#goes double when you want to think about nothing else but that thing but no one wants to hear it

[autumnoakes]

does anyone else ever like. feel guilty for enjoying something that no one else seems to like? like.... hey i enjoy this video game. surely there are other people who enjoy it too. and then you go looking for those people and they do exist, but they exist with a ton of people who are like "this game sucks major balls i hate it and i think everyone else should hate it too" and it feels like shit. i'm genuinely so sorry for not being someone who hates it i guess i'll just. keep it to myself then.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Priority One

You come first for Jason ~800 words

At his core, Jason Todd puts himself last. He's the first to jump in front of a bullet, first charge into a burning fire, first to drop dead center into a group of thugs.

It's not that he doesn't care about his safety, it's just that he deems his safety as lesser. He's stronger, sturdier, and if he's the one that goes down instead of someone else? That's a good thing.

He knows people would worry. People would miss him. But they'd move on the same way they did before. They would fill the gaps in the spaces he leaves, and there wouldn't be a need to pick the pieces off the floor because nothing would break at his loss.

At least, that used to be the truth. It was the truth until you nestled your way into his heart, and he somehow became a fixture in your life. He didn't mean to do it, didn't mean to make you fall in love with him, and he certainly didn't mean to fall in love with you.

But he did.

And now he makes sure you sleep on the inside on the bed, safe between the wall and him. He walks between you and the road, always on guard for swerving cars and shady civilians. He checks your apartment during patrol, though it's more for his peace of mind than yours.

Jason Todd still puts himself last, but the thought of you comes first, when he dives into the line of fire. If he doesn't come home, who's going to fix the leaky faucet or take out the trash when it gets full?

You could do it, he knows you could, but he doesn't want you to have to. So, he upgrades his armor when he would normally put it off. He's quicker to stop the blood dripping from his wounds. He's more aware, when he's shifting through the shadows of an enemy base.

He never worried about what he would leave behind. Not until you started to kiss his jaw before his nightly patrol, not until you started to reach for him every time he came home, beckoning him to your side and under the waiting, warm blankets.

He worries now. He makes plans, sets aside money, and makes his closest allies promise to keep an eye on you if he ever can't. He becomes your shield, whether you're aware of it or not, he has you covered.

You're his priority, and in becoming so, he's slowly becoming a priority, too. You're happier when he's okay, so he steadies his reckless tendencies. He dismantles the bomb in his helmet. He turns on his tracker for Oracle to keep an eye on.

For all the times he looks after himself, it's with you on his mind. He double checks his gear because he needs to pick up paper towels on the way home for you. He cleans his grappling hook because you asked him if he wanted to go out to dinner and a movie tomorrow.

He waits for backup before breaking up Penguin's latest smuggling ring because you recommended a book for him to read, and he only has a handful of chapters left to finish.

It's you, and you, and you again, that gives him a reason to want to make it to sunrise. It's you, that makes him really want to live.

He wants to see coast cities and tiny forest towns outside of whatever crime he's hunting down. He wants to travel and explore and try everything and anything– as long as it's with you.

He'd give up the world, give up everything he knows, as long as he can give you what you want. But all you ever ask, even if it's not in so many words, is for him to come home. So he does. Every night. Every day. Every time. Jason Todd finds his way back to you because your wants are his first concern.

He sheds his armor and kicks off his boots and leaves everything but the thought of you at your windowsill. He smiles when you murmur your sleepy greetings because he knows you think his smiles are pretty. He checks the locks and changes into the pajama set that matches with yours because you giggle every time you see it.

And all these things are so little yet so big all in one. They fill the cracks beneath his skin, and when he finally has you in his arms again, Jason Todd knows that nothing will be greater than this, than you.

There is no adversary, no injury or mission, that would have his gaze from straying from his singular goal; making it back to your arms to fill your days with all you deserve. With joy. With love. And for as long as you desire it, with him.

[deadhands69]

OKAY PLLLLLLS giving bakugo his first ever bj. He’s so nervous but excited. He’s 22 and is finally ready to let himself feel something other than anger and frustration, and he’s letting you give him so much pleasure.

Okay!

MDNI

Katsuki Bakugo is terrified. He knows he shouldn’t be, all of his friends have done it before and talk about getting blowjobs nonstop. But still, as he looks down at you hovering above the zipper of his pants, he can't help it if his hands are shaking and sweating. What if it’s a weird shape and he has no clue until you’re that close? Or maybe he will cum before you even put it in your mouth and then you’ll tell everyone. Worse, what if he tastes bad?

Ironically, his anxiety is what got him into this mess in the first place. Everyone kept saying he needs to relax. Making jokes about how if only he got his dick sucked maybe he wouldn’t be so this *gesturing at all of him.* Eventually, you realized there may actually be some truth to that and took it upon yourself to help him out. 

So, when you asked if you could give him a blowjob - of course he said yes. A million times yes. Under the stress of it all, he really wants it too. He hasn't said it out loud, but he's been looking forward to doing this with you all week. It's all he's been able to think about. And when you say you'll make him feel good, he trusts you.

“Okay, let’s just - let’s just get this over with,” he stutters, unsure of how to properly convey the mix of feelings he has. Fortunately, you're used to reading through his roughness.

You pull down his pants and underwear, revealing an absolutely gorgeous dick. It’s apparent he showered and tried to clean up the hair around it to be presentable, but it goes way beyond that. The slight curve, perfect shape, and rosy tip are beautiful.

You’ve been staring too long and he's starting to look uncomfortable; you pull yourself back to reality.

"So pretty," you murmur, trailing a finger along the vein running down his length.

His fists are clenched around the bunched up sheets near his hips. In some combination of nervousness and excitement (they're nearly the same feeling, he's finding) you can tell he’s trying hard to control his breathing. Under the tenseness, you can still tell he's ecstatic this is happening. It's the way he looks at you. How he got hard the moment you walked into the room. The way his painfully hard dick twitches at your lightest touch.

When you lick him from base to tip, he swears everything else in the world disappears. Melting like he's ice cream and you're a hot summer day. Nothing else could possibly matter when your mouth feels like that. This is what everyone was talking about? Nothing anyone told him prior to this did any justice to how amazing this feels.

You take him fully into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you slide up and down. One of your hands cups his balls while the other grips his base, holding him in place.

Involuntarily, he whimpers at your touch. His deathgrip on the bed lessens. He runs his fingers through your hair, moving it out of your face to watch. Your eyes meet his as you stare up at him; it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He gasps as you pull back, swirling your tongue around his tip.

"You feel so fucking good," he moans at you. Hips jerking up, searching for any amount of friction he can find.

Normally, he hates messes but he’ll make a massive exception for this. Who would have known that seeing your spit dripping down his cock would be so hot?

He doesn’t last long, which you take as a compliment. 

“Fuck, bout to cum,” he warns, assuming you’ll want to stop.

Rather than move out of the way, you continue what you’re doing. Taking him deeper into your mouth before he blows his load into the back of your throat. He sits up, doubling over to wrap his arms around you as much as he can. As far as he can remember, that’s the hardest he’s ever cum. Although, admittedly, he can’t remember much right now.

Pulling you up with him, he lays back on the bed. Kissing your swollen lips, he can taste himself on you.

And he’ll never be able to look at your perfect mouth the same way again.

[risestarkiss]

Being Baby Blue

Rise Ramblings #313

Leonardo Hamato is…an interesting individual.

As a middle child, he doesn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of the oldest, nor is he fawned upon or babied over like the youngest. Therefore, he ends up having more of a lackadaisical approach to life.

In his free time, instead of training like Raph, Leo can normally be found reading comic books.

And for good reason! Someone has to be up on the latest issues of Jupiter Jim and his space odysseys.

But, other than being a Jupiter Jim superfan, who is Leonardo Hamato?

If you ask Leo, he's...*takes out a list*: “Primetime,” “First,” “The Best,” “Number One,” “The Champion,” or some other iteration of all of the above.

...Huh. Anyways...

Of course, the first thing Leo would tell you is that he's the team's "Face Man."

As the "Face Man," he’s the one that turns up the charm when they need to schmooze their way out of, or into, something.

He's the face of the group! It's a very important title, right?

Well, in this scene with Hueso, we learn what Leo really feels about his place on the team.

"There's no team with just a face man." "I'm nothing without them."

Hmm. If he thinks that he is nothing without his brothers, then what's the deal with all of this "Number One" and "Champion" talk?

