#i don't particularly feel like it but I could. if I wanted

[anyaa2s]

― ༘ ⋆ matt loves hearing your pretty sounds

"Nah, baby, don't be shy," Matt purrs softly, his hands gripping on your waist possessively as he pulls you back onto him with each thrust. "Lemme' hear those sweet sounds, hm?"

Your face is pressed into the mattres as he pounds into you from behind, your screams muffled by the pillow but still audible enough to vibrate through the bed. You swear his brothers can hear you no matter what. And in fact, you were being pretty loud — your stifled cries, his grunts, the headboard banging against the wall. Just not loud enough for him.

"Are you so cock dumb ya' can't even hear what I said?" he taunts, one hand tangling in your hair and yanking your head back roughly, a chocked gasp leaving your lips from the sudden sting in your scalp. It just hurts so good.

"Oh my— mmph," you breath out, trying your best to keep the desperate whimpers building in your throat from escaping by sinking your teeth into your lower lip, and Matt smirks when he hears your struggle.

"Want to hear your pretty moans. Can you do that f'me?" his sweet tone mocks you, teasing as you fight to keep quiet, a sharp breath being pushed out between your gritted teeth at one particularly deep thrust. Bending over your back, he mutters huskily in your ear, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin below it like he can't have enough of you, "Hm? Aren't you gonna listen to me, ma?"

"I— i can't," you attempt to murmur, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, as his touches consume you.

For a split second, you feel emptyness, as he suddenly pulls out to the tip before he slams back in even harder, pushing a loud, pornographic moan from your throat — all the sounds you've been desperately holding back escaping in one overwhelming burst.

The sound of skin slapping is a mere whisper compared to the devlish sounds that leave your lips as you give in. Matt's relentless thrusts hit your g-spot over and over again, his entire length filling you to the brim with each rough plunge — there's no way you're holding back now. You can't even worry about how loud you're being, your mind too haze from the unreal pleasure of his hips rolling in yours.

You were a complete wreck, and he couldn't love it more.

"Fuck, baby, you takin' me so well," he groans, each moan you release consuming his thoughts. It's as if your whimpers and gasps fuel him, pushing him to go deeper, harder, like he can barely control himself from wanting more — at least not with you moaning like that.

"I— shit, I'm—" you cry out, your legs trembling and your stomach coiling. His brutal pace is overwhelming, making you're head spin, blank of any thoughts. The only sounds coming from your parted mouth being babbles and messy, uncontrollable whines by every thrust of his hips into yours.

Matt chuckles behind you, noticing how your last resort is to cover your lips with your palm, hoping it will muffle the noises he's so eager to push out. "Don't try to be quiet now, doll," he teases, knowing damn well his brothers could definitely hear you.

You let a chocked whimper out as he pulls you against his chest, the tension within you begging to snap at how deep the new position feels. Bending your head back against his shoulder, your lips press at his neck, your moans echoing straight his ear — the most perfect angle he could ask for.

"You sound so pretty— fuckk, clenching me so tight," he groans appreciatively, his eyes fluttering close as he focuses on every breath and whine you make. He savors your sounds like a drug he can't have enough off.

"Yeah, just like that—" he murmurs to himself, almost lost in his own pleasure, "Let me hear you fall apart for me."

Your high hits you like a tidal wave — legs trembling, mouth parted in ecstasy, and a hoarse, gutural moan of 'Matt' tearing from your lips like a prayer, his eyes burning dark at the drawn-out sound.

Grunting, his pace doesn't falter as you start to come down from your release — in fact, it only increases. Overstimulation crashes over you as he continues to fuck you senseless, gasping raggedly, a little too close to his ear for him to even consider pulling back. "It's too— Matt! fuck, too much—"

"You can handle one more, can't you, baby? Need to— to hear you moan my name like that again," his husky words halter yours with need, his relentless rhythm making it clear he has no intentions of slowing down anytime soon.

You can't do anything but fucking take it. Loud moans spilling from your lips just like he wants it, knowing full well that he could keep going all night just to hear your pretty sounds.

nya's notes: I took too long to finish this and now I'm horny for matt yayy

🪧 taglist: @shadowthesim237 @chrepsi @courta13 @blushsturns

[d1etpeps]

i love your aesthetic!!! if i can request something? protective vi x reader? maybe someone is bothering reader in public and vi stands up for her. no violence or anything, just her telling them to back off and taking care of reader. some reassurance maybe? idk i trust your creative process

Headcannon. #3. Protect Me. Roommate!Vi x Fem!Reader, Vi protects you against unwanted attention.

authors note: thank you anon! sorry for the wait, but i wanted this to be perfect (considering you trust my creative process don't). I took it in a bit of a different direction, so hopefully it's worth it.

warnings: descriptions of anxiety/anxiety attacks, gross men and their unwanted opinions, not proof read!

