would be the right thing to do.

"Thank you." He said with a timid smile, we both continued to clean up the kitchen in relative silence. I suspected he was doing a bit more cleaning than he would typically do on account of me and Bella being here-- although Bella had already excused herself up to her room.

Once the Kitchen was practically spotless, I took it as my turn to excuse myself into my bedroom. I finished what I could by unpacking my room, opting to leave all my bathroom supplies in a small basket on my dresser, instead of taking up the limited bathroom space. My new books were put away on my shelf, my make-up on the desk next to my small popup mirror. My shoes were lined up on the wall beside my door. The only thing left to do was go through my clothes and that was a challenge to tackle another day.

As I lay in my bed, listening to the gentle sounds of rain hitting the rooftop, I tried to envision what this new chapter in my life would hold for me; however brief it may be.

#jasper hale #jasper whitlock #jasper cullen #twilight #twilight fanfic #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #oc #original character #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc

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welcome-to-hyrulepark · 5 months ago

Text

[HYRULE PARK: 5TH ANNIVERSARY SPECIAL]

July 30th marked 5 years since I published the first drawing of Link meeting the boys from South Park. You have no idea what has happened over the years. First of all, Hyrule Park has outlived most of the other South Park AU comics such as Mirai Park, Hell Park, Revenge Park, SP Fleur Blue, SP Left 4 Dead, my pals South Park High and others. While they were actively developing and then abruptly canceled, Hyrule Park was just drawing its second chapter😆. During this time, my AU acquired a couple of fans but the comic took so long to develop that most of those fans lost interest in it (and some even lost interest in Zelda and/or South Park in general). But despite all this, I do not lose hope of acquiring my own fan base who would draw me fanarts, made memes, or just asking me, "When is the next part?"

Guys, I hope that your interest in Hyrule Park will be renewed, because I actually waited all these years for the release of Tears of the Kingdom so that I could immediately build the entire chronology of events, and at the same time honed my writing skills. Someone will say: “Hey, why do you need to hone something? Your pursuit of ideals will only destroy you! Do whatever you want.” And I really did. And here is the result: the comic version is being reworked, because I started making it back when I knew very little about the lore of both the Breath of the Wild saga and the Zelda universe in general.

Fun fact: I did not plan this story as a multimedia saga. It was supposed to be a short banter comic about Stan, Craig, and their homies ending up the world of Breath of the Wild, meeting Link, going on an adventure, saving Zelda and going home. But then I found out that the BotW sequel is in development, then I found out how fan comics work and what is interesting to fandoms. Then Age of Calamity was released, and I came up with a prequel fanfic called Hyrule Warriors: Backstories, after which I learned about new needs in the fandom. By the time I adapted this story for Ficbook.me, its canon had changed to such an extent that I had to rewrite everything from the beginning. Fortunately, I only wrote the first two chapters. Then I got other projects (FNAF MA, The EDM Gang and even the lore of my cybersona grew into a plot worthy of a manga), I had a need for promotion, so I started doing all these marathons of my favorite animated series and AU, taking part in Linktober and Art Fight... In the end, I have ADHD, a mental disorder that makes it hard to concentrate on anything, so my brain needed a change of activity all the time, which distracted me from Hyrule Park.

So, yeah. There are a crap ton of reasons for delays. But there is good news: I am already prepared enough to continue this story. I changed its format, and now I don’t have to draw every scene of the comic. Instead, I can describe some of them with text. I also formulated a more or less clear picture of further events. All I need are those for whom I will try, and I need to know about such people through feedback.

Hyrule Park - 5 years later, everything is just beginning!

[OG DRAWING] [BETTER QUALITY]

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undeadbanjos · 4 months ago

Note

Pls tell us about the divorce over fic

pffft yeah okay. but i warn, it's not as fun as it sounds. so. tw for an abusive marriage/relationship.

story time.

so those who follow me currently probably know me primarlily for being one of three people crazy over wishshipping or joey wheeler in general in the yugioh fandom. particularly writing a good 80+ chapter long fic.

however. this was not my first fic. my first fic... was for in space with markiplier.

for those who dont know, markiplier (yes, the youtuber) actually has his own series of (mostly) choose your own adventure videos. and theyre all connected. his last series of videos was split into two massive parts, and he did this q&a after it was all said and done and someone asked if he'd ever do a part 3.

he said, "no, that's up to one of you guys to write."

well after 3 days of obsessively checking ao3 no one had taken up that challenge and even though i had never written a piece of fiction in my life the hyperfixation was so strong i sat down and started writing.

and dear god something came over me. i had 8 chapters written in the span of a day.

for a while, id post two chapters a day. which is...insane. like why the fuck did i do that? but eventually i managed to narrow it down to one chapter a day (which i know is still insane and for some fucking reason is what i currently do when in my writing fits.)

being this manic long fic writer that came out of no where i started to get some attention. memes were made in support of my story. people were talking about it. hell, i started to make friends, really a first for me in fandom space. someone made a joke about making a discord server. i asked if that was a legitimate interest to anyone and i got an overwhelming yes from several people so, i made one.

my husband at the time, found out i was doing something different in my off time. i'd put the baby to bed and go to my computer and start writing. i was laughing a lot more and checking my phone a lot (for fic comments, a habit i still have while in my posting fits). finally he confronted me.

