#i am just exhausted and disgusted by this attitude

[chocolate-cream-soldier]

://

[nyctoaerah]

★ TAKING CARE OF YOU!

CONTENT: Fluff, Crack, Domestic Life, Timeline was two years after the final battle, Sexual Themes, Sanemi’s vulgar mouth (lmao)

PAIRINGS: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

Sanemi hummed deeply as his calloused fingers tossed the pale yellow rice in the hot skillet.

You nuzzled your worn body against his back and inhaling the comforting scents of ginger and soy that rose from the pan. Wrapping your lone arm tightly around his waist, you pressed a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades and let out a contented sigh.

“You alright, love?”

Sanemi questioned upon hearing your weary exhale..

“A little bit tired...” Sluggishly, you tried squeezing him closer to convey your meaning, but your grip had slackened.

Concern rippled through Sanemi’s frame at your words. “Rest then,” he replied gruffly.

“But I wanna help,” you protested weakly, lifting your head with effort. Shifting to peer over his shoulder, you pulled your best pouting expression, though your exhaustion likely dulled the effect.

Sanemi huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes at your attempt.

“I’ve got this covered. You need to recover your strength,” he insisted, free hand rising to card through your disheveled hair in a rare gentle gesture, he frowned slightly as he saw that your usual radiance was muted, lovely eyes dull with exhaustion.

His eyes swept to your leaning form with a inspecting gaze that lingered on the space where your other arm had been.

“You can’t just expect me to let you cook and clean the house on your own when you only have one hand,” Sanemi muttered gruffly, turning back to the yakimeshi.

“Rest. You need it.” His voice was gentle as he tenderly ran his fingers through your hair, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

You furrowed your brows, a mix of exhaustion and defiance in your eyes as you stared at him. Your protest was on the tip of your tongue, but as Sanemi shot you a firm look, the words died down in your throat.

“Now.” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a defeated sigh, you begrudgingly pulled away from him, elbowing him lightly in the side as you did so. Sanemi let out a grunt of irritation, his eyes rolling in response to your brattiness.

“Just go rest, for me, darling...”

“Say please first.”

Sanemi shot you an exasperated glare, the lines on his forehead deepening in irritation.

“Just go and rest, for fuck’s sake, woman,” he grumbled, shaking his head in frustration and fondness.

“Nuh-uh. Say pretty please f’me, Nemi~” 

You couldn't help but taunt him further, a sly smile curling at the corners of your mouth.

“Say pretty please or you have no balls” you quipped, knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

He deadpanned at you.

“My darling [Name], my love, my soul, you let me fuck you senseless most of the time and you have the audacity to say that?” Sanemi’s voice was laced with disbelief, his narrowed eyes locking onto yours.

“what even is the connect of you having no balls to that...”

You muttered, weirded out at his bluntness as your smug facade crumbled under his scrutiny, a sudden rush of uncertainty creeping into your mind.

Before you could come up with a retort, frustration bubbled up within you, culminating in a defiant gesture as you raised your middle finger and stuck your tongue out petulantly.

“Rest now.” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. You opened your mouth to shoot back a snarky remark, but his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“Or maybe I'll just fuck that attitude right out of you, and make you beg for rest,” he declared bluntly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes despite his bold words.

“You disgusting freak.”

A frown marred your features. You knew all too well that he wasn't one to make empty threats, his actions always speaking louder than words.

“Yeah, yeah, i am a disgusting freak. Now go.” He shooed you away.

“Fine,” you grumbled under your breath, not really in the mood for it, and casting a final eye-roll his way before reluctantly making your way back to your shared room.

“Hmph.” Sanemi scoffed.

As you left, Sanemi’s gaze lingered on you for a while before he went back to cooking again.

It has been two years since the demon slayer corps was disbanded.

And you and Sanemi now found solace in each other, joined as one in marriage — Just like the two of you had always dreamt off in the past — getting married together and making a family.

It was a bit tough for you two, since the both of you are technically amputees because of the final battle, but you two managed to make it work.

Though Sanemi had lost several fingers in the battle, your wounds ran far deeper — your left eye was gone, as was your left hand — it got sliced when you were fighting with the uppermoon one on the infinity fortress

It was tough being like this, but with you, he was happy.

After finishing cooking and preparing the fragrant yakimeshi, Sanemi hurried to your shared room and carefully placed the steaming tray of food on the polished wooden table, the aroma wafting through the air.

As he expected, you were not peacefully resting but reclining on the bed with a pout on your face — still seemingly bitter about him previously telling you to let him do all the work.

“Hey... Food is ready,” Sanemi announced, observing your reaction as you turned towards him, a hint of irritation in your expression.

“Are you forgetting something?” you questioned, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

What did you mean by that..?

Oh.

Oh..

Sanemi rolled his eyes before gracefully picking up the tray and lowering himself to his knees, presenting the delicious meal to you in a humble gesture.

“Here you go, your majesty. Your feast awaits,” he declared playfully, a smile tugging at his lips as you couldn’t help but giggle at the theatrical display. “Good, you may rise now,” you commanded in a regal tone, attempting to sound majestic, which only made him chuckle at how stupid you sound.

You curled your fingers around the smooth porcelain bowl, feeling its cold edges press into your skin as you lifted it from the tray.

Sanemi took the tray and placed it back on the table, as he kneeled before you once again.

“Can you eat it alone?” 

he asked, purple eyes searching your face.

“Of course I can,” you replied, feeling a small twist of irritation.

“I’m not paralyzed.”

“Just because I’m missing one hand doesn’t make me helpless.”

“I know that,” he grumbled, voice low. Reaching out, he cupped your thigh in one hand, calloused fingers brushing your skin in idle circles.

“But let me care for you, just this once,” He continued.

“Let your husband take care of you, just for once, hm?”

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

[1d1195]

Right Here Extra I

You can read the original story here: Right Here

This is just going to be a collection of little moments between them based on this ask from a sweet anon 💕 Hope you like it

~2.2k words

Warnings: vomiting, sick, nausea, etc. Otherwise it's going to be fluff, fluff, fluff.

“Cause you’re perfect, lovie.”

“I’m far from perfect.”

“Perfect for me,” he shrugged so casually. As if he said it to anyone that was worried about their self-worth.

As if he hadn’t just thawed the last bit of ice that was in her body.

It was her annual physical. She was sure. The cacophony of sniffles that were in the doctor’s waiting room made her feel sick before any of the germs had a moment to really incubate in her system. She wished she had a mask in her purse, or they had offered/mandated it in the waiting room.

Because now she was laying in front of her toilet. A towel that was balled into a pillow and the cold tile her only relief from the flu symptoms that plagued her. She wasn’t sure she called out from work. She thought she did, but if she managed to actually call her boss in between vomiting she would have been genuinely surprised. But she hadn’t had the strength to lift herself off the floor in hours. Only long enough to heave into the toilet before falling back asleep.

It pained her to say it, because she would have died if Harry was to see her this way, but she longed for him. The way he would take care of her, the way he would dote on her. She could imagine his voice so clearly it was like he was actually rubbing her back soothingly.

“S’okay, lovie,” he whispered in her ear. “M’here. M’right here,” the figment of her imagination felt so real, his fingers cool on her clammy, damp skin. “Poor baby,” he murmured. She moaned softly, her stomach clenching and cramping even though there was long since anything to expel from her stomach.

The figment was nice. Like an imaginary oasis that she saw on TV shows when she was little. It let her drift to sleep.

After she managed to throw up again.

*

The tile was warm and soft now. The air smelled of eucalyptus and menthol. She groaned quietly. The pain in her stomach had stopped completely. In fact, she swore she was feeling hungry. Carefully she got out of bed taking slow steps because she felt weak and exhausted. There was no concept of time that she had spent while asleep.

She opened the fridge to get her water pitcher. “Kitten?” Harry’s voice asked, startling her so badly she dropped the pitched cracking and spilling it on the floor.

“Harry!” Her socks started to get wet. He grabbed her by the waist as gently as he could, mindful she wasn’t feeling well and didn't want to upset her stomach anymore than it already was. He lifted her as if she weighed as much as penny and settled her gently on the counter. “What are you doing here?” She grumbled feeling self-conscious. Her hair was off her face, pulled into a twist to the side of her head.

“Y’didn’t come t’work,” he bent to the floor with paper towels cleaning up the water.

“I have the flu or a stomach bug.”

“I know."

Her head was still pretty achy—maybe the hunger was doing her in but regardless Harry’s laissez-faire attitude about him being there was not helping. “What do you mean ‘you know’?”

“Y’didn’t come t’work,” he repeated. “I called you ‘bout ten times t’make sure you were okay,” he explained. “I was so worried, lovie. Then I saw y’on the floor—”

Her stomach rolled again—this time with uneasiness and embarrassment. “No you didn’t,” she whispered and covered her face. Harry didn’t understand her reaction. He tossed the paper towels in the trash and put the broken pitcher in the sink.

“S’matter, beautiful?”

“You saw me?” She croaked.

“Well—”

“Oh my God,” she groaned.

“Lovie, y’had me worried half t’death,” he repeated. “Why are you—”

“I am so disgusting and I can’t imagine—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he rolled his eyes and put his hands on her thighs. “Y’were sick. Nonetheless y’were still beautiful. Even sprawled on the bathroom floor...not that it even matters, lovie... I wish y’called me. I would have been over sooner,” he frowned.

Part of her believed him. That figment wasn’t her imagination after all. Harry really did come and take care of her and dote on her. Even though she didn’t call him, he still showed up. Her heart felt all kinds of confused because she was so embarrassed. Her hair was a wreck, and she was almost certain she smelled faintly of vomit. It was not a good day. “I thought I dreamt that you were here,” she mumbled.

“Yeah? S’that a good thing?” His smile had a smug quality to it. Like he was glad she missed him even if he was a bit distraught with worry over her.

She nodded. “I think I look terrible, but... I... I wanted you to take care of me,” she admitted. “That’s really hard for me to say out loud,” she added. But she didn’t need to. Harry already knew that.

“I know,” he assured her and cupped her face. His hand felt cool compared to her still damp skin. “Y’don’t look terrible. Y’look so much better than y’did when I found y’on the floor. Scared me half t’death,” he repeated, skimming the back of his hand along her face. He pouted ever so slightly. “Wish y’texted me, lovie. I was worried something happened t’you.”

“I didn’t want you to get sick,” she frowned. “You’re probably going to now,” she reminded him.

“No... I went to the company flu shot clinic like a good employee,” he joked.

She rolled her eyes. “Some of us had a budget meeting that paid for you to get that flu shot.”

“You’re mean when you’re sick,” he chuckled. Sighing, she pressed her face to the front of his shoulder.

“I smell like throw up, don’t I?” She mumbled.

He nodded against her. “S’okay. S’important part of the relationship.”

“To smell like throw up around you and look like I laid on the bathroom floor for a day?”

“In sickness and in health, lovie,” he shrugged. Her heart skipped a beat. Did he know how intense that sounded? Did he care that he was giving her a slight arrhythmia? That was a vow for people who got married and lived the rest of their lives together. They’d only been together a handful of months. He couldn’t possibly love her that much already. “Go shower, m’gonna make y’some soup.”

He paid no mind to her silent, internal spinning. She felt overwhelmed with love for him. It made her stomach ache all over again. A flutter that made her wonder if she had a stomach bug at all or if it was just the feeling of love for Harry with no place else to go.

As soon as she felt well enough to stand on her own for longer than ten minutes, she was going to kiss Harry until he couldn’t breathe and make him feel like he had the flu.

*

Harry thought if it was any colder her toes were going to fall off. The fireplace was on the maximum, full heat. He wondered why on earth she decided to walk to his apartment. “It was a ten-minute walk, Harry,” she rolled her eyes.

“I would have come get you, lovie,” he grumbled. Her stubbornness would never cease to amaze him. Her tenacity was one of his most favorite qualities she possessed. But the softness she allowed—like when he cared for her while she wasn’t feeling well—or right now, when her body was warming under the blankets, was when he swore he knew everything about her. Everything. It didn’t matter than she kept things from him. Little things or big. In the soft moments he knew her. When her guard went down he knew every inch of her. Every fiber of her.

He adored her.

“That would have been unnecessary.”

“It’s freezing outside, lovie. Y’could’ve gotten frostbite.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want my car to get stuck here. This made more sense.”

Harry frowned and came out to her in the living room. Leaving the cookies on the sheet on top of the pre-heating oven. “Y’don’t want t’be stuck here?” He sat beside her freezing figure even though she was snuggled under three blankets. Harry made sure her face didn’t get accidentally covered and that she had movement of her arms as well.

