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kikyoupdates · 10 months ago

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Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

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What the actual fuck.

You blink, absolutely dumbfounded. There’s some kind of grotesque, insect-like creature in front of you, buzzing obnoxiously as it flaps its wings. It bears the appearance of a fly, at least somewhat, but it’s much bigger than a normal fly, and its face looks like it came straight out of a low-budget horror movie.

The point is, it’s not normal. It's not the kind of thing you’ve ever seen before. At the very least, not in real life.

And yet, you’re the only one who seems to notice it.

“...I keep telling you, it’s weird,” a girl mumbles, scratching her neck impatiently. “I can’t get rid of it. There’s this chill that follows me around no matter where I go, and my shoulders feel weirdly heavy lately. I even went to a chiropractor to see if it would help. I feel so gross these days.”

The fly-like creature is hovering closely above the girl, a disturbing smile plastered across its already unattractive face. It’s literally right next to her, and not only her, but the other girls that are gathered around. They’re all just talking like nothing’s even going on. Completely blind to the abnormal presence that lurks nearby.

You’re the only one who can see that yucky-looking thing. How does that make any sense? How is it even possible for something like that to exist in real life?

Actually… where are you right now?

Once again, you blink. Something utterly strange is happening. The last thing you remember is going to bed, in your perfectly ordinary bedroom, so how in the world did you wake up in the middle of what appears to be a field?

You’re at a school, by the looks of things. But certainly not the school you’re used to attending. It seems like you’re even wearing some unfamiliar uniform, and it would make sense for this to be a dream, but by all accounts, it’s way too realistic.

Pinching your cheek doesn’t help. The scenery refuses to change, and sure enough, the creature is still hanging above that girl. It even lets out a shrill, high-pitched laugh (which she of course doesn’t hear), almost as if it’s taunting her.

You’re not sure what you should be doing right now. This is all one hell of a mindfuck, if you’re being honest. But that creature can’t be good news, and even though you’re admittedly pretty scared, it seems like you’re the only one who can see it. You’re the only one who even realizes it’s here.

Swallowing your apprehension, you take a deep breath and approach.

“Excuse me…?”

You call out to the group of girls. There’s no easy way to break this to them. How do you bring up the fact that there’s some weird creature in the vicinity? If they can’t see it, there’s no reason they’ll even believe you. They’ll probably just think you’re crazy or something.

As it so happens, though, you aren’t required to recount some absurd, seemingly nonsensical tale.

You’ve barely taken two steps forward when all of a sudden, the creature sharply turns its head in your direction.

And then it screams.

Just like its laugh, the sound is high-pitched and wholly unpleasant. You’re not even sure what prompted that kind of reaction, since it seemed pretty chill up until this point, but now, it’s trembling like a leaf in the wind.

You’re worried that you might have triggered it somehow, and that it’s going to attack you, but that doesn’t happen either. It turns out that the scream it just let out wasn’t one of aggression, but rather, fear.

So, it flies off before you can get any closer, and the girl who was complaining until just a few moments ago suddenly blinks, expression brightening.

“Whoa, wait,” she mumbles in disbelief. “It’s… it’s gone. I think I feel better now. No way. It’s actually gone! I thought it would never end!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just all in your head?” one of the other girls frowns, visibly unconvinced. She then turns towards you. “Oh. Sorry, were you talking to us just now? I didn’t really hear what you said.”

“Uh.”

You’re not sure what to say. The whole reason you came over was so you could warn them about that weird creature, but it disappeared in the blink of an eye. It screamed right as it saw your face—which is kind of offensive, honestly—and then it flew off like no one’s business.

A bit hesitant, you try asking, “Sorry if this sounds weird, but where are we right now?”

Now it’s their turn to look dumbfounded. You can only imagine how visceral their reaction would have been if you’d actually brought up the weird fly creature.

“What do you mean where are we? We’re… at school, where else?”

The girl gestures all around her, as if it should be obvious. Granted, you deduced as much, but that wasn’t really what you were asking. All of this is just so ridiculous. How in the world does a person manage to go to sleep in their own room and wake up someplace they’ve never been before?

The group decides to walk away, probably because you weirded them out with your stupid question, and you can even hear them whispering amongst themselves.

“Why’d she even ask that all of a sudden…?”

“I don’t know. She transferred here just recently, right? Maybe she’s still getting used to things. It was kind of weird, though.”

They keep talking about it as they leave, probably not realizing you can still hear them. Whatever. You’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. As things stand, you woke up god-knows-where, and you just saw some freakish creature a second ago, so you’re starting to worry that you might be going insane.

The only explanation is that this has to be some kind of dream. A lucid dream, perhaps? That’s what they call these kinds of things, right?

This is way too freaky, though. Can I make myself wake up? I really don’t like this. It gives me the creeps.

You desperately try to force yourself awake, but regretfully, it doesn’t work. And you’re not even given much time to speculate on the issue any further.

A soccer ball comes flying at you and hits you right in the face.

It hurts. It hurts like fucking hell. In fact, it hurts so much that you’re knocked flat onto your back, groaning as you cradle your poor nose, which feels like it’s just been split open.

“...holy shit, are you okay?!”

You can hear a student running towards you, but since you’re lying on your back convinced you’re about to die, you don’t pay it much mind. The immense amount of pain you’re feeling is absurd. Even for a lucid dream, isn’t this too much?

However, things are only about to get weirder.

Like way, way weirder.

“I’m so sorry!” the same student apologizes. It’s a boy, by the sounds of it, and you hear him drop to his knees beside you. “I swear I wasn’t even trying to kick the ball that hard! I barely even used any force!”

From afar, another student chimes in. “Even when you hold back, you’re way too strong, Itadori! Is she dead? You killed her, didn’t you?”

Did he just say… Itadori?

For just a moment, the pain subsides, and clarity overtakes your features. You manage to squint your eyes open and find a boy staring down at you. A boy with bright brown eyes, and spiky pink hair styled in an undercut.

A boy that you’ve most definitely seen before.

Your jaw drops open. There’s just no way. This is… Itadori Yuji? The protagonist of Jujutsu Kaisen? A fictional series, which, by definition, means he doesn’t actually exist?

Yet here he is, fussing over you and looking immeasurably guilty for having just kicked a soccer ball in your face. And even though you keep trying to tell yourself that this is a dream, it’s getting harder and harder to deny. The sensations you feel—the pain, the confusion, and the excited fluttering in your chest—are impossible to ignore.

It all makes sense now. That weird creature you saw earlier was a cursed spirit. That explains why those girls didn’t even notice it. Ordinary humans normally can’t perceive curses. Most of the time, they’re completely unaware of their existence.

You realize how utterly absurd this is. People don’t just wake up and find themselves sucked into their favorite anime. No matter how badly some fans might wish for it, this kind of thing just doesn’t happen.

Or at least, it’s not supposed to.

“Wait, your—your nose is bleeding!” Itadori exclaims. “I need to get you to the infirmary! Can you walk? Or should I carry you?”

He appears frantic, which of course he is, since he’s a good guy. He’s the kind of guy who always cares about others. A guy with a big heart, a friendly demeanor, and a penchant for justice. Truly, the perfect protagonist.

…so, is this seriously happening right now?

“I-I’m fine,” you try to insist. “I just… need a moment. And then I’ll be okay.”

Itadori seems entirely unconvinced, so you suspect your nose is probably bleeding even more than you fear. Right now, you honestly couldn’t care less, though. Your heart is pounding relentlessly. The excitement and awe you feel can’t even be put into words.

“I’ll take you to the infirmary,” Itadori says again. He resists the urge to outright pick you up into his arms, and after a moment’s pause, he offers you his hand instead. “Here. Try standing up. If not, I’ll carry you there, okay?”

It’s difficult just to form a response. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his presence. The fact that you’re face to face with someone you never thought you’d be able to see in person, let alone speak to.

But even if it seems hard to believe, even if it makes you want to question your sanity, this is real. This is actually happening.

And so, you take his hand—changing the course of your life as you know it.

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pomefioredove · 5 months ago

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Hii! Can I request for Jamil where his s/o helps him with cleaning dishes after Kalim made another big party? My boy needs some support</3

SO I didn't read the s/o part until after I'd finished but you can imagine that I think? Jamil is reseved and wary enough for it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a white lie

type of post: fic characters: jamil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread

Suffice to say that Jamil had not enjoyed the party.

If he ever enjoys Kalim's parties is another question, but there were a few things that made this one particularly insufferable:

#1 Jamil had explicitly told Kalim not to have this party, since he had failed his last alchemy lab and needed to study before the retake #2 Kalim had agreed to not have this party and Jamil was already in bed when Kalim threw his door open to announce the party was back on #3 unprepared for this party that Kalim was not going to have, Jamil had run across campus in the cold to pick up food from Sam's before it closed #4 on the way back, one of those weird nocturnal bugs scuttered across the path in front of him

...And so now, at half past one in the morning, with all of the confetti vacuumed and glitter still stuck to his skin, Jamil was washing dishes.

He's fantasizing about the sad look on Kalim's face when he would inevitably fail the alchemy lab on Monday. Again.

Just a little something to keep him awake.

A squeak of the door. Jamil tenses, praying to any god that would listen, that that is not Kalim, come to ask for milk and cookies.

"You're still up?"

Your soft voice releases some of the tension in his shoulders.

Jamil sighs. "Yes. Is it late?"

He asks that as if he doesn't know. Better to play dumb than to look pitiful. He doesn't need your sympathy, after all.

"Yeah," you say, letting the door squeak shut behind you. "Why're you still here?"

He shrugs. "I don't know the time. I suppose I lost track,"

Which is a little white lie. He's been counting every minute.

Without asking, which is so insufferably like you, you stand beside him at the sink and begin washing dishes.

"You don't need to do that," Jamil says. "I'm almost done."

Which is another white lie. There's still dishes in the lounge he hasn't even collected yet.

"Then you'll be done faster,"

An almost intolerable act of kindness, but with that knowing look in your eye. He hates that you can tell when he's lying.

"...Very well," At least you're competent.

He knows you won't break anything. And you might even wash something, too. Much different from Kalim.

"...Did you enjoy the party?" he asks.

"I didn't go,"

"Didn't you?"

You respond to everything he says with this calm, soft voice, so unassuming, so innocent, but the way you look at him says something much different.

"I didn't," you repeat. "I didn't want to."

Jamil almost smiles. "So, then, may I ask what you're doing here? You surely didn't just decide to take a stroll through Scarabia at one-forty in the morning,"

"You know the time, now?"

Damn it. How do you manage to get him so tongue-tied???

Jamil steps away from the sink and dries off his hands just to put them on his hips.

"What do you want?"

"I want to help,"

And there's that cuteness again. You must have an angle here, something you need from him, but what could he possibly have to give?

He scoffs. "Surely, you'd have better results sucking up to Kalim. Or perhaps Azul. Or anyone but me,"

Your hands never stop working, shining each dish with a gentle efficiency he almost admires.

"But I want to suck up to you,"

Jamil crosses his arms and glares. It's frustrating just how good you are at this. Playing cute. You already have everyone on campus wrapped around your finger, don't you? The housewardens, the vice housewardens, the princes, the celebrities.

What would you want out of him? What good would being in his favor do you?

"What exactly are you implying?"

You look back into the murky depths of the sink. "I like you,"

"You like me?" As if he'd believe that.

But Jamil can't deny how honest you had sounded. And from what he knew, you hardly went around saying such things in such ways. Even to your friends.

"Why?"

You hesitate. As if you genuinely don't have an answer for that. An answer he'd like to hear, anyway.

"Because... you're like me, I suppose,"

Jamil's eyes widen. A lot of feelings suddenly go through him in hot flashes- shock, anger, resentment, jealousy- but mostly...

Confusion.

You continue. "Not in a literal sense. Just that... well, you know. No one helps me, either. They look to me for support and I'm expected to just... coddle them. I can't ever be upset or angry or resentful,"

He has no response. That's...

...Not untrue.

Jamil says nothing, letting the silence be broken only by his own loud, restless, thoughts, and then he slowly returns to the sink.

He takes each plate and glass from you with trained silence, rinsing each before setting them to dry.

And he looks only at the water. He doesn't want you to see how his expression has softened.

When you're done with everything, lounge and all, he walks you to the door.

"You're fine walking home on your own?"

You nod. Jamil isn't exactly sure why he asked that, but it felt like the right thing to say.

You both linger at the door. Looking at each other. Saying nothing.

"Thank you," he finally says. "For your help. It... meant a lot to me. I probably wouldn't have finished before sunrise without you."

Again, he's not sure why he said that. It felt right. It felt good to be good to you, he supposes. And his intentions were honest, even if his words were not. He certainly wouldn't have taken that long on his own.

But a white lie has never hurt anyone.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #queued

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dontbesoweirdkira · 7 months ago

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Platonic Yan! Batboys x Batsis darling

A/N: I want to talk about the concept of batsis having a s/o or a crush and how the family would react to that. I'm sure this concept might've been done but if i may speak-

Warnings: Obsession, relationship sabotage, overbearing family dynamics

Requests: always open.

Masterlist

Dick Grayson

I think he's kind of complex about this issue. I don't think !yan Dick would have a problem with you dating in itself. Like there is so many siblings and no way to keep all of these hormonal teen and young adults at bay. He's been there, he gets it.

But there's some conditions. You have to have a good relationship with dick, first. It you are close, that means you tell him...everything. He can easily monitor you and the progression of things. You'll be trusted to tell him is something goes wrong and he can step in. You won't mind Dick tagging along or being generally invasive. You won't forget about him or the family, he knows that you'll drop everything and come running. His grip is already secured firmly around you and your mind so theres no reason to worry. Have fun, be safe.

If you're anything like my previous posts where batsis is not close with dick in the slightest, he'd sabotage that relationship. He's not having it at all. Your dating is a threat to the family. You already have an apprehension of him, so anyone can swoop in and take his sis away. He doesn't want that. He doesn't trust your judgement or decision making skills enough. Dick knows that if someone hurt you or was dangerous, you'd hid it from him. You refuse to give Dick any sort of access to your life so therefore dating is a no. Sorry baby bat, it's for your own good!

But maybe i'm wrong. Maybe Dick doesn't want any of his siblings dating..especially his batsis. I've said before that Dick has given up his previous relationships among other things for the family. His siblings are his most important priority and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure they're properly provided for. What if he expects the same. He's jealous over the fact you all get to go out and date and he cannot because he's stuck playing dad? What if he's jealous that you're spending all your time with someone else? You don't have time for your older brother anymore

He's hurt when you embarrassingly hide your partner from him. You're critiquing everything he does and tells him not to call you by the nicknames he gave you. Yan! Dick hates being discarded. And maybe, none of this happened? Maybe you gladly show off your brother to your partner? Maybe just the thought of you one day getting married and leaving him fills his mind. He overthinks about being left here alone like Bruce was...he doesn't want that. He cannot have that. You cannot date for your own good...for his own good

Jason Todd

I don't think he'll ever vocalize his true feelings. and reluctantly allows it. Jason is rather against you dating, but because he doesn't trust anyone outside of the family. Plus he doesn't like that he gets to see you way less now.

Jason would be the brother that'd be cleaning his guns while you're introducing you partner to him. His tone is sharp and he doesn't embrace them once. He wants them to know there is someone in your life that'll kill for you if they hurt you.

I think if Jason sensed the person you were dating wasn't any good, he'd handle it privately. Your partner ghosts you for three days then sends a "i don't want to see you ever again." text. Weird. Everything was going great. Luckily your brother Jason just got back from his three day trip to comfort you.