I believe that Leo is exhibiting a form of Reaction Formation.

Reaction Formation is a primitive defense mechanism that involves transforming one's unacceptable feelings or emotions into the opposite.

"Solicitude may be a reaction-formation against cruelty...romantic notions of chastity and purity may mask crude sexual desires, altruism may hide selfishness, and piety may conceal sinfulness."

Leo has been creating these grandiose titles and this larger-than-life persona for himself as a means to cope with his feelings of insecurity, his anxieties, and combat his self-deprecation.

Gee, forming a larger-than-life persona to counteract their suppressed feelings also reminds me of someone else we know…

But, I digress...

Behind the fabrications, his insecurities, who he pretends to be, and who he wants to be, the real Leo is still on display, starting as early as the first episode.

He's attentive, he understands the team's strengths and weaknesses, he assesses situations, he comes up with great plans on the fly, and he is a voice of reason.

These are all the characteristics of a great leader.

However, something happens when he’s actually appointed as such.

There he goes again. He's cocky, arrogant, and act's as if he's unphased even by the prospect of loosing his brothers. If this is Reaction Formation, then what is he trying to mask with these behaviors?

Previously, he was masking his insecurities, his anxieties, and his self-deprecation, but with the faces he pulls when he thinks no one can see them, I want to say the newest emotion is fear.

He is terrified of being the leader and floundering under his new responsibilities. He's scared of the consequences of his actions, and what those consequences may mean for his brothers. However, instead of voicing his insecurities, or communicating with his team, he doubles down and falls back into old habits.

The "Face Man" persona is turned up to an 11, and things get worse and worse until...

His greatest fears have been realized.

He has failed as a leader. He has failed his brothers. He has failed to stop the invasion, and they are all going to die because of his failures.

Now he's faced with the harsh reality of his own mistakes, thus he finally faces himself.

"It's scary to be responsible for the lives you protect, your team...your family. But we do it anyway because that's what it means to be a hero."

He may be speaking to Raph, but he's talking about himself.

His words are his true feelings, the same feelings that have been holding him back this entire time. By opening up, he's able to surrender to himself and let it all go.

And it's the breakthrough we all have been waiting for.

What Leo doesn't know is that through letting go, he's able to become the true face of the group he is destined to be.

He's the face of hope.

Update: This post now also exists in video form. 😌💙

○○○○

Previous | Being Big Red

Next | Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two • Orange, Baby!

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

[vyva-melinkolya]

we all agree that the push towards short form, vertical video (tiktok/reels/shorts) is ruining fucking everything right? Tiktok has been useful for the dissemination of political information (e.g Gaza) i’ll give it that, but that feels moreso a result of meta and twitters algorithms being just a little *more*’evil and censor happy. And i want to make it very clear that my hatred for tiktok has nothing to do with the fact that it was a product of a Chinese company, because i see a lot of critiques relying on some sort of sinophobic conspiracy. On the contrary, it’s what tiktok has become in the vacuum of western popular culture and marketing that makes me fearful.

I know that every generation faces a new, polarizing technology and inevitably, there are those among said generation who will critique it. That is the nature of things. However, there is also something to be said about how, with the acceleration of technology (running parallel to the acceleration of capitalism, acceleration towards collapse etc), each coming generation faces an increasingly more malevolent “advancement”. TLDR, i’m going to talk my shit.

I’m going to speak on the aspect that is most relavent to me, as a musician. I am petrified by what short form video is doing to music and to musicians. I think that tiktok provides the illusion of making music and being a musician more “accessible” while actually pouring gasoline on the fire that the pop music machine had already started. Standards for what popular culture “expects” from music are being doubled and tripled. Let’s talk about song length. Success and marketability favoring shorter songs is not something new, it has been the trend for decades. But with short form video, it goes even further. You’re not just hearing the same song over and over on the radio, you’re hearing the same 15-30 seconds of the same song over and over again. This in-turn, starts to influence the way people write music, persuading people to make songs that *could* have that 15 second appeal. There is an art to pop music, there is an art to writing a catchy hook—this is something else. We weren’t meant to hear or understand music like that. There are so many songs from reels that i found annoying, until i heard them in their full context. It’s insidious. It makes everything feel like a fucking commercial, even if nothing is being advertised.

I’m going to pull directly from someone else’s experiences, someone who’s music seems to be everywhere on short form videos. The ambient musician My Head Is Empty has a hundred million streams on the song “i was only temporary”. Despite that exposure, they experience “never ending copywrite issues” and have “received death threats” by people who refuse to credit them when using their song. Pulling a quote here, from a comment on their own post

“vyva_melinkolya unfortunately it just gets worse. i saw a bot content page that steals pod cast footage and spams dozens of videos with my song stolen, comment on a "motivation" spam content , who actually made a post telling people the name of my song, and the previous page i mentioned, the pod cast spam commented on that video saying "Bro stop don't give out the sauce. this audio helps me pull numbers brooo" - so people are actively INTENTIONALLY stealing it and telling people to not credit me. like. u can't make this stuff up”

Beyond this, My Head Is Empty feels frustrated that despite all this exposure, the rest of their work (nine albums) as a musician remains under appreciated, and i think that frustration is 100% valid. People cannot fully appreciate music, or even understand it as a work of art created by another human, when it’s taken so far out of its context. Again, the soul being sucked out of art by “the machine” isn’t anything new but, this is a whole other level. Being a musician is more expensive than ever, streaming earns you fractions of a cent etc, it all feeds into itself.

When a song or a musician i love deeply finds its way on to tiktok (let’s use Duster’s “Stars Will Fall”, one of my favorite songs ever as an example)I am not upset that i cant “gatekeep” it anymore. I’m not upset by the idea of something I love and hold dearly finding a larger audience. I AM upset in the manner in which it is being disseminated. I’m upset with art I hold dear to me being chopped up and used as “trending audio”. When I saw Duster in concert recently, lStars Will Fall” was the song I was most looking forward to hearing. It was the last song they played, and it was the song seemly everyone chose to talk loudly over. The audience was mostly people my age and younger. This complaint might come off as petty or pretentious or cliche, i frankly do not give a shit.

Let’s talk about how musicians are expected to promote music on tiktok/reels. This is a matter of opinion, at the risk of sounding very pretentious: the “POV we are x band from x” “My label says i need x followers before x” “posting this video until c musician notices me”. I understand that some of it is in jest but, what the fuck? When did this become the norm? I do not blame anyone for promoting their music like this, but we should want more for ourselves. I’ve always said being a musician is deeply embarassing, inherently. If being a musician is inherently embarassing then what is this? I dont have a solution for this, and the music industry has always been ugly and bloodthirsty and seldom fruitful— but i feel like the very small amount of dignity we had as artists is now lost and I cant fucking stand it. Artists seem to promote the same single with dozens of reels over the course of months, hoping that something sticks. I dont want to sound like i’m shaming or, again, sound like i can provide a solution. I’m just very fucking sorry that it seems like this is “the way”. And personally, i’m scared that if i dont “get with the program”, im going to fail.

Again, all of this speaks to larger trends in entertainment industry and even larger trends in capitalism. But i’m just airing specifics right now because frankly? I cant take it anymore.

[feitanii-ll]

ᰔᩚ 𝗠𝗬 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟, 𝗠𝗬 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟 ᰔᩚ

husband! katsuki x afab!reader

(implied advances/pursuing (not from katsuki), cursing, hella fluff, little ooc kats.)