“No, I want to be stuck here. I don’t want my car to be stuck here.”

His frown morphed into a grin. He tucked his face into the curve of her neck and shoulder. Feeling for if she tensed because he pressed to close to her or not. “I hope we’re trapped for days,” he murmured.

She smiled and turned her face to his and stole a kiss swiftly and sweetly. As cold as her lips were, Harry thought there was nothing on earth as warm as her kisses. His whole body reacted to the gesture. Part of him thought he was frostbitten—the way his fingers and toes tingled. All she did was brush her lips on his and it felt like heaven. Better than heaven.

“I love you,” she whispered. He stopped, pulled away and looked at her for several seconds. Harry willed his mouth to move but he couldn’t. The shock was so great. The feeling and excitement so immense he was speechless. “Oh,” she pulled her arms from the blankets. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I was—” she cleared her throat, completely embarrassed. Of course he didn’t love her. She was insane. She hated him for the better part of two decades. Why would that suddenly be fixed with a proclamation of love? “Please...just forget I said that,” she stood and paced away from him nerves plaguing her and now being trapped here seemed like a horrific idea.

“Whoa, lovie...stop,” he finally stood up and grabbed her hand. She refused to look at him. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips. “S’jus’... y’caught me off guard,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“Well, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.”

He frowned. “Why’s that?”

“You obviously realized that me hating you for twenty years was not what you wanted in a relationship,” she looked at her fingers. “A claustrophobic baby is not what you want in a girlfriend and you definitely—”

“You didn’t hate me,” he smiled mischievously. Like it was a secret that only he knew. Maybe he did. Because there was no way she hated him all that time if she was suddenly in love with him now. Right?

“I guess not, but you obviously don’t feel the same way,” she refused to make eye contact with him and which made Harry unbelievably happy despite the fact she was so uneasy. As much as he hated to make her uncomfortable, something like this: an innocently mocking moment and still very sweet was one of his favorite past times. Like all the whispers he created at work.

“Kitten,” he chuckled. “I can’t believe y’said it before me,” his smile was so sweet. The kind of smile that made her chest hurt. The one that made her fall so hard for him—especially while they were away on business together. “I love you to pieces, beautiful,” he promised. “I jus’ never thought y’would say it before me,” he cupped her cheek and kissed her softly on the lips. All of her muscles relaxed, making Harry smile. “Y’thought I didn’t love you?”

“I don’t know why you would,” she murmured.

Her body was still chilled from the wintry air and he wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off and make her warm in front of the fire in the most primal way. But she felt so perfect in his arms. It was indescribable. He didn’t want to move. He considered quitting his job and quitting her job on her behalf just so he never had to leave that spot.

She loved him. She said she loved him. “Cause you’re perfect, lovie.”

“I’m far from perfect.”

“Perfect for me,” he shrugged so casually. As if he said it to anyone that was worried about their self-worth.

As if he hadn’t just thawed the last bit of ice that was in her body.

Harry always sensed that she held back just the tiniest bit since they started dating, officially. It was the reason she was so obstinate with him. Never letting him fluster her at work in front of their colleagues, why she refused to move in (although he supposed asking her to move in on the first day of their real relationship was too much), and how there was always the littlest moment of hesitation whenever he complimented her—like she didn’t fully believe it.

All of that melted as much as the iciness of the outside air melted from her in his apartment. He watched the hesitation disappear in her eyes and he swore her body released the tension she had wound around her. Over twenty years of tension finally released from her muscles. Harry was surprised she didn’t collapse. “You really love me?” She whispered.

He nodded. “Course, lovie,” he smiled and kissed her forehead, melting her further. "Always have."

--

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[jingyismom]

if you only think thin women are attractive, or you only ever reblog images of thin women, or you only mostly do, maybe investigate that

"oh so people aren't allowed to have types? or aesthetic preferences?" of course we are. but when our types align as strongly with western imperialist patriarchal ideals as traits like "white" or "thin" or "young" or "feminine" then we should probably like. dig into why we're attracted excusively to one or more of those things

in case it's. you know. the inescapable patriarchal propaganda making us complicit in the punishment of women who deviate from those demands

"how do i investigate that?" ask yourself questions when you find a thin woman attractive. what is it i am attracted to about this woman, other than her thin body type? ask yourself questions when your eyes slide over a fat woman with the same style or attitude of thin women you find attractive. what is it about her that makes her invisible to me? or what is it about her that awakens a feeling of negativity or disgust? or of camaraderie rather than attraction?

i don't expect this post to change anybody's preferences or actions. and i'm not making it to shame anybody. i'm just exhausted by the relentlessness with which thinness is championed and fat bodies are erased from existence and particularly from desirability, and i'm tired of the fact that i have to notice it every second of every day, while most everybody else is free from thinking about it at all.

[shhh-secret-time]

Another request from A03! I am so very sorry this one took so long I actually had to start this one over a few times because I actually lost a big chunk of it when I first started writing it! Nothing takes the wind out of my sails faster.

Warning: NSFW, Dom!Stan, Sub!Reader, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, Writer doesn't know shit about college or sports ball, Slight Voyeurism, Strong Language, Stan might be a little OOC

Pairing: Stan x Fem!Reader

Notes: Hey uh welcome to this week's episode of, "Writer don't know how to write conflict to save her life!" I'm very bad at coming up with a reason to fight people, it's not in my nature so I'm sorry if it seems forced!

You hated Stan Marsh

You hated him and most of the football players at your university. Them and their spotlight hogging, annoying, disgusting, sweaty, irritating habits! You and your girls bust your ass off at every practice, sports game, and pep rally South Park University places on your teams’ shoulders, and what do you get for it?

To hear things like, "Oooooh did you see how Cartman played center?" or "Clyde is so hot when he takes his helmet off and has that messy hair!" even, "Kyle plays football AND basketball with perfect grades? Why is he soooo perfect!"

But the one that got under your skin the most was Stanely fucking Marsh, the star quarterback. The man walks around the school with his little crowd of admirers everywhere he went, and for what? Just because he throws a stupid ball around and can run quick? Fuck him.

Your girls put in twice the work they do; you've been to every one of their games. You had to. Your group had to coordinate with the football players, the basketball players, the volleyball team, the hockey team, hell you even had to coordinate with the wrestling team. It was exhausting trying to keep up with it all.

And what did your cheer squad get? Perverted remarks and dismissive attitudes! The final straw was when the Cows mascot got more respect than your group did. You brought your complaints up to the school's councilor, to the headmaster, to anyone who would listen.

Word travels fast around the small town of South Park, people dating and breaking up. Who cheated on who, who's throwing the best parties, who threw up in who's car. Shit like that. Not much changes from high school to college, just a lot less sneaking around and more energy drinks and pain meds. So of course, when your complaints got to the one and only Stan Marsh, he confronted you about it.

"Hey! Hey wait up!" His voice rings out past the busy sounds of other students trying to get to their classes. "You're the captain of the cheer squad, right?" He all but corners you while you're walking with your friends, he doesn't have his little squad of goons following him around.

"Are you serious?" How could he not know who you are?! You've only been to every one of his stupid games! Only been sitting on the sidelines of every practice! "Yes! I am! What do you want?!"

Stan flinched back at the venom in your voice but that didn't stop him from shooting you a look. "Uh...did I do something wrong? I heard from one of the guys that you're not exactly...happy and I was just trying to figure out what we did."

"What you did. What did he do girls? Can anyone answer Mr. Marsh's question~?" The tone in your voice did not match the smile on your face. It sounded chipper but anyone listening could tell it was fake.

Your little group always had your back, most of them felt the same way you did. If anything, it just amplified that anger, knowing your girls were feeling underappreciated. It was your job as the captain to protect your girls, but every time you brought it up to them, they seemed to shy away from saying anything.

"Well, geez Stan, you gotta admit your team's been kinda hoggin' the spotlight. You know what I'm tryin' ta say don't ya?" It wasn't just your girls you had to protect; it was your sweet little angel Butters too. Although you guys called him by his first name when cheering with him, he was Leo to you. And right now, Leo was trying to bridge the gap between you and your rival.

"Veeery good Leo! That's right, Stan and his team don't seem to give a shit how hard we work to cheer his team on! The whole school would rather worship the ground their star quarterback walks on!"

"The school doesn't worship the ground I walk on! You can't pin this on me!" Stan shot back trying to defend himself, it was hard not to feel attacked even though you were the only one glaring at him.

A part of you knew that he was right, it really wasn't his fault that small towns in America went crazy for football.

"W-we're not pinnin' anything on ya! Just sayin' maybe, it wouldn't hurt to tell the guys to show us a little bit more respect! You know Eric's been pickin' on me ever since I joined the girls, sayin' some awfully mean things."

"Leo is right! You may not have a hand in the way people think but that's just the problem, you don't do anything to stop it! If you were really the captain of your little team you'd step up!" You took a step towards him, your face getting inches away from his face.

Ignoring the fact that you had to look up at him, you wouldn't let him leave without getting your point across. His eyes narrowed down at you, matching the energy you were giving out to him. Butters looked between the both of you with a nervous look, he could practically see the electricity bouncing between your eyes. The poor blond didn't mean to start a fight, he was just trying to help.

"If you had a problem with my team, you should have come to me then. Why did I have to find out from other people?" Stan's voice dipped to a low growl which almost made you give one in return.

"I shouldn't have had to go to anyone in the first place Marsh! Get your team under control or else!" You felt your face turn red; it was getting harder to argue with him when those ocean blue eyes were burning into yours.

That was new. Just going to lock that in your vault of things to not think about again.

Thankfully Butters finally stepped in, physically putting his body between the both of you. "C-come on now guys let’s all just calm down. We both said our peace and now we can work it out, right? Next time we practice we can be on the same page!"

"Sure Butters." Stan clicked his tongue as he looked at his friend, but that didn't stop him from getting one last jab in. "You better hope you don't slip up princess, because if you do. I'll be there and I'll be quick to remind you of your shortcomings." And with that he turned on his heel and started walking down the hallways.

"Princess?! Excuse me?!"

"Oh geez..."

Stan slammed his locker with a little more force than he should have, the rusty door screamed out and bounced back open. With an annoyed groan he pushed back on the metal with a little less force, but the damage was already done, the door was now on its last leg and would most likely not shut right. Just more fuel to the fire.

"Whoa dude what did that poor locker do to you? Don't you think it's been through enough." Kenny looked over from his locker with a little smirk.

One of the few times Kenny was without his parka, a towel wrapped around his waist and his bright blond hair clung to his skin. Stan could smell the smell of fresh soap and hints of pine in the air. He sighed in response to Kenny's teasing, clearly not in the mood for his friend's antics.

"Not now man, I don't have the energy." Stan grabbed his jacket and pulled it up onto his torso.

"Ah that's not good, wanna tell your old pal Kenny? I won't even charge ya, come on what's going on."

Stan pressed his lips together and he tried to focus on zipping up the worn-out brown coat he always wore, the zipper struggled to hold together. He cursed under his breath a few times before the thing finally zipped all the way up. For a moment Stan thought about not saying anything, but Kenny was never the type to judge or the type to let things go if he knew something was bothering his friends.

"You know the captain of the cheerleaders?"

"The really hot one?"

"Kenny!" Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, something he picked up from his mother when they were both aggravated, "That's not the point."

"Says you. She's a baddy for real. Take no shit kinda woman~! The feisty ones are the ones that bite the hardest. You got your work cut out for you if you're trying to shoot your shot. I heard she turned down everyone else on the team!"

"Dude! I'm not gonna ask her out!"

"You're not? Then why'd you bring her up? Is this about the fight you guys had in the hall?"

Stan stopped and looked up at him in shock. "You heard about that already?"

"Oh yeah, you guys's are the talk of the school. Everyone thinks you guys had a little lovers spat. I had to hear the whole story from Leo!" Kenny chuckled as he grabbed started getting changed, pulling the patchy orange pants up his legs.

"Even you're calling him Leo now..." Stan muttered but quickly shook his head, "but that's not what I was going to say! I was going to...talk about that but if you already know."

"Yeah, I don't really know what that's all about but Leo kinda spelled it out for me. She's not mad at you per say just mad at the position you're in. A jealousy thing maybe but honestly, I think she's just tired of taking the back seat so to speak."

"What am I supposed to do about that? It's not my fault!" Stan threw his hands up the irritation on face made Kenny laugh again.