If the partner is good but he doesn't really get any time with you, i think he's get a little out of character. Suddenly he's a lot more clingy to you when you're there. He's just following you around the entire house and wanting to spend every second with you. If it gets bad enough he will have to intervene with his other siblings. He misses you. This whole dating things sucks, who needs them when you have a perfect family. They're all you need.

Damien Wayne

He doesn't like change. At. All. This family is perfect as it is.

So don't mess it up by changing the natural order of things. This partner of yours is a nuisance. An incompetent, brain dead loser who is dragging you down with them. You don't need them. Damien is rather offended that you felt like you even needed something more outside of the family. What does this prick have that they don't?

He's weary of the fact that this person wanted to date you. Not that you're not enough but you're a Wayne now. People always wants something, if not money, its something else. You're foolish for this.

On a deeper level, Damien feels like he's loosing a parent. It's clear that your partner doesn't like your younger brother or even want him around. He misses you driving him around, reading together and sneaking out. You've never taken his often impolite banter to heart, you loved him as he was. He felt drawn to you. You were like a mother figure to him..don't do this. He;s sad and thinks you don't love him anymore.

Tim Drake

Maybe the least closest to you. You probably think he doesn't even like you but it's not true. He's just an observer more than a hands on type of person. He's just as yandere as the others, he cares. The second he got the name of your partner, he spends all day searching up dirt on them. He has a file of blackmail sitting pretty on his hard drive in case that person hurts you.

He's not confrontational like the rest. He's a bit too socially awkward for that but if he seriously felt you were in danger, he'd stop you. I think he'd mainly plot with the others to sabotage the relationship.

Like Damien, he doesn't understand why you need someone so badly. The family is more that fulfilling to him so why not for you? Time misses the little things like when you'd bring him food to his desk, or usher him to take a break from his computer. He misses your laughter and interactions with the rest of the family. He doesn't feel safe with you being out so much. The world is a dangerous place, it's safer here, where everyone can protect you. They all love you, and their love combined is far stronger than your partners.

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mikansei · 5 months ago

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from the trailblazer's perspective:

we met some weird guy who wears a statue on his head, who was kind of a dick to us, but then we went on a little entomological field trip where he was oddly encouraging. surprisingly nice to us afterward for all that he literally interrogated us first. but herta runs around as a doll and we're plenty weird ourselves, so dr. ratio is whatever, i guess. we probably think of him as "that weirdo who was on the herta space station once," which is an association i'm sure he'd hate - but hey, at least we don't call him "scholar king."

from the trailblazer's perspective:

we met some flashy IPC guy because we accidentally held him up in line at the hotel check-in, himeko tried to negotiate and it turns out he's a professional cutthroat negotiator, but it all worked out and he gave us his fancy room. he also loomed over us with freaky glowing eyes and maybe threatened us, but it was kinda vague and it's not like he really hurt us. well... until he did. the trailblazer gets the opportunity to be verbally sore about that, but the fight didn't really feel like cocolia, like phantylia; like aventurine had gone mad and wanted to take over and/or destroy the world. his grandstanding didn't make any sense to us at the time, though, and fighting him sucked ass. but we lived and - as we found out eventually - so did he.

then the trailblazer boards the radiant feldspar, and we see aventurine's hologram talking with ...boothill? okay. who explicitly says they're working out some kind of shady underhanded deal to find oswaldo schneider which, subtlety thy name is not boothill, but that's none of our business i guess. but aventurine's there(-ish) and alive and not cackling mad, which is an improvement.

then we go into the next room over and see that herta space station weirdo, dr. ratio.

huh???

and the first thing he says to us is "no wonder that gambler likes you so much."

huh???????

everything about this is news to the trailblazer. since when is dr. ratio not only on penacony, but in the dreamscape, aboard the exclusive invitation-only dream cruise ship? since when does he not only know of aventurine, but was apparently on this mission with him? since when does aventurine like us??? we just got done mutually trying to kill each other! his hologram didn't seem sore about it, which is great for us, but doesn't exactly translate into "like!"

why are we hearing this from him and not aventurine? why does he know aventurine's thoughts on us in the first place?

dr. ratio really just shows up, yaps about aventurine unprompted, recommends us reading material, complains about the crowd and then is like "k i'm done here. ur dismissed."

the trailblazer had bigger things to think about but i, the player, do not. the fandom at large may feel like 2.3 fell flat, but the fall of the roman empire is still within the wheelhouse of my roman empire. i never left the radiant feldspar. i am still aboard this fucking ship.

#do u ever think about how baffling and incongruous these two must look to the trailblazer and go a little insane abt it #they may have woken from their dreams but perhaps i the player am caught in ena's dream being served ratiorine food forever #“then wake to weep?” no. i shall simply sleep 💤#ratio's still on the ship with me too 💗 if i just never accidentally press F near him and screwllum he'll stay here till EOS 💗#sidenote: the trailblazer probably shouldn't have immediately known that ratio's “that gambler” was referring to aventurine specifically #but i'll forgive a peephole thru an otherwise well-constructed 4th wall in the name of gay shipping #hsr meta #hsr #aventurine #ratio #ratiorine #trailblazer #penacony spoilers #also this is NOT what this post was supposed to be about when i started typing it. penacony just Does That to me #merry yaoimas & happy final victor anniversary #the only holidays i celebrate

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wilwheaton · 10 months ago

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hello mr wil wheaton when you were my age (like exactly i think) you were filming stand by me

I turned 13 during production, so if you're about to become a teenager, I hope you'll let me offer some thoughts that I wish an adult had shared with me, then?

I know this is a wall of text, and giving someone this much of your attention is a HUGE ask. Maybe bookmark this for another time, if you're not into hearing an old man talk.

I wrote this a few days before I turned 50. Thank you in advance for listening, and I wish you a life filled with joy, unconditional love, kindness, and adventure.

Hey everyone! An old man is talking!

In seven days, I will be 50 years-old. This is ... weird. I do not feel the way I expected I would feel when I was approaching 50, nor do any of my friends. The only time I feel like I'm middle-aged is when my body does some bullshit that takes me down for hours because I had the nerve to stand up quickly. And I really hate it when I have to use the flashlight on my phone to see a menu. I mean, at that point, I may as well be dropping my pants for free and singing the Old Gray Mare.

Anyway. This has been on my mind for a little bit, so I had something to say when someone used my tumblr ask me thingy earlier this week:

Q: I hope I'm as cool as you when I'm 49. I'd like to think I'm taking the right steps towards that version of myself. A: So I'm not sure I'm cool, but I do know that I don't suck, and that it's a choice I make every day. I desperately wish someone in my family had told me, or shown me by example, that getting older doesn't mean getting stupid and boring and stuffy and extremely uncool. I wish I'd known that, because I spent all of my life until I was in my 40s feeling like there was this day coming very soon when I would have to stop listening to punk, stop playing video games, put on a suit, and start yelling at kids for no good reason. I didn't know that you don't have to suddenly stop being who you are and become something or someone you hate, just because of a certain age. I know that's super obvious, but to young me, it was not. My dad was an asshole, my mom never showed up for me. Directors and people on set had been treating me like a thing for my entire life. I got yelled at for no reason from adults who knew better almost every day. Most of my elementary school teachers were authoritarian, evangelical assholes. All of these different adults, consistently, shut me down and made me feel like I didn't matter, the things I liked were stupid, and my opinions were invalid because of reasons I didn't understand because I was a dumb kid. So I presumed that when you got to be a certain age, that's what happened. I didn't want to be that, at all, and I was sincerely afraid of the day it would happen. But as I got older, I discovered that all that stuff I hated about adults doesn't automatically happen. Those adults I just mentioned all made a choice to be an asshole. I just didn't know it. I was in my early 20s when I did a movie with a cinematographer who was, I think, 45 at the time. He was the coolest, kindest, most artistic dude I'd ever known. He mentored me and we had epic fun making great art together. I remember telling him, "I'm not afraid of being in my 40s like I used to be. I didn't know you could still be cool." It's sad, that I grew up in such a toxic environment, and didn't know any of these things. So, 9 days before I turn 50, here are a couple things I have figured out: You know who sucks when they hit 49 and 50? People who sucked when they were 20 and never grew up. You know who is an asshole at 49 and 50? Yep. Someone who was an asshole as a kid and never experienced consequences for being an asshole. Hitting middle age has been awesome for me. Other than the aging of my body and its reluctance / refusal to do what I want it to do, I love everything about it. I wish I hadn't spent so much of my life being afraid that, when I hit 50, it was all over. Because honestly it's kind of just starting. The coolest stuff in my life to date has all happened in the last ten years, and I'm so grateful that it coincided with me figuring out a lot of shit so I could enjoy it.

The best part of getting older, by several thousand light years, is the part where we figure out how to stop putting up with other people's bullshit, and we contract our social circle until it's only populated with a VERY few people who deserve us. And I am incredibly grateful for these occasional opportunities to be a 49 year-old dad who can say all the things that would have been reassuring for 19 year-old me to hear (he wouldn't have understood, but 29 year-old me would have remembered, and he would have understood. I think.) I sincerely hope someone hears it and finds it helpful. Anyway, you're gonna be fine. Just remember that being cool, kind, honest, honorable, reliable, listening and showing up … they are all choices. If you want to be cool when you're 49, make the choice and set the example for someone to follow you. Treat kids the way you wanted to be treated when you were young. Listen to them when they offer you the privilege, because that means they trust you, and you have credibility with them. Be a mentor. Be supportive. Show up. Make a choice to be the person you need in the world, and never stop being that person. Start today, and when you're nearing 50 like I am, hopefully you'll remember who you needed right now, so you can be that person to someone else in the future. You're already asking the right questions and taking the first steps. I believe in you. You've got this.

Okay, if you've come this far, perhaps you'll follow me a little bit more, and read a thing I wrote about talking to students just a tiny bit older than you, which contains my core values.

Be honest. I’m a very old man, relative to y’all, and I’ve learned that the only currency that really matters in this world is the truth.

Be honorable. This dovetails with number one. You attract to yourself what you put into the world. Dishonorable people will take everything from you and leave you with nothing. Do your best to be a person they aren’t attracted to.

Work hard. I don’t mean, like, at your crappy minimum wage job you hate. I mean do the hard work that makes relationships work, that gets you ahead in your education, that gets you closer to your goals. Everything worth doing is hard. Everything worth doing requires hard work. Sooner or later, you’re going to run into something in your life that’s really hard, and you’ll want to give up, but it’s something you care so much about, you’ll do whatever you can to achieve it. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be less hard for someone who has practiced doing the hard things all along, than it is for someone who doesn’t know how to do the hard work because they’ve always chosen the easy path.

Always do your best. Even if you don’t get the result you wanted, doing your best — which will vary from day to day, moment to moment — is all you can ever do. We tell athletes to leave it all on the field. Whatever your version of that is, do it.

This is the most important one. This is the one I hope you’ll all hear and embrace. This is the one I hope you’ll share with your peers: Always be kind.”

When I read number 5, I looked up at them. I was so happy to see a classroom filled with teenagers who were all listening intently, even the ones I thought had tuned me out. “Here’s the thing about being Kind, versus being Nice,” I said. “I have interacted with lots of nice people who are incredibly unkind. Why is that? How do you choose to be nice but not kind?”

I pointed to my head. “This is where nice comes from,” I said. Then, I put my hand over my heart. “This is where kind comes from.” I put my hands out, like, “get it?”

There was this collective gasp of realization that I did not expect, at all. One kid said “Oh damn!” I saw a few kids look at each other like the trick had just been explained to them. They heard me. They really, really heard me. And it was amazing.

Okay, that's all. If you're still here, thank you for giving me so much of your time and attention. I hope you'll come back in a few years, and let me know how you're doing.

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ilikerafayelwaytoomuch · 1 month ago

Text

Help me learn?

Best friend! Rafayel x inexperienced! Reader

After getting stood up on another date, you find comfort in your best friend Rafayel. But what happens when he offers to give your first kiss?

Warnings/tags: little angst, both reader and Rafayel being a lil dumb, some fluff, smut, p in v, first time reader, blowjob, fingering, use of vibrator, I think that's all?? Not proofread so sorry if there's any mistakes, I'll proof later. Around 7k words 😵‍💫

A/n: haven't written smut in a long time and I may have gone a lil overboard...but I just love this trope and Raffie 😭

Walking through the door of Rafayel's apartment, I sighed, throwing my bag to the ground. “Another dud?” He asked, turning to look at me from the couch. I sighed again.

“Yep. This one didn't even bother to show up,” I informed him. He sighed as well.

“You need better taste in men,” he stated, turning his focus back to the TV. I frowned.

“It's not that bad,” I argued. “I just don't understand how people are able to use dating apps so easily and not get stood up every other date. Am I that unattractive?” I asked, feeling insecure. This was the third date in 2 weeks that had stood me up. The ones that did show up were awful, either their manners inexistent or huge red flags. I hadn't dated at all before this, making my insecurities even more rampant. Was I really hopeless? 25 years without so much of a kiss from someone. I was tired of being alone. Inexperienced. But I refused to just have sex with a random guy I didn't like just to say I've had sex. That was proving harder than I thought though.

“Come sit,” Rafayel patted the seat next to him and I walked over and sat down, resting my head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around my back. “You're not unattractive, quite the opposite really. These guys are just stupid.”

“You have to say that. You're my best friend,” I argued.

“I really don't have to say it. I say it because I mean it. Besides I literally tell you when your outfit is atrocious, why would I lie to you?” he teased.

“Because saying a piece of clothing looks bad on me is very different than telling me I'm ugly. I just don't understand Raf. I try to be nice and do everything right. I'm fucking 25 and never been kissed for gods sake. I can't even get someone to kiss me, so therefore I must be pretty fucking repulsive,” I sniffed. I felt tears approaching and cursed myself for crying over something so dumb. These men didn't even deserve to be kissed, yet they showed no signs of being attracted to me at all. No one ever did. “Is that the problem? No one wants to kiss me because I've never kissed someone? Wouldn't someone like that in some sick weird perverted way? Yet still nothing,” I lamented, tears falling now. “I just feel so fucking stupid. I feel like I should just give up and be alone forever. Live and die a virgin.” Rafayel rested his head on mine with a sigh.

“I know you won't believe me, but I promise you, you're gorgeous. These guys are really missing out on an incredible woman. You're so kind, caring, fun and so very pretty. It's easy for me to tell you to not place your worth in worthless guys, because it feels worse to be where you are. But try not to? I know one day you'll find someone worth it,” he comforted me. I nodded. His words helped some, but I still felt incredibly insecure. He wiped my tears with his sleeve and moved slightly to grab the remote, wordlessly putting on my favorite show. I stayed next to him for a few episodes, letting his presence comfort me. I wished that I could meet someone like him who cared about me. But all I got was shitty guys. And still no experience. I felt like I was missing out on a big part of life. And that sucked. “Can I stay the night?” I asked him between episodes.

“Of course you can. I'd be happy to binge watch this with you all night and the tub of ice cream sitting in my freezer,” he smiled. I nodded.

“I'm gonna go wash up then,” I decided.

“Sure. You know where everything is already.” I got up and headed to his bathroom connected to his room. I stopped by his closet to see if I had some clothes left here. I somehow didn't, even though I could have sworn I left some sweatpants here last time I crashed at his place. I had been stood up again, but had decided to drink away my sorrows. Rafayel had picked me up and brought me here to sleep.

Instead, I found one of his shirts to sleep in and a pair of his sweats. They'd be big on me, but that was fine. I got into his shower, taking my time to wash up, using all of his fancy expensive products. Rafayel was very particular about his hair and skin care, always buying expensive products. I couldn't say the same for myself, so taking a shower at his place was like a little treat. Once out of the shower I followed up with more of his products, because how could I not. Once I was clean and cosy, I headed back out to his living room, joining him on the couch. For a moment I thought I caught him staring at me, eyes roaming my body and checking me out. I brushed it off, knowing it wasn't possible. He handed me a spoon and opened up the tub of ice cream, setting it between us and beginning to play the next episode of the show.