★ — in which,, katsuki finds someone trying to pursue his wife in a grocery store.

katsuki has a lot of pride.

how could he not? being one of the top heros in Japan, bursting through the ranks at unimaginable speeds, accomplishing things that no one else in the world can even comprehend. he's got a house (a few of them), nice cars, neat clothes, ect— overall, an exceptional lifestyle. something that he deserves to be prideful about. things to be proud of. and though he appreciates it; the fame, the wealth, the prestige— nothing, and I mean nothing, trumps the pride he has for you. his wife.

it's all he feels in the moment, staring at you from across the isle of the grocery store, unbeknownst to you. his sweet little wife, going off on a stranger, an absolute weirdo, for not leaving you alone, he believes. for not accepting your rejection, maybe? he can only assume. hell, who cares anymore?

he had driven you both to the grocery store, wanting to do some quick shopping for the upcoming weekend. but your man was just so so tired from working all week, you insisted on going in alone so that he could relax, promising you'd just be a minute.

he took it upon himself to go looking inside the store for you when 45 minutes pass, leading him to now.

katsuki is grinning, almost maniacally as he watches you, arms crossed over his pride-swollen chest. the conversation is something along the lines of,

'I said no, didn't I? back the fuck up.' with your brows furrowed cutely, a disgusted sneer on your face.

when the loser persists, you get loud, almost wanting to make a scene. you cut him off with a, "nuh uh! I'm tryna' be nice, but you're pissing me off, now, sir"

katsuki's still watching, wanting to see how things plays out. he won't let the man get too close. won't let anything escalate further. he just wants to see you handle yourself, like he knows you can. you're his girl, after all.

and when the man doesn't let up, you take to slipping your phone out of your pocket, taking your eyes off the man for only a second to speed dial katsuki. he sees it all, watching as you press the phone to your ear, ready to summon him. he grins wider, biting back a smile when he feels his phone vibrate in his front, right pocket. you're still cursing the stranger out, now embarrassing him in front of the other shoppers as you wait for your husband to answer the phone.

"—don't know what you thought this was. my husband don't play that. he's crazy." you scoff, thoroughly pissed.

and that's the icing on the cake. it's what has him cackling, celebrating, almost to himself. he basically doubles over as his giggles hit him hard. he wasn't expecting those words to come out of your mouth, but God, were they music to his ears.

'thas' my fuckin' girl.' he sighs internally.

you did everything right.

he thinks it's about time he interferes. slipping a cllaosued hand into his front pocket, katsuki pulls out his vibrating phone, declining the call as he approaches you.

the confusion you feel when your husband doesn't answer is temporary. your expression goes from frustrated to surprised when his voice rings out just above you, swimming pleasantly through your ears.

"kats—" you look up, surprised as you meet his gaze, a wave of relief washing over you.

"don't worry, babe," he's still grinning, but the look he gives the man is one of familiarity. you might have to be the one to deescalate the problem now,

"your husband's riiiight here."

your once frustrated features shift at the sound of his voice. his form was so big and imposing behind you, and you knew you were safe.

"baby, I was just gonna grab one more thing for you before paying for the groceries—"

God, he thinks, you were shopping for him.

"don't worry 'bout it, ma." his voice is gruff as it sounds in your ears, rough in a way that it makes you almost plaint. and it's around this time that the stranger realizes just who he's talking to, not expecting dynamite to be in his vicinity.

"you did good. c'mon." he praises as he grabs your hand, leading you to the register and taking the basket from your hands, gingerly.

by the time you get back into your shared vehicle, katsuki is still smiling— like he's on the verge of laughing. it makes you smile, too, albeit, extremely confused.

you slip on your seat belt when you feel the car roar to life, rumbling softly in the background. when you look back uo, you're sighing, flopping back against the seat, exhausted. when you look to your man, he's still grinning. it makes you smile, albeit extremely confused.

"what??" you ask through a giggle, almost desperately, needing to know just what the hell was so damn funny.

he stays silent, simply smiling, and you emphasize again,

"whaat?"

"nothin!" he laughs, palms lifting off the wheel and by his ears in mock surrender, "can't fucking look at ya?"

"you're being weird, kat!" you swat his shoulder playfully, "what arenyou looking at me like that?"

"nothin', baby, nothin'." he's giddy, which is so so odd to you.

"is this about what happened just now." you lift your brows expectantly.

he pauses, and then speaks,

"just... 'm proud of my girl, is all." he shrugs, making a smug face. "told that man off, yeah? told him that your husband is crazy about you? makes me all...I dunno." he trails off, and you laugh.

"what else were you expecting?" you scoff out a laugh, shaking your head. "he was hitting on me, and—"

"baby, you don't gotta explain it to me. just.. know that I'm proud of you." he smiles, and it's so genuine. so pretty. so rare from your husband. your heart races at the praise.

"okay." you whisper, smiling shyly.

"okay." he confirms, looking down at you, still grinning.

he's definitely proud of himself. but not more than he is of you.

[yourstru1y4ever]

Day 21 - Flustered

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader Word Count: 710 Content: Fluff! They're idiots your honor, but they're my idiots Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: A drabble! I didn't want to make this one too too long. Besides I'm cooking for one of the future days 👀. As always be sure to like, reblog and comment!! - YoursTruly

“He’s just so- UGH!” You cover your face with your hands and let out a groan. Shoko shakes her head while laughing at you. You both were sitting in the school’s shared kitchen, enjoying each other’s company. It was nice to have this moment to catch up with Shoko because you rarely got to see her on missions. 

Well. . . it was nice until Shoko asked how things were going between you and Gojo.

“I just- I dunno, wish something would happen between us, but it’s like he’s untouchable.” You mumble, your hands still covering your face. “It’s stupid, Gojo probably just treats me the same way he treats anyone else.”

Shoko hums and closes her eyes, her lips curling into a small smirk.

“You still call him Gojo?” She asks and you peer up at her, “I thought you were on a first name basis with everyone?” A teasing glint flashes in her eyes. “I dunno, I never really thought about calling him Satoru before.” It was a lot easier for you just to call him Gojo because that’s how you knew him. It rolled off the tongue, especially when you’re yelling at him over a stupid prank he pulled on you.

“Call him Satoru. I guarantee he’ll stop fucking around with you if you do.”

“Ha! Fat chance,” You laugh at her and Shoko shrugs her shoulders, still smirking.

“Just try,” She reaches down in her pocket to grab a cigarette, “And speak of the devil. . .”

Gojo and Geto waltz into the kitchen. Gojo zips around the corner and opens the fridge to see what food he could steal from you while Geto starts making tea.

“How was the mission?”

“Boring as ever,” Gojo whines, “Did you make anything to eat?” He asks you and you roll your eyes at him.

“It’s not for you! I was going to eat the leftovers for lunch tomorrow,” You tell him, turning your back to him. You make eye contact with Shoko and she gives you a look. Your shoulders droop before Gojo puts his arm around your shoulders, his head leaning to the side.

“I’m gonna die if I don’t eat anything right now~”

“Leave her alone, Gojo,” Shoko tells him, but the white haired nuisance clinging onto you wouldn’t listen.

“But I’m starving, Shoko! It’s a crime to let me die like this,” He tells you, sunglasses falling down the bridge of his nose as he looks at you.

“Make your own food Satoru, I need my leftovers for my mission tomorrow.” You try to push him off your shoulder but he goes stiff.

You look back at him and are surprised to see a faint blush spreading across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. . . what?

“Nevermind.” He lets go of you and looks away, “Not hungry anymore.”

Geto and Shoko share a look. Geto grins, “I thought you were going to starve to death?” He asks with a teasing lilt in his voice.

Satoru pushes his glasses back up his nose as he clears his throat. “Nope. Actually tired. Going to bed. Goodnight.” And he rushes out of the kitchen.

A silence fills the room before Shoko starts laughing and Geto chuckles as you stay dumbfounded.

“What. . .  just happened?” You ask, trying to make sense of Gojo’s reaction.

“Nothing,” Geto says as he joins you and Shoko at the table with tea. He offers you a cup and you take it, looking down at the swirling pattern the leaves are creating in the water.

Shoko catches her breath, “That was worth the price of admission. You need to do that more often, it’s hilarious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the honored one so flustered before.” She covers her smile, trying to control her laughter, but it’s not working.

You hear a door slam in the distance and Shoko doubles over with her laughter.

He slams the door quickly and covers his mouth. You calling him Satoru replays in his head over and over as he starts pacing around the room. Why else would he think about you calling him Satoru in other ways. He wants you to call him that all the time, in classes, during missions, in bed.

He’s going insane, he has to be.

[sp0o0kylights]

Indie horror filmmaker Eddie Munson, high off his first big (underground but notable) success, knows the movers and shakers of the film world have their eyes on him. 

They're just waiting to see if he was a one hit wonder before they open all the doors he's been trying to kick down. 

His next upcoming film is his chance, his shot at finally making it. Of being like Rob Zombie and the other creators he looks up to that masterfully blended metal and horror. 

This is his golden ticket. 

The project starts off smooth. His last success has greased the wheels, and things fall into place faster than ever before. 

He's got the best idea for this insane haunted house story, a true "mazes in mazes" type of deal with a queer twist. A real look at how a place can haunt a person just as easily as a ghost can.

 Everything's going swimmingly--until one of his leads drops out the day they're due to start shooting.