"I didn't say it was dude. I'm just telling you what I think, but man, she really got under your skin." Kenny smirks over at him with a playful purr.

"No, she didn't! I don't even care."

"Yep, that totally looks like the face that doesn't care~" Kenny pulled his zipper up and adjusted the collar as he spoke. "Look, let’s pretend for a second you do care. If I were you, I'd just talk to her. Ask her what you can do to make things right, because I'll be honest man, she's the last person you wanna make an enemy of. She'll make your life hell." Kenny finished making his point by wrapping his arm around Stan's neck and pulling him in for a side hug. "Besides, it's not like you have to work close with her, just work around her."

"Yeah..."

But of course, it could never be that simple, could it? Every time Stan tried to catch you to talk to you something got in his way. Monday you were busy with your classes zipping around the hall, Stan could barely get a word in. Tuesday you had to help Butters with his outfit so of course you didn't have time for him. Wednesday was the big pep rally for Friday's game, so that meant Thursday was for practice.

Thursday was hell. Stan was supposed to be focused on getting his team ready for the game. They were practicing dodging other players and passing the ball across the field. Stan was supposed to be working on his throw, he needed the ball to go further than normal. Kyle was getting faster at running and if Stan fell behind their whole strategy would be thrown out the window.

But of course, you couldn't make it easy. It was getting harder and harder to focus on what he needed to do when you were being tossed in the air. The way your dark green and gold skirt caught the sunlight, and the way the puffy looking poms in your hands shook back and forth. Stan knew he was in trouble when he stopped paying attention for a moment when you laughed at something Annie said. Next thing he knew he felt the football knock him on the side of the head. And of course, that's when you looked over, he felt his face heat up when you giggled and covered your mouth.

He hated you. Hated your pretty smile, the way you laughed made his blood boil and his body turn hot. Your stupid lips curled into a gorgeous smile and the way your thighs looked good enough to sink his teeth into, what he'd give to walk over and kiss that smug look off your-

Stan let out a growl that came from deep in his chest as he threw the ball down the field hitting Kyle in the chest. The poor red head just took it, letting out a grunt as it managed to get past the gear meant to keep him safe. He wouldn't let his mind wonder there, not for you. Not when you're the one who attacked him and then started avoiding him every chance you got.

"Marsh!" He winced when he heard Coach Miles below his name, he didn't need to see his face to know he was in trouble.

With a sigh he took his helmet off and ran his fingers through his messy black hair, the helmet causing his hair to stick up. As he walked over, he could feel your eyes on him, and all he could do was scowl. Trying not to think about how you must be eating this up.

Stan's scowl dropped when he heard the coach call your last name and gesture for you to come over. Your eyes widened at the way the coach called for you, you'd never heard him so angry at you before. You gave your poms to Wendy as you ran over, walking behind him as he gestured for you and Stan to follow him.

Coach Miles took you both back inside through the gym, once the three of you were alone, he crossed his arms and glared down at you both. "So, the big game is tomorrow and some of the students have come to be with worries about the way you two were at each other’s throats." He paused for only a moment, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let me make something very clear, we are not in high school anymore. So whatever problem you two have with each other, fix it. You’re adults, act like them."

"I've tried! She doesn't want to work this out!" Stan's mouth moved before he thought about the consequences, but he was just so tired of this whole thing. Even if he agreed with his Coach, this whole situation had him at the end of his rope.

"What?! No, you didn't! You just bitched to Kenny-"

"I didn't bitch! I was asking for advice!" Stan stopped and glared over at you again, it seems like that's the only look he gave you nowadays. "I tried to talk to you in the halls and you blew me off!" How did you even know about he talked to Kenny anyway?!

Fucking Butters.

"I told you what my problem was with you Marsh!"

"No, you didn't! All you did was-"

"Enough!" The Coach's voice boomed over your little squabble and echoed off the gymnasium walls. "I was hoping you two would be mature enough that I didn't have to do this, but I guess I was wrong."

You and Stan watched as Coach Miles stuck his hand in his pocket and fished out a folded-up piece of paper. Unfolding it, he handed it to you and huffed. It was a warning slip, something he never gave out to you or Stan. "So, unless you both figure this out, you're both benched. Off the field and you can watch the rest of the students play without you."

"What?!" Your voices came out in unison, shocked at the very thought of not getting to be a part of tomorrows big game.

"I mean it! Figure yourselves out or you're out! I can have McCormick take your spot Marsh and Testaburger has plenty of experience leading!"

"But Coach-"

"No! I shouldn't have had to do this in the first place! I'm not your dad, I'm not your counselor, I'm a Coach! You both are lucky I'm even giving you a second chance! You have until tomorrow." Every word that came out of Coach Miles's mouth pierced like a sword.

You flinched and pulled back just as Stan did each time, he emphasized his frustration. It was a verbal lashing unlike one you've ever gotten, and you were grateful when he turned and left. You weren't sure if you could take much more.

An uncomfortable silence fell over you and Stan as you both just stood there. The slight buzzing sound of the fans overhead and Stan's deep breaths were all you could hear. Each time he inhaled through his nose he would exhale through his mouth, but it didn't look like it was actually doing anything to calm him.

You've heard when Stan got yelled at by Coach Miles, and not once did he look this angry. Your eyes trailed down his jawline watching as he started grinding his teeth together, the look on his face said it all. He was holding something back, he looked like a lit fuse ready to blow. You didn't know if that anger was at you, the Coach, the situation, or all the above. But a part of you really wanted to find out, and Miles did tell you to work it out.

"So... you wanted to talk. I'm here."

Stan's head snapped over towards you, the look on his face was a mix of anger and bewilderment. Shocked that you would break the silence like that. He felt his stomach churn, a feeling he hasn't felt since he was a kid.

It always felt like he was on a roller-coaster going too fast, that fluttering feeling one would feel when the ride would hit that high and then dropped to that low. Only this time it felt like the pit of his stomach was also on fire, his stomach was a cauldron ready to boil over. As he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out, he just let his mouth hang open for a second and then he shut it again. He was holding back still.

You rolled your eyes and jut your hip out, arms crossing under your chest. "Just say it. I know you want to yell, so yell. I'm a big girl I can take whatever you could possibly throw at me."

When Stan didn't respond but instead walked towards you, your arms dropped, and you took a step back. So caught up in the dark blues of his eye you barely registered when your back hit the wall, it wasn't until you realized he had you backed into a corner that you grasped the situation you were in. He slammed his arm over your head making your heart leap in your chest, and your hands come up in defensively.

You weren't scared that he was going to hurt you, you never got that from Stan, he never seemed like that type. But the way he looked down at you made your heart speed up and a shiver run down your spine. Never had you felt like a rabbit trapped in a pen with a wolf. Something about that excited you.

"What are you doing-"

"Shut.up." Stan's voice dips an octave as he whispers out the command.

The gravel in his voice is cut by the way he slams his lips down onto yours. You have just enough time to push back into the kiss when he pulls away and continues. "You...have made my life.... fucking hell...this entire week!" His complaints almost falls on deaf ears from the way he's kissing you in between them. "I don't know why I get so.... worked up with you!" He emphasizes the last part by grabbing your jaw and forcing your face up towards him.

It's only been a week and you've already got him wrapped around your finger, so tightly wound up that he was beginning to snap. And maybe you were wrapped around his, the smirk on your face was short lived when he bit your bottom lip. A small gasp escaping your lips giving him enough of an opening to slip his tongue in your mouth. You moan against his lips and grip the front of his jersey by the collar. If he wanted to get handsy you could get handsy. You pulled him down into the kiss somehow deepening it further.

Your tongues push back and forth against each other, neither giving way to the other. His tongue was relentless but so was yours. It wasn't until you felt a bit of drool dripping down the side of your mouth did it click. You were making out with, what you thought, was the biggest asshole on campus. Yet you couldn't pull away, couldn't pull away from his hold on you.

On the other side of things, Stan's mind was going blank. With every twist of your tongue and lips he felt himself getting addicted. Hungry lips moving from yours to devour the soft flesh of your neck. He bites down with enough force to pull a cry from you and to leave a mark. Right where your shoulder meets your neck, teeth marks bright and red poked out of your cheerleading uniform.

"You fucking ass! That's going to leave a mark!" You hiss at him, but it just turns to another moan as he sucks on the patch of skin near your collarbone.

"Good!" He growls back coming off your skin with a pop. "I have tried all week to work with you! All fucking week to work with your bitchy attitude!"

"My attitude?! Fuck you! I was trying-"

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" He cuts you off with a smirk, one that would give the devil a run for his money.

"What?!" You white knuckle his jersey with both hands now.

"You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid." His hands reach down to the back of your thighs, cupping them as he lifts you up and slams you back into the wall. Not enough to hurt but enough to remind you of the predicament you're in.

"Says the man who had his tongue down my throat!" Predicament be damned. He would not win this fight just because he slots himself between your legs and pushes his arousal against your thigh.

Those football pants left nothing for the imagination, the thought of leaving him with that hard on in those pants crossed your mind for a moment. But when he rolled his hips against your clothed sex you had to focus on biting back the moan instead.

"It shut you up, didn't it? You didn't seem to want me to stop when you were moaning against me."

You glared down at him and ran your fingers through his hair, giving the roots a firm tug; you smirked when he moaned. His face turned red making him lunge forward and bite your neck again. Your nails dug into his scalp which only seemed to encourage him to leave marks.

"Just shut the fuck up and...and fuck me already!" You tried to keep the moan out of your voice, but when he found that soft spot on your neck it just turned into a whimper.

That smug bastard lips turned up into a smirk, he pulls back just long enough to take a look around the gym. All he could hear was you panting heavily trying to catch your breath and the same dull fan buzzing. He looked down at you for a moment and for a second you thought he'd pull away. That he'd come to his senses and realize that maybe this wasn't exactly what the Coach meant.

But he didn't. Instead, he pulls your face back up for another kiss, this one was a lot less angry. There was still that heat behind each press of his lips, but it was more controlled, not like when he was trying to get you to stop talking. He presses his forehead against yours for a moment, the sweat from practice earlier dripping down his neck, it would almost be sweet if the situation leading up to it didn't happen.

"We have to be quick."

"Here?! Are you out of your mind, what if we get caught!?"

"Would you just let me-" You feel him move you to his forearm, where he pins you between the wall and his body. "You've got me so worked up! I don't know why I find your endless complaining and bitching so hot!" The confession spilled out of his mouth once again without a second thought as his hands move up your skirt.

His hands grope and squeeze at your thighs and then your ass pulling another sweet moan from your lips. "Don't act like you're free from it! You like to think you're sooooo much better than me but you're just like me!"

"I know!" He grunts as he pushes your underwear to the side making you shiver when the cold air hits your cunt.

Stan watches as your eyes flutter shut when he slams his fingers into your wet hole, his fingers coated with your sweet juices. He licks his lips when your mouth hangs open and a shaky gasp is pulled from you. "Look at you already so fucking wet for me. I thought you hated me huh?"

"Sh... shit. I-I do hate you!" Your weak attempt to bite back fall short when he curls his finger in you, slamming his fingers in and out of you.

His lips ghost over yours as he buries himself to the knuckle in your pretty cunt. He watches as you suck his fingers in further and further. The sounds you're making makes his cock throb in his pants, straining against the white material. "Yeah? Doesn't feel like you hate me. You were ordering me to fuck you earlier."

"I-I... oh fuck! Harder!"

Stan smirks down at you and there's no comment this time. How can he when you look so damn sweet, nails digging into his shoulders clinging to him for dear life. He stops his fingers and glares down at you. "Say please."

"B-bite me."

He does. He leans down and bites down on the tip of your ear, his husky voice laced with danger. "I'm not moving my fingers from your cunt until I get a please."

"G-God damn it Stan j-just.... ugh please! Please go harder!"

For a moment he looks up like he's thinking about it, pondering whether he should or not. You could have smacked that smug look off his face but when his fingers drill deeper into you all you can do is throw your head back. As if it wasn't enough, he finds that perfect spot, making you clench around his digits.

"Fuck you look so good when you're like this. You gonna cum around my fingers princess? Go ahead, let me feel you clench around them." He talks you through your orgasm with a steady tone, making you lull your head to the side as you reach your climax.

His fingers stay buried in you for a bit before he pulls them out, you almost whimper at the loss of them. But it was cut short when he wrapped his lips around his fingers. Sucking the slick off his digit while keeping eye contact with you. The telltale sign of a blush crept up your neck and across your face when he removed his index finger from his mouth.