It was comfortable. Sitting next to him, eating ice cream, wearing his clothes and watching a comfort show. The pains of being stood up had eased some, my mind being distracted. It was always comfortable with Rafayel. He never judged me for my weirdness or crying over stupid things. In fact, he was just about the only person I ever confided in. He didn't tell me I was weird for not having experience, telling me that it wasn't weird at all and shouldn't make a difference. He was the reason I felt confident enough to try dating. But even with all of this, his next words shocked me. “I could help if you want, you know,” he randomly informed me.

“Help with what?” I asked, unsure what he was talking about.

“Kissing,” he stated as if it was the easiest thing in the world. I almost dropped my spoon, surprised. I didn't know what to think or feel. “I just mean,” he paused, growing insecure himself. “If it'll help you feel better to have kissed someone you know before trying to kiss someone you don't, I can. That way you can say you at least have experience in that,” he glanced at me nervously. “But totally cool if you don't want to, I just thought I'd offer. Actually, now that I'm saying it out loud I don't know why I said that. You wouldn't want to kiss me-”

“Okay,” I interrupted him, surprising myself as well as him.

“What?” He stared at me, surprised.

“I mean yeah, it would help. I know you and I feel safe with you so it wouldn't be as scary to kiss I don't think. It could probably help me feel more confident about things. But I don't want to make things weird or anything,” I explained, thinking out loud. It did make sense. I wanted to experience being kissed by someone I knew, not someone random. It was just a kiss. It didn't have to mean anything. He'd show me how and that would be that. Easy solution. After having kissed someone, I think I'd be less scared of initiating that or more with someone else. “Are you sure?” He breathed.

“Yeah,” I said after a beat of silence, nodding. “You can show me how it's done. You always brag about how every girl says you're the best kisser. So why not learn from the best? It doesn't have to mean anything…”

“Yeah, uh, okay,” he blinked, realizing that I had agreed to what he thought was a wild suggestion. “So, should we just–” he paused and looked at me.

“Well I don't know what to do, that's why you're here,” I laughed.

“Right,” he chuckled. “Here,” he took my spoon from me and set it down along with his spoon and the tub of ice cream on the coffee table. He stared at me expectantly and I tilted my head at him, signaling he was fully in the lead here and I had no idea how to begin. He twisted his body towards me before slowly leaning in. My breath caught in my throat at the distance. I could feel his breath on me, his nose almost touching mine. His head tilted slightly, hesitantly moving closer, before he suddenly stopped and frowned, groaning. “Ugh, at least close your eyes you weirdo,” he whined and I laughed, closing my eyes. I felt him move closer again, anticipation bubbling up in me. His lips gently pressed against mine, capturing them in an unfamiliar sensation. His lips were soft, softer than I would have guessed. He moved them against me, encouraging me to move. I did, hesitantly separating my lips slightly. His slotted between, deepening the kiss. I felt my face heating up, my whole body really. Rafayel's hand gently caught my face, pulling me into him more as our lips danced. My hands shook as I hesitantly reached for him, landing on his thighs. When he felt it, his other hand guided mine to his shoulders, wrapping around him. I scooted closer, wanting more. I gasped as I felt his tongue, teasing and exploring. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced. And I wanted more. I felt hot all over, but like I needed to be closer to him. I no longer worried about how I was at kissing, only focusing on how I was feeling. Was kissing always this nice? If it was then I definitely was missing out. I felt like I was suffocating, but made no effort to stop. Rafayel was the one to pull back first, pressing his lips to mine one last time in a quick kiss before resting his forehead on mine. I felt his breath, panting onto mine. I was afraid to open my eyes. Afraid of what I'd see. Insecurity ripped at me once more. Was it awful? Is he repulsed? I peeked open my eyes to see him staring at me with an unfamiliar expression. It was like he was staring into my soul, searching for something or engraving a memory there. He blinked suddenly, backing away. “So yeah, that's uh, how you do that,” he stuttered. He backed away fully and gulped, avoiding my eyes. That scared me more than I thought it would. I took it as a sign that he hated every second, that he'd regretted his decision to offer. I nodded and bit my lip, looking away and praying I wouldn't cry. It felt even stupider to cry over. I sniffled and Rafayel's head shot up to look at me. “Are you crying?” He asked, voice trembling in fear.

“No,” I lied, sniffing again.

“What's wrong? Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?” He asked, concerned. I shook my head, too embarrassed to even explain what I felt. “Talk to me, please? What's going on in there?” He pleaded, worried he had done something wrong. He never wanted to hurt me, and if he had accidentally done something to upset me he wanted to know so he could fix it.

“It's nothing,” I told him, stopping my tears.

“It's not nothing if you're crying. Should I not have kissed you?” He asked softly.

“It's not that,” I muttered.

“Then what is it? Was it so awful and uncomfortable that it made you cry?” He asked, teasing but genuinely worried.

“Are you sure it wasn't awful and uncomfortable for you?” I asked. His eyes widened.

“Are you kidding me? Absolutely not. It was perfect,” he breathed. “Did you think I didn't enjoy it?”

“I mean I don't know. It's not like I know what I'm doing and then you just looked away like I had slapped you,” I admitted.

“You misunderstand. I did enjoy it, maybe more than I should have,” he slowly admitted. I understood what he was saying and was unsure what to say, so I just nodded. We were best friends. Best friends don't just kiss and enjoy it that much, do they? Is that a rule or something? Had we just ruined everything? Surely we could go back to normal after this…. “I'm gonna wash up,” Rafayel decided, disappearing pretty quickly. I sat on his couch, stunned. Worried. Pretty much feeling every emotion you could feel. Maybe it was a bad idea to kiss my best friend. I had just ruined everything. My one friend. I flopped onto the couch, laying down and hugging a pillow. Thoughts swarmed my head, attacking me. I pushed my eyes closed and wished them away, but instead, sleep greeted me.

When I woke up I was confused as to where I was. Then I remembered what had happened. The date that stood me up. Rafayel. The kiss. Oh God the kiss. Could we pretend like it hasn't happened and go back to the way things were? Did I even want that? I was in Rafayel's bed and I knew I hadn't fallen asleep there, so he had to have brought me there. That was a good sign? I sat up and stretched, looking around to see Rafayel was not there. I heard movement outside, likely him making breakfast. It wasn't abnormal. I had spent the night with him before and had eaten breakfast with him. That's all this was. Normal. But why did it feel so scary to face him? He said he liked the kiss, but I had a hard time believing that. Either way, the kiss has changed things. And that scared me the most. I didn't want to lose Rafayel and our friendship. I couldn't lose him. So I decided to pretend I felt normal and that my mind wasn't flooded with confused emotions. “Morning,” I greeted Rafayel entering the kitchen.

“Sleep okay?” He asked, turning to look at me. I nodded.

“Whatcha making?”

“Just some eggs.”

“Perfect, something you can't burn,” I teased.

“Everyone knows the first three pancakes don't turn out,” he argued.

“Mm, but that's the first three. Not most of them burning.”

“It was a new pan!” He pouted. “Apparently I should have made more to show you I can make pancakes just fine without burning them.”

“Next time then,” I chuckled. He shook his head.

“Better watch it or you're not eating.”

“You wouldn't dare,” I gasped.

“Try me,” he sang. I laughed, making him smile. He got a couple plates and handed me one with food on it. We sat and ate as normal. Everything was going pretty normally. Almost too much so. We avoided talking about the night before or really anything even closely related to it. Just talking about surface level things. It felt a bit tense. We were still talking and teasing as usual, but it was different. I prayed it wouldn't last and we'd go back to normal. After we ate, I had to grab my things and head home, having work to get to.

Almost a full week passed and I hadn't heard anything from Rafayel. That wasn't normal. I was terrified. I was worried I'd messed everything up and would lose him. I couldn't lose my best friend, my only friend. He said he liked the kiss, maybe even too much so…what did that even mean? Did he regret it? Regretted it because now he's repulsed even just by my sight? No. That didn't make sense. Maybe he was like me. The kiss unlocked deeper feelings for him than I had realized were there. But I knew he couldn't feel the same, he always went for the exact opposite of me. He was comfortable with his sexuality, with intimacy and things in general. I wasn't. I was too rigid and anxious. He was carefree and moved with the wind. I never gave myself a chance to think of him romantically. But after the kiss, that had changed. Feeling for him had been building up in the box I buried them in. And they wanted out. All I knew was that the silence was killing me. I couldn't lose him. I had texted him and called and heard nothing. So I took matters into my own hands.

I knocked on his door, unfamiliar to me, but it felt better than just walking in as normal. He opened the door, looking disheveled- his hair looked like his hands had ran through it countlessly, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and tank top strap sliding down. “Y/n,” his eyes widened. “Wh-what are you doing here?” He asked, seemingly out of breath.

“You haven't answered me all week-”

“Rafa?” A woman's voice interrupted me and felt like a slap to my face. It was then I put two and two together…his appearance, a woman's voice calling to him…

“Oh, I'm sorry,” I began, voice shaking as emotions took over. “I didn't realize…bye,” I suddenly spoke, turning and leaving without giving him a chance to say anything. Tears pricked at my eyes, beginning to fall as I felt my heart break. Of course he didn't like me. He only said he enjoyed the kiss to make me feel better. I should have known. I should have kept a better lock on my feelings. I went home and broke down, cursing myself for making things even more complicated. But only more complicated for myself. Rafayel probably couldn't even stand the thought of me. I should have gotten the hint when he didn't say anything for a week. I had messed everything up.

I woke up to pounding at my door. I had fallen asleep crying last night, heartbroken. Not bothering to change out of my PJs, I got up to answer the door. My eyes widened when I was met with Rafayel. I said nothing, not even knowing what to say after interrupting him yesterday. “Can we talk?” He breathed, looking unsure. I nodded and let him in. We sat on my couch, saying nothing. I didn't know what to say. I was heartbroken over someone who was never mine. My emotions and feelings were all over the place. I didn't know how to feel. “I'm sorry about yesterday,” Rafayel broke the silence.

“You don't need to be sorry. I'm the one who interrupted you and your company,” I muttered.

“Not that, well yes that. I'm sorry I'm such an asshole. That I did that to you,” he breathed.

“I really don't know what you're talking about Rafayel,” I admitted. He nodded and took a breath.

“Last week, when I offered to kiss you,” he began. “I did that because I liked you, because I like you. I didn't really mean to say it, but then you agreed and I felt like I had won the lottery. I was going to kiss the girl of my dreams. But then, after, I realized I had messed up. You're my best friend. Like you said, the kiss didn't mean anything. I panicked and worried I had messed up. I tried to tell myself the kiss meant nothing, that what I had felt wasn't that. I tried to get over it, over you, but I can't. It doesn't matter who I see or what I do, all I can think about is you. How your lips felt against mine. How if you were mine I'd get to kiss you whenever I wanted. How you mean everything to me, but I was too afraid to say anything because you were actively dating other people. Actively looking for someone that wasn't me. I thought I was okay with just being friends, that I could get over you, but I can't. It wasn't right of me to do what I did with her yesterday, wasn't right to you or her. And for that I am sorry. It was stupid. But I realized that I can't get over you. No one can replace you, y/n. I want you. I want to be yours. I want to take you on dates and show you how you deserve to be treated unlike all those guys who stood you up. I want to experience your firsts with you. I know it's messed up to say as I'm clearly not a virgin, but thinking about someone else experiencing that with you makes me so jealous. I want you to myself, even though I messed up. I'm sorry.”

“Kinda weird to apologize about being balls deep in another woman last night and then confess to another woman the morning after,” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. He laughed breathlessly.

“To be fair, I didn't actually sleep with her. I couldn't after I saw you. She was rightfully pissed about it,” he admitted.

“I was mostly kidding. I was afraid I had messed everything up. I buried my feelings for you when we first met, thinking I'd never have the chance. I didn't know that those feelings grew in the box I buried until you kissed me and they exploded out. Then I saw you with another woman and I figured I was just an idiot,” I shrugged.

“I'm the idiot. I should have just confessed to you then and there.”

“We both are. I should have brought it up after. Talked about it with you,” I nodded. An awkward silence grew, feelings out in the open. “So, what now?” I asked, unsure.

“I show you how sorry I am?” He smiled. I tilted my head, confused. “Let me take you out tonight for dinner. Take you on a proper date?”

“I'd like that,” I nodded.

“Aaaaaand if you’re so willing we could go back to my place after and I can make it up to you even more, show you how other things are done,” he smirked.

“Don't get too far ahead of yourself,” I chuckled.

“That wasn't a no?” He raised his brow.

“It wasn't a no,” I agreed. He smiled.

“I'll see you tonight then? I'll pick you up around 6?” He asked.

“It's a date,” I agreed. He smiled and nodded.

“But before I go, I have to do this,” he warned, reaching for my chin and kissing me. He sighed when our lips met, pecking my lips once more before looking at me. “Been thinking about that since last week.”

“Me too. Now get out of here I have to get ready for a hot date tonight,” I smiled at him. He laughed and stood, leaving me in my apartment.

The date went well, obviously. Rafayel had showed up with my favorite flowers, dressed nicely. We ate at a restaurant neither of us had been to, but had heard a lot about. It was comfortable. Fun. Somehow, his silliness charmed me as he wiggled his eyebrows and asked if I wanted to go to his place, as I agreed. We were sitting on his couch and I was a bit confused. We had obviously gone back to his place for a reason, we both knew that. Yet Rafayel hadn't made a move. We were just chatting away on his couch. I was getting a bit frustrated. “Rafayel?” I asked suddenly.

“Yes?” He blinked.

“When are you going to make a move?” I asked.

“What?” He stuttered.

“We both know why we're here, unless I misread every single signal in the book. Do you not want to?”

“I do!” He quickly spoke. “I just- are you really sure about this? You want me to be your first?”

“I do. More than anything,” I confirmed, tone serious. He nodded, but still made no effort to move. With everything out in the open once more, I felt a bit more confident. I chuckled before moving to settle on his lap, facing him and pressing my lips to his. Despite my inexperience, Rafayel happily complied, hands resting on my hips and lips moving against mine. The kiss quickly turned more desperate, sending waves of heat to my core. I moved to catch my breath, lowering my lips to his jaw. Rafayel gasped, bit tilted his head back slightly, allowing more room. “Someone's feeling bold now,” he breathed as I moved my lips lower, sucking slightly. His fingers tightened on my hips and I smiled against his skin.

“Just always wanted to try this,” I admitted. “Can I leave a mark?” I asked, a bit embarrassed.

“Anything you want,” he breathed, letting out a small moan as I left a small hickey on his neck. “Fuck, you'll be the death of me.” I smiled at him, sitting up to look at him. His cheeks were flushed and eyes lidded with desire. I unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his chest. “Oh? This fast,” he smirked. I pouted and he laughed, helping me take the rest of his shirt off.

It wasn't the first time I had seen Rafayel shirtless, but it felt different this time. I hesitantly touched his stomach and he grabbed my hand, leading it to brush down his torso, starting at his chest. My breathing deepened, Rafayel's intense gaze on me. I eyed him curiously, brushing a finger against his nipple. He gasped and slapped a hand over his mouth. “You,” he breathed, surprised. I smirked at him.