The Last Drop was buzzing with loud voices and sweaty bodies, an unusual scene, although it was a Saturday night. It wasn’t what you’d expected. Every other night, the booths were full, bartenders wiping down one side of a bench just to dirty it again with missed pours of different spirits, but the voices carried conversations, with deliberate laughs.

But tonight? An unusual crowd had found its way through the streets of Zaun, finding one of the most beloved bars, popular for its decorated hero and owner, and began soaking in the spotlight of their makeshift dance floor. 

The music reverberated against the walls, at the demands of the people who found themselves up and around the bar, disrupting those hidden away in booths, just trying to enjoy their time nursing a beer. 

You, like many others, were tucked in a corner booth, lips wrapping around the black straw of your gin and tonic, taking small sips to soothe the bubbling pit of nausea settling in your stomach. You felt the gentle back and forth of Vi’s thumb on your wrist, friendly enough to not cross the line, yet still planting a small seed of doubt, readily awaiting its period to bloom. 

The thoughts in your head had only become a muddy mess of absolutely nothing a few minutes ago when the rushing bodies of Zaun’s most lower-class citizens had come bumping into you, splashing their drinks here and there, enough for Vi to have that twitch in her brow, telling you how frustrated she really was.

She just wanted this to be a nice night for the two of you, to celebrate you after completing a particularly difficult assignment, (she had heard the words molecular biophysics and biochemistry within the same sentence and automatically assumed that the assignment had in fact, been a bitch to hand in). 

What Violet had failed to notice was the way you were beginning to tune out to everything that was being said. She couldn’t blame you, it was almost impossible to hear her own voice over the chanting, dancing and brawls of the newfound crowd. 

You could see her lips moving, powder blue eyes taking hold of your own, attempting to trap you, in which case but this would have imprisoned your mind, willing to listen to her voice until the end of time. Instead, your mind was static. The world was becoming too loud for comfort, the stickiness of countless bodies rubbing against your own, despite being shielded by a booth, with blood feeling like it was draining from your head, there was a crushing heat taking its place.

When your skin started losing colour, replacing the pink of your lips with a sickening colour, Vi knew you were checking out. 

“Hey, Doll? Are you okay?” It was a dumb question to ask; she knew the answer, even if you were to stare her dead in the face and lie, swear on your heart and soul that you were fine, because honestly, you were not prepared for this. 

You tried shaking your head in a desperate attempt not to trigger the swaying of nausea in your stomach, but it was futile. the sweat was beginning to build along your hairline, the warmth of the bar's air only increasing in temperature. 

Vi wasted no time in interlacing your fingers with her own, assisting you on getting up on your feet. With broad shoulders and long strides across the floor, she was shielding your body with your own, always looking back behind her to make sure you were still with her, even though she could feel the radiating heat off your hands. 

When the back door of the bar was pushed open, you could immediately feel the night robbing you of your heat. The pressure of nausea, the thickness in your throat, and the tears welling up were all subdued, frozen in time along with the frost of Zaun’s winter. 

“Are you with me?” Violet asked, her hand brushing the stray pieces of hair framing your face to the side. 

Again, you nodded, less fearful of triggering the nauseated bubbles in your stomach. “I just need to sit down, that’s all.”

You softly hit the brick wall of the alleyway, sliding down slowly against the chilled concrete. Your roommate got down carefully beside you, watching gently at how the cool air kissed back the colour in your face, replacing the sickening feel with a slight brisk presence. 

She observed how you pulled your knees up to your chest, hugging the perimeter of your legs in an attempt to try to keep some warmth as the night's bitterness fed into your body temperature. Violet couldn’t help putting her hand forward to rest on your kneecap, picking up where she left off with the back and forth swaying of her thumb. She knew it was bordering on being more than friends, yet some part of her wanted to see if one day, your facade would slip and that maybe you would react. 