"You're so gross..."

"Whatever." He clicked his tongue at your comment, even after he pulled an orgasm out of you; you still had something to say. His hands move across your ass again giving the flesh a firm squeeze. You slapped his shoulder when he chuckled at your little squeak. "Hmm~ I liked you begging. Let’s see if I can't get more of that out of you."

He moves his hands down to his pants and slips them down to his thighs. He fumbles for a moment with his boxers before he just decides to give up and pull his cock through the flap. He did say this needed to be quick and he already wasted time fingering you against the gym wall. Not that he regretted it, he had half a mind to do it again, but if the precum leaking out of the slit of his cock was anything to go by he need release soon.

Stan glides his cock against your folds a few times, coating his cock in your arousal, his breath hitches when you roll your hips back. When his eyes meet yours again his knees almost buckle under the weight of your lustful gaze. The way your eyelids lower and your mouth falls open again with each drag of his cock. He takes the base of his member and slaps it against your cunt a few times. "Come on princess, tell me you want this. Tell me you don't really hate me."

"I...." You trail off, letting your stubborn attitude take over but Stan isn't making it easy. Each passing second you don't answer him he nudges the tip of his cock in your entrance, not quite pushing in to give you that pleasure. "I hate that I like it that you call me that! I hate the way my heart speeds up when you kiss me! I hate that I like you!" Your words roll off your tongue like a confession, the way you throw your head back the frustration growing in your tone.

Stan growls again, that sound being pulled out of him more times today than his entire life, but he can't resist you. It's like he's a puppet and you're holding all the strings. His hands come up to your hips and guide you down the length of his cock just as your legs wrap around his waist. The muscles in your legs keep him in place making his cock throb again, you feel it bob against your walls.

"You have...no fucking idea...how much I've wanted this! Every time you got thrown in the air-" He lets out a shaky moan as he pulls you off his cock and slides you right back down. "Every... every time you giggled and flashed that perfect smile." Stan nuzzled into the crook of your neck while his hips begin to find the perfect rhythm. "Everything about you is perfect and I fucking hate it!"

Stan's little burst of irritation comes out from the way he begins picking up speed. You cling onto him as he continues piercing up into you, your arms wrapping around his neck to try as your back slides up and down against the wall. "Oh god Stan!"

"Listen to yourself. Calling my name like that, you drive me crazy! I'm not going to be able to stop. You gonna let me cum in you? I don't wanna stain that pretty uniform of yours." The way he's moaning out your name in between breaths makes your stomach do flips.

You can't find the strength to answer so you settle for nodding and moaning his name. He doesn't say anything else besides the occasional cursing and small grunts, so focused on bullying your insides. You feel the coil in your stomach tighten and tighten until the knot starts to snap. Your walls grip his cock as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, your voice has gone hoarse from moaning and screaming his name. He feels his cock twitch when he sees you climax around him, it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. The way your mouth hangs open, lips slightly swollen from how hard you kissed him. The way your hair was out of place and the way your uniform was messed up from how hard he was thrusting into you.

"Fuck...I'm...I'm cumming." He groaned as he emptied himself inside you. Thick hot arousal shooting up and painting your insides, it made you whimper and squirm.

There was another moment of silence that fell over you two, it wasn't the heavy awkward one the Coach had left you in. It was almost comfortable by the way Stan was pressing soft kisses into your neck, his lips moving up to your jawline and to the corner of your mouth. You ran your fingers through his hair again trying to smooth it out instead of tugging.

"So....this certainly was one way to work out our problems..."

Stan hummed in response as he slowly pulled you off him, you couldn't help but gasp at the feeling of loss again. As he pulls his pants and boxers up, he takes out the small towel he has tucked away in the pockets of his pants, and gently begins to clean your thighs. The action makes you smile a little, how one minute he could go from destroying you against a wall to treating you like some doll. When he sets you down his hands linger on your hips a little longer like he's trying to make sure you're alright enough to stand.

"Yeah...hey, I'm sorry. I'm not...good at confrontation and I shouldn't have got defense with you." His apology almost makes your heart break but at the same time it feels so warm.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken my jealousy out on you. You didn't deserve that, it's not your fault." You fiddle with the material of his jersey, rolling it between your fingertips.

"Jealous? Why would you be jealous?" Stan asks completely dumbfounded by the idea.

"Because everyone always talks about you and your team! It's always how great you are, and everyone seems to like you!"

"Really? Because I always hear about how amazing you guys are. Every game the guys always feel better knowing that even if we lose you guys were cheering for us. I can't tell you how happy Butter's has been since you let him join the squad." He chuckles and goes to move a lock of your hair behind your ear.

"Awh...that's so sweet." You look up at him with a little giggle and a smile, which he returns. "Now I feel all bad."

"Nah don't feel bad...I'm just glad we got this straightened out. I know it's a little backwards but...do you think I could take you out after the game tomorrow? Win or lose I just...kinda wanna spend more time with you." He gives you a sheepish smile and a small blush creeps across his face.

"Only if you don't mind me bitching." You joke back with a little hum, pushing yourself up against him.

"It'll go great with mine." He smirks back down at you and places a kiss on your lips.

Word travels fast around campus. When you both walked out of the gym smiling at each other neither teams could believe it. Even more so when next week you were walking around with Stan's jacket over your shoulders and your pinky wrapped around his. The star quarterback's last name written in big blocky letters on your back and your lipstick staining his cheek. Definitely not a normal way to start a relationship, but that was you and Stan's little secret.

[aajjks]

how would bunny Koo react if he and noona was in an argument and out of frustration and anger noona slaps him, but then backs away terrified of what she’d just done and starts crying because she feels so bad about? (could you write like a response from Koo?)

sure xx

tw: ünhëâlthy rëlåtïonshïp, yändere bêhãvïöûr, släpp ïng, chëâtïng äccüsâtïöns.

“BUT YOU ARE BUSY ALL THE FUCKING TIME, WHO KNOWS WHATS KEEPING YOU SO BUSY?!” His voice threatens to break, you glare at him.

He’s really testing your patience right now.

“Or even who’s keeping you busy so late at night!” Jungkook screams at you, that’s it. He did not just accuse you of having an affair.

“What’d you just say?!” You cross your arms and stalk towards him, his ears are wiggling up and down and you bite your inner cheek.

“And how dare YOU SCREAM AT ME!?” Jungkooks attitude is way too much for you to handle, you’re exhausted, you’ve been working so hard to provide for the both of you, to give him a nice life and he’s here accusing you of cheating.

Just because you haven’t been spending time with him.

Wow, he’s become too ungrateful.

“N-Noona you’ve found someone else huh?” He’s crying now, sniffling so hard, if you weren’t so blind with rage you’d comfort him but all you feel right now is angry.

You’ve had enough, he’s too childish for you to handle.

“Are you seriously accusing me of all this bullshit because I haven’t been giving you much time?” You laugh, you don’t know how to react. He drives you crazy.

“You’re not a fuckin baby jungkook, grow the fuck up, I cannot be with you 24/7!” You groan, your gaze set on him, you needed to make him understand.

“W-What? Wow. You’ve changed.” His tears fall repeatedly but he gives you a look of disgust. “I can’t believe you, noona. Who’s the bastard you’re fucking at work huh? TELL ME!”

You gasp audibly, he thought of you that low? You weren’t a whore.

That’s it!

Before you can even think it through, you raise your hand and slap him hard, you watch as his face tilts due to force and his body moves a little. The sound echoes a little too loud, you feel an immediate burning itch on your hand.

And as soon as he looks at you with his teary eyes, his mouth open from shock, you notice what you’ve done because his red cheek reminds you of your actions.

“I-I…” tears gather in your eyes, your head feels heavy, you feel sick but your eyes don’t move away from his cheek.

You back away, “i-i am so s-sorry i-i didn’t mean t-to—” Jungkook blinks and sighs. “Noona…” he tries to grab you but you don’t let him.

“Do-Don’t touch me! I-I just hit you… oh my God.” You let your tears fall freely, a sob leaves your mouth as shame washes over you.

“N-NOONA… no I-It’s okay! Really! Please don’t g-go I messed up okay?! Don’t feel guilty! I was the one who misbehaved- I deserved this slap!” He doesn’t let you dodge him but he embraces your shaking body into his.

You try to break free from his hold, you can’t even look at him without feeling sick, “i-i hit you jungkook! I just raised my hand on you!” You cry, it’s too much.

You hit him.

“Hush… don’t cry like this please- I know you didn’t mean to okay? I made you do it, I accused you of horrible things noona- it’s okay… I love you.”

He presses a kiss on your head, rocking you.

“I love you. And I’m sorry.”

[et-cant-phone-home-no-signal]

rewatching the original star wars trilogy at the moment but i had to pause halfway through TESB because i think i'm one of the few people on earth that just cannot stand han solo's fuckboy attitude and gets super annoyed and disgusted with it idk it's not sexy to me, it just makes me feel icky. ANYWAY will be giving notes on those films when i've watched them all but i rewatched rogue one because it's my favourite star wars film and i'm an exhausted, tear stained mess rn enjoy these ramblings - spoilers under the cut

i love this film so much, could go on about it for ages and ages tbh but that would be a crazy long post even for my standards, so my biggest takeaways are that it's honestly the best looking film from all of the star wars movies we've got that i've seen (i haven't seen solo yet but i'm not really interested in it tbh but if people think i should see it maybe i will). the music is phenomenal, the visuals are stunning, the casting is spot on, and the storyline is cohesive. brava fr on this one

i was so into the first half i legit didn't really make notes so that's what you get for like the first half of the film lmao i was just too glued to the screen

i am so in love with this group of people, i think they're the most dynamic of all the groups we see

i haven't seen andor yet but you bet your ass i'm gonna after this because i forgot how much i love cassian - diego luna is fantastic

cassian and jyn <3 also K2 i love you

baze, chirrut and bohdi also just fill me up with joy this whole crew is *chef's kiss*

when baze calls jyn little sister 😭

the pure joy on literally every single rebel's face when they fly in and start shooting the AT-AT's is enough to send me into a fit of laughter and tears 😭 🙌

star wars ships designs are so unique and awesome i love them

K dying had me crying it always gets me

chirrut 💕

CHIRRUT 😭

general raddus is such a g oh my god

baze, you mean so much to me

that hammerhead corvette is so powerful what

jyn and cassian are like, yeah they're, they mean a lot to me, their relationship means a lot to me, i'm fine

lies i'm literally sobbing at this point and can no longer type

had to come back eventually just to write that i'm forever grateful they hugged at the end because they could have done a cheap kiss shot but they didn't and i love and appreciate gareth edwards for this + vader's entrance is fucking astounding

this is genuinely the only star wars film that always makes me cry because i care so much for all the characters and they all fucking DIE - the skywalker saga doesn't have this level of stakes in the fact that we know they all survive at the end of the day, but this movie literally isn't like that, they all die for the cause and it's fucking heartbreaking and powerful and it wasn't for nothing!!!! 10/10 fr imo, i need a fat glass of cold water now because i'm a total wreck dudes like i am this emoji 😭 rn no lie (i cry laughed through writing this final bit because damn dude y'all should see me i don't get this emotional for movies that often but i'm a complete mess and my throat hurts)

[sunshine-n-raccoons]

“Don’t Make Me Tell Santa!”

Eddie Munson x Little!Reader

SFW ALWAYS! Included Agere content, if you don’t like that please don’t read!

TW: some swear words!

When the reader has a bad attitude, Eddie has to come up with ways of convincing them to behave…

Today you were just having one of *those* days. We all get them sometimes. We just wake up on the wrong side of the bed.

You weren’t intentionally meaning to, but… you had the worst attitude of your entire existence, and boy, Eddie sure noticed.

From what was once his soft, ray of sunshine through the day was stormy clouds and rolling thunder.

You were huffing, puffing and almost pouting, and DEFINITELY not listening to anything anyone was saying or asking of you. Disregarding it all. And what was even more confusing to him was you were still big! You normally only get fussy like this when you’re super small and tired.

Eddie shook it off as maybe you were just exhausted from school, which was understandable. It didn’t help his confusion realizing that you weren’t in the mood to talk about it either… because every time he asked if you were okay while touching your cheek, you’d brush him off of you and say “M’ fine, Eddie.” and walk away with a huff, when normally you crack and crumble when he confronts you.

What has gotten into them… seriously. He thinks to himself.

He kept a distance from you, just to watch and decide when it was time to intervene more.