“Figured you'd be all sensitive,” I giggled, feeling more confident and tugging on his nipple now. I continued to play with his chest, squeezing, brushing and flicking to my heart's desires as I watched him wriggle beneath me. His chest rose and fell rapidly, small gasps leaving his throat. He was even more flushed now, redness creeping down his neck. And the best of all, was feeling how hard he was, all because of me. I wanted to try more though. I wanted to hear more from him. Hurriedly, I unbuttoned his pants, trying to push them down. He wasted no time in raising his hips to help me, but stopped me from moving further. “Are you sure you want to?” He breathed, trying to catch his breath. I nodded.

“I do. I probably won't be that good at it, but I wanna make you feel good,” I explained. He nodded as I sunk to the floor in front of the couch, waiting. He groaned at the sight and threw his head back. “I haven't even done anything yet,” I teased.

“You're too gorgeous, I don't know if I can even handle you with my cock in your hands or mouth,” he admitted, making me chuckle. I insistently tugged on the band of his underwear and he listened, taking them off. His cock sprung out, almost resting against his stomach, shining with precum. I stared at the sight. “Nothing?” He asked, looking down at me. I shrugged.

“It's not like I've been this up close and personal with a real dick before,” I rolled my eyes. “It's nicer than I thought. More pretty than pictures, but I also have no idea how that's going to fit.” He chuckled at my honesty.

“Want some guidance for this or you just wanna go for it?” He asked.

“Help for now? I wanna know what you like, what you do when you stroke your cock,” I admitted. His jaw dropped, not expecting the lewd words from my mouth.

“Fuck ok. Give me your hand,” he instructed. He wrapped my hand around his cock, his hand on top to guide me. “Like this,” he demonstrated, moving it up and down and squeezing some. “Don't be afraid to squeeze it more, just have fun and go with it,” he breathed out slowly. I nodded and he removed his hand. I was hesitant at first, moving slowly before deciding to speed up. That was the right move, Rafayel moaning at the pace, his head lulling back. I continued, experimenting as he said to see what he liked. It was not only helpful that Rafayel was vocal, but also incredibly hot. I was burning up, panties sticking uncomfortably to me. Rafayel was whining now, pawing at my shirt. I took it off without hesitating, my lacy bra on full display. He moaned at the sight before throwing his head back. It was then I decided to be even more confident, wrapping my lips around him. He yelped in shock, eyes widening in shock as he looked at me. I smiled at him, humming in content that he was now watching me. “Shit, you like me looking at you like this?” He asked, and I nodded, beginning to bob up and down. His hand gently made its way into my hair, Rafayel using every bit of focus to not thrust into my mouth. “Your tits look so good, fuck. Did you buy that just for me?” He asked, I smiled and nodded, taking him further into my mouth and almost choking. I gagged and Rafayel chuckled. “Careful baby. Take it at your own pace. You can use your hands for the rest,” he suggested. I took his suggestion, using my hands to reach what my mouth couldn't. I found my pace, making Rafayel get louder as he approached his orgasm. I was surprised when he wordlessly pushed my head off of him, his hands reaching down to finish himself off. He cursed as he came, spurts landing on my breasts as I watched him in awe. He had never looked so ethereal, head thrown back as he screamed my name. He recovered almost too quickly, pulling me up onto his lap and kissing me. Before I could ask how I did, he was picking me up and carrying me to his bed, setting me down on it. I gasped as my back bounced against his bed and he dove in immediately, licking up his cum from my chest. I moaned into his touch, the feeling of his tongue on my breasts and the lewd sight of him cleaning me up. “Fuck Raf,” I breathed, chest pounding. He stopped and smiled at me.

“Did so good for me, let me repay you?” He asked. I nodded and he reached behind me to unclasp my bra, my breasts falling. I was insecure about their size and Rafayel somehow knew this. I had complained multiple times about them being too large for certain tops, he always disagreed. He was more than excited to show them the love he believed they deserved, hand immediately groping them. “Told you they're so pretty,” he mumbled, eyes locked onto them in awe as he played with them. He wasted no time in wrapping his lips around my right nipple, making me whine and arch into him. “Gonna convince you to let me see em more, my pretty girls,” he chuckled, suckling harder before switching.

“Raf,” I whined, pulling his hair slightly, my chest beginning to hurt from all the attention. He moaned at the feeling, throwing me off. He froze, burying his face in my chest. “Did you just– are you into that?” I asked curiously, tugging his hair again. His hips jerked into my leg as he softly moaned.

“Don't make fun of me,” he whined, pressing his lips into a kiss between my breasts. He trailed kisses lower and lower, making my breathing deepen as I shuddered. He paused when he reached my pants, looking up at me. “Are you sure you still want this? We can stop at any time,” he asked. I smiled at him.

“I'm sure. I want this. I want you,” I confirmed. He nodded and I felt his fingers frap the top of my pants.

“Then let's get these out of the way, shall we?” He smiled, pulling down my pants in one go. He licked his lips when he saw my panties, lacy and matching my discarded bra. “You're so cute,” he breathed, head dropping onto my stomach. “Gonna have to buy you some more sets so I can see you and worship you in them more,” he sighed, pulling them down as well. I bit my lip and looked away, afraid to see his reaction to me completely bare. He wanted none of that, gently turning my chin towards him in a kiss. “You're perfect,” he told me, looking into my eyes and making sure that I knew he meant it. “I know no one's done this before, just tell me if you feel uncomfortable and I'll stop immediately okay?”

“Okay,” I breathed as I watched him move lower, settling in between my legs. I felt his breath on me as he breathed in my scent before diving in, licking a teasing stripe across my folds. I gasped at the feeling, legs instinctively wanting to close. Rafayel placed an arm across my hips, the other gently holding my thigh so I wouldn't move. He continues to explore, slurping away as if starved as he moaned. I was doing no better myself at staying quiet, hands finding his hair and pulling slightly. When I looked down, I saw his hips rutting into his mattress, his eyes briefly making contact with mine before he smiled and moved his tongue to circle my clit. My hips jerked, held down by his arm.

I yelped in half surprise, half discomfort when I felt one of his fingers enter. “You okay?” Rafayel immediately paused. I nodded. “Just bear with it, I promise you'll feel good soon, but if not, let me know.” I nodded once more and his tongue returned, focusing on my clit. After a moment he experimentally moved his finger, gently thrusting it in. He set a slower pace, eventually adding another. “Raf, I,” I began to panic, tugging his hair up. He stopped once again and looked at me, caressing my face. “Is it too much?” He asked.

“I dont- I don't know,” I managed to get out, feeling unsure.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking for an honest answer in my eyes. I hesitated.

“Not really. I'm just nervous or something, I don't know,” I tried to explain. He nodded in understanding and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

“We can stop if it's too much, I promise that's okay. I don't want you to be scared or uncomfortable. Is there anything I can do to help?” He paused. “Have you touched yourself before?”

“Rafayel,” I covered my face, embarrassed. He chuckled and moved my hands.

“It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I only ask because if there's something you know you like and I can do to make you feel better, I want to do that. More clit stimulation? Less? Slower pace?” He rambled.

“I…have,” I winced. “But I don't really prefer my fingers and things,” I whispered, embarrassed. He nodded.

“More of a vibe gal? Does that make it more comfortable?” He asked. I hesitated, still feeling a bit uncomfortable talking about it with him. But he seemed so sincere, it was harder to be completely embarrassed. “It usually helps, yeah,” I admitted.

“Mm wait here, lemme see what I got,” he said before running off, bare ass out disappearing into his bathroom. I furrowed my brows in confusion, laying there in his bed. He returned with a smile, holding a small black bullet vibe in his hand. “Will this do?” He asked me, showing me. My mouth opened and closed. Where the hell did he get a vibrator? Was it his or some random woman's? Did he get it to use on another woman?

“Um, probably, but, whos- where,” I stuttered, unsure what to ask or how to ask it.

“It's mine. Only been used on me too, but I'm willing to share,” he smiled. My eyes widened.

“You?” I began, he cut me off with a laugh.

“Everyone masturbates sweetie. I was curious about what it's do for me so I bought one. Didn't really like it, but I'm glad I kept it because now I can use it on you,” he explained. I blinked but nodded slowly. “Now let's just hope this babys got enough battery,” he said before kissing my nose and lowering once again. I felt the cold tip of the vibrator press against my clit and I instinctively pressed into it. It clicked on and I let out a moan at the feeling, relaxing immediately. I felt Rafayel watching me, looking for any reaction from me. He turned it up another notch at the same time I felt his finger enter me again. My back arched slightly. “Better?” Rafayel asked. I nodded.

“Mmm, yeah,” I admitted. He nodded, beginning to thrust his finger before adding another. He added a third while simultaneously speeding up the vibrator, beginning to move it in small circles on my clit. His fingers began to thrust faster, curling slightly and making me cry out, seeing stars. It was an overwhelming amount of pleasure, coiling up in my stomach. “I'm close,” I warned Rafayel.

“Mm, go ahead and let go for me baby. Let me see you cum,” he lazily encouraged me, continuing his pace with his fingers and vibe. The tight band in my stomach snapped, an orgasm rolling through me. I whined as I came down, the vibrator still on my clit and overstimulating me. Rafayel had mercy and turned it off, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean. I couldn't focus on him, not realizing he had sunk lower until I felt his tongue moving across me, gathering my cum in his mouth as he moaned at the taste. “Raf, it's too much,” I pulled at his hair, dazed.

“You can handle it, love. Can't let it go to waste,” he slurred out, not making an effort to stop anytime soon. He lazily licked up my cum as I squirmed, overstimulation turning into me wanting more. Rafayel finally deemed his job of cleaning me up done, stopping to kiss me once again. I groaned into it, pulling him closer to me. I was exhausted, but I craved more. “Need you,” I breathed out. He nodded, breaking the kiss and grabbing a condom from his bedside table. He seemed drunk, drunk on my taste and me beneath him.

“Gonna make you feel good,” he muttered, slipping the condom on and pulling my legs up and onto his shoulders. I blushed, his eyes bore into mine, biting his lip. “God, you're so beautiful. Can't believe you're in front of me,” he admitted, moving his cock between my folds, but not pushing in. I blushed more at his words, not exactly feeling pretty in the compromising position. He looked down, guiding his cock into my entrance before looking at me for any signs of discomfort. I breathed in sharply at the intrusion and Rafayel was quick to reach over and grab the vibrator, turning it on the lowest setting and pressing it to my clit. “Relax for me baby. Let me in,” he instructed. My body reacted, letting him push into me further. He dropped the vibrator when he was all the way in, both of us moaning at the feeling, the vibrator forgotten and still buzzing to the side. Rafayel breathed heavily, letting me adjust. What once felt like pain began to be pleasure and I needed him to move, my hips grinding up onto him. He groaned, and got the hint, hips slowly moving back, cock almost slipping out before he moved his hips back in. The pace was unbelievably slow for both of us. “Feels so good,” Rafayel muttered.

“So full. I need more,” I told him, pace too slow. He nodded, picking up the pace by thrusting into me faster, still pulling out slow. Rafayel watched me as he moved, jaw dropped in awe when he slammed into me fully, soaking in the feeling when he pulled out. It was addicting. But not enough. I clawed at his arms, begging him to speed up. “I don't know if I can keep it together,” he warned.

“Then don't. Please Rafayel, I can take it. I need more. I need you,” I cried. He nodded and his pace immediately switched, pounding into me as quickly as he could. I cried out, holding onto whatever I could of his. His eyes never left me, watching my face or my body, watching the way everything moved as he pounded into me, watching where we were connected. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the buzzing vibrator and got an idea, reaching for it. He turned it up and pressed it against my clit, the vibration making me scream his name. The vibration was strong enough for him to feel it, his cock being sucked in deliciously while the vibrator added extra stimulation to it. “Fuck, you're taking me so well. I'm not gonna last much longer,” he warned.

“I can't!” I breathed, not even able to form sentences. Rafayel smirked, proud of himself for getting me into this state.

“Cum with me,” he demanded, thrusting a few more times before coming undone, exploding into the condom. I came just as quick, milking him for all he had, squirting slightly on his cock. Rafayel collapsed onto me, wrapping his arms around me. We stayed like that for a while, coming down from our highs and returning to reality. “Oh my God,” I breathed, embarrassed when I realized that I had squirted. “Did I really?”

“Mmm yeah. Didn't think I'd make you feel good enough to squirt on my cock,” he teased. “Gonna set my expectations high.”

“I'm sor-”

“Don't. You have nothing to be sorry for. That was fucking hot. Nothing you did today was bad. You were absolutely perfect. More than perfect. Everything I could have ever wanted and more. So don't apologize,” he cut me off. I nodded. We stayed like that a bit longer, until Rafayel sighed. “We should get cleaned up,” he reasoned but didn't move.

“We should,” I agreed.

“Before that, and I'm totally not saying this just to stay here a bit longer, we should talk?”

“About what?”

“I wanna make sure you had a good time and you felt good. That everything was okay or if there's anything I can do next time?” He asked, kissing my jaw.

“I can assure you that was probably the best I've ever felt. It was perfect. You were perfect. Is there anything I should change or do?” I asked. He shook his head.

“If you having no experience felt like that, I can't wait for more,” he laughed. I laughed with him and he sighed, getting up and pulling out. After disposing of his condom, he picked me up and carried me to his bathroom, placing me on the counter while he ran a bath. Rafayel put me in the bath before getting in behind me, wrapping his arms around me again. He was always clingy, but felt extra clingy now. I was perfectly okay with that. He helped clean me up, noticing I was on the verge of sleep. Once we were done, he helped me out of the bath and info some of his clothes to sleep in. He practically clung to me when he got into his bed after me, holding me closely and pressing a kiss to my neck. “Thank you for trusting me. Sleep well my love,” he whispered.

“Thank you for taking care of me. Sweet dreams fishie.”

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #rafayel x y/n #rafayel smut

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0nepiece-imagines · 10 days ago

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Hello, how are u? 🥰🥰🍀 hope you're doing well!

I'm going to dump some ideas/scenarios for F!Reader X Luffy, because he owns my heart and I don't have time of energy to write any of it ☠️☠️

Go ahead and choose one if you don't feel like doing all of them.

I. Luffy just messing around with everyone being his usual self but always being gentle with reader because he subcounciously learned to treat the one he loves gently by watching Makino and Shanks interactings as a child (Makino x Shanks not a ship just for the whole idea to work)

II. Luffy realises he's in love with reader because he starts to see her everywhere, as in, sees a cat walking around and remembers her because she likes cats, sees beautiful dresses in street markets and thinks about her when he sees the colors she favores to wear everyday, sees the the rain and closed with clouds sky and remembers how she likes to drink the rain, while laughing, he starts just thinking about how likes X or Y thing, and thinks about the rest of the crew and before he realises he's thinking about her.

III. Reader and Luffy cuddling on a cold night where they're getting close to a Winter Island and Luffy wakes up but instead of bolting for a midnight snack he just admires Reader sleeping

IV. (This one includes reader pregnancy) Luffy just straight up always having a arm wrapped around pregnant reader because she fell out of the ship once during a battlr right after they found out she is pregnant and he decided that once was enough.

V. (NSFW) the crew goes out into the new island to enjoy and explore the city Luffy, as usual, bolts to explore and comes back at nightfall demanding that you follow him because he found something so cool and reader HAS to see it (it's a beatiful flower field, yes they make out under the stars)

may explore some of the others one day. but just went with the 2nd one for this

head in the clouds (pov: u are the clouds) — luffy x reader

Something's weird.

Luffy knows it's weird because he's thinking again. And not about meat or treasure or some new big fish he wants to punch. He’s thinking about you.

Or, not even about you. Not directly.

It starts with a cat.