No call no show's, and later, Eddie will find out the guy got a last second call back to be a contestant on one of those Love Island bullshit romance gigs (and laugh his ass off when the main love interest takes one look at Billy Hargrove and goes on a five minute rant about ugly mullets on national television) but right now? 

He's fucked. 

He's called in every favor he has for this film. Maxed out every credit card he owns, tapped every contact, got on his hands and knees and begged his rising star journalist best bud to help him market it. (Which Nancy agreed too, for way less cash than she should have.) 

 Eddie can't get anyone on the phone, much less find a replacement actor and the amazing place they rented, that is so dark and wonderfully eerie, is booked out the rest of the year as an AirBnB. 

If he doesn't film now, he loses it all.

Cue the other lead, unknown theater actor Steve Harrington, watching his hair pulling, tire kicking, 'cursing and hopping while holding a toe' mental breakdown and asks why Eddie himself doesn't act in it. 

"Just go full Kevin Smith man. Act and direct." He says, with an easy grin. 

Jeff, Eddie's tried and true videographer, trades glances with Gareth and Grant (Eddie's long used special effects and makeup team, who double for about twelve other jobs because they're also his best friends and they're all in this together, make or break.)

"We don't really have a lot of other options." Gareth hedges. "You're already using me and Grant as background characters." 

Eddie, hands fluttering around his face as though trying to wave away this entire situation, squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained hiss. 

"Fine, fine!" He announces with the air of a man running towards a fire. "Fuck it, this is our one shot and so help me I will be shooting it!" 

Steve politely hides a laugh with a cough. 

"Chuckle all you want big boy, I'm going to tragically romance you so hard people will forget both of our characters actually live." Eddie snarls.

Steve, the handsome bastard, just winks.  "Looking forward to it." 

Eddie blushes, but hides it with a surge of frantic energy, conveyed by lots of yelling and moving and getting the ball rolling. 

Two days later, Steve would give the performance of a lifetime down on his knees, covered in a literal pound of fake gore, booty shorts and nothing else as he sobbed about how a lover could become a home. His hands clawed at Eddie's jeans before resting a tear stained face on a slim leg as he bent his body towards Eddie like it hurt to be away from him. 

Eddie would later receive equal praise in his own acting during the scene, with the world and every reporter in it asking how he conveyed an otherworldly panic so beautifully throughout Steve's performance. What was he thinking, to evoke those expressions on his face? 

The way his own pale hand, unmarred by blood and acting as a metaphor for the plot, would come to stroke Steve's cheeks.

Eventually he'd come up with a smooth polished answer that cheekily pleased his audience, but nothing would ever come close to the truth. 

("Eddie I've known you since grade school." Jeff said that night, a scant few hours after they'd wrapped. "You can act man, but not like that." 

Eddie made a wild "shut up" gesture, looking frantically over his shoulder before admitting; "You saw how close his face was to the prince of darkness!? I was seconds away from popping a boner next to his lips, in front of the 4K camera!” 

Eddie bounced into Jeff’s face so he could hiss: “He fucking had his chin on my thigh, Jeff, and I am only a man. A mere mortal!" 

"So we're gonna unpack all of that later." Jeff said finally, when he'd managed to get his mouth working and Eddie back out of his personal space. "But dude, we've talked about you calling your dick the prince of darkness." 

Eddie flipped him off.) 

One year later and critics named Corroded the best horror film of the year, praising the camera work, practical effects, and how there wasn't a soul alive who was surprised to hear Eddie and Steve were dating after their explosive on screen chemistry.

No one ever quite understood the prince of darkness jokes or why Steve mentioning it made Eddie blush, but that was a secret to find out later. 

Today on WIP’s I have no intention of writing, indie horror movie AU!

[xan-izme]

Double life 11 (ATSV x Reader x Batfam)

Summary: You can't do this alone

Part 10, Part 12

You felt stressed. The anomalies were popping up in Gotham and in New York at the same time. Of course, Aaron and Miles are there to handle things. But you no longer want their help. You don't want them to have that responsibility anymore. None of the burden.

And with Bruce. He hasn't talked to you. You haven't seen him in a few days. You felt like you have messed up everything. That he now hated you because of what you said.

But in truth. Bruce was just sulking behind closed doors. He's raised 4 boys so far, and he likes to think he's done a great job. Well, not a great job but an okay job. But with you, he feels like he's failing with every move he makes. He knows what you said is true.

He has the papers to prove you are his daughter. But he's missed 16 years of your life. Your uncles were more like fathers to you than he will ever be. And it hurts him. More than he would expect. And what hurts the most is that was the true you. Not the act you have been putting on for a few months. What he saw was a child struggling to morn her mother.

He would know.

But it must have been harder on you. Because you only had her. And now she's gone. And now you're stuck with him.

It was another night of kicking anomalies through portals. Preventing some minor crimes and avoiding Batman.

You sighed as you sat on top of the Wayne Mannor roof. The sun should be setting soon. You used to watch the sun set back in New York before beginning your day as spider woman.

You sighed as you pull out your phone.

Jason was looking for you. He needed to speak to you about, well everything. If he was to keep your little secret. Then he needed to know what the hell was going on. What's with the portal he saw you kick that one villain in, what was in the suitcase. Why are you being so secretive. It's suspicious, and he can't trust you fully. And he needs to trust you a little bit for this to work.

Jason enters your room, but you were nowhere to be seen. He assumed you were out with Damian.

If your gone. . .

Jason smirked to himself as he got the idea to snoop around. He walked around. He was Immediately at your bookshelf. He sighed in disappointment when he only sees education books. Books about physics and geology. Technology.

"No one is this into school." He pauses for a moment before correcting himself. "Tim. Tim is."

He grumbles as he tries to see anything else he can find. He circles around to a different side of your bed. He gasped as he finds a secret stash of books.

All fantasy fiction and history books Manga too. Harry Potter, Hunger games, Art of war, Game of thrones, The Odyssey, The lightning theft- the whole damn Percey Jason series. Heros, Gods and monsters of Greek Mythology- Wow! you're really into Greek mythology.

He hums in amusement and put things back. He Looked up to your desk and picks up a little picture of you and your cousin. He takes note of how you reacted when he mentioned Miles knowing about you being Spider woman. Probably the angriest he's seen you.

Your protective.

He sets the picture down and walks into your bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary. A lot of hair products. He opens the mirror cabinet. Painkillers. Tylenol, ibuprofen. First aid which was, empty.

He pauses for a moment. Something doesn't look right. He closes the mirror cabinet. Then opens it again. He repeats the process before finally taking a look at both sides of the mirror. He knows this manner inside and out. practically memorized the blueprints. Both old and new.

He decides to try and pry the mirror cabinet open from the wall. And there, a secret stash within the wall. He grabs the small duffle bag. He opens it up to see your suit. and a Polaroid picture of a woman. Your mother he assumes.

He lets out a small sigh and puts it back and closed the mirror cabinet tightly. He decided it was time he goes back to looking for you. Yours still in the manor he knows that much. He saw your shoes and window open. He searched the manor but could not find you. He stepped outside to see if you were at the barn.

But when he looks up. He sees a glimpse of a head. Someone was on the roof.

Jason hurries back into the manor and makes his way onto the roof.

You stare at the video playing on your phone. Sniffling a little.

"Mom, stop. I mean it!" You laughed as you try to back away to a wall

"Nope. not happening!" Your mother pointed the water gun at you and started shooting

"AH! Mama!" You tried to run but tripped and fell on your face.

"Pfft-" Your mothers laugh could be heard along with yours

You continued to solemnly watch the old video. Not noticing Jason a little far behind from you. Listening and watching you. You looked so sad it was unconfortable.

But he felt, a little guilty. Just a little bit. Because if he thinks about it you have been through a lot. Jason took a few steps closer and cleared his throat to signal his presence.

You jolt at the noise and glance back and see Jason. You quickly look away and wipe your tears.

"What do you want."

Jason stood there awkwardly before taking a seat next to you. You stare at him with your tired eyes. Jason sighed as he looked back at you. "Look, kid. I know I'm a jerk. I'll be lying if I said I didn't mean to. But can you blame me? You're not telling me anything."

You stay silent before looking away. Contemplating weather, you should tell Jason the truth.

"You can't do this alone kid. Trust me, it won't work if you do this alone."

You let Jason's words sink in. Slowly realizing. He was right. You were scared, and truly didn't want to go through this alone. And this was Jason, so it should be okay, right?