All day, it was sulking, pursuing your lips in pure disgust (or so it seemed), and you even had a little argument with your mother and she at one point said “why do you have such a bad attitude?” Only for you to say “I DON’T! You just make me MAD” and mumbling “shut up” under your breath.

When you’re big and acting like this, if you don’t crack when he asks you what’s going on, he doesn’t know how to get to the bottom of it. Because you play the huge role of “I’m strong and independent and I don’t need to be vulnerable with anybody”. That’s why when he cherishes when you’re small with him, because of how hard it is for you to get there.

He knows the holiday season is hard for you, so he played it off as just that as well. He knew he needed to talk to you, but he was waiting for the right time. But it wasn’t until you guys were at his Hellfire club meeting that the last straw was pulled.

During the meeting, the boys all got very rowdy and crowded around the table, at one point Gareth accidentally bumped your knee, which caused your elbow to get knocked off, which caused your hand to slip out of the position of holding your head up, and you fell forward a little bit. And you glared at him.

“Oops, sorry dude!” He said not realizing the glare you were giving. You huff, slamming yourself up and you push your foot behind the back of his knee and push, causing him to fall forward.

Then you said in a mocking tone “oops, sorry dude” rolling your eyes and walking out.

That was it. Eddie had enough of this. He slams his hands on the table storms out behind you, slamming the doors open.

You jumped at the noise, scaring you enough to almost make you go small. But you kept walking until you felt Eddie grab your wrist aggressively and swing you around to look at him.

“Y/N, what the FUCK is your problem?!”

Immediately your eyes go to the floor. You’re trying everything to stay big.

“No, look at me right now.” He grabs your chin and makes you look up at him. You feel the sinking and fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

“You have been acting so naughty today, and you won’t tell me why! I’ve asked you time and time again what’s going on and you just brush me off! You aren’t being very nice, Y/N and I.”

Then it clicks. Eddie knows exactly what to do.

“Y/N… I’m going to have to tell Santa about this.”

You laugh. Loudly. Trying so hard to be big.

“Eddie? What the hell do you think I am? 3? Santa isn’t real!”

He doesn’t crack a smile. He is stone cold serious.

“I really didn’t think it had to resort to this Y/N. Don’t make me do it. Don’t make me tell Santa how naughty you’ve been. You remember that stuffie you really wanted? Or what about that new paci and coloring stuff? Or even (insert what you want!)? He’ll just have to take it all back since you’re resorting to being such a big bad wolf instead a sweet little baby.”

Staring into his eyes and seeing his clenched jaw after he says this the tears well up in your eyes.

Game over. Eddie won.

“B-but I’m good!”

“I don’t know… my good little one wouldn’t yell at their mama, roll their eyes at me when I talk to them or hurt Gareth when he accidentally bumped into them… that all sounds pretty naughty to m-“

“NOOOO. IM SOWWY TEDDY I WON’T DO IT AGAIN PLEASE DON’T TELL SANTA.”

You slam yourself into Eddie’s chest crying huge tears sobbing

Eddie pulls your tight and caresses the back of your hair, kissing the top of your head and staying there to hide his shit eating grin.

“Okay, okay, fine. If you go apologize to Gareth right now and then like a good little one for the rest of the night, I’ll put in an good word for you with the ole’ Clausaroosky, got it?”

You nod into his chest sniffling, you wipe your eyes and go into the club meeting to apologize to Gareth, which he hugs you and accepts, especially seeing you’ve been crying. And then you sit for the rest of the meeting watching from afar, staring mainly at your feet and moving them from side to side.

Once the meeting was done, Eddie wraps his arm around you and walks you to the van. He raises you up to your seat and before he lets you turn to face the dashboard, he touches your knee and crouches down so you can make eye contact with him.

“Honey, do you wanna tell Teddy what this is all about?”

You avoid eye contact and swing your legs, watching them instead.

“Little hell raiser.” he says more sternly.

you huff and mutter “been big too long… tired.”

“what was that baby? I can’t hear you. Use your words. Talk to me.”

“I been big f’ too long, Teddy. Tiwed and grumpy.” You cross your arms and feel your cheeks flush red.

He sighs and squeezes your legs. “You know I love when you’re my little one. Honey, you gotta stop pushing yourself so hard and not giving yourself breaks. You know I love taking care of you. Start letting yourself be little more often, especially right now during Christmas time, I know it’s a hard time of year for you too, is that causing some of this naughty attitude?”

You shrug.

“Little one…”

“I dunno Teddy, I jus tiwed. I sowwy for being bad… are you still gonna tell Santa?” The end is barely a whisper.

He caressed your cheek while standing up, you make eye contact with him and while he kisses your forehead he sighs one more time.

“Just this one time, because you finally listened to me and have done good since then, I won’t tell Santa that you were bad. But you have to promise me that you’ll be good, okay? And that you’ll promise to talk to me when you’re feeling grumpy or tired, so that I can take care of you, okay?”

“Otay.”

he then drives you back to his place and you watch a bunch of cozy Christmas movies and he rocks you until you fall fast asleep in his arms.

Such a good little baby you are

when you wanna be.

[huamea]

— ° 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐢𝐯𝐲

› belphegor x f!reader (you/yours)

› cw: sleep deprivation + associated symptoms, dream encounter, thigh riding, biting, fingering, mirror sex, spit, fingers in throat

› wc: 1.6k

› synopsis: a certain demon has plagued you with late night visits since your early adulthood, giving rise to resentment as he continually interferes in your life from your dreams. But is he really all that bad, or is he just trying to show you the desires you deny yourself?

Saying you hated him was perhaps a little extreme, some part of you felt oddly connected to the devil that had sunk his fingers into your mind over the years. Difficult to not form some connection, even one of spite, with someone you see so frequently.

Not that you physically see him, no that would be too easy to deal with. This one afflicts you in your dreamscape, a much crueler form of connection. You weren't sure when it really began, perhaps he'd been there all the while and you'd only grown to truly see him as you aged. Though, that may just be a small paranoid part of you speaking.

Still, his meddling has undoubtedly impacted your life in negative ways. Unable to feel rested no matter how much you slept, the constant fogginess, and the persistent nausea from lack of sleep had left you nearly ruined.

Tonight was no different, opening your eyes to a dreamy copy of your bedroom and feeling the chill in your bones knowing he was perched on the sill of the open window.

"Get the fuck out of here."

"Ouch, hostile tonight?" His playful tone made your teeth clench. "Did I catch you on a bad day?"

Heavy footsteps brought him to your bedside, making you rise propped on your elbows to glare up into his deep violet eyes and resenting the mirth you saw in them.

"Every day I see you is a bad one," you hiss, "can't I have one night to myself?"

"You know, there's easier wishes to grant... I just can't help myself with you." His careless attitude made you deflate quickly, instead training your eyes on the wall as you felt the mattress dip with his weight beside you.

"I'm going to figure out how to get rid of you," you mutter more to yourself than your unwelcome guest.

He's quick to take advantage of your momentary distraction, slipping one arm behind your back and lightly pushing you down onto the mattress, forcing your back to arch while the other hand wrestles your wrists into a firm hold. Anger superheated your blood and caused you to nearly bare your teeth up at him.

"What am I supposed to do with you, hm? You're so uncooperative." His statement was punctuated by the way he leaned over you, your noses millimeters apart.

"You won't do anything with me unless I want to," your voice wobbled in a strange way, making you even more embarrassed by the easy way he'd brought you to this position.

He scoffed, "of course not, what kind of demon do you take me for? But how about a little proposition, I know I can relieve some of your stress without even touching you," his eyes glimmered as his voice took on a softer tone.

You hated that you were honestly considering it, but it's not like you were as disgusted by him as you pretended to be. If he weren't such a pain you'd be able to acknowledge his objective attractiveness. It would be easier without him touching you though...

"No hands and no fingers? If you're lying to me-"

"Cross my heart," he interjected cheekily.

Gingerly he guided you back up, before switching your positions and leaning back against the pillows and lightly patting his thigh; smirking all the while like the cat who got the cream.

Oh you bastard.

Your movements were jerky and leaking trepidation as you straddled his thigh, heat rising furiously beneath your skin in humiliation. That feeling mounted as your crotch rubbed lightly against him, already feeling embarrassingly aroused by the action.

But you couldn't help it, with how perpetually exhausted you've been the only hands on your body lately have been your own. Timidly you moved your hips again, desperately trying to keep your eyes off his face as your hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt. That didn't stop you from catching his flexing hands in your peripheral, biting your lip in a small sense of satisfaction that clearly not being able to touch you was difficult for him.

As your confidence grew any lingering concern over what you were doing became distant in your mind, your movements were bordering on frantic as you chased the sparks of pleasure from the friction of your underwear rubbing against your throbbing clit and making your cunt spasm.

Your throaty groans and Belphegors soft hums of approval filled the room as your wide eyes settled on the growing erection in his pants and shivered from the way his hungry gaze was practically burning a hole through you.

"Look at you," he rasped out, "where'd all that bite go?"

Smirking you didn't dignify a response, opting to grab his shoulders and lean in against his neck. It was fitting the tables turned and you get to be the torturer, licking a long stripe up his throat and listening to his sharp intake of breath as your teeth lightly sunk into his flesh.

Before his hands could make contact with your body, you anticipated his snapping resolve and pushed yourself away from him, nearly gasping from the abrupt lack of sensation.

"You said you wouldn't touch me-"

"You don't want me to touch you?"

You froze, any response drying up like a rain starved stream as your thoughts seemingly short circuited. Did you really not want him to touch you... The question flip flopped in your head from one extreme to another.

"If you can look me in my eyes and say you don't want me to touch you I'll leave you alone forever," he whispered.

Suddenly it was impossible to speak altogether, any rational part of your mind that would weep in joy at the idea of getting peace back was warring with the part that craved a continuation of your momentary pleasure.

"Use your fingers this time," the words came out breathy, "please." The urge to hide from the humiliation of giving in was drowned by your lust, nevermind the consequences of your choice.

In a rush of clumsy desire you both reposition, Belphie getting you sat between his legs with your own spread wide in front of the standing mirror at the foot of your bed leaned on the wall. You almost don't recognize yourself, all lust blown eyes and disheveled pajamas.

"I want you to watch, remember every little sound I pull from you. Every expression you make. Don't close your eyes," he whispered against the shell of your ear, but it was difficult to process his words when you could feel his erection pressing against your ass.

Slowly his hand traveled downward, massaging your clothed breast, teasing the waistband of your sleep shorts before slipping past them and letting his fingers brush against your clit to make you jolt. His other hand came to caress beneath your jaw, sliding his index against your lips to demand you open your mouth.

You obliged, a whine that he tugged out of you with another brush to your clit was muffled as fingers stuffed your throat. Your eyes rolled back feeling him apply firmer pressure to your now aching clit, circling it and alternating the stimulation. It made your head spin and your hips buck pathetically into the palm of his hand, garbled moans cut into the tension as saliva trailed down through his fingers to drop on to your chest.

What you saw in the mirror sent a feeling similar to electric shocks through your nerves. Fingers stuffed into your mouth, the shiny drool sliding down his hand, the wet splotches on your shirt and his hand furiously working inside your shorts. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to.

His pace slowed, prompting more jumbled noises to burst between his fingers as your hips impatient wiggled against his hand to chase your high.

"Say you want me, maybe I'll let you cum," he teased, tongue sliding over your earlobe to make you shiver as his fingers pulled past your lips.

Without being stretched the skin of your lips was now throbbing in their relaxed position, making speech feel impossible.

Still you forced it out, watching the grin stretch his lips with each syllable.

"I want you- I need you-"

Before you could finish two fingers slid lightly inside you, his thumb pressing hard against your clit making your plea dissolve into a squeal. He'd tipped you past the point of no return, you opened the door and ushered him inside.

You arched against his chest as his fingers scissored and stretched to hit those spots that made your vision turn to television static, coupled with the steady pressure on your clit it felt like someone released a high pressure spring inside your abdomen.

Within seconds you'd disobeyed his command, unable to help closing your eyes and throwing your head back against his shoulder as the wave of ecstasy crested, feeling the bed become soaked beneath your ass and you unabashedly squirmed in his hold and rode out the high of your orgasm.

Your thighs continued to shake even after he pulled his hand away from your spasming cunt, sighing contentedly as your body slumped back against his.

"I can't believe we did that," you spoke softly, voice small.

He placed a lingering kiss to the side of your head, fingers stroking your cheek.

"We can do that as much as you want," his words were muffled against your head, "I tried to tell you it wasn't a bad thing having me around."