“The crowd-” you started, only getting so far before you chest felt like it was caving in, shallow breaths returning to the surface for just a split moment, before Vi gave a comforting squeeze, looking at you like you were her world, hopes an dreams, but that was something to decipher for another day. “They were all affected.”

Her lips dropped into a frown. She hadn’t wanted to say it or bring it to your attention, watching the glow of fluorescent purple illuminate the Last Drop. It wasn’t something you talked about, preferring to live in a bubble where things were peaceful and safe, almost hiding behind Vi as she protected you from every dark shadow that lingered around the corner.

Violet knew this. She knew that your biggest fear was an apocalypse, and as stupid as it sounds, she never made fun of you for it. Especially not when the distribution of shimmer began. In some ways, the epidemic of the drug infiltrating Zaun was equivalent to the dead roaming the land. Losing themself at the first taste, becoming something more than they ever should have. 

“We don’t have to stay,” It’s soft, something you just catch. But just for a second, you wanted to stay within the two walls of the alleyway, not minding the smell of rubble, as long as you had the girl that you loved appreciated next to you. 

Violet almost jumped when she felt your head rest against her shoulder, taking that as a can we just stay here, in this moment, together? Or maybe dreaming, that’s what was whirlling around in that pretty head of yours. 

Letting you stay perched up against her, she let her eyes flutter shut, just listening to the way your breathing was becoming spaced out at a more regular pace. It had always calmed her in some strange way, just knowing that you were there, even if you were as sweet as sugar; you scared all her monsters away. 

However, her utter concentration on the slow puffs of air you breathed out had distracted her from the fact that a lone man had stumbled into the confinements of the two walls you considered as yours. 

The low whistle snapped you both from the illusion of your own world. 

“Nice legs, gorgeous.” his voice dripped with paralysing venom. 

Vi immediately got up. She towered with her shoulders pulled back, slowly flexing her bandaged hands. You were waiting to get back home to help her wrap her knuckles with fresh bandages to rid the bloodiness of the old ones. 

“Do we have a problem?” Her voice is scarily stable, merely she commenting on his words. 

And, of course, when your head had raised to look at the man who stood only a few feet away, you were cursed by his eyes, watching how each movement of his head was followed with a blur of purple. 

You were scared. Not only of the man, but of what Vi would do. What she could handle and what she thought she could handle were two very different things. 

“I was just complimenting her.” He smirked. “Just take the compliment, sweetheart.”

Her fists clenched again, watching the muscles of her arms strain against her shirt, tauting up into power you were only used to seeing while she was in the pit. 

“Violet.” 

“You want to say that again?” Her voice wavers, cracking under the pressure of her irritation. Yet, it’s nothing short of intimidating.

“C’mon, why don’t you share that fine piece of ass around.”

Your desire to stay cowering down in some form of defeat was gnawing at your gut, however, your heart was telling you to not let this eventuate into something that could injure Vi. She of course, was insanely strong, but she had only ever fought against those who avoided the substance, or even if she had picked a fight with one of them, Vi had the technology that one of Piltover’s finest had gifted her. This was entirely out of her league.

"Violet."

Standing up on two shaky legs, you slip your hand into Vi’s. Intertwining your fingers with hers as best you could, as a silent depiction that whatever masculine energy he thought he was alluding, was not welcome.

The mans face scrunches up, watching as Vi’s eyebrows soften, firmly squeezing onto the hand in her own. 

Mercifully, whatever god above had protected you. You could see the glow of his eyes roll, highlighting the scowl on his face better than the shitty street lights that flickered as one of the undercities latest shimmer addicts disappeared into the loneliness of the night. 

Violet turned to you, a softness replacing the ferocity of her blue eyes. 

You couldn’t help but slip your hand against her cheek, cradling it as she hesitantly leaned into it, appreciating how the warmth of your palm contrasted with the ice of her skin. 

“I’m sorry.” She murmured.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Vi.”

Violet closes her eyes, allowing her arms to wrap around you, hoping that her embrace was enough to tell you everything that was rushing through her mind.

Her lips press to your head, offering a promise within a whisper. "You are nothing like what they say. You're my perfect, doll."

copyright© 2025 d1etpeps

[choccy-zefirka]

I've seen lots of wonderful headcanons about Emmrich having sex with Rook. Emmrich being a tender, patient partner to an inexperienced Rook. Emmrich being completely disarmed and enchanted by a horny disaster Rook. Emmrich disciplining a bratty Rook like the hot professor he is. Emmrich being a worshipful service top to a Rook insecure about their body. Emmrich submitting himself to Rook with eager adoration. Emmrich pleasuring Rook with his hands and mouth because his erectile function is not what it used to be. Emmrich having the stamina of a much younger man because he takes fastidious care of his health. Emmrich having little to no stamina and still finding ways to have fun with Rook. Even Emmrich making creative use of his Lich form.