"Do you believe in the multiverse?" You finally spoke up. Your words made Jason look at you a little confused.

"The multiverse, like different universes. Timelines and stuff."

You nod. "Yeah, something like that. . . it's real. The multiverse is real. And, in every universe, there is a Spider Woman or Spider man to protect and keep balance. This universe is mine to protect. Those bad guys you see me throwing through portals. Those are anomalies."

Jason listened in closely. Half of him believes you, the other half not really. But he's all ears.

"Anomalies from different universes, brought by portals that were ripped due to mankind tempering with forces that were beyond our understanding."

You talked about everything. About the society. About Alchemex. And the whole cannon situation. A fate every spider hero had to succumb to.

It felt nice to let everything out now, like some wight was lifted off.

Jason believed you. Well, he kind of does. He only believes you because, well it's you. And he doesn't see the use of you lying about something as crazy as multiverses.

But the fact that you were hiding all of that and you were planning to carry the burden alone when still in the process of mourning the loss of your mother. It concerned him a bit.

He could tell Bruce. This could be a family effort. You're a vigilante, so are they. The whole bat family can help. But you have already expressed that you can't let anyone else know about the multiverse thing you have going on.

For safety reasons you claim.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---

A/n: sorry, this is a little short, but I do want to warn everyone that I will be a little late with the next few chapters because they will be longer and might be traumatizing. so, yeah. Thank you for reading

@huening-ly. @mariadvorak, @superherosdystopiafreak, @chelluv, @houseissofine, @esposadomd, @greyeyedmockingbird, @1-800-daisy, @c0c0-puffsxxx, @arthurswife, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @josiepapen, @natashanice165, @amber-content, @mahbeanz, @azurewisteria, @seraph101, @skepvids, @lara20aral, @iwasveronica, @jackrabbitem

[ceilidho]

prompt: ex special forces ghost working as a “travel companion for hire” and reader hires him because she’s too nervous to go solo travelling

-

It’s not the first time you’ve been somewhere on your own, but it’s the first time you’ve realized that maybe solo trips aren’t for you. 

It’s in Germany, three drinks in and stumbling back to your hotel room, paranoia gripping you every time you pass a dark alleyway or take a right onto a deserted street. It’s the man walking your way on the same side of the street that has you stuffing your hand into your purse, clammy fingers gripped tight around your keys. 

On the flight home, you’re wiped. Beat. Finally untethered from a week’s worth of anxiety slowly reaching a boiling point. You’ve traveled on your own before, but it’s the first time you can remember being acutely aware of your vulnerability. Granted, before this trip, it’s not like you’d traveled all that much on your own, especially outside of the country. 

Ghost comes as a recommendation from a friend of a friend. You’d hemmed and hawed about the whole ordeal the Monday after getting home from your trip—working the front desk at an auto-body shop means that there’s no shortage of people to talk to. The guy picking up his car (fender bender, a wicked crack down the front that’s since been fixed) listens to you gripe with an absent look on his face, but you’ve learned to tune those out. People will listen to you even in spite of their indifference when there’s nothing else to do. 

“Y’know, I know a guy that does stuff like that,” he says, cutting you off halfway through another half-baked rant about airline fares these days. Your mouth puckers into something quizzical. Tell me more, it says without saying. “Ex-special forces. Left because of some medical thing, I think. Dunno. Anyway, he’s been all over the world—built like a brick shithouse, that one—and last I heard he was, uh, renting out his services.”

“Services?” 

“Like, he’d go with you, hang back while you do your thing, but basically the muscle. There to back you up if someone fucks with you.”

You’re just fresh enough off your vacation (an entirely miserable week, lest you explain the whole thing all over again) to give him your number. He promises to put you in touch with the friend of a friend who’ll put you in touch with one Simon Riley. He then gives you shit about the price on his bill and you knock ten percent off begrudgingly because the piece of paper with your number written on it is still crumpled in his palm.

No good deed goes unpunished or whatever.

“He’s not actually in the country right now,” Laswell, the friend of a friend, explains over coffee, Biscoff cookies spread out on a little tea plate between the two of you. “Or the continent.”

“Where is he?”

“For the rest of the month? Indonesia. He’s supposed to be back on the ninth. Should I let him know that you’re interested in his services?”

It’s a toss up at first. The thought of sacrificing your dignity (he would be more or less your babysitter) for adventure is tricky. With the way the dates line up—when you plan on traveling and when he gets back to the UK—you also won’t have much time to make his acquaintance before setting off. 

But there are places you want to go, sites you have scribbled down in a pocket-sized notepad folded up in the inner lining of your backpack. So you give her your permission and promise to join her and her wife for dinner sometime (repayment, and also it’s only been a few months since you moved, so you currently have a dearth of friends in your life anyway). 

The first time you see him when he stops by your workplace, you can’t help the double take. It just doesn’t seem possible. You know from Laswell and the guy at the body shop that Ghost is ex-military, but you’d been expecting some buzz-cut, slightly smarmy army reserves guy, maybe six-foot and decently muscled. What you don’t expect is the tatted beast that’s near twice your size. Only the top half of his face is exposed, the rest hidden beneath a black mask; you think briefly of asking him about it, but chicken out under his withering stare.

He doesn’t seem impressed when he meets you. “What’s your list?”

“Um…just around Europe. I haven’t thought about it too much.”

He stares down at you. “You wanna hire me just to run around the continent?”

“I haven’t thought about it!”

“Well, best give it a think fast, doll. Haven’t got all day for you to figure it out.”

You do have to think fast. He doesn’t leave until you’ve spelled out exactly where you want to go, until he’s watched you book plane tickets over your shoulder, heavy at your back while sweat beads at the nape of your neck. He’s entirely too intimidating to be looming over you like that. 

You watch him whip out his phone and fire off a couple of texts; your phone pings with an email telling you that you’ve been reimbursed for his flight and when you protest, he brushes you off by saying that he’ll invoice you for everything at the end of your trip.

Then what was promised falls into place. Free of burden, free of anxiety or restless energy, new possibilities open up to you: countries where you don’t speak the language; countries where the sites you want to see are spread out across a wide enough area that it warrants having a man packed beside you in a too-small taxi, his thigh a hot line against yours; hiking trips through national parks, where you don’t feel like you might slip down a hill and twist your ankle, stuck without water or cell service. 

You only have two weeks worth of vacation, so you use them wisely. A week traveling across Switzerland and Austria, and then a week in Cairo to see the pyramids. 

Ghost hangs back most of the time while you traipse around and do your own thing. You can feel him at your back when you approach the stands where the local vendors have set up shop, perusing silver trinkets and jewelry, only returning to your side when someone stands too close to you. 

He fists a hand in a pickpocket’s shirt when they try for your purse, giving them a shake and sending them off. 

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you mutter in his direction as you watch the young man scurry away. Not sure if you’re blushing or sunburnt. 

“You hired me to deal with this shit my way. Don’t get mouthy now.”

You think it might be the former because while you might not be the best at reapplying sunscreen, Ghost has been gentle-parenting you this whole trip. He pulls you off into corners and growls down at you while squirting a dollop of sunscreen into the palm of his hand to spread across your face. You close your eyes when his rough hands trace over your face and breathe out heavily when he spins you around, big hands engulfing your shoulders and spreading down your back.

You don’t think it could get worse. It gets worse. 

He won’t spring for his own room. You stare at him in disbelief in the lobby of the two star hotel where you’ve booked a room with a single bed. There’s a vending machine in the corner of the lobby that only sells coke (all of the other buttons are broken). One of the ceiling lights flickers on and off, an ominous buzz filling the room. Ghost doesn’t so much as blink.

“You didn’t tell me—I didn’t know that was my job,” you rebuff, anxiety a fist in your throat. You’ve already asked the front desk for another room, but they’ve been sold out for weeks, the woman at the front desk informed you with no small amount of pity. It’s the busy season; even two-star hotels get booked up in the dog days of summer. 

He cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Never had to before. My job isn’t to book shit.”

“I sent you my itinerary.” 

“That’s not how I work, love. Where’s your room?” 

It’s nothing short of humiliating to have him follow you back to your shabby little hotel room. Your hands shake when you unlock the door, opening it to something no bigger than a closet. You’d purposefully gotten a smaller room than you usually would, anticipating the cost of Ghost's invoice at the end of your trip. No good deed goes unpunished. 