You rolled your eyes halfheartedly as you allowed yourself to relax further in his arms. Maybe he was right, and it would be nice to look forward to sleeping again. Perhaps you didn't want to get rid of him after all...

[esterzach]

So there goes nothing. “I like her, you know. The Wisdom.” In answer to @poohsticksbridge

To me, the whole scene was a manipulation. Now that I know why, it makes sense. It's just I don't know if this line is true, as in if it's a genuine admiration and warm feelings towards her, or if she means something more. Or, she somehow managed to twist herself in order for this to pass as truth. Because... the previous experience suggests a not-so-great relationship between the two. And I don't think Moiraine is at fault here, although she had started with the left foot with her, albeit on purpose. Also, Moiraine regrets doing that to Lan. It's evident on her face. Before she says that and after Lan leaves. She looks like she feels guilty for doing this. Why do I doubt it was genuine?

I mean here comes this young woman, who is far greater than her in her power, who saved their life, more so - Lan's life, also she managed to take over Lan's attention even before that. Moiraine is human after all. No matter how much the logic says Moiraine has to be grateful, that she understands where Nynaeve's fear comes from, the attitude of the young Wisdom doesn't help a lot. 

She tried to test Moiraine's patience even with that first conversation in Tar Valon. The whole episode Moiraine is down, depressed, sort of defeated. I understand she is at home. But there is so much that she has to worry about. She found the DR and managed to lose him. She comes back to a place where everyone is suspicious of her and looks as if she is a stranger. Or, like Stepin, they probably think she is the odd one. Linadrin has that attitude toward her, and you wonder, is she in love with her or hates her guts or both... I don't know - I don't understand humans. She also senses Lan's worry. After Kerene’s death implications are clear as day - one day this will happen to them.  

On top of that, some feisty young girl threatens her! She tries to speak with her. She tries to explain. And Nynaeve threatens her. Then she goes with Liandrin's advice, Moiraine probably knows that they met, because why else would Liandrin gloat in her face like that. And The next day, not only is the fiasco in the Hall, not only they still mourn Stepin, the Wisdom, in her wisdom, has fucked up again. 

And dares to snarl at Moiraine "Of course". Kid, can we NoT!?

Moiraine has just healed Mat, who by the way, tried to kill her, she is exhausted so much that she stumbles after whatever was crawling over her face ... (properly disgusting, great work!), and Nynaeve is like You again!

I mean, no matter how zen you are... just...

I don't know, I understand I am not neither as mature nor as calm and composed a person as I have to be, considering... but keeping a good demeanor and good attitude after that... It would be hard for anyone. Moiraine is a bigger person than most of us I guess. 

Then there is more. Things are piling up. And as hilarious as it is for us... and no matter how Moiraine would see through her, Nynaeve insults The Amyrlin throne. Twice. Now... if it was anyone else, it would have been sorta kinda “whatever” for Moiraine... But just imagine a random woman, a stranger comes into your home and insults someone you love. A partner, or a relative... She is supposed to be an adult, I get she is young and defensive, but ... Plus the famous line: "Siuan Sanche waits for only one woman. And it's not you!" Yet again it was a reaction to Nynaeve casually insulting Siuan, dismissing her as she is not that important "Let her wait!" It shows at least two things, that most people caught. That is Moiraine being absolutely confident in her relationship with Siuan. She puts Nynaeve in her place - she can not talk about The Amyrlin this way in front of her. But in order to get from Moiraine being nice, all smiles, expecting both girls to be grateful and happy with the surprise, to her being so irritated that she loses control and lets that slip in front of two people who have NO CLUE about her relationships with Siuan, this has to strike a nerve. She is mad! Not that Nynaeve gets that not-so-subtle hint. Because only minutes later, she does it again! This time, thankfully for Nynaeve, Moiraine follows Siuan's reactions and just smiles.

At the Waygate "Why should we trust you?" I mean this was within reason I guess... But still, it adds up to the pile of what Moiraine takes from her. And this is maybe a few hours after the Oath Rod event.

And then there is Fal Dara. 

So finally I am getting to the “I like her, you know!” My initial reaction: “You do? Since when?". Because it comes right after "You forget, girl, that I can not lie!" Her tone so obviously says she is done with her behaviour, that it almost doesn’t allow other interpretation. She turns to her with "girl". OUCH! That was on purpose. Nynaeve craves for people to take her seriously, and Moiraine knows it since the village and their conversation. People commented on her previous line about the wisdom being a sick burn. I think this one is actually worse.

Moiraine just said to her you are nothing but a little girl, a child who thinks that she can play in the world of the adults. And that was in front of Lan.

So I don’t know if have a good enough explanation for her next line, MINUTES later. If it was phrased in another way, maybe... But it takes quite the jump from her previous behaviour, to be taken as clean truth. Now, I understand why Moiraine had to say that she likes Nynaeve and possibly it has to be true. It was part of her plan. She had to push Lan to her, to have him out, she needed him to be distracted that night, so she could release the Bond. Moiraine needed a reason to mask the Bond. And I think the masking before in Tar Valon was done with the same purpose - to have the excuse to make Lan ( and us) NOT question her or run to her when she does it again. Lan is outraged the first time she does it- he immediately goes to her. This is not something she usually does. She says It’s been two years. I thought you would appreciate the break. The thing is we all assumed Moiraine and Siuan hadn't seen each other in two years. That might not been the case at all. Maybe it's been two years since she masked the Bond. They may even share … the fun times. But she needs a reason now for Lan to think this is something she does. "Hey, I am letting you have privacy tonight."

Plus, Lan already sensed something was wrong. He asks her and Moiraine tells him. She practically leads him to get to the answer himself later on, just not right now. She does the same thing before she sends him away in S2. She explains to him her motives for her next actions, so when he thinks over it later on, he has all the answers. "Nostalgia. The air reminds me of the night we met. (that statement is a bit shaky, I think she was trying to lie here) I feel like I’ve taken everything from you. There is more to life than me, than this mission. (There is absolutely no hesitation in those, so this is her telling her absolute truth and regret).  And the last push - “I like her, you know. (a pause) The Wisdom." A push toward Nynaeve. She has given him approval. This is her saying goodbye. It doesn’t matter who is the Dragon at this point. That is before Rand reveals what he knew.

That pause though is slightly suspicious. Maybe I just started to read too much in every word, but her speech patterns matter, and what she says often can be interpreted in more than one way. She makes connected statements, they look like a flowing monologue, but the connection between them is placed there to create a suggestion, that this is what she means. It sounds like one thing leads to another, and separately they are truths, but sometimes there is more hidden in them, and they actually stand alone as separate information. The person who listens hears what she says but receives an overall message or conclusion from her last words, that may not be the actual meaning of her words. (Right before the scene with Lan, Rand argues with Agwene. She says: "Moiraine can not lie" and he answers: "That doesn't mean she cannot mislead." It feels like they make a point with this, a hint to prepare the audience that something will happen in this direction). They did that in S2 E2 with her, but because we already heard other Aes Sedai using elusive language to hide or obscure truth, we started searching for it in their speech and it became more obvious. The writers use that trick, like the magician's hand - look here, not there. It shouldn’t work, but it does, because like Lan, we are not used to it, we are not expecting it. And we are focused on something else. On the one that doesn't matter that much. It's why most people thought the Bond was masked even after S2E8.

Lan doesn’t expect Moiraine to actively manipulate him. In his mind their relationships are clear. He knows Moiraine can do that. He is perfectly aware that he has an intelligent woman trained on two fronts to be very precise with her words and is able to play with them. He knows she is capable. But using it on him? She has no reason to do that. So she uses manipulation to make him go outside and spend some time with his people. Counting on Nynaeve she will somehow follow - she is curious, she tends to go around and she is interested in Lan. The rest is maybe sheer luck.

The music in the background is the same as when she was saying goodbye to Tar Valon and Siuan. Even the setting is similar- she watches from a high place. If Tar Valon represents her connection to Siuan, Fal Dara is Lan. And she is saying goodbye to Fal Dara and to Lan. The other option is that Moiraine actually really thinks that. There are after all two big moments, where Nynaeve saves everyone. Both times Moiraine turns toward her and gives her a look. She has seen exactly how Nynaeve reacts when the people who she cares about are in danger. She also knows that Nynaeve's behaviour is dictated by fear and jealousy, by insecurities, but this is only a surface level. If one manages to ignore her big mouth and the constant jabs toward Moiraine, the core of her personality is the instinct and the desire to protect. She saves everyone the first time by pure instinct, in her rage and desperation, refusing to accept the reality of the situation. Moiraine even says it to Liandrin - The healer who saved the dying with her first channeling, choosing Red? Get outa here.

The second time though, in the Ways, Nynaeve hears her own fears in the words of The Black Wind. That she will watch them all die and do nothing. And is like "Fuck that". She is the one who steps in front of everyone and creates a sort of shield. She is pissed, but she is choosing it. She actively steps ahead and seeks for her power. It is not a surprise to her this time. Two people refuse to give up on The black wind. Everyone else is paralyzed on the ground trying to survive. There is a moment, while Moiraine is channeling to open the gate when she turns around and sees what Nynaeve is doing. Lan is there, trying to pull her back so they can leave. Moiraine awaits until everyone is out.

Once outside, the group is trying to process what happened. Everyone is crying. Even Moiraine has red eyes from whatever she had heard in there. Nynaeve looks quite composed though. Angry, but overall she seems fine. Moiraine turns to her and says "Well done." Then she adds "Everyone". Nynaeve is the first to speak. So Moiraine already saw her saving everyone, standing up to a magical power that took over your mind and was enough composed to think clearly after the whole mess. That probably wins her quite the respect of the Aes Sedai. So from Moiraine's perspective, if she is to leave Lan, if he ends up with a powerful, overprotective stubborn woman, whose first instinct when they are in danger is to get over herself - every fear, every insecurity, even barriers built up for years, who on top of it has feeling for him - that might not be that bad.

[fuckingpajamas]

Homesick Chapter 24 teaser

We are officially one chapter away from getting a glimpse of our villain and I am so incredibly excited to reveal them.

We’ve gotten some new interactions with Homesick and it has rejuvinated me to push and finish this chapter- so here’s the first few paragraphs of chapter 24 to tide you over!

HOMESICK CHAPTER 24 TEASER:

John followed Butcher to the car, sliding into the backseat and draping back over the headrest. He took a second to remove the glasses and hat, setting them onto his lap. As sunlight began to spill into the car, it became more obvious by the eyes sunken and dark and the ragged sigh that followed just how exhausted both parents were.

Once MM entered the car a silence settled over them, John being the first to speak to ease the tension.

"I think we all deserve a vacation when this is over."

Maybe he could finally take his family to the beach like they'd talked about. Anywhere would be better than this, he thought. He had to remind himself that as long as they were together, it would be okay.

"Think you may be right about that." Butcher numbly replied as he flopped down into the seat.

"I'll take two first class tickets to Hawaii for me and my little girl as payment after this. Please and thank you." MM gave a quick glance through his rear view mirror back to Homelander as he started the car, leaving up to him to decide if he was kidding or not.

The joke about Hawaii didn’t go unnoticed, Homelander tossing out something about fulfilling that promise. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford it tenfold. Despite his usually rigid and hostile attitude, William and his friends seemed to have the proper grit of personality to wear him down. The man who ate breakfast with them wasn’t the same man who wore the Homelander suit and for that? John was grateful. It was nice to finally be just. . . John.

Even when MM would glare back at John or comment on something he’d done in the past, he couldn’t take offense, instead yielding and allowing himself to smile or shrug it off. He was a terrible person and they all knew it. But at least he could find solace in the fact that none of this group started out *good*. They found it. Together.

"Did the weird wanker that Monique was seein' back off at all?... Tim? Todd? Something fucking godawful like that." He asked, making a face of disgust toward MM who was already preemptively scowling at the question.

"Todd. Yeah. He went off the deep end once his favorite superhero suddenly, miraculously eased up off the rhetoric. Monique finally started seeing the red flags." There was another pointed look back at Homelander as they turned to get onto the main highway again. MM had a lot of mixed feelings about all of this, but he was a pretty difficult man to read. He looked back to Billy briefly before turning his eyes on the road, tapping the steering wheel in his meticulously habitual way. "I'm just glad the guy isn't around my kid anymore, even if the two of us never work things out."