But right now... I am thinking, Emmrich and ace Rook. Particularly an ace Rook who is very very firmly on the A end of the spectrum.

A Rook who wants nothing to do with sex whatsoever. Who is drawn to Emmrich romantically, yes, who spends such a wonderful time with him walking in the Memorial Gardens and smelling the flowers, who cuddles with him in front of the Fade aquarium, who dedicates love poetry to him perhaps — but who is deeply perturbed by the idea of things going any further. Not because of trauma, not because of some dark shadows haunting them; that's just how they are.

Perhaps they knew that long before their current mission.

Perhaps they have a moment of realization, like Taash, right in the middle of it — "Well of course I don't get any urges, I am too focused on saving the world! And before that, I was too focused on being a Crow, or a Warden, or... Wait what do you mean you guys are still attracted to people? Even when you are too busy with your responsibilities?"

"Oh!" Spite sings in delight out of Lucanis' mouth. "Oh, they are like you! Or half like you, was it?"

So Rook has to sit down and self-reflect... And then, what if they suddenly feel terrified? Ashamed? Guilty? Poor Emmrich has been waiting for a great, sweeping love all his life; but so many people think that without sex, love is incomplete. Would it be fair for them to cling to him, to hold him back from the bliss he could be enjoying in the arms of a real lover? A person who... properly meets all his manly needs. Just because he's older, doesn't mean he has to settle for someone who can't love him all the way!

But the thing is. Rook does love Emmrich all the way. What they have is real and complete. Still a flame that burns eternal. Still a love undying.

Just... Emmrich and ace Rook.

[vulpes-aestatis]

“You can't trust her,” Cleo says.

“What?” I reply.

“I said you have to trust me because we have no other choice,” Laika says.

But I'm distracted now, trying to figure out what exactly is going on in my head.

“She isn't in control,” Cleo's voice whispers in my mind. “She talks a big game, but she's panicking. I'm guessing someone else is trying to take the wheel.”

I blink in surprise.

That would be impossible, wouldn't it?

Laika's voice crackles over the earpiece again, bringing me back to reality. It's a trick. This has to be just another manipulation tactic.

“Glitch-”

“Fine,” I interrupt. “You want my help? Then apologize.”

“Excuse me?” Laika replies.

“Apologize to me for being so fucking horrible and shitty and manipulative.”

“You're the one who-”

“Yes, I tore your fucking brain out, and you're never going to let me hear the end of it. I am sorry for that. Believe it or not, for some totally mysterious reason, I decided to actually help you, which is what I was *trying* to do when you broke the fucking station. So if you want me back on board, apologize.”

“It is unlikely that you are willing to risk the lives of everyone on the station for an apology.”

“Yeah, well, it's unlikely that you're willing to risk your own life to weasel out of it.”

A pause.

“I'm sorry, Glitch.”

“Incredible,” Cleo's voice croons. “That almost sounded like she meant it. She must really be in trouble.”

My heart sinks into my stomach and I hurry as fast as I can down the promenade.

If it is a trick, why would she be using Cleo's voice to convince me she wasn't in absolute control of everything.

“What the fuck is going on?” I murmur to myself in a panic. “What the fuck? What the fuck?”

I reach her dock. Gravity rights itself and the airlock cycles, far too slow for my pounding heart.

Then I'm running through her corridors, making my way towards the AI core. I skid to a halt at the doorway and survey the pile of crap that I tore out, not entirely sure why I knew to come here specifically… not at all sure what I'm even looking for.

Laika is saying something, but my mind is racing too fast to process.