It’s not even a cool cat, like a cat with a fish tail or fire breath. Just some regular street cat slinking around a dock on an island they stopped at, tail flicking, weaving between crates. But it makes him think about how you always stop to pet cats even when you say you’re in a hurry. And how you say to every single one “hey, little guy” no matter the size. That makes him smile a little, hands behind his head, staring at it like it just said something funny.

Then it's the dresses.

They're hung in the market, fluttering like little flags in the breeze. Reds and yellows and blues—colors you wear sometimes when you want to "feel like sunshine," whatever that means. Luffy doesn’t get fashion. But he gets that those colors make him look for your face in a crowd without meaning to.

Then it's the sky.

Cloudy, gray, and heavy with rain. He hates when the weather sucks—makes his hat all soggy. But you? You’re the kind of person who drinks the rain like it’s the last sip of something sweet. He remembers the way you tilt your head back and open your mouth to the sky like you're daring it to drench you. You laugh with your whole chest and end up sneezing later, and Chopper fusses over you and makes you swear to never do it again, and you swear to agree, and he thinks about the crinkle of your nose as you make this promise with your fingers crossed.

So he’s walking in the rain now, kind of sulking, kind of dazed, because he knows he's thinking about you too much, but he doesn’t get why it feels like this.

He tries thinking about Zoro. Zoro is one of his best friends, his first mate, and always makes him laugh. But somehow he ends up thinking about how Zoro always groans when you beat him in an argument. Not helpful.

Okay. Nami? But then he remembers how Nami lets you braid her hair when she's feeling soft and the half-remembered childhood melodies you always hum while you do it.

Sanji? That guy’s always yelling about how amazing you are anyway, so that’s a dead end.

Every road leads back to you.

And then it hits him.

Like. A. Brick.

He likes you.

Wait, no—he loves you.

He says it out loud like a question—"I love them?"—and a passing old man looks at him weird, umbrella angled suspiciously. Luffy just stares back, blinking.

“Whoa,” he says, and he laughs. Like, laughs laughs. Because of course it’s love. Why else would everything remind him of you? You’re everywhere. In cats, in clothes, in clouds. In his head.

You’re part of the crew, but it’s different. He thinks about the crew because they’re family. He loves his crew because they’re his Nakama. He thinks about you because... he wants to see your face when he eats something good. He wants to hear your laugh when something dumb happens. He wants to tell you things first.

He thinks... if you left, the ship would feel empty. Like, colder.

He’s in love. And it feels kinda like flying, but sideways.

So he starts running through the rain, soaked and grinning, because he has to tell you. Right now. Before he bursts.

Because if cats and dresses and the sky itself reminds him of you, he just has to.

this was so fun!! i 1000% believe that luffy has the emotional intelligence to come to this conclusion! hes dumb (affectionate) in everything but feelings

Hope. it’s to your liking! i want to try and go through a lot of old asks to hopefully spark some life to this old account and maybe get some new requests

#one piece #one piece scenarios #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #luffy x reader #straw hat luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy #one piece luffy

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redpill-tfs · 4 months ago

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Red Wave

January 1st, 2025

Yo, so I started this Red Wave trial thing today. The docs said it’s supposed to, like, make your brain work better or something. Was told to track my thoughts in this journal thing. Honestly, I’m just here for the cash. I’m not buying into any of their science-y shit. Took the first pill this morning. Feel normal so far. Guess we’ll see if this stuff actually does anything.

Since I was told to describe myself a bit, I guess I might as well if I want that cash they promised. Name's Blake. I'm 26 and work at a local manufacturing company in the finance department. It's a pretty chill gig. Don't gotta wear a suit either which is good. Didn't even wear one to my graduation and I don't plan on starting now.

Anyway bro, I'm also a proud atheist. Never got into politics, but I guess I'm more liberal. I mean, just let people do what they want, right?

February 10th, 2025

Alright, not gonna lie, I’ve been feeling kinda sharp lately. Like, my head’s clearer, and I’m getting more stuff done at work. My boss Emily even said my presentation didn’t totally suck, which is rare. Oh, and I actually ironed my shirt today before work. Don’t know why—just felt like I should look decent. Weird, right? Maybe these pills aren’t total BS. I don't know why, but I've been thinking of wearing a tie to work...

March 12th, 2025

So get this, man: I bought a suit over the weekend. A whole grownup suit and a tie to go with it. I dunno know why, but I just felt like stepping up my game for my presentation at work today. And man did I look good. I got so many compliments on my fit. It honestly felt really good. My bros thought it was weird and so do I, but now that I have it I guess I'll use it at another presentation in the future.

April 15th, 2025

Something weird is going on. I heard some chick at work talking about her church today. Instead of scoffing and rolling my eyes, it made me, like, think a little. Like I got curious about it. I don't know what's going on, but I might have to check it out sometime.

Speaking of work, I've been wearing a tie more and more. It feels... right. People seem to notice too. I get so many compliments about them. I went back to the store and pick out a whole bunch of different colors. I may be the only guy in the department wearing one, but standing out isn't a bad thing I guess.

May 18th, 2025

Alright, so… I went to church today. Yeah, me. Blake, the proud atheist. Walked past St. Mark’s on the way to grab Starbuck's, and something just made me stop and go in. The music was kind of awesome, and the pastor’s talk about purpose hit me harder than I expected. I don’t even know what’s happening to me, but I’m starting to think there’s more to life than what I’ve been living. I might go back next week to see what I've been missing, but I'm not sure yet.

June 30th, 2025

This morning, I prayed. Like, actually prayed to God. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, but it felt… good. I’ve also started reading bits of the Bible over the past week. There’s some deep stuff in there. Work’s going great, too. I’ve been mentoring one of the new guys, and Emily says she’s impressed with my leadership. Suits are now my everyday thing. Who knew dressing sharp could feel so right?

July 23rd, 2025

I’ve been pulling away from my old friends. Their whole sarcastic, edgy vibe just doesn’t sit right with me anymore. Instead, I’ve been hanging out with people from church who share my interest in self-improvement and faith. I’m even thinking about joining a volunteer group at the church. Life feels more meaningful now. My mind still feels so clear too. I don't know what this pill is doing to me, but it's working.

August 11th, 2025

I’ve been reflecting on some big ideas lately: responsibility, tradition, family values. They make so much sense now. I’ve also started watching a few commentators online who align with these views. Their logic is compelling. Honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. It’s like a veil has been lifted. Why should abortion be legal? Why should we violate the second amendment with gun control laws? Why do gays think thy can decide how the rest of us live our lives? So many questions I'm learning the answers to. I never paid much attention to politics, but maybe I should.

September 7th, 2025

Sunday service has become the cornerstone of my week. I’ve officially joined St. Mark’s and volunteered for their community outreach. Pastor Williams’s guidance has been invaluable. I’m entirely committed to this new path. My wardrobe, my habits, even my worldview have all transformed. I’m proud of the man I’ve become. I've said this a million times already, but it just feels right.

October 20th, 2025

Today is my birthday, and reflecting on this past year astounds me. My former self seems like a stranger. I’ve embraced faith, order, and purpose, and it just feels right. I got my hair cut to be a lot shorter than I once had it as a special birthday gift to myself. It feels more appropriate for my new image.

I had some friends from bible study over for a small party. I wore my best suit for the occasion. We played games, ate good food, and prayed of course. There was a riveting debate on the role of faith in politics. All in all, it was a good time. I can't believe how much my life has changed just in 10 months.

November 30th, 2025

Today was the final day of the trial. The scientist leading the study asked me all sorts of questions, from my conservative views to my faith in God and my new sense of style. I'm not sure what it all has to do with a mental focus pill, but I didn't feel like asking questions. I'm sure they know what they're doing. Anyways, I better get going. St. Mark's is having an event today to celebrate God and all of His glory. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

December 1st, 2025

The Red Wave trial has concluded with a 100% conversion rate among participants. Subjects exhibited profound and permanent shifts in personality, behavior, and worldview. Pre-trial skepticism and liberal inclinations were entirely replaced with conservative, faith-based identities. This case highlights the pill's efficacy in aligning individuals with structured, traditional conservative values. Further research will examine long-term societal impacts of widespread application. More subjects needed.

#lib to con #liberal to conservative #atheist to christian #transformation #male transformation #suit and tie #preppy tf

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transformers-spike · 4 months ago

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we know that a good handful of decepticons ans autobots can eat pussy but get they suck pick? I have my most money on Ratchet for Autobots and I'm not exactly sure why but I think blitzwing would be one of the Decepticons. I honestly would be shaking if tfp megatron got anywhere near me with those teeth. But hey just means extra points lol

Lmao don't worry they can all suck dick as well. They can handle it just fine both in normal and mass-displaced form. Unless you're packing a freak of nature, it's an extremely easy task for them. TFP Knock out obviously does a good job at it - but if you're really looking for a nice warm glossa, go for Breakdown. He knows how to use it better than anyone else (also it's nice and cushy for something made of metal) Optimus, Ultra Magnus and obviously Wheeljack are very good at it - pull on Ultra Magnus's crest and fuck his throat. You'll get punished, yeah, but that's the fun of the game (try not to choke on his spike) But Ratchet is obv up there because he's experienced a wide variety of spikes in his life - but have fun getting him away from his work first, lol Megatron is great at blowjobs, it's just that the bitch keeps lightly grazing his denta all over your dick. He knows exactly what he's doing - he just gets a kick out of your fear. Scariest head of your life - but you'll also finish in record time Starscream is good at any kind of oral - but if you try to mouthfuck him/grab him by his crest, he's going to fucking kill you. Out of everyone Airachnid is the more likely to bite your dick TFA Yeah Blitzwing is rlly fucking up there. Icy and Hothead are both questionable because Icy will keep ruining your orgasm, while Hothead will keep on overstimulating you until you black out (also, watch out for his denta). Random is a special kind of freak - he's going to use his glossa to give you a handjob, because that thing is far too dexterous Megatron, Black Arachnia, Ultra Magnus, Prowl and Jazz are great as well (but won't suck you in a particular and weird way like Blitzwing) TFOne Sentinel is good at it, but he only sucks you off if he fancies (or if you act like such a cute little human he can't help himself) Optimus is also good at it, even if he has trouble at first - while Megatron is trying his best even if he can be uh... a bit too intense Skybound I'm telling you Thundercracker may not know what he's doing but by god - if you're his human he will give you head. You're just so cute to him. I think this goes for all Thundercrackers but shhh

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cacodaemonia · 1 month ago

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New AO3 spam/scam tactic

Heeeey all. I've posted a lot about the AO3 comments scams that have been going around since late 2024, and yesterday, I shared a well-sourced video that discusses the explosion of long con scams in general since 2020. For anyone who's curious about this kind of thing, those links might be useful for you, but I think they also help explain why this comment I got a few days ago immediately pinged my scam radar:

(Yes, since then, AO3 support has responded to me and confirmed that the account is posting spam. I'm not slandering some random new user)

So, red flag #1: the comment came in on a fic I'd just posted that day. This is very consistent for these seemingly innocuous comments—they'll pop up the day a new work is posted or the day a new chapter goes up. Red flag #2: I don't recognize the user at all. I'm sure this wouldn't work for very popular creators on AO3 who get loads of comments, but I know all the people who comment on my stuff and rarely get new commenters. So that was odd in itself. Red flag #3: the comment is extremely vague and generic. It doesn't mention characters or anything that happens in the fic, but unlike short comments by real people, the message has a very... 'email they sent to a work colleague with whom they're friendly' vibe to it. That's pretty standard, too. Red flag #4: when I went to the user's profile, I saw that, shockingly, it was a brand new account and completely blank. For a while, these scammers were including weird amounts of contact info in their AO3 profiles (you can see examples in the posts I linked to at the top), but lately, they've been more bare bones. Red flag #5: the comment is such weird overkill. This is probably more specific to the fic I posted that day, but if it had been a long, complex story, I might have just thought the commenter was being extremely generous with their wording. The thing I posted, however, was a 600 word fluffy scene where nothing 'captivating' happens 😂 Like I said, weird overkill.

I think that covers my main reasons for immediately being suspicious. I wanted to explain them because a lot of people I've spoken to about these spam comments don't suspect them right away. And it really sucks having to be paranoid, but here we are ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

As I mentioned, AO3 confirmed that the comment was spam, and they took it down. I also saw another comment from the same scam account yesterday, but by the time I got the reply from AO3 this morning, that comment was gone. So it may be that they're mass deleting comments by those spam accounts now? If anyone has insight on this, I'd love to know.

Anyway, just to give another example of the wording of the comment, here's a screenshot of it:

Vague again, and the fic was a one-shot, so mentioning a chapter is fishy.

I hope this helps prevent a few people from getting sucked into these long con scams. I still don't know exactly how they play out beyond the scammers offering to do paid art commissions, but obviously, they're making money with the comments or they wouldn't be flooding AO3 with them.

#scams #spam #ao3 spam #ao3 #ao3 comments #scammers #internet scams #reblog to save a life #or at least someone's wallet #ao3 spam comments #spam comments

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ruegarding · 8 months ago

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Wait what's the tea on Wotg makin' Percabeth even worse? /gen /nf

tldr; rick is continuing his trend of having annabeth imply that she thinks her bf is stupid (u can see what i mean by trend here). this is coupled w a lot of ableism: acting like percy is too stupid to function and removing annabeth's disabilities so she can be a girl boss while refusing to address their mental health. this is supposed to make percabeth look cute, somehow, but instead comes off as mean-spirited at best.

first, to establish context, percy's incredibly overworked,

(he's also on the swim team) and bc of this percy is falling asleep in class and waking up in a panic. this is never addressed seriously despite being a series abt disability. as if that wasn't enough, percy also is never shown to enjoy any of his classes and is frequently written to be stuggling w his grades, just in case u forgot he was stupid (he also is written w the ableist stereotype of being lazy abt school work, too, instead of, you know, disabled). his main motivation is that annabeth will be successful with or without him so he better not be a stupid failure.

completely ignoring percy was the one who wanted to go to nru. also, zero mentions for the accommodation percy is receiving for his disabilities (nor annabeth's, but she's written like they don't exist so).

and then percy says that annabeth's friend, hana, doesn't like him bc she doesn't think he's good enough for annabeth, going on to think yeah that's fair. this is never addressed bc it's supposed to be a cute percabeth and #girl boss annabeth moment. then percy makes a joke (?) that annabeth's friends are gossiping abt how annabeth can stand to date him when he's too stupid to understand architecture when percabeth walks away to talk. this is not a percabeth win and i'm genuinely not sure how anyone on rick's team thought it was.

then there's this:

just in case u forgot, percy is the stupid one and annabeth is the smart one. teehee.

and, in relation to ignoring their mental health, annabeth talks abt putting spider webs all over hecate's mansion (bc she wants to make a haunted house), which rick says is ok bc it's not spiders. except part of annabeth's huge traumatic fight w arachne was being covered in spiderwebs that literally pulled her into tartarus. so. weird plotline. similarly, percy has a bit abt having nightmares abt cereberus, which is equally stupid. i talked abt it here. not necessarily percabeth but worth mentioning for context. oh, and percy also bodily-fluid-bends later in the book w no comment except annabeth's shocked expression. correction: while percy does bodily-fluid-bend w no fanfare, annabeth is not there. percy poison-bends in front of annabeth w no comment.

rick then keeps poking fun at how percy and annabeth would make great parents. which. they're seventeen. btw. but yeah anyway percy would make a great dad bc he's got the funny dad jokes (bc he's stupid. haha get it). annabeth would make a great mom bc she's soooooo nurturing what w taking care of a puppy who decides to call her mom and taking care of her stupid idiot useless boyfriend. i wish this was a joke. more on this later.

the line "[annabeth] looked surprised—me comforting her, kind of switching things up" is self explanatory and written specifically to piss me off.