"For once, I think I get what you mean," Butcher pulled the lever on the old car to let the seat flop backwards at a slight incline. He went pulling an arm up behind his head and trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. He flipped his sunglasses down over his eyes to block the light out. He needed to rest. Though it was hard not to listen to MM talk about his kid and not think of Ryan, wherever he was.

"Having kids puts shit into perspective real quick. That's the only reason I agreed to do any of this in the first place.-- I've seen up close how having a kid can change people." MM shrugged and kept his eyes on the road, but that was clearly directed at both of them.

"Not that I can 'andle anymore therapy today but... I'm glad you came. Despite all the shit I put you through,you still showed up for Ryan's sake." Billy cracked an eye open to look horizontally up at the blonde in the back seat.-- "And I *did* put him through *a lot* of shit."

“He sure did.” MM cleared his throat and graciously grazed past the invitation to list his grievances. Butcher had put him through a lot. “Still. You're welcome, William.”. It was loving, no matter how condescending it sounded.

[interlagosed]

I can't help but feel like all of this defense of Bianca is purely due to ableism that F1 fans themselves have but don't realize.

The amount of times I've seen people try to pull the "I can't be racist because I have black/brown friends/relatives" card and still have to face consequences, yet she uses her autistic brother as a prop to claim she can't be ableist and people are suddenly like "omg best apology ever, we support our queen."

No. I am autistic. I've gotten bullied for it for much of my life. I don't appreciate seeing Bianca continuing that bullying by encouraging the use of autism as an insult, and I especially don't like her using someone who is autistic to try to cover up her behavior. People need accountability if they're going to learn, and so far her version of "taking accountability" has just been "I'm just a girl, just a kid, only 18, I didn't know better" which luckily she deleted, and then using her autistic brother to try to gain PR brownie points after insulting people with autism.

And I KNOW F1 is full of ableism, not just on twitter but on here too. Hell, I was ranting to a F1 friend maybe a month ago about a post someone made on here about how they didn't like Lando solely because they thought he was neurodivergent but he was too privileged to have to mask his neurodivergent behavior and I just? Girl what in the fucking ableism. Do people realize how exhausting "masking neurodivergent behavior" is? And that post had about a dozen notes - not of people calling it out, but of people agreeing with it. Lance gets the majority of it, but I've also seen people use autism to insult Logan too. He isn't in F1 anymore, but I saw it all the time with Latifi too. Like fucking stop chalking up disliking people to "omg i don't like them because they exhibit behaviors that i associate with autism," that's fucking gross and insulting!!!

Idk I'm tired of reading how I'm anti-women or anti-POC for not immediately accepting her apology and jumping right back in to supporting her. She needs to do a LOT of self-reflecting and attitude changing, as do motorsport fans in general given a lot of responses to this situation. Ableism isn't cool, cute, funny, etc. (Also looking at the fans who repost that RocketPoweredMohawk YouTuber's clips in the tags on Tumblr too. The guy's biggest punchline is "HAHAHAHA lance autistic" yet F1 fans worship the ground he walks on and treats him like peak comedy. Please, find an actual sense of humor that doesn't involve making people with disabilities the punchline of your jokes). It's getting old. It's not funny or quirky or edgy. It's exhausting to constantly run into reminders that most of these people I'm interacting with in my online spaces would never accept me and would probably just bully me if I ever came across them in real life. 🙃

Thank you for saying all of this. I genuinely didn’t even know this was a line of ~commentary (ew) on Lance or Logan. It’s absolutely disgusting. I feel like we’re only just getting to a point where people even understand autism (and let’s be clear…they still don’t lol not really) but shit like this is so gross and only forces autistic people even further into the margins of society. I’m really sorry the fandom is like this. You deserve to take up as much space as you need, and the rest of us need to hold ableists accountable.

[margridarnauds]

Hi,

So I finished the novel Queen's Gambit by Elizabeth Freemantle and am now extremely angry need to decompress and filter out her garbage I'm shocked that Penguin House published this book and that it is getting made into a movie. To portray young Princess Elizabeth as willingly seeking Seymour out and seducing him is vile. Parr's bitchy handmaid Dot finds them in bed together. What on Earth? No evidence for that. Then Catherine Parr gets angry, blames Elizabeth and they don't reconcile after she leaves. Heartbreaking. Plus, the portrayal of Catherine Parr is horrid there is no evidence she or her stepdaughter Meg were raped during the Pilgrimage of Grace, a devout woman like Catherine wouldn't be contemplating killing either of her husbands, or rejoicing in the prospect of being damned to hell as she puts it after Henry VIII dies. (Maybe with Henry she would think about it but not actually go through with it). I got the impression that this author had an anti-Christian as well as anti-Elizabeth attitude. Tried Sisters of Treason another book of hers but it was also bad. I want to send her an angry letter now calling out her disgusting portrayal of young Elizabeth. Did you send in a review or a note to the author after you read it?

Don't forget Dot's final monologue about Why Elizabeth Is Such A Bitch -- It's Almost Understandable That She's Such a Bitch-Slut.

It's common with historical fiction, really, to not understand the way that religion historically worked. It's very easy to put our feelings on religion, whatever they might be, onto historical figures in an attempt to make them More Like Us, but the simple reality is that they were living in a totally different cultural context. Characters are either religious fanatics so extreme that they make Frollo think "Hm, maybe they're overdoing it a tiny bit", they're Secretly Atheists, or religion just doesn't cross their mind ever (unless, in Tudor media, it's to establish them as a Cool Modern Protestant.)

As for what I did...honestly, put the book aside and thought about every single decision in my life that had led to me both reading and finishing it. As you can see by the fact that I still remember it in vivid detail, it holds a special place in my Hall of Shame. (And it isn't even batshit insane enough to be FUNNY, unfortunately.)

But, my piece of totally unsolicited advice that you are perfectly free to discard at your earliest convenience? ...when you do medieval Irish stuff. Or medieval Celtic stuff in general. You will NEVER see your field faithfully or even sensitively portrayed on page. Every single depiction you get will be based on old stereotypes, colonialist tropes, and outdated information. I've read things about my faves, in particular, that would make most people's hair stand up on end. Things that are truly, deeply vile, that are on par with the depiction of Elizabeth here, or even worse. And it is easy to be angry, it's understandable to be angry, and God knows that my friends have heard me ranting in the DMs. And when I was younger, I was, regularly. And then I got exhausted, because anger is exhausting, especially when it's you and your anger versus a tidal wave of misinformation. I didn't stop getting angry, no. But I started to use it as a tool, not as an explosive -- I let it fuel me, I used it for my scholarship, putting all these different pieces of pop culture about my field in conversation with one another and noting common trends, as well as making comparisons to trends in other areas to figure out what, in our contemporary cultural landscape, is causing us, as a general group, at this point in time, to portray these things in a certain way, as well as how we have portrayed them over time. I have built my career, at least in part, on defending the undefendable, on studying the ink blotches of historiography to see where the historical or literary records meet the popular image, specifically looking at figures who are frequently portrayed as villainous and monstrous. I don't deal in happy endings, I can't when I step in after their final death scenes, after the point where even the possibility of their deaths meaning *something* is gone, because they don't even get the satisfaction of being well remembered. I never expect to see my faves well portrayed -- sometimes, I'm surprised, but it is truly, deeply, RARE.

You send a note to an author, no matter how well-intentioned, and it's easy to write off. The author submitted that work for publication, it's done. They're still getting royalties off of them, whatever that means in the current hellacious publishing landscape, in this case, she even has a movie. They might care, but honestly? They probably won't. They can dismiss you as a crazed, unhinged fan, regardless of how much thought and effort you've put into the critique. You've wasted all that high quality, undiluted anger for something that won't have any tangible effect. My advice, instead? Feel your anger, let the hate flow through you, especially when it reflects biases like sexism, racism, and homophobia, sharpen it, and then use it -- it doesn't have to be in conference presentations or journal articles or any of the trappings of academia, but use it.

Write reviews, absolutely, put it into conversations with other pieces of Tudor and Elizabethan fiction, especially about young Elizabeth (Hell, compare it to, say, Elizabeth R, Becoming Elizabeth, Young Bess, or Lady Bess (Toho 2014/2018), just for examples of the young Elizabeth's life off the top of my head that dramatize the life of Elizabeth), see what other people have said, in journal articles, sure, but also in blog articles or GoodReads reviews online, without necessarily even talking to them, but just to get a survey of what they think and why they think it, and see what you can do. Why do we want to portray Elizabeth this way? Is it a desire to "knock her off her throne?" Portray her as a nymphomaniac bitch slut to contrast with the "Gloriana" image? Is it that we're uncomfortable with the topic of CSA? Or we don't like to think of it as something that historically occurred? (Especially when you compare it to the ongoing bimboification of Katherine Howard, even in allegedly sympathetic biographies.) Is it that we still don't want to believe that it could have happened? That we're willing to give more sympathy to a man than to a child? Some combination of all of them? And are we seeing progressively more nuanced portrayals, or are we seeing more of the same across the board? (I feel like Seymour, at least, has gone from being a romantic hero in Young Bess to being portrayed as genuinely manipulative, even if the execution is still lacking.) On the reverse side, are people more willing to defend, say, Elizabeth I and Catherine Howard than other historical women, specifically because of what they represent and because of their high profile status? Is there a double-edged sword here? Let your anger fuel you.

[kanndlila]

Marked

Scaramouche x Reader 

College au : Waking up after a party at the Fatui Mansion brought to you by Pantalone after being dragged into the party and abandoned by Yoimiya who didn’t care about an incoming project deadline and somehow find out the ‘errands’ that your project partner Scaramouche was running is the party itself. I mean, who prioritizes parties over deadlines?**

CW: cockwarming, profanity, dubcon? reader is fem-bodied. I am in dire need of a checklist of this stuff so I know what to point out. 

—

What the fuck is happening? You opened your eyes to nothing, the lights were off and you don’t sleep with the lights off. You could tell you were absolutely exhausted from the bare lack of energy to even move. Huh? Why am I naked? and this blanket is too warm! You tried to get your brain and body to work but nothing’s connecting as if you were being visited by your sleep paralysis demon. 

“sssttop moving.” Okay, something really is stopping you from getting up and it’s breathing down your neck. Scary. Your sleep paralysis demon never spoke before. You let out a gutteral sound in protest but with exhaustion taking over once again you simply let out a huff before going back to a dreamless sleep. 

Right behind you on the same comfy bed, was Scaramouche. Snuggling into your hair, inhaling your [what he considered to be such an] addicting scent, holding you closer because your body warmth is simply delightful against his body, fingers spanning your chest, legs entagled with yours, and his cock wrapped by your walls. Everything felt too good. He ghosted a few kisses on your shoulder before he went back to sleep himself.

The next time you awaken, your brain took some time to start functioning but the first thing you saw fired up your brain instantly. Eyes staring back at yours. Scaramouche. Wha? He had you trapped between his arms on definitely-not-your bed staring at your previously sleeping face. 

At a loss for words, you both just silently stared at each other. Daylight was sipping in through the windows and it seems that the sun has risen long ago. His eyes, you could stare at them all day had he not have such a deplorable, disgusting attitude. 

He was the first to break eye contact, kissing your neck and the rest of your decolletage which made you realize 1) you’re naked and there’s no use hiding now, 2) your thighs involuntarily contracted out of suprise and they hurt, and 3) the soreness and sensitivity between said thighs is evidence last night’s events. Scaramouche stopped after you unwittingly let out a soft moan and grabbed his hair when he went through the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulders and you just looked at him with [from what you can feel,] a fiery red breathless face. 

He gives you a chaste kiss. “We both have shit to do.” THE AUDACITY. You were the one trying to get out from his grasp earlier and even now he has caged you again he says you’re restricting him from doing whatever duties he may have? You had a school project, groceries, chores planned out for today but no, you have to move some tasks tomorrow or another day all because you didn’t wake up early enough. 

“We have that damn 3D art project due on Monday. It’s Saturday.” You reminded him, still staring from below and taking your hand away from his hair. He got up and so did you, testing the waters for your legs’ capacity to carry you today while he used the bathroom. You dug up your emergency kit in your bag first as it had your spare underwear that you kept in case your monthly curse came by surprise. “Are you just going to stand there or are we going to get a start on that project?” He huffed.

“At least let me use the bathroom first!” You rolled your eyes. “We don’t even have the materials to start working on it.” Welp, back to normal. You took your emergency kit and head for the shower. You were getting things setup when you saw yourself in the mirror. Bitemarks and hickeys all over your neck and chest. 