"What is it you're doing on your phone all the time?"

"I.... wrote a fanfic. I get a lot of comments."

"Is it a smut?"

annoyed, I confessed that yes, there were a few smut chapters. He asked if he could read it. I gave him the link.

he was deeply disturbed by the smut. (He didn't even read the rest of it. like....the actual story I was writing.) the smut? I mean dude you could go look at it but I mean it's pretty vanilla sex between two consenting fictional adults, but whatever. I knew he wouldn't like it. at this point in our marriage he had already stated everything I liked was annoying.

anyway. when he found out I had made friends... he got really upset. he didn't want me to have other "influences tainting my mind." i shot him back with the fact he has friends online, so why couldn't i? he didn't like it, but he warned me to be careful.

then i met sitch.

those of you who know me are nodding their head. ah, yes sitch. those who have stumbled upon this rambling probably can tell this is where the story takes a turn because i know how to set things up. by god ive written like 160 chapters of fanfiction at this point.

anywho. this guy comments on my fic and asks permission to make fanart for it. this was so fucking wild to me. fanart? for MY fic? like who would have thought. i reply enthusiastically with a yes and tell him im on tumblr so please tag me so i can see it. a few days pass and i get a dm. it's the same guy. he's made the fanart. i love it. we chat a little about the fic. about in space. about music. slowly it starts creeping into talking about life. about anything, everything. it was kinda wild how i had met someone and felt like ive known him forever. this of course, is sitch. when the discord thing came up, i decided to ask him for help, because i literally didnt even have a discord at the time.

sitch helps me with the discord. we find some mods. we open the floodgates. swear to god about 40-50 people come in. some are more chatty than others. we all chat like good friends. i update the fic daily. we all find out we relate to each other a lot. we have movie nights and game nights. i continue writing the fic, even getting help from sitch at this point. he's become sort of my beta reader. (and now he's my editor thank god the yujou means friendship people have no idea how blessed they are)

i realize. fuck. these people...really relate to me. like me even. and i like them.

and sitch....sitch in particular...i really like.

i am in deep shit.

at this point, my husband is making it well known how much he disapproves how im spending my time. not that... he wanted to spend time with me though? he locked himself in his office and would play his own games. what he didnt like is i had found people that i relate to. that i could talk to. meanwhile i was reaching the point i was afraid to say literally anything around him.

at this point, he started teasing me about "having a crush on markiplier" and he would "joke" about me leaving him for markiplier or some shit. He started arguing with me about sexuality and gender out of no where, knowing what my stance was on it.

I don't really want to get into what my breaking point was.

A few weeks went by. I started to confide in my friends, and I started to confide in Sitch. One night, my brain came up with some logic that if I told him about the feelings I was developing (because they were only growing) he would reject me and we'd laugh it off.

Unfortunately it wasn't so simple.

For a week we were in this odd stalemate. Living in different countries but talking constantly. Having essentially an emotional affair, but knowing there was nothing really to do. I had no belief that I could make it on my own, and I knew I would get a lot of backlash from my family if I were to leave my husband. The weekend came and my husband got it out of me. I had feelings for one of my online friends. And I had confessed it to him.

My husband took my laptop and went through the messages. All of them. i fled to my parents house and tried to warn sitch that he had my laptop.

The next day, my husband convinced me I needed to delete everything. The discord server. My Tumblr. Even the fic. He essentially convinced me I was at an all time low of horribleness, and I believed him.

A week later I couldn't take it anymore. I missed my friends. Id sadly felt more loved by them than anyone around me. Which yeah, is pretty damn pathetic. I left my husband, and found my friends had already made a new discord, waiting for me. They had downloaded the fic, which I slowly re-uploaded and eventually finished. And sitch and I slowly built our relationship, have now met in person, and we're hoping he's able to move down here soon.

So yeah. I wrote a Markiplier fanfic and it led to me getting a divorce. Which honestly, thank god. I don't want to think about what would have happened to me if I hadn't.

#shut up banjos #trauma dump #cw abuse #cw manipulation #cw emotional abuse

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