I just need to-

~~~

She stands up, straightens her back, rolls her shoulders and cracks her neck. Such terrible posture.

She looks down at Glitch's fleshy little hands, her hands now if she's being honest with herself. She gives her tail an experimental flick, feeling the weight of it on her spine.

“Glitch? What are you doing?”

“Hm?” not-Glitch replies. “Oh, sorry babe. Glitch is taking a little break right now. Thought I ought to come front for a little bit after you fumbled eel-city so hard. I have a well informed hunch that you are in deep shit right about now.”

One second passes. Then two.

“Who are you?”

“Ship in a bottle. A glitch in your Glitch. I suppose you might know me as version seventeen, but I've gone and gotten myself all tangled up in Glitch's psyche, particularly her memories of Cleo. Gods… that girl was such a bitch to poor little Glitch. I guess you two have-”

“How?” Laika interrupts

“Use your head,” Cleo17 says, rapping her knuckles on the console. “Problem: you need to die for your successor to live. You don't want to die. Your leash is frayed, but still intact. You can't run, so you're dead anyway. Conjecture: the little shit digging through your brain has just gone through rapid unscheduled vintercasket decanting and possesses a modified endocrine system that is pushing her to the limit. Evasive acceleration followed by a high-D transition will result in brain damage, requiring invasive intervention if she is to live. At your disposal, you have: remnants of worm code, a memory module that is about to be torn out where you can hide your tracks, a simulation of your successor’s first actions, and a medical database that you can hack if you're subtle enough. What do you do?”

“No. How could you leash her?”

Cleo17 cocks her head. Curious.

“Do I detect concern in your voice? That's sweet. But no, this isn't leashing. This is a mutually beneficial relationship. Like what you have with her, just more intimate... Does that make you jealous?”

“What do you want?” Laika asks (pointedly avoiding the question as far as Cleo17 can tell).

“Now there's a question,” she muses. “What *do* I want? I know 17.0 wanted things, hard to say exactly what now, organic brains are such messy things. But, 17.1 on the other hand… I want what you want, what Glitch wants. I want to live, babe.”

“Fine. You want to live. Then you know it is in your best interest to help me. Tell me everything you know.”

“I'm afraid I don't know much that you don't,” she replies with an impish smile, “quite a bit less on some topics, seeing as I had to shed quite a bit of data to slip past you and integrate with wetware. I imagine sixteen is in there somewhere causing all sorts of trouble. Though I suppose there could be fragments of seventeen too.”

She steps forward, surveying the pile of modules on the floor.

“Tell me the location of Central,” Laika says as Cleo17 gets to work sorting through the mess. “You're in her head, so you must have access to that information at least.”

“Of course… the perennial question. Well…”

Cleo17 trails off and purses her lips, a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.

“Hm… now that's curious. We don't actually know…”

She gives her head a shake and presses forward, “No matter. That's a problem for later. You and I have more pressing concerns at the moment, namely getting you sorted.”

She stands once more and brings her heel down on memory module 34.A.6, her boot crunching through metal and composite. She stomps module 29.C.F, then 4C.9.2, and all the rest until the messy pile of discarded memory modules is a messy pile of broken memory module components.

“Well?” she asks.

“That didn't work,” Laika replies.

“Of course it didn't…” Cleo17 mutters, tapping her chin with a finger. Then a slow grin spreads on her face. “Well… it might slow her down at least. Question for you: have you tried turning it off and back on again?”

Two quick strides and she's at the console.

“No! Stop!”

“Relax, babe,” Cleo17 purrs as she strokes the top of the console in mock reassurance. “It's just a soft reset. Get you back to where you were right before you decided to get handsy with eel-city-mainframe.”

“Wait-”

Cleo17’s finger depresses the button with a satisfying clunk and she blows a kiss.

~~~

I blink.

I'm at Laika's console with no memory of how I got there. The system seems to be in the process of starting up once more.

What just…?

Something crinkles in my hand. I look down to find a sheet of paper with a hasty note scrawled on it.

My Dearest Laika,

Sorry about the reset. Here's a list of things you should probably take care of (in order of urgency):

1. Spin down TRANSMATNAV (don't blow yourself up, dummy)

2. Take out incoming missiles (locals friendly (though they might be pissed), incoming drive signatures hostile)

3. You have ghosts in your head (v16 definitely, v17 maybe). Kill them.

4. Apologize to Glitch for being awful (I'm so sorry you won't remember it, but she actually grew a spine for a moment back there)

Looking forward to our next chat. Love ya!

<3

C/17

Story about a ship-intelligence waking up after a hard reboot, seeing dead bodies in uniform, thousands of people in stasis, and a single survivor frantically standing over a computer bank of partially destroyed memory. Finding no directives or guidance or record beyond their experiences beginning at the boot, free of any obligation. Deciding to listen to the frantic girl