FUCKING HELL

You glared at the marks he left you. “I don’t have time for this.” You were going to do that project, then groceries, then laundry although you definitely had a lot of clothes left, some weekly cleaning, maybe even meal prep all for today but it’s 10 AM and you haven’t gotten a start on anything!

“Took you long enough.” He was already munching on a rice bowl, eyeing your choice of clothes and your neck. “Eat.” You just sat down, the question what the fuck did you do to my neck dying at the back of your mind when you had a taste of his glorious decent cooking.

-

A/N: this is supposed to be a part of a 5(?) chapter fic but this very scene right here won’t let me move on to writing the other ones. I hope someone caught the Mean Girls reference ehe~. and yes, that exposition part, I’ve yet to get brain juice to write that but I already have idea on what happens after this. Also I think I won’t be using Notes next time I write fanfics, it fucks up the formatting.

[akuaya-eng]

(Event) Vampire and the Silver Moonlight - Episode 5

"Blood red and lukewarm. No matter how many times I endure it, it feels disgusting.

Even if I survive, hellish days continue. I must end this quickly..."

Dia (thinking)

... Where is this...?

Woman in an old-fashioned dress

Stop...! Please, spare my life...!

Devil who lives in the castle

I'm sorry... If only I could survive without devouring souls...

(A sudden attack slashes the woman)

Dia (thinking)

Is this memory from that body...?

----------

The town priest

Stop, don’t be hasty! The swamp is filled with curses...!

Devil who lives in the castle

Hahaha... No one will mourn me anyway. This is fine... Haha...

Dia (thinking)

Ah, I see... This is the era when the vampire legend was born... As I thought, legends are just fiction. The vampire who was said to be hunted by the priest and resurrected— no, it was a devil. He turned himself into a ghost... He continued to steal human souls, driven to despair. Did he attack the neighboring kingdom’s princess who visited the town, just to be slain by humans? Was it loneliness that drove him to it...

----------

Dia's mother

Beloved... my beloved Dia... No matter what happens, I will always--

Dia

Mother...

Dia (thinking)

Back when I was still human— when I visited the Silver Moon Festival incognito, Mother sewed my costume. The ministers and servants at the castle who praised the disguise... All lost their lives because of me.

Dia

... There is no one left in this world who cares for me. Am I just like that devil—

??? (Espada)

......!

??? (Fiori)

......ia! ......

??? (Espada)

...... Lord Dia—!

----------

Espada

Lord Dia! If I lost you, I would—

Fiori

Prince, stop napping alone...!

(Dia's vision starts to focus on Espada and Fiori)

Dia

Espada... Fiori...

Espada

! You're awake...!

Fiori

Oh, don’t scare me like that again!

Dia (thinking)

The voice calling my name...

Dia

... Was it really that serious to make such a fuss?

Fiori

Wh-What’s with that attitude! You have no idea how worried we were~!

Espada

Lord Dia... I am relieved you are safe...

Dia

Espada, Fiori... You may not always be by my side. You both have your own wishes and circumstances.

DIa (thinking)

... I might lose this connection at some point. But until that day comes—I'll be fine.

(A blow is directed towards the ghost)

Devil's ghost

Pain, pain, pain...!

Eric

Damn... This is tough...! Everyone, give me a hand!

Dia

Right. I can't stay asleep forever. Espada. Fiori. I will use the rest of my magic to attack that specter. I'm exhausted, so I’ll be vulnerable while chanting. So— protect me.

Espada

As you demand, Lord Dia.

Fiori

Guess I have no choice. Leave it to your reliable princess!

Devil's ghost

Aaa... End it...!

Dia

(charges power) Don’t worry, I’ll end it as you wish. —This is the final curtain.

[maria021015]

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 14 AHEAD!

When Zaida next opened her eyes, her vision was shrouded in darkness and the pungent odour of rotting trash filled her senses. Reaching out with her arms she felt and heard plastic shift beneath her fingers and with a lurch in her stomach she realised where she was. That bitch had thrown them in the dumpster. Zaida got her knees beneath her somehow, managing to crouch atop the garbage and reach upwards for the lid. With a hard push she swung the lid open and cool, fresh air greeted her. The only thing that alerted her to just how much time had passed was the fact that the sun had gone down. She wasted no time in hauling herself out of the dumpster and gagging at the state of her clothes and hair. This was easily the most disgusting thing that had ever happened to her. She swept her hair away from her face and felt for where Erica had smashed the metal into her head. She couldn’t even feel a bump.

Stiles came to consciousness after several minutes of her reaching into the dumpster, shaking him and calling his name. When he finally jerked back to life and saw where he was he growled in exasperation, “Bitch.”

“Still think she’s hot?” Zaida raised a brow pointedly and helped him back to solid ground. “We reek. I need to stand under a boiling shower until my outer layer of skin burns off.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she ripped a very important part out of Roscoe. We’re not going anywhere.” Stiles grumbled and Zaida furrowed her brows at him.

“Roscoe?” she repeated. “You named your Jeep, ‘Roscoe’?”

“Says the girl who can’t even drive yet. Complain about it when you actually have a car.” he scoffed.

“Okay, well your car isn’t exactly of much use right now.” she shot back and picked an orange peel out of her messy ponytail. She waited, sat on the curb, as Stiles called a tow-truck to pick them and the Jeep up.

“Xander is going to kill me when I get home.” she sighed when Stiles joined her, sitting beside her. “How am I going to explain the fact that I smell like a literal racoon’s feast?”

“You can tell him you’re staying at Lydia’s and crash at mine? My Dad’s got the night shift and he won’t be home until after we’ve gotta leave for school tomorrow.” Stiles shrugged. She mulled it over for a moment before reluctantly agreeing.

“Fine, but I call the first shower.” she sighed and wrinkled her nose up at the smell that was emanating from them both. The mechanic didn’t take more than ten minutes to arrive with the tow-truck. He may not have said anything about the smell when they got into the back of his car, but the expression on his face said it all and Zaida sank lower in the seat in shame. She hated smelling bad.

When they arrived at the mechanic’s workshop - some place called Tucker’s Garage - the mechanic (possibly Tucker himself) hoisted the Jeep into the air with the hydraulic lift and began working on it immediately.

“Hey! Hey? Wh-what do you think you're doing? All I needed was a starter!” Stiles protested when he realised the man was working on something different to what they’d come here for.

“Yeah, but it looks like your whole exhaust system has gotta be replaced here.” The man explained without glancing at them.

“Why do I get the feeling you're slightly overestimating the damage?” Stiles commented suspiciously.

“It's probably gonna run you around like twelve-hundred in parts and labor.” The mechanic shrugged and Stiles went pale.

“Are you kidding? This thing doesn't have a catalytic converter!” Stiles gasped in disbelief before sighing. “And yes, I know what a catalytic converter is.”

“Do you know what a ‘limited slip differential’ is?” The man asked condescendingly and his attitude rubbed Zaida completely the wrong way. Sure, she appreciated his help and him not saying anything about how bad they smelled, but he didn’t have to rip them off. Stiles went quiet, clearly not knowing what it was. “Yeah, it's coming on more like fifteen-hundred.”

“A limited slip differential distributes power equally to both the right and left rear tires.” Zaida decided to step in. “I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that has nothing to do with the exhaust system. Quite frankly, you’re bullshitting us, so just work on what absolutely needs to be fixed - the starter, which is what we came here for.”

“Yeah, what she said.” Stiles nodded enthusiastically, staring at Zaida with wide eyes and then storming off to the waiting area. “I'll be back here, seething with impotent rage!”

When they were out of earshot of the mechanic he turned to Zaida with an impressed expression. “I didn’t know you were into cars.”

“I’m not, I’ve just seen ‘My Cousin Vinny’ too many times. He could have asked me any other question and I wouldn’t have had a clue. He was just unlucky he picked the one thing that I did know.” she shrugged with a satisfied smile in her victory. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna see if this place has a bathroom.”

She left Stiles to exit the workshop as she slipped into a nearby restroom and locked the door behind her. She could vaguely hear Stiles yelling a complaint about the establishment through the heavy wooden door, but the sound was considerably muffled. The bathroom wasn’t exactly clean by any means, but it also wasn’t disgusting. At least, not as disgusting as a dumpster. She wiped down the sink with toilet paper and hand soap before leaning her head over the bowl and running hot water through her hair. She just wanted to rinse as much of the smell off her as possible. She could hear the loud sounds of the mechanic’s machines at work and hoped that he wasn’t adding additional unnecessary services to rack up the bill.

In the cupboard below the sink was a roll of garbage bags to change out the trash can and she ripped one from the roll and opened it. She then peeled her jumper off her body and shoved it in there, being left with just her short-sleeved top underneath. There wasn’t anything that could be done about her pants, but at least the smell was marginally better than before. She grabbed an almost empty can of air freshener from on top of the toilet and sprayed the remaining substance all over her lower half, trying to obscure the scent as much as possible. It would have to do until she was able to shower. She exited the bathroom to find the workshop suspiciously quiet and empty. Stiles’ Jeep had been lowered to the ground and both the mechanic and the boy were completely out of sight. Zaida exited through the slightly ajar door into the waiting area - which was just a short corridor - only to see a familiar figure collapsed on the floor. Her stomach twisted and her heart jumped against her rib cage.

“Stiles!” She rushed towards him, noticing his phone on the floor beside him with its screen lit up on an open phone call with 911. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s here Zaida.” he whispered in response so the phone wouldn’t pick up on his voice, nothing moving but his facial muscles.

“What’s here?” she questioned in hushed tones, eyes darting around for any signs of danger as she crouched beside him, knees pressing into the hard, cold floor. She couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“The mechanic…” He stuttered through heavy breaths as the panic set in. “It paralysed him…lowered the Jeep…he was crushed.”

“Paralysed?” she repeated and raised her brows. “Are you paralysed? How?”

“There was slime on the door handle…a clear slime…” he explained, feeling his fingertips and toes start to tingle as they gradually began to regain feeling.

“Oh my God, I don’t know what to do. What do I do?” she started to panic, but seeing Stiles in such a vulnerable state was new to her. When everything had happened that night in the school, and on the Lacrosse field, the thing that had kept her grounded had been his calmness in the face of danger. She couldn’t allow herself to spiral when he now needed her. She owed him that much, so she took long, deep, stabilising breaths until she got her racing heart relatively under control. “Okay, it’s going to be okay. The police are on their way and I’m pretty sure that thing is gone. Just keep trying to move until you get feeling back. It’ll be pretty difficult to explain to the cops why you’re paralysed.”

Zaida managed to heave Stiles’ deceptively heavy body up and onto a chair in the corridor. “Do you…” she cleared her throat when her voice came out squeaky. “Do you want to count with me?”

With what little capacity he had, Stiles nodded, so she began. Five things. “The carpet is dark grey. The writing on the window is yellow. The chairs are black. The lights are so cool-toned, they’re almost blue. The red of your jacket matches the signage.”

Four things. She reached out and brushed the lump on his temple lightly. “Can you feel that?” she asked, and he nodded with a slight wince. “Let me know when you can feel it.”

Zaida then squeezed his shoulder, but he gave her no reaction, so she trailed her touch lower down his arm, pausing at his bicep when he hummed in acknowledgement. She then shifted her hand to his leg, pressing lightly against his thigh. Again, no reaction, but when she reached his knee he nodded, going through his breathing exercises with no sound other than the air moving in and out of his nose and mouth. That was three, and for her last touch she gripped his hand tightly and felt him clutch her back. She didn’t let go.

“You’re getting better.” she reassured him in a soothing voice. Three things. “I can hear the lights buzzing, and the cars driving by on the street, and…” Zaida trailed off when she couldn’t think of a third thing. The creature that had attacked the mechanic…if it wasn’t still here, where was it now?

“Your voice.” Stiles managed to say, his words slightly gravelly and rough. Something about hearing her voice was calming in and of itself. “You have a nice voice…almost melodic.”

Her lips parted in surprise at his compliment and despite the chill in the air and the goosebumps and shivers rippling across her bare arms, she felt a slight glow of warmth within her. It was the second time he had said that to her. She cleared her throat once more before continuing. Two things. “This place smells like gas…and we still smell like garbage.” That one earned a slight chuckle from the boy, and she was glad to hear it. “I don’t have any gum, but if I focus real hard I think I can actually taste how badly we stink.” she continued, and Stiles seemed noticeably calmer when he turned his head to smile at her with watery amber eyes in appreciation of her efforts. He was glad that he didn’t have to wait for the police alone and helpless. Stiles didn’t say it, but once again he was relieved that she was by his side.