He ushers you into the room with a hand on your back, shutting the door behind him. You flick on the only light in the room, a bulbous thing hanging from the ceiling. No bedside lamp. 

When he settles on the end of the only twin bed in the room, the bedframe groans under his weight. Your hands are already clammy. He’s already making himself at home, unbuckling his belt with a single hand; it makes you almost dizzy to look over at him so you try desperately to avert your eyes.

“At least wait until I’m in the other room,” you hiss, rifling through your suitcase faster to get your clothes for after your shower. 

“Quit moping, love,” Ghost scolds, resting back on his elbows and toeing off his boots. “We’ll make it work. Just gonna have to get comfortable together.”

You scurry off to the bathroom with your pajamas clutched tight to your chest, paying no attention to the fact that he doesn’t sound as upset as you thought he might.

[grimesgirll]

sometimes you loathed sleeping in the middle just for the difficulty getting out of bed. if you were sandwiched between rick and daryl, then you had to peel their arms off - if you could manage to shrug off rick - and scootch to the end of the bed, using your arms even to bring yourself forward without making too much of a commotion.

“where’re you goin’, sweetheart?”

“bathroom.”

you send him a smile and peel his arm off once again to push off the bed and pad over to the en suite.

he’s all over you once you return to the bed and crawl on hands and knees back to your spot. before your head hits the pillow, rick’s hands are on you and wrapping around to lock you into his embrace.

rick needs you to sleep. you’re his soft, pliable paperweight. it’s just something you’ve picked up about the man. being the number one person he wanted in his arms flattered you. however, you weren’t prepared for how often rick took advantage of this access.

you’re choking back sweet moans once his two fingers breach your walls. you want to be shocked at the forwardness but rick knows you too well. instead, you’re grinding your hips back into him.

“you’re getting me all flustered again,” you mumble.

rick picks up the pace. “what? you don’t wanna cum all over my fingers before you go to bed?”

you nearly double into daryl hearing the sheriff’s words. “yes!”

“man, you’re keepin’ her up.”

rick clicks his tongue. “i don’t see her complainin’.”

you want to chime in with some smart comment but you’re too busy getting rick’s thick fingers jammed up your pussy.

“i don’t think you’ll be complainin soon enough.” rick remarks playfully to the other man. he lowers his lips to your ear. “wanna help us all sleep better, sweetheart?”

you shake your head sure.

next thing you know you’re on your hands and knees facing daryl. a hand in your hair guides you to his clothed cock.

“why don’t you show daryl how much you like us keepin’ you up?”

daryl sends you a look like he feels guilty that you’re freeing his pants instead of soundly sleeping but any remorse is gone once you flick your tongue against the side of his shaft.

rick lining himself up and subsequently knocking the wind out of you with a rocky thrust drives you right down daryl’s dick. you gag and daryl nearly jumps out of bed at the sudden feeling.

you feel like you’re being split open with rick ramming into you from behind. every thrust bounces you further up and down daryl’s cock. his hands find your braids. you braided your hair at night to lock in moisture not that rick didn’t love tugging on them so hard they unraveled.

stuffed to the hilt with cock, you’re finding it hard to think about anything else than the men pistoning you between them. all to sleep better. god knows they needed it though. the weight atlas had on his shoulders was nothing compared to what rick and daryl were saddled with.

at the very least, you could offer your ever accommodating pussy. it wouldn’t solve all of their problems but you could help.

and when they take such good care of you, how can you refuse?

circling back to your pleasure, rick reaches down to linger a finger or two strategically against your clit. you know it won’t be long for you once he maintains the same excruciating pace he liked to subject you to in order to get you coming twice on his cock; once to get started and once to finish him off.

after that, daryl would cum down your throat and bring you in for a heated kiss, nearly forcing you back into rick- still inside of you. eventually, rick’s pulling out to grab a soft towel to clean you off with while daryl lifts your hips for you so you can focus on his tongue between your teeth.

rick will bring over your favorite oversized sweatshirt of his to drown in. then you’ll be back, hugged to his chest.

daryl eventually rolls closer so you can lay your head on his chest. the position may require some reconfiguring as the night goes on but they’ll probably just shift you in your sleep so you don’t worry about it.

it won’t be long again until you’re waking up feeling needy or they are or you’re met with something hard beside you.

and this is why you love sleeping in the middle.

[tokyo-debunkers-headcanons]

How do you think the boys were when MC didn't come back for a day? I imagine Kaito starting a riot and probably crying. Maybe even failing to sneak out lol (I love him 😭)

Oh GOD! the CHAOS! I'm gonna do this more as a group headcanon for both houses. Thank you for sending in a request!

It was around lunch time when the message that MC went MIA on a mission. These are the headcanons of the brave souls that survived that day.

FROSTHEIM

Jin was already pissed that he lost his newest gopher (affectionate) to do stuff for him. But the second that message dropped. He had to do a double and even a triple take to make sure he read that right. As soon as he's sure he IMMEDIATELY get Tohma to check the tracker on the cruiser he lent out to them (he's rich. He absolutely has a tracker put on his shit)

Kaito is screaming, crying, throwing up (okay maybe not that last one). He's READY to go dive into the water to save MC. He is LOSING IT scoob!

Some would think that our boy Luca would try to keep Kaito calm....in actuality he's almost just as bad. He just manages to keep it on the inside. He's trying to do it through the proper channels (ie Professor Dante) but when that doesn't work or will take too long for their liking, he's coming up with an escape plan right alongside Kaito.

We gave to remember that Luca has already lost one of his loved ones. He's sure as HELL not losing another one without a fight!

Tohma is STRESSED! Not because MC is missing though. He's concerned sure, but he's sure they'll come back soon, missions are typically dangerous after all. He doesn't have much faith in the academy itself. Its more of a logical way of thinking. Its one day, he's sure they're fine.

Where his stress is coming from is the other Frostheim ghouls. He's basically that meme of someone with kids on leashes each going in different directions. Someone HELP this man's before he goes gray!

VAGASTROM

Alan had to hear from someone else. He was shocked to hear that MC had gone missing. It was even worse since the last time he saw them they weren't sure if their ability worked or how it worked. He went to go ask some of the professors to see what happened but got what was essentially nothing.

Sho was worried but he didn't show it. He tried to play it off like he was too focused on his food truck to worry about the honor student. He did however ask his brother about them when he saw him next. His brother mercilessly teased him about possibly liking MC and Sho instantly regretted asking. Every now and then he considered trying to call MC to see if they would answer.

He decided against it and focused more on his truck to keep his mind off of things.

Leo doesn't care. At this point he still wants to take MC down. So while its not the way he wanted to do it, it meant no more annoying NPC tagging along on missions with them. So to him, it was a win. The only annoying part was Alan and Sho worrying about them. He didn't get it and just laughed at the gossip on WickChat about the meltdown at Frostheim.

[thatnonameuser]

Ok y’all hear me out. I wouldn’t mind being a darling for Kalim, Leona and Malleus b/c they are rich. Maybe not Malleus b/c Lilia is like an annoying mother in law.

So what if a darling is high maintenance? (like wanting designer, having money to get their hair done and stuff)

I can see Lilia “beating” the high maintenance out of the darlings LOL

I also wouldn’t mind, the economy’s in shambles and being pampered and spoiled by the wealth of the rich boys for the rest of my life, I already think they’re hot so it’s not like it’ll be hard. (Though if I had to learn the fae language I would just combust)

So you’re high maintenance, wanting to enjoy only the finer things of life and nothing else. Well…..

Leona Kingscholar

Oh really? Well, if it’s that easy to buy your affection then expect his wallet to be in your lap before you finish your sentence. 

Leona’s a prince who doesn’t even keep an eye on his wallet. (Seriously, he just tosses it at Ruggie and goes about with his day), so if you ever bring up some money problem, he’ll just toss his wallet at you and just not ask for it back. Plus, his royal blood is actually good for something, so putting you in the lap of luxury others can’t access is easy for him. 

Expect to be his pillow for a while though, he’s not a nice guy so you gotta pay him back somehow….

Gift Preference - Doesn’t have one. He either gives you what you ask for or something that marks you as his. 

Kalim Al-Asim

Oh, you like expensive things and just expensive things? Here you go! 