this passage,

which sucks for many reasons, but especially bc this is rick trying to rewrite book canon w show canon despite very easy ways to include this without acting like percy is an idiot who just didn't notice for the past THREE BOOK SERIES (like a war that took place recently where chiron was injured idk just an idea). instead, percy has to take the fall for rick's error and annabeth has to act like her bf is the stupidest person on earth.

btw, did i mention that annabeth is ahead in her classes and percy sucks at school? teehee.

wow, it's like annabeth's dyslexia isn't even there!

now, it may seem that i'm exaggerating percy's incompetence.

this is a real quote from the book.

so is this!

and this.

and—u get the point. rick is acting like percy hasn't outsmarted his opponents bc his personality is stupid and annabeth's personality is reduced down to having the brain cell.

then, percy has a moment where his empathy shines thru and he's allowed to succeed at something (for the first time in the book), except he has to put himself down to make annabeth feel better. bc we can't have percy feeling good abt himself since it makes annabeth look bad. or something. idk.

again, there is no exploration of percy's self-esteem or their myriad of trauma.

to make up for all the times percy was treated like an idiot, annabeth says percy is "a pretty smart guy,"

which is a surprise to her despite them having known each other for five years.

furthermore, rick is writing percy w a sort of incompetence towards household tasks that is, quite frankly, sexist. here is a good post on how it mirrors weaponized incompetence and here is another one abt the disturbing nature of mom-ifying annabeth. i should make it clear annabeth provides percy food in multiple scenes while percy does adjacent to nothing. she also tucks him into bed like a child in one scene and gets nicknamed "mom" by a dog that pees on her (AND she cleans up the pee while percy does nothing).

so, wottg is essentially 300 pages of mean-spirited bullying from all sides. none of the humor shines through these jokes, none of the facetiousness, like hey isn't it funny that percy is really smart but sometimes completely oblivious, is there. there is no comedic disparity between percy's power and skill and his ability to trip over his feet bc there are no impressive feats of power and skill (anything that would count are immediately brushed off). comments abt percy learning to tie his own shoes w his newfound octopus tentacles don't land in a book where he's acting like he cannot have thoughts without annabeth. and there's no grace to be given bc at no point in any of this handled as a serious exploration of percy's insecurities despite the ample opportunity to do so.

then, when percy isn't being hounded w vitriol, annabeth is being reduced to a sexist caricature of a woman. it does not make percabeth look good in any way.

finally, i need to make it clear that however bad this breakdown makes the books seem, it is worse. i summarized and skipped over a ton of stuff for my own sanity.

#it's ableism all the way down babey!#this is more in-depth than necessary and it doesn't even talk abt the issues not surrounding percabeth. this book is a joke.#ALSO i'm not editing this bc i value my peace #wottg spoilers #rr crit #marketing trilogy #answered

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thisapplepielife · 15 days ago

Text

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May Mayhem Bingo event.

Sympathy for the Devil

Prompt: Sold His Soul For A Donut | Word Count: 6666 | Rating: E | CW: Unprotected Sex, The Devil Doesn't Just Want Sympathy, But Praise Too, Mild Dom/Sub BDSM Vibes | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Steddie, Eddie & Gareth | Tags: AU, Accidentally Selling Your Soul, Like a Dumbass, But With A Happy Ending, Steve Harrington is the Devil (No, Really)

Also on ao3.

Now

Eddie runs right into the back of Gareth, not paying a damn bit of attention where he's going, like always. But this isn't all his fault. He didn't expect Gareth to stop short.

"What? Why're we stopped?" Eddie asks, looking around, like he might find the answer. They're supposed to meet Jeff and Goodie back at the hotel in fifteen minutes and they are at least twenty minutes away by foot.

"Don't you smell that?" Gareth asks, looking through the window of the bakery he's paused on the sidewalk in front of, hands pressed to the glass like an unruly child.

"Smell what?" Eddie asks. All he smells is yeast from the bakery. He guesses it smells good, but not so good that he needed to stop and drool on the glass.

"The donuts. They smell so good."

Okay? He should just get a donut. They aren't rich, but they definitely have donut money. However, there is a long line backed up to the door, and they don't really have time for that. But Jeff and Goodie know they'll be late. That's just a given. They have met them before. It's kind of their fault for letting them wander off by themselves, if you really think about it.

"I'd sell my soul for a donut right about now," Gareth says, and Eddie's laugh is cut short by a voice coming from the doorway of the donut shop, the bell jingling over his head.

"I can help with that," the man in a sharp black suit says, as they both turn to look at him. He pops open the lid of the red bakery box, and inside has to be one of every donut the shop Gareth's drooling over must sell.

Gareth may have been onto something, they all do look amazing.

The guy holds out the box a little further, and Gareth reaches for one that looks like it might be a carrot cake donut, from the little icing carrots piped around the ring of fried dough. Carrot cake is his favorite, he was never gonna be able to resist that one.

Then the guy then offers the box to Eddie, and Eddie shrugs, taking one too. The one he picked has Honeycomb cereal, Eddie's favorite, stuck atop a bright yellow glaze.

"Thanks, man," Eddie says, and Gareth nods in agreement, also saying thanks. The guy just stands there grinning, and it would look way creepier if he wasn't so good looking. He watches until they've both taken a bite. It's good, but not as good as Gareth's acting like it is, taking a stumbling step backwards like the wind has been knocked out of him.

And everybody says Eddie is the dramatic one.

The guy then reaches into his shirt pocket, balancing the box in one hand with ease. Pulling out a business card.

It's a striking red, and looks expensive. Eddie reaches for it. And it feels like it's linen or some shit that feels good under Eddie's thumb.

But he takes it from Eddie's hand, and gives it to Gareth instead, and that fucking figures that the hot donut man wants to fuck Gareth and not Eddie. Eddie pouts, just a little.

"In case you need to find me," he says, and Eddie would like to find him alright. Gareth, though, well. Dude's barking up the wrong tree. Sucks to be him. He was just used for his free donut.

Then he's gone. Gliding down the street, his black overcoat billowing behind him before he turns the corner, disappearing from sight.

Gareth hands the card back to Eddie. There's an address on the back and nothing else.

"Weird. What kind of business do you think he runs? A sex dungeon?" Gareth asks, and Eddie laughs. He fucking wishes.

It starts slow, a callousness that he's never had before. A bite. And at first Eddie assumes the tour is just getting to Gareth, making him pissy. That happens. Being trapped with each other for days on end. In cramped hotel rooms, living on top of each other.

But that doesn't feel right. Gareth's never acted like this before, he loves to tour, loves being in the van more than any of the rest of them.

Eddie can't put his finger on it, but it makes him feel unnerved.

The rest of them talk about Gareth in hushed tones behind closed doors. Something's wrong with him, and they're not sure what they should do about his new attitude he's been sporting. But they find there's no answers, no easy fixes.

Gareth just looks at them, staring blankly and uncaring. You can't shame someone that doesn't seem to have any shame left.

The final straw is when he makes Goodie cry. Goodie, for god's sake. The one well known for dishing it out and being able to take it in return. Eddie's never seen Goodie cry a single tear in all the years he's known him.

Until tonight.

Eddie has to do something. They can't go on like this.

In the morning, on his nightstand is the business card from the donut guy. He knows it wasn't there the night before, at least he doesn't think it was. Surely he'd remember that.

But his gut twists with gnawing clarity. What he's silently suspected.

Eddie holds the card in both his hands, like it might disappear if he doesn't hang on tight. The building is unassuming, and he pulls open the door. It's a big, spacious room with a single red elevator at the other end.

His boots click across the marble floor, and despite all the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, he presses the single button.

The down arrow lights up.

Well. He guesses he's going down.

And down he goes. It feels like one of those expensive hotel elevators that moves way too fast. There's no floor indicator, so he's just along for the ride until it comes to a smooth stop.

His ears pop, and that can't be good.

When the door opens with a ding, he's right in the middle of an office, and Steve Harrington is sitting behind a large, ornate desk.

He motions for Eddie to take the seat across from him.

"Please allow me to introduce myself," Steve says, "I'm a man of wealth and taste. I've been around for a long, long year and stole many a man's soul and faith. I'm Steve Harrington."

"Uh, that's The Stones," Eddie says with a laugh, and Steve chuckles along with him.

"Perhaps it was written about me. Perhaps a deal was made. Long ago. A better one than for a donut," Steve says wryly, and Eddie swallows. No fucking way. He thought, but not really.

"You took his soul?" Eddie asks, just to make sure.

Steve nods, and waves his hand at the rows and rows of what looks like built-in mailboxes all along the wall behind him, "It's right back there. With all the others."

"Did you take mine?" Eddie asks. He doesn't feel like anything's changed, but maybe Gareth doesn't feel like anything has changed either. Even if it definitely has.

Steve shakes his head, a wry smile on his face.

"Why not me? Why not mine?" Eddie asks, sitting across from Steve, fingers digging into the ragged holes in the knees of his jeans just for something to do with his hands.

"You didn't summon me, you didn't make me an offer I couldn't refuse," Steve says, arms folded across his chest. Smiling.

"I ate a donut, too," Eddie argues.

"That was freely given, because you're so nice to look at," Steve says, and Eddie kind of hates that he's into that.

"So, what? You're the devil? Lucifer?"

"I prefer Steve."

"Yeah, yeah, what can I do to get his soul back?" Eddie asks.

"You want to make a deal?" Steve asks, leaning forward across his desk.

"Not like that! I like my soul right where it is, thank you," Eddie answers. He doesn't want to get tricked into anything, here. He knows he needs to be very careful.

"I could make you all very famous. I've done it before. Many times over. It's my specialty, actually. Keith and Mick struck a hard bargain, Mick studied finance, you know. I could give you the same deal. Not a ten year standard contract. Those are a dime a dozen. Boring."

Eddie hates that he almost believes this shit. If anyone struck a crossroads deal, it could have been Keith Richards. There's no reason he should still be alive and kicking, playing the goddamn guitar that well today.

There has to be a reason. And maybe that reason is Steve Harrington.

"I'm not giving you my soul to be famous. That's crazy."

Steve chuckles, and leans back again, "If you're not willing to part with your soul, then I'm not sure what you can give me of equal value. My hands are tied," he says. Folding his hands under his chin, elbows propped up on the desk. He's wearing a pinky ring, and Eddie can't look away from it. A signet, of some sort.

Now, Eddie's worn lots of rings in his life, but he's sure none of them have ever looked that goddamn hot.

He forces himself to look away from it.

"You said I'm nice to look at," Eddie says, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. He digs his fingernails into his kneecaps.

"I did," Steve says.

"You can't have my soul," Eddie says again, "I do not consent. Can you take it by force?"

Steve shakes his head.

"Why should I believe you?" Eddie asks. You don't trust the devil. That's like rule number one in all the books.

"I'm a man of my word. I only take what I'm offered. What are you offering me, Eddie?" Steve asks.

And a chill runs down Eddie's spine, making all the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. He never told Steve his name. He's sure of it.

"Is your dick weird?" Eddie blurts out, and Steve laughs, a truly delighted sound.

"Do you want it to be?" Steve asks, a glint in his eye, and Eddie can't help it, he laughs. Pulling his hair across the front of his mouth like he's a giggly schoolgirl looking for a prom date.

Not a fully grown man, propositioning the goddamn devil.

Eddie isn't sure what he's just signed up for, but Steve snaps his fingers and the room changes, shifts, and he's suddenly in a dark bedroom. All reds and blacks. Expensive draped fabrics.

It's a little on the nose for Lucifer, he's gotta say.

"What do you want from me?" Eddie asks, and he's equal parts concerned and excited.

Whips, chains, hot pokers. Maybe he'll be hogtied and helpless. It could be anything, everything. Pleasure, or pain. Maybe both at the same time. Eddie'd be lying if he didn't admit to being excited by the prospect.

Instead of any of that, he watches as Steve sheds his clothes, and when he lays down on the bed, it's facedown, head propped on his arms. He snaps his fingers and a bottle of fancy-looking lube is suddenly in Eddie's hand.

"That's a neat trick," Eddie says, and Steve laughs. He seems so normal, so human, it kind of scares Eddie that he's not terrified of him.

He's not human, he just happens to look like he is. No horns, no tail. Just miles of gorgeous skin. Eddie leans a knee down on the mattress, sinking in as he rubs his hand along Steve's back, over the curve of his ass. His skin is hot to the touch, a few degrees beyond warm, Eddie would wager. And always having cold hands, Eddie's immediately addicted to it. He glides along, caressing him, just barely brushing his hole with the edge of his thumb. Teasing him. Testing the water.

He's even hotter there. Goddamn.

Steve sighs contentedly, and closes his eyes.

Okay, then. Eddie smiles, so much for getting fucking freaky with the devil. But if that's not what Steve needs, well, Eddie will meet him where he's at.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Eddie asks, and Steve nods as his breath hitches in his chest at the endearment.

Well, good. He'll take care of him, then. He can do that.

He squeezes a good amount of lube on his fingers, and rubs them together. He wonders if this is even necessary. If Steve can just snap his fingers, and be loose, ready.

Where'd the fun be in that, though?

Instead, Eddie works him open, first with his fingers, and then his tongue. It feels like it's burning him from the inside out, and he could get addicted to this. He always knew he'd tumble face-first into hell, he just never imagined it'd be like this. Eating out the devil. His palm pressed into a warm ass cheek, keeping him spread. Getting him wet, and sloppy.

Getting him ready to be fucked by Eddie.

Goddamn.

Eddie's enjoying listening to him slowly lose control. He'd be lying if he didn't admit that it makes him feel powerful, having the devil himself bowing under his touch, his tongue. Opening for him. Begging for more, yearning for him.

Turning over his control, which must be deep and powerful. Everlasting.

When Eddie finally pushes into him, he's snug and extra warm. Like he was made just for Eddie specifically. Eddie's never put his cock in anything this inviting in his whole goddamn life. It feels like he was always meant to be here, doing this with him. For him. Eddie leans forward so he can brush Steve's hair out of his eyes. So he can see all of Steve's face. If he's fucking the devil, he definitely wants to see him.

And he has no complaints when Steve's suddenly on his back, legs up, Eddie never pulling out, never even missing a stroke.

That's another neat trick.

Steve stretches his arms up over his head, his chest raising, and Eddie's eyes focus on a previously unseen mole in his armpit, barely visible on the edge of all that dark hair. Then Steve's gripping the metal bars of the headboard, and Eddie watches as his hands are suddenly bound to the bars, red scarves perfectly knotted at his wrists.

That's an even neater neat trick.

Eddie knows Steve's not really restrained, probably can't be, but that he wants to at least pretend he is, is doing something for Eddie.

Face-to-face is so underrated. He loves seeing Steve's face, because he doesn't want to miss a goddamn second of this experience, and he reaches down, wrapping his fist around Steve's hard cock. It's thick, big, absolutely perfect. Like it was designed with every ridge and vein being what Eddie would choose, if his personal preferences were taken into consideration. Eddie wishes he could choke on it while he fucks Steve. He's not sure if Satan has a prostate, but if Eddie had the power to bend things to his will, he'd make sure he had one that was easy to hit for goddamn sure.

Top priority.

Eddie tilts his hips, and Steve whines.

"Look at you being so good," Eddie says, and Steve keens. Mouth parted, tongue wetting his lips. Interesting. That's very interesting. A subby, needy bottom isn't what Eddie had assumed he was getting when he agreed to hop in bed with the devil.

He rubs his hand against Steve's hairy thigh, fucking into him, "You like that. Don't you?"

Steve nods, white-knuckling the bed frame.