Kalim already loves giving you gifts, and he never really bothers to look at the price tag when it comes to anything, and you could just say a word and he’ll get you the most expensive option of that word. Want a bag? Have one made with leather so expensive and rare, that this one is the only one in existence. Want a necklace? Have a jewelry store full of them with jewels so big, heavy and expensive they weigh a pound each! Want a new wardrobe. Et cetera, et cetera. 

Though you might learn about the fact he wants to have you fitted for some special jewelry for your wrists and ankles, but they’re solid gold and encrusted with rubies! That’s good enough for you, right?

Gift Preference - Anything and Everything. Just ask. Or don’t. Either way, He will still give it to you.

Vil Schoenheit

Oh, you’re high maintenance, so is he, so you’ll get along just fine.

You can’t tell me Vil doesn’t touch anything that could sully or damage the perfection he’s spent years cultivating. You want to be high-maintenance, perfect, that's his entire lifestyle. 

So, if you want to be spoiled. Fine, he knows exactly who to call and they’ll drop everything as soon as he calls them. You want to get your hair done, he has a hairstylist on speed dial that can turn straw-like hair into silk. You want a massage, he knows a very exclusive place that can make every limb of your body feel like a soft putty. You want designer clothes, all it takes is a phone call and you’ll be measured and fitted by the designers themselves. 

He might make a date out of all this with you, accompanying you on all these wonderful excursions. 

Gift Preference - High fashion and self-care. All his gifts make you all the more perfect. 

Neige LeBlanche

You like to buy expensive things?....Is 150,000 thaumarks a month okay or…?

Neige doesn’t notice the fact you’re probably only with him for his money. He doesn’t mind if he does because he doesn’t care. You like nice expensive things, he’ll make sure you can get those nice things. He’ll send you enough money to make sure you can keep up with your tastes without issue. If the money he sends isn’t enough he’ll double it, triple it even, all for you.

Just remember that if he ever ‘slips’ that you’re only really affectionate when he’s giving you something, you’ll be in some hot water. 

Gift Preference - While I personally believe that Neige prefers to make homemade gifts for you, you being high maintenance means that he’ll give you those alongside the hundreds of thousands of thaumarks for your allowance.

Idia Shroud

You just want him because he’s buying you stuff. That’s pretty shallow. Yes, he’ll still buy them for you.

Idia’s a little self aware that you would be bought solely on what the expensive luxuries he gives you. And is he going to be mad about that? No. If it keeps you close, it keeps you close so take what he can give. If anything’s wrong tell him so he can buy something better. He knows that you’re just here with him because he’s giving you stuff, but he’ll combust without your attention. 

Gift Preference - Tech-based gifts, top of the line and exclusive consoles and electronics. It’s his specialty and he can hide cameras in them to watch you when you’re away.

Malleus Draconia

You enjoy being surrounded by wealth and luxury? Then he’ll bury you in a mountain of it, you deserve all of it.

Malleus is so devoted to you, so no price is too great. To him, as the prized jewel of his hoard you deserve so much. So much he can’t even give you so he’ll give you as much as you’d like. All you have to do is ask, and if he can’t figure out how to get it, he’ll go to Lilia to ask for help on how to get it. 

In exchange he asks for nothing. All he wants is to bask in your radiance. But much like all the priceless treasures he’s given you, you are precious. And precious things need to be protected lest they be stolen. And he won’t allow you to be stolen. 

Gift Preference - Jewels, not just in jewelry, he’ll give them to you raw and polished and all of them are bigger and heavier than the last. Have a favorite gemstone? He’ll give you a mountain of those. Nothing’s too much for you. 

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Also about Lilia….. (did I make him a boy mom? I feel like I did)

Lilia is aware that your high maintenance behavior is exploiting the love your suitors have for you. But if that’s the price to buy your willingness, he’ll keep quiet. If you’re not being difficult in response, then he’ll keep out of it. 

But if you’re being a demanding little princess, denying them while they spoil you, then that behavior is getting beaten out of you.

Turns out the fae super hate greed. So even if Lilia doesn’t like it he’ll put up with it for the greater good, but if you plan on being difficult then you’ll be taught a wonderful lesson on selflessness. The Fae way. And that’s the least painless way. He’ll only let up on you, if one of his boys comes to him about him being too hard on you. 

*                        *                        *                        *

[puck-luck]

15 of spades w/ Jack Hughes where they’re simply just roommates that like to flirt and this time it goes beyond a few flirty words and gestures

Warnings: unprotected p in v, pining Jack, soft & sweet, roommates to lovers WC: 1,406

You like to say that your life has become a New Girl situation. After a messy break-up, you moved in with your (now) friend, Jack. He’s cute and charming, way too into sports, and he’s got a great job as a bartender in downtown Newark. Your shared apartment is in North Kearny, so it’s an easy drive anywhere. The rent isn’t crazy. Plus, with all of his downtown connections, Jack can get you into any bar or club or party.

You were wary at first about living with a boy, but Jack is neat and king. He always does his dishes and his laundry, always cleans up after himself, and he often offers to make dinner for you since you work all day and his shifts are usually at night.

You like Jack. You think he’s a really good friend, but you can’t deny that you find him attractive. There’s something about his monotone voice and sarcastic smile, paired with his brown hair and his pretty blue eyes. He employs casual physical touch, delivering dinner to you with a hand on your shoulder– since he won’t dream of letting you stand and serve yourself. He’s a gentleman, after all, something he reminds you of whenever you try to help Jack with something he said he could do for you. Usually, he’ll steer you back towards the couch or towards the dining table, pushing you down and telling you to stay there “or else.” It’s an empty threat, because Jack would never do anything to actually harm you. He wouldn’t hurt a fly (he would, however, try and chase it out the front door with a rolled up magazine because the buzzing was annoying him). His behavior does nothing to drive away the butterflies in your stomach that are breaking out of their cocoons. You’re falling for Jack.

You think he’s falling for you, too. He’s a lot harder to read, but he always wants to hang out with you. He wants to watch movies with you and try and teach you how to play his favorite games, always inviting you out with him and his friends or trying to merge your friend group with his own. He’s had one success: one of your friends has been loosely “seeing” his friend Alex when their schedules align. They’re not labeling it, but they’re spending more and more time together. 

Your friends swear Jack wants to integrate the groups so that he can see you even after you move out. You only signed a year-long lease, so you’ve been trying to decide what to do. You could stay with Jack, who is very sweet and very perfect, or you could live alone. The downfall of living with Jack is that you share a bathroom with him. The other downfall is that he doesn’t work set hours and you feel… well, awkward when you try to invite someone to spend the night and Jack gets off work early. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, and you’re not committed to Jack, but you don’t want him seeing another guy in your bed. You feel a little bit like you’re betraying him, but mostly you just want to be a courteous roommate. It was his apartment first.

Things are coming to a head. It’s been weeks since you’ve gotten laid and you’re getting antsy. Jack was supposed to have a shift tonight, so you had invited one of your Hinge matches over, not expecting your roommate to be back until about 2 or 3 in the morning. That would give you plenty of time to fuck this guy and send him on his way. 

Jack comes home at 11:30. The other bartender needed to make rent tonight, so he offered to switch cuts and close for Jack. Jack made rent last weekend after working a Saturday double– you’d had a girl’s night that night, so your one good chance to fuck a man was lost– so he accepted and returned home.

You’re pissed. You texted your hookup and told him that your roommate came home early and you’d have to reschedule, knowing that he’ll probably end up ghosting you since this is the second time you’ve deflected a meetup. You could just go to his place, but you really don’t want to be trapped in another person’s apartment. You like to kick them out. You don’t like to be the one getting kicked out.

You’re sat on the couch with Jack, who’s talking about his night. He’s talking over your TV show, which is arguably the worst season of the show to be released, but it’s new and you want to pay attention. You can’t while Jack’s yapping. Your responses have gotten shorter and shorter, and your arms are crossed over your chest, and your side-eyes are becoming more and more like a glare. 

Jack finally notices.

“What’s up?” He says. “You seem mad.”

You sigh and pause your show, deciding to be frank with your roommate. You turn to him. “I need you to work a full closing shift one of these days, buddy.”

Jack makes a face. “Why?” He asks. He shakes his head slightly, squinting at you. “You don’t wanna hang out with me?”

“I need to get fucked.”

Jack’s jaw drops at the suddenness of your words.

“And I don’t want to have sex with someone else while you’re in this apartment,” you continue without pause. “So I was supposed to have a guy over while you worked tonight, but I had to cancel because you came home.”

Jack blinks at you, speechless.

“So, yeah, I’m a little mad, Jack.” You stand from the couch. “But it’s whatever. I’m going to go to bed.” You leave him in the living room.

You get all the way to your bedroom door before Jack scrambles after you.

“I could make you feel better,” he offers, his cheeks growing red with a blush. 

Now it’s your turn to be taken aback. “What?”

“I could make you feel better,” Jack repeats. “I’ll fuck you.”

You rub your eyes like you’re waking up from a dream. “What?”

Jack comes closer to you, reaching out to touch your hip. “I want to fuck you. I didn’t think we’d ever– well, that doesn’t matter. I’ll fuck you. I want to fuck you.”

That’s how you fell into bed with Jack. You’re surprised it didn’t happen sooner with the way Jack is bearing his soul to you– how pretty he thought you were the first time he saw you, how he’s wanted to touch you for so long and he can barely hold back sometimes, how much he likes doing things for you because he feels like your boyfriend. He tells you how he’ll prove to you that he’s worth more than just a fuck when you’re frustrated at him, but for now, he wants to show you what he’s been dreaming about.

His fingers bring you to one orgasm. His mouth, lapping at your first release, brings you to a second.

Then his cock. It’s straining in your palm once you’re finally able to get your hand on him, guiding him through your folds. 

Jack’s eyes are hooded and dark like he’s drunk on lust. He moves at your pace, allowing your cunt to draw him in slowly. He inches forward, savoring it, and it’s then that Jack leans down to kiss you for the first time. His lips are soft against yours, insistent in a way that portrays his desire for you. 

“Wanted to do this for so long,” Jack whispers into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“Fuck me,” you reply, voice soft and imploring. 

Jack starts to move his hips, his head dipping so that his forehead touches yours. After a few minutes, he’s panting and making soft noises of pleasure. His eyelashes are fluttering, but it seems like he doesn’t want to close his eyes completely and lose you. He’s holding back, sounding like he’s close to coming.

You roll your hips up against him. “C’mon, Jack,” you say. “Want you to come.”

He shudders, seconds away from letting go. Your fingernails against his scalp are his undoing, making his eyes roll back and his inhibitions to disappear. He’s finally got what he wanted– his cock inside of you, filling you up. He sleeps in your bed that night.

And every night after.

You renew your lease the following week.

[mcflymemes]

ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE (2001) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

it's been my experience when you hit bottom, the only place left to go is up.

i sleep in the nude.

about time someone hit him. i'm sorry it wasn't me.

i didn't say it was the smart thing, but it is the right thing.

i came down the chimney. ho ho ho.

we've done a lot of things we're not proud of. robbing graves, plundering tombs, double parking... but nobody got hurt.

maybe somebody got hurt, but nobody we knew.

will you look at the size of this? it's gotta be half a mile high at least.

our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children.

you're so skinny, if you turned sideways and stuck out your tongue, you'd look like a zipper.

hey look, i made a bridge.

as far as me goes, i just like to blow things up.

come on. tell the kid the truth.

does it match my dress?

it was like a sign from god.

i got your four basic food groups: beans, bacon, whiskey, and lard.

you have disturbed the dirt.

what have you done?

if you give back every stolen artifact from a museum, you'd be left with an empty building.

i gotta admit, i'm disappointed.

you ask too many questions!

who are you? who sent you?

do not be such a crybaby.

now tell me your story, my little friend.

trust me on this one. you don't wanna know.

if you're looking for the pony rides, they're back there.

what else have you got in there?

forget your jammies, [name]?

you're gonna want a pair of these.

i think we've seen how effective my decisions have been.

have i left anything out?

you did set the camp on fire and drop us down that big hole.

i took this job when my dad retired.

you are a scholar, are you not?

who told you that?

let's go over it again, just so we got it straight.

we're all gonna die.

someone needs to talk to that girl.

for the good of the mission, i will go!

tonight's supper will be baked beans. musical program to follow.

hey, i had nothing to do with it.

i'll have to quit my job.

you didn't just drink that, did you?

don't move, don't breathe, don't do anything...

carrots? why it it always carrots?

with something like that, i would have white wine.

we can't let him do this!

okay, now you can go.

how was my accent?

we are not thriving.

where are you going?

don't take no for an answer.

look, i have some questions for you, and i'm not leaving this city until they're answered.

somebody's gonna have to suck out this poison.

i thought you said he only had guns!

mercenary? i prefer the term "adventure capitalist."

do you wanna do my job? be my guest.

i'm gonna need you to fill these up.

thank god i lost my sense of taste years ago.

why don't you translate, and i'll wave the gun around.

this was not part of the plan.

you do swim, do you not?

your heart has softened.

you would have slain them on sight.

what they have to teach us, we have already learned.

something wrong with your neck?

so i guess this is how it ends? fine. you win.

get back! i've got soap, and i'm not afraid to use it!

look at all those tattoos!

i've got a bone to pick with you.

any last words?

i really wish i had a better idea than this.

i know i'm forgetting something.

you're the one who got us here.

you must've read it a dozen times by now.

sometimes i get a little carried away.

all will be well. be not afraid.

i hate fishing. i hate fish. hate the taste, hate the smell, hate all them little bones.

you will not regret this!

hard to believe he's still single.

can you drive a truck?

no time like the present.

i love it when we win.

you pick now of all times to grow a conscience?

[innerfare]

Sabo’s Type 

Summary: A collection of random headcanons describing Sabo's type

Genre: Angst

CW: None // SFW

———

Sabo is such a show off, it’s no joke. It’s for this reason he has such a thing for a damsel in distress. He really enjoys the opportunity to flex his powers. (Flashback to Dressrosa arc and him swooping in to rescue Rebecca but leaving poor Bartolomeo lmao.) But he likes it even more if showing off doesn’t work, since it works on basically everyone else. 

Someone who is unimpressed, or at least initially hides it from him. Sabo lives for a challenge. While he loves it when people fawn over him, he’ll become a little obsessed with someone who shrugs at his dragon claw and fire fruit ability, who brushes off his pretty face and muscular body, who doesn’t care that he’s the second in command of the Revolutionary Army and is going to tell him exactly what they think of him.  

Someone with a voice like honey that makes him want to kick his habit of hanging up the transponder snail in the middle of the call and instead stay on the other line for hours listening to them talk about nothing. 

Someone powerful. Someone who can not only hold their own in battle so he doesn’t have to constantly worry about them but also someone who can spar with him. Someone who has undergone rigorous martial arts training and insists their style is more powerful than his dragon claw. Someone who triggers his competitive side. 

Someone who will make fun of him, even going so far as to poke fun of his heritage (without going too far). The odd joke about Sabo being a pampered aristocrat will get his blood boiling. He’s the type to ignore all the people fawning over him and go straight for the person who seems uninterested (side note: Sabo does not respect the ring; if you’re married and he wants you, he’s going for you). 

Someone with as much a reason to hate the World Government as he does, perhaps even more of a reason. Someone who wants to see the world burn. But also someone who starts out as his enemy, so maybe a marine or member of Cipher Pol with a traumatic backstory working as a double agent for the Revolutionary Army. 

Someone who likes his scars. He’s come to view them as a symbol of his failure to escape Goa on his own, and even as a symbol of the reason he couldn’t be there for his found family, so he doesn’t feel proud of them the way a warrior should. But if you’re proud of them, if you run your fingers over them, he’ll grin like a fool. 

Someone who is well read and a good enough writer to read his manuscript and offer feedback, someone who can edit some of the pages and offer him some direction when he’s not sure which direction to go in. Someone who agrees with his point of view on the subject matter (typically the corruption of the World Government) and can aid him in getting that across. 

Someone who makes him feel safe enough to ask for affection. Sabo isn’t really used to positive reinforcement. Though he received some once he joined the Army, a rough childhood without a drop of real softness has left him a little thirsty for someone to run their fingers through his hair while he vents about everything wrong in the world. 

Low-key has mommy issues, craves a woman who will make him food, take a bath with him, and tuck him into bed. Refuses to admit it, though. This folds into him craving a more feminine partner because he's been surrounded by so much roughness. One of his guilty pleasures is definitely crushing on the young noble women he's supposed to be usurping.

Someone who doesn’t hesitate to make his family their own, who falls right into the ranks of the Revolutionary Army and makes themselves at home with the Straw Hats (I think it goes without saying Sabo's SO has to have Luffy's stamp of approval). 

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Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!