All in all, it's way more tame than Eddie had been expecting. He assumed he'd only leave here limping, scratched, bruised and scarred. But this isn't that. This is good sex, fuck yes it is, but it's not quite tormented sex dungeon.

Eddie jacks him firmly as he thrusts, trying to keep a good pace to keep those beautiful sounds escaping from Steve's parted lips.

"That's it, darling, let go," Eddie coaxes. And he does. Hips leaving the bed as he comes all over Eddie's fist and his own taut stomach. Thick ropes of white, clinging to the hair below his belly button.

Goddamn.

Eddie thinks about pulling out, that's what he'd normally do, but Steve can maybe read his mind, which should scare Eddie more than it actually does, as he wraps his foot around Eddie's ass. Pressing inward, a blatant invitation to stay exactly where he is.

To keep fucking him.

So, Eddie does. Keeps the same pace, listening to him moan with every thrust. It doesn't take much longer, and as Eddie's hips stutter, his rhythm lost, he presses as far into Steve as he can. Coming deep with a long, satisfied groan.

He stays buried to the hilt, eyes focused on Steve's chest, heaving with exertion underneath him. Sweat clinging to all the hair on his chest.

He's gorgeous.

When Eddie pulls out, his come is already leaking out of Steve's used hole. He presses his thumb against the hot, puckered skin, pressing it back into him as best he can. Fingers toying with him, unable to stop touching him. If he could get hard again right now, he would. He'd slide right back into Steve and fuck him all over again.

He'd never stop.

Instead, he gently lets Steve's legs down, and carefully unties his wrists, even though he knows Steve could do it on his own. He wants to, and when he's finished, he curls up against his side, wet fingers brushing through his chest hair, finding his nipple.

Steve giggles at the sensation, and Eddie laughs. Kissing both of his wrists, even if there's no indication he'd been tied up at all, before he presses his face into Steve's shoulder as they lay there together and catch their breath. Coming back down to earth, or wherever the fuck they are. Eddie isn't really sure, honestly. He might literally be in hell.

He can't find it in himself to care either way.

But he does have a question that's itching the back of his skull, demanding an answer.

"Why would you give us your card? Wouldn't it just be easier to disappear without a trace with his soul?" Eddie asks, laying in the most comfortable bed he's ever been in, in his entire life. The silk sheets are a little much, but the mattress truly is to die for.

Steve turns his head to meet Eddie's eyes, and smiles. He looks a hundred percent human, with his tanned skin, moles and chest hair.

"Well, that's the general rule, yes."

"Then why—"

"—you, of course," he interrupts.

Eddie smiles, "Me? Seriously?"

"You're here, aren't you?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. He's here.

"You don't bring everybody home after you try to steal their soul?" Eddie asks.

"First off," Steve says, a hint of bitchy in his voice that really works for Eddie, "I don't steal anything. I take what I'm offered. And second, no, this isn't part of the arrangement most people get."

"How unlucky for them," Eddie teases, and Steve laughs. "Besides making a deal with The Stones, who else did you make deals with?"

Eddie has to ask. He's super curious.

"In modern musical history? I'd say it starts with Robert Johnson," Steve says.

"So the crossroads legend is actually true?"

"Not fully true, no. I didn't tune his guitar. That was an embellishment to make the story better. I don't even know how to play the guitar."

"Who else?" Eddie probes.

"Well, the whole 27 Club, basically. Those are mine. You don't get that kind of talent and fame in such a short period of time without some help along the way."

"Steve Harrington, were you making deals with minors?" Eddie asks.

"Oh no, if you want to join that illusive club, you'll take less than the average ten years in exchange for the notoriety. It's only fair."

"Does Gareth only have ten years, if you don't give his soul back?" Eddie asks.

"No, we didn't make any such deal. Those aren't done so easily. He got his donut, I got his soul, end of story. Most people, you know, those that think these things through, keep their souls until the end of the agreed upon contract. Gareth was just one of those souls so easily offered up that I sometimes choose to go ahead and collect."

Eddie nods. Steve didn't say he'd give it back, but Eddie thought it was implied. Maybe not, maybe he's been played, too. Just in a different way. Maybe he should have got it in writing, but that would have felt too much like prostitution. He didn't sleep with Steve only to get Gareth's soul back. But that was what brought him here in the first place. Obviously.

Maybe Steve never intended to give it back.

He can't think about that right now.

"Stevie Nicks?" Eddie asks, going back to a more comfortable topic.

"No. No, no, no. I don't mess with witches. No way."

"Elvis?"

"Of course. (You're The) Devil in Disguise is about me too, you know. Basically anyone who's covered Crossroads is mine."

"We've covered Crossroads!" Eddie yells, swatting at Steve's arm, and laughing as Steve ducks away, and then gathers Eddie up against his chest. Holding on tight. The devil is playful. Who fucking knew?

"Recorded," Steve amends, "not covered in a dive bar. I don't have that kind of time in the day, or the storage space, honestly."

Eddie just laughs. It shouldn't be funny. These are people's souls they willingly gave away for fame and fortune, no matter how fleeting. It makes him sad.

But also, wildly curious.

"The Kennedys?" Eddie asks.

"No, I don't deal in curses, and that's a cursed family if I've seen one. Whoever lost that rabbit's foot fucked it all up for the entire bloodline. I ain't touching that with a ten foot pole."

Eddie grins, "Ooh! The Beatles?"

Steve nods.

"Wow. Paul must have struck a much better deal than John," Eddie comments, and Steve smirks, a shit-eating grin if Eddie's ever seen one.

"No way!" Eddie says, rolling onto his side, "Paul is dead?"

Steve just shrugs his shoulders.

"Holy shit. Tell me more," Eddie demands, curiosity getting the best of him. He wants all the dirty details. He loves to gossip, and this is the best pillow talk ever.

"Jacksonville in the sixties was a hotbed for dealmaking. You wouldn't believe the deals that could be made with people just trying to escape that swamp."

"You took Duane from us! And Berry!" Eddie accuses, pointing his finger at Steve, then thinks for a second, adding, "And Skynyrd?!"

"Who doesn't put fuel in a plane, honestly?" Steve asks, and Eddie knows the question is rhetorical. "Sometimes my job does itself for me."

Eddie goes through all the talented guitar players in his head that he knows came out of Jacksonville around that time.

"Mike Campbell?"

Steve makes a face, touching his fingers to his lips, looking like he's disappointed, "Unfortunately not. All his talent is god given. Tom Petty was mine, though. I wandered down to Gainesville, just to see what they had to offer. You know, I think that's what made their music together so good. The devil on one shoulder, an angel on the other. In perfect harmony. Blood harmony, as only brothers can be. It was probably that prick Gabriel that touched him. And what does he know? I was the angel of music. He's just a baby."

Eddie can sense a family squabble when he hears one, and chooses to just ignore it. He's not sure he's equipped to offer guidance on a fight between archangels, fallen or otherwise.

He changes the subject.

"Stevie Ray Vaughan? Please tell me you didn't take SRV from us?"

When Steve doesn't deny it, Eddie flops his head into the pillow, "You are the devil."

"As I've said, repeatedly," Steve banters back, "pleased to meet you."

Eddie shakes his head, before the next name pops into his head, "Buddy Holly?"

"No! That was just a terrible accident. You're not pinning the day the music died on me! No way. I don't only deal in plane crashes, you know."

Eddie just laughs, "I know, sometimes you use motorcycles, apparently."

Steve just glares at him.

"Touchy, touchy. Easy there, Beelzebub. You just tell me who else if you're gonna get all bent out of shape about my guesses."

"Do you follow sports?" Steve asks. Eddie doesn't and shakes his head accordingly.

"Oh, well. The Chicago Bulls dynasty in the 1990s was thanks to me, and in football I signed quite the trifecta: a quarterback, tight end and the head coach. You want a dynasty? You'll have to pay for it."

Eddie laughs, he has no idea what he's talking about.

"So, yeah, I've done some sports deals. Tiger. Olympians, every four years, like clockwork. But I just have a preference for guitar players."

"Gareth's a drummer. Your aim was off," Eddie teases, and Steve just smiles at him.

"I don't know, I think I got exactly what I wanted out of that interaction," Steve answers, pulling Eddie tighter against him, and Eddie feels his face flush.

Eddie should run fucking screaming, but instead he slides closer to Steve, pressing his thumb to Steve's neck. He can feel the pulse thrumming there, beating against his skin. He's alive. But he's been around for decades, maybe centuries. Maybe forever.

Because he's the goddamn devil.

Eddie just can't find it in himself to care.

He slings his leg up over Steve's hip, and presses their lips together in another kiss.

Then he hooks his chin over Steve's shoulder, holding onto him tight. They just hug in the silence for a while, before Eddie says, "I could teach you to play the guitar, if you want."

Steve slides his hand up Eddie's back, letting it splay between his shoulder blades, fingers gently rubbing circles against Eddie's skin. It takes a few moments, but Steve finally speaks, "In all my years, nobody's ever offered to teach me to play before. Thanks, Eddie."

Steve falls asleep burrowed under the covers, back to Eddie, and Eddie wasn't sure if the devil needed to sleep, but apparently he does. The only reason Eddie's pretty fucking sure he's actually asleep is because the room shifted, changed, as if it couldn't be held in the state it was without Steve being conscious. The facade, gone.

It's a normal bedroom, now. Light gray walls, the bedding piled high on the bed, all so incredibly soft, and in shades of deep, stunning blues. It's cozy, and comforting.

It feels like a home. Not a sex lair out of some sort of B-movie.

And for some reason Eddie feels grateful that he was invited to peek behind the curtain.

There are pictures lining the walls. Some look old, very old, and others appear more recent. He wonders if these are of his chosen family, people, loved ones that he found after he fell from grace. If the devil is even capable of getting attached to humans.

He's definitely interested in finding out. He wants to know everything about Steve.

Eddie stills, frozen when he sees a shadow moving through the hallway outside of the door. His imagination runs wild. Hellhounds, demons, something straight from the depths of hell coming to dispose of him.

It's just a woman. In fuzzy slippers, and a long t-shirt. Her hair cut into a cute bob, even as mussed as it is from sleep. When she spots him, she stops in front of the door, and they stare at each other.

"You shouldn't be here," she whispers, and Eddie wonders if this is a warning. If she's trapped here, if she doesn't want him to meet the same fate. If—

She reaches forward and yanks him by the arm, tugging him into the hallway, hissing, "Steve doesn't bring anyone home, how'd you get here?"

"Uh, he fell asleep, I think," Eddie answers, and she looks around him, back into the room, like she's trying to decide if he's telling the truth or not.

Then she grins, "Did he really?"

Eddie nods, and she slugs him on the arm, "Look at you go, little weirdo."

"Who are you?" he asks, rubbing his arm. "His wife?"

"Ew. No. I'm Robin. His lesbian best friend. Don't hurt him or I'll make you pay," she says, and he swears her eyes flash red, just for a second.

"I'll try not to hurt the devil," he says sarcastically, but she just smiles, looking him up and down.

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you around, Eddie," she says, and he swears to god, is he wearing a nametag he's not aware of?

She just gives him a push back into the bedroom, and then she's gone.

The devil has a lesbian best friend named Robin, and they live in the suburbs? As if his day could get any weirder.

Eddie turns and looks back at the bed. If the room changed, Steve probably did, too. A nervousness twists in his gut. The urge to look, but also the urge to stay in the dark. To not know what he really looks like. To not know what he just had sex with.

But, bad news first, always.

And he creeps to Steve's side of the bed, and the comforter is pulled up over his shoulders, but his face is visible. Cheek pressed to the cotton pillowcase, features slack, as he very slightly snores on each exhale.

He's still Steve.

Eddie shakes his head at his overactive imagination. He doesn't know why he expected him to suddenly have red skin and horns, but he definitely did.

So, the room is a facade. But Steve isn't. That's really what he looks like, and isn't that just unfair. A handsome devil, indeed.

Eddie stands in front of the window, the moonlight casting shadows, a single street light illuminating the corner where a black cat sits and licks its paw. He could be anywhere. In any neighborhood. But looking out at it, all he cares about is that it looks peaceful.

Eddie carefully crawls back under the pile of bedding, and slides an arm over Steve's side, pressing his face into Steve's back. If he lives until tomorrow this will be a hell of a story, that's for goddamn sure.

When he wakes up, he's back in the dark, silk-covered cave of a bedroom. Not the homey one. Steve's already up, dressed in an all-black suit, the only color is his deep red tie.

Once Eddie's up and re-dressed into yesterday's clothes, Steve walks him to the rows of mailboxes, and his hands still in front of one. They aren't even marked with numbers. They all look identical to Eddie.

"Is that his?" Eddie asks.

"Yes," Steve answers.

"Do you have, like, a chart? A logbook?"

Steve laughs, "No. I have a good memory."

Eddie finds that to be a little suspect, but he watches as Steve adjusts the dials, using the combination to unlock the box.

"What if you're wrong? What if that's not his soul? What if that's Ted Bundy's soul?" Eddie asks, his hand covering Steve's.

Steve laughs, "Just trust me."

Eddie pulls back his hand. When he does, Steve opens the mailbox and a swirl of pure white light escapes, it's nearly blinding as it bounces around the room, nearly frantic in movement, before slipping into the crack of the elevator, suddenly gone from sight.

"That was Gareth's soul?" Eddie exclaims, and Steve smiles, closing the door on the box once again.

"That was his soul," he confirms, "Feisty little thing."

"And it'll find him on its own?" Eddie asks, needing to make sure. He can't have it just bouncing all over the world. He needs it back inside Gareth, like, yesterday.

"It will," Steve answers, "but let me assure you, this won't be fun for him. Once you're here on earth, souls are only supposed to go one way: out. Through death, or a trade. A deal. Going back in isn't really advised."

"But it'll work? He'll be okay?" Eddie asks, nervous. Gareth needs his soul. The rest of them won't be able to stand him without it.

"It'll work, but he might wish it hadn't for a few days," Steve says, and Eddie nods, swallowing hard.

Eddie stands there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Unsure of what happens now. Does he just leave?

"So, we're good? He has his soul. I have my soul?" he clarifies.

Steve grins, "Yes, you have your soul. I can't take it without it being offered. Without you making a deal, a trade for it, no matter how fair or unfair the terms and conditions."

Eddie nods, but Steve keeps talking.

"And I kind of like it where it is. It's what makes you, you," Steve says, rubbing his palm against Eddie's sternum. Eddie reaches up, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck, kissing him.

When they break apart, Eddie looks into his dark eyes, "Will I see you again? Or, will this place vanish the second I step out of the elevator?"

Steve giggles, a delightful sound, "You watch too many movies. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, quite literally for eternity. And as long as you have my card, you can always find me. The address may change, but the place will not."

"Fuck, I gotta keep track of the card?" Eddie asks. He's not the most organized person on earth. He's lost four wallets in six years.

"If you lose it, I'll know. I won't let you get away that easily," he says, "you still owe me."

Eddie feels momentarily uneasy, but it passes looking at Steve's open face, "What do I owe you?"

Steve cradles Eddie's cheek in his large palm. It feels so warm against Eddie's skin, "Another night together. Dinner. A date."

Eddie laughs, leaning into his touch. He's gonna date the fucking devil, and he's somehow a thousand percent on board with that idea.

"Deal," Eddie says, and Steve laughs, brushing his thumb against Eddie's cheek.

"Don't say that word. Don't make deals. I'm not the only thing out there that can take advantage of it."

Eddie swallows, and nods. No deals. Got it.

"Okay," Steve says, pulling back and Eddie knows that's his cue to go.

Steve walks him to the elevator, and presses the single up button, the arrow lighting up red over their heads.

He guesses this is it.

It's not until the elevator doors close behind him that he realizes he's got an extra ring on his finger. Steve's gold pinky ring is now on Eddie's own hand, standing out against all the silver. He twists his hand under the lights in the elevator, watching it gleam, and he grins.

That's when he recognizes the drum beat, the familiar guitar lick that leads into the riff coming through the elevator speakers. That sultry, laid-back sound.

Eddie smiles as the lyrics kick in. Steve's giving him permission. To love him, or to not. A direct message that Steve thinks he won't run away, and well, he's right. Eddie won't.

He's definitely feeling like it's love, even if that seems ass over teakettle crazy.

"It's alright...it's alright," he sings along under his breath, as much to himself as anything else as the elevator makes the long, smooth climb upwards.

Then, the ascension finally stops, the elevator chiming, announcing his arrival topside.

The doors open, and Eddie feels rooted to the floor. They start to close again, but he shoots his hand out, and sees that golden ring, leading the way.

And he finally steps out.

It feels warm on his finger all the way back to the hotel across town. Like Steve's own fevered skin is touching him, constantly. A reminder. He adjusts his half-hard cock in his jeans at the idea of somehow being claimed by Steve.

That should terrify him, but it doesn't. It really, really doesn't.

When he opens the door to the room, Gareth is shivering in bed.

"Are you back to fucking normal?" Eddie asks, crawling into bed beside Gareth. Hands finding his face, checking him over. Looking for some sort of sign. A light in his eyes.

He knows what his soul looks like, now. How bright, how energetic.

Gareth nods. He's shivering, and fucking bawling. Good. Maybe next time he won't make a goddamn deal with the devil for a fucking donut. He's burning up. Steve said this would happen. It's supposed to be a one way exchange. Putting one back isn't as easy as it sounds.

But he did it, for Eddie.

Eddie climbs back out of bed, runs cool water over a washcloth, and presses it to Gareth's forehead when he climbs back in bed with him.

Eddie pulls Gareth into his side, pressing the damp cloth to his skin, "It's fine now. You're fine. I fixed it."

Gareth nods against his chest, and then croaks out, "What'd you have to do?"

"You don't want to know," Eddie answers, but the smile that spreads across his mouth is wide. Steve's card is burning a hole in his pocket, and he can't wait until he gets to see him again. It may be a terrible idea, but for some reason he's choosing to trust the devil he now knows.

"Eddie," Gareth pleads, coughing, a wet hacking sound, "Was he the devil?"

"Yeah. That's Steve. You'll like him."

"He took my soul, Eddie," Gareth whines.

"Yeah, but he gave it back, so you better be nice and grateful the next time you see him. Got it?"

Gareth mumbles under his breath, but Eddie flips the washcloth, offering the cooler side, and he settles against Eddie, "But what did you have to give to get it back?"

"Don't you worry," he says, pressing his lips to the top of Gareth's head, "it was nothing I didn't want to give away freely."

Later

Eddie stands on the stage, and wraps his hands around the mic as it's secured in the stand, center stage. Guitar slung loose at his side. He grips the mic, and can't help looking at the gold pinky ring, the stage lights making it gleam.

The crowd screams for the encore. The stadium is packed to capacity. Another sold out show, on another sold out tour. A career other bands envy and have tried desperately to emulate, with little success.

Clamoring for the secret, the one Eddie isn't willing to share. It doesn't matter, there isn't another deal like it, and never will be.

Four souls, fully intact.

Only his love, given freely.

The deal that wasn't really a deal at all. But one he'd make it again, and again, all the same.

Eddie smiles as Gareth starts gently banging on his conga drum, setting up the percussion loop as Eddie entertains the crowd. Then he does the maracas, and the guiro. Eddie hears when the loop is set, and is ready for Gareth to start in on his snare groove, using one stick to bounce off the head, and the other to hit the rim. Wood on metal.

The crowd screams, knowing what's coming, what song they always end their shows with. The same song, night after night, tour after tour. The one constant.

Glancing stage right, Eddie sees his familiar arms folded over his chest, the black suit making him nearly invisible in backstage darkness. But Eddie can see his own silver ring, a shining beacon off-stage. Catching his eye, and his heart. A promise, a commitment.

A love.

Eddie pulls the mic closer to his mouth, grinning wickedly before he starts singing the familiar song, written about the devil himself, who just so happens to also be Eddie's whole goddamn world.

"Please allow me to introduce myself…"

And if you want to write your own, or see more entries in this pop-up, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to see other entries for the May Mayhem Bingo Event!

Notes: Welp. Sympathy for the Devil will now forever be tied to Steve Harrington to me. I don't make the rules.

This was one of those fics that I didn't know what I was going to write for the prompt until I opened the doc, and it just kept pouring out. Those are always so much fun! The first 5,500 words were written in 24 hours! And once I realized I was in the ballpark of 6,666 I had to go for it. Obviously.

It was fun to run with the age old myths and conspiracies theories that celebs sell their souls for their fame and fortune: That Paul is dead. That Keith will outlive us all. That the Kennedys are cursed.

The football trifecta was left intentionally open. It could have been the Patriots (Brady, Gronk & Belichick) or the Chiefs (Mahomes, Kelce & Reid) - it was readers choice, lol. Or if you weren't into sportsball, like Eddie isn't, it truly didn't matter. There's just no universe in which Steve Harrington, sports enthusiast that he is, wouldn't be putting his thumb on the scale for sports, too.

Duane Allman and Berry Oakley, both members of The Allman Brothers Band, died in separate motorcycle wrecks, almost exactly one year apart, the wrecks happening three blocks from one another. Both were 24. They are buried beside each other in Macon, Georgia.

Something was in the water in Jacksonville, Florida with all the guitar talent that came from there in a very short period of time. I couldn't resist giving Steve credit for it here.

The elevator song was Breakdown by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, that starts like this:

it's alright if you love me, it's alright if you don't i'm not afraid of you runnin' away, honey i get the feeling you won't

And finally, here's a playlist of some of the mentioned artists that may or may not have sold their souls to Steve Harrington. I had fun picking out songs that either directly referenced the devil, or at least could be interpreted that way. 🤘

#corrodedcoffinfest: may mayhem bingo #corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth stranger things #steddie ficlet #stranger things #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fic #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic #devil steve harrington

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kookyburrowing · 10 months ago

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Different Languages AU Part 1: Wait, Fuck, They Don't Speak Basic?

First things first motherfuckers, let’s get one thing straight: Basic as a language does exist in this AU! It’s just less common outside of the Core/Mid Rim. SO. What does that give us? Well, it gives us way more interesting conflict, for one thing, and for another, so many languages. Let’s get crackalackin!

In the Outer Rim, Huttese is largely The Language To Speak. If you don’t speak Huttese, you might as well just hurl yourself into the nearest bottomless pit now and save yourself the time and trouble. Even in the Core and Mid Rim, Huttese is a very common language just because of how useful it is if you ever find yourself in the Outer Rim. Most bounty hunters (i.e. Jango Fett, just for one completely random example) speak Huttese fluently, alongside their native languages. Naturally, then, this is a language Anakin is very familiar with. In fact, when he became a Jedi, it was the language he knew the best, and most people thought his speech was stilted in Basic because of this. He spoke Basic maybe once every month on Tatooine—can you blame him?

In the Mid Rim, each planet has their own language and conversations between diplomats are typically done as they are on Earth—via interpreters, to avoid any misunderstandings. Padmé, for instance, does speak Basic, but that is the language she would use in the Senate, not on Naboo. The same goes for Palpatine, but we’ll get to him in a minute, because he sucks and I want to not talk about him for as long as I feasibly can.

The Core means Basic, Basic, Basic, because of just the sheer number of people making it necessary. Coruscant is a weird case because of how communities develop there. Since it’s kind of like a gigantic version of a modern city (I’ll use NYC as an example because I know it the best), it’s broken up into enclaves. Cultures clump—it’s a thing. Some neighborhoods in NYC are predominantly Jewish, some are predominantly Italian, the list goes on. The same goes for Coruscant, although on a supersized scale. There’s some areas where non-Mandalorians need not apply, some where everyone is a Twi’lek or Togruta, some where everyone is a Mirialan, et cetera. Also, Coruscant dialects of certain languages are very much a thing.

Anyway. Let’s talk Kamino, because that’s why I started this to begin with!

Jango Fett is a Mandalorian. He’s also a bounty hunter. He’s from Concord Dawn and was a True Mandalorian. Therefore we can guess he probably at the bare minimum speaks two dialects of Mando’a (Concord Dawn, True Mandalorian) Huttese, and has at least passing Basic. He probably speaks more than that given how well-traveled he is, but those are the ones I can name for sure. So Jango Fett, who speaks Mando’a and Huttese and Basic, encounters Count Dooku. Count Dooku is from Serenno, but he was also a Jedi, so he probably speaks Serennese, Basic, Huttese, and a few more. He may even speak Mando’a, but his dialects wouldn’t be likely to overlap with Jango’s. Count Dooku tells Jango to go to Kamino and let them clone him in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money. Jango does, because Jango is a thinking human being and thinking human beings under capitalism do not turn down exorbitant amounts of money in exchange for what amounts to (at most) being a three or four-time sperm donor.

And on Kamino, our intrepid Mandalorian encounters something a bit weird. The Kaminoans, being that they are an extremely isolated species and thus have absolutely no reason to have developed humanoid vocal chords, have to rely on droid translators. Cool! This means Jango can speak to them exclusively in his native language (Concord Dawn Mando’a), and they can speka to him exclusively in theirs, and everyone’s largely happy. Jango negotiates the finer points of the contract, acquires an infant who he names Boba, and calls up some old friends (and acquaintances) to teach the clones to kick ass. He informs them they don’t have to worry about speaking Basic, so they don’t bother speaking Basic.

Thus, we have our setup. The Kaminoans have no reason to make the clones speak Basic because literally none of these outsiders are bothering to inform that oh yeah there’s this whole common language thing going on, and said outsiders have no reason whatsoever to tell them because it would ultimately just be an inconvenience. They’ve got a good thing going, and Jedi are required to speak more than one language anyway. The clones can definitely find at least one in common!

So the clones learn to speak Mando’a, understand Kaminoan, and speak and/or understand one extra elective language. Most pick something weird because they can—everyone around them speaks either Mando’a or Kaminoan so why would they bother with languages they don’t care about, like Basic? Unfortunately for the Kaminoans and the trainers in equal measure, they do also realize that in order to express themselves in private they need their own universal language, so they acquire one. They just call it clonespeak to keep things simple, and for most of them, that’s their native language. They feel most comfortable speaking in it because that’s the language they associate with safety and with their siblings/parents.

Thus: the predicament.

Obi-Wan arrives on Kamino. Obi-Wan is a Jedi. Obi-Wan speaks Basic.

Uh-oh. See, Jango is out of practice—the Kaminoans can’t make those noises. Boba’s language skills begin and end with Mando’a and some random bits of clonespeak right now—he’s kind of conversational with Huttese but every once in a while he just throws in a Mando’a word or an idiom in clonespeak and Jango has to take a minute to breathe lest he slam his head straight through the wall in frustration because he doesn’t understand clonespeak. And so much performing of charades, many awkward moments, and exactly one sentence in Basic later, Obi-Wan is heading back to Coruscant with several questions.

First: why the fuck did Sifo-Dyas order an army who didn’t speak Basic? No one knows. No one can find any records of this order, for one thing. No one knows who Tyrannus is, for another.

And second: what languages do the clones speak? Obviously, Mando’a is amongst them, but Jango’s extremely intensely staring son also spoke another, infinitely weird language and no one can find any record of it, and not even Jango seemed to understand him. Do they understand the Kaminoans’ clicking noises? Are they just mute? Is it constantly Shut The Fuck Up Friday up in there? What is going on?

The Council loses their collective minds. Shaak Ti is about ready to haul ass across the galaxy to collect these poor, lost young men—Plo Koon is right there with her. Yoda is—well, Yoda is swearing loudly in several dead languages right now. Mace Windu, ever the voice of reason, just has one thing to say: how about they meet the clones, first. Before they panic.

In the face of this intense, all-consuming, glorious sensibility, the Council collectively shuts the fuck up. They decide to let things run their course.

And then Geonosis. Quickly, Yoda collects several hundred clones, manages to communicate to one of them—who speaks a really weird, ancient, and fucked up dialect of Basic that could basically scan to Elizabethan English, and whose name is probably Kowalski—what he needs, and that one tells an older, larger and more intimidating one. Then that one yells a lot in a language Yoda has never heard before, and several hundred clones are suddenly hauling ass into gunships.

Enter one Anakin Skywalker and one Padmé Amidala, who are about to acquire some friends, none of whom understand a word they’re saying. They fuck some things up, get strapped to some poles to be devoured by Space Beasts of some sort, and then escape.

Battle of Geonosis happens. Mace Windu quickly discovers that the answer to the question what do the clones speak is effectively every language except Basic, and the answer is also supremely inconsistent. He is Suffering. He is Experiencing The Horrors. Obi-Wan is likewise fighting for his life because he speaks a fancy-ass dialect of Mando’a that the clones don’t understand. This is because they, like normal people, don’t talk like dignitaries on diplomatic missions.

Moving on! Obi-Wan gets assigned Alpha-17. Alpha-17 is a demon. Actually. He probably speaks Basic but refuses to out of spite. This is the biggest asshole to ever stomp his way into a Venator and terrify Anakin Skywalker into cowering submission. (He may even be why Anakin behaved like that as Vader. We will never know!) Like most clones, Alpha-17 speaks four languages. Clonespeak, Mando’a, Kaminoan, and Huttese. In that order. So he has no real trouble communicating with either Anakin or Obi-Wan.

What he does have, though, is a surplus of kids. Like it or not (he insists he doesn’t) they are his kids, and he wants them to have a shot at having a moderately tolerable existence. Enter everyone’s favorite group of six weirdos: Wolffe, Ponds, Fox, Bly, Cody, and Rex.

Wolffe is easy. He’s horrible with languages, and so gets sent to Plo Koon, who speaks through a translator anyway. Add Mando’a to the translator, and bang! Easy. Done. They understand each other perfectly.

Ponds is also easy. He, being sensible, learned Basic, so he goes to Mace Windu, who is equally sensible (and grateful for the easy transition).

Fox, who is a scheming little shit and also just so happens to speak Naboo, get sent to Coruscant. The Chancellor can’t get one over on him if Fox can understand every word he says, and most Senators have protocol droids with them for translation anyway.

Bly speaks Ryll, so she gets Aayla Secura. Again, easy.

Cody, on the other hand? Cody speaks the same languages as 17. Cody has a favorite younger brother who needs guidance. Cody, therefore, gets deposited with Obi-Wan, and Rex? Rex gets Anakin.

But the issue with Rex is he and Anakin have no language in common. Rex’s elective language was Togruti, and like the rest of his batch he also speaks Tusken sign. Because his batch are a bunch of assholes who wanted an extremely private way to talk.

So. Anakin and Rex start off the war with no way to communicate! None! Literally not one language in common!

And they do try to communicate—via charades, via text, et cetera—but they don’t really have access to translation software on a regular basis and thus things become complicated.

Things are made even more complicated by the fact that Rex, like Wolffe, is shit at language learning. Anakin, who isn’t, could try to learn clonespeak, and does! But when you can’t communicate with the person teaching you it is immensely slow going.

And thus, our premise is complete. How do you run a war with someone you can’t talk to?

Well, it depends. If you’re Anakin, you say, maybe I can figure a way around this.

If you’re Pong Krell?

I dunno man. Yell? Yeah, that sounds about right.

#hahaha #heeeeere's nonsense!#lee writes #different languages au #star wars #tcw #jango fett #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #alpha-17 #commander cody #captain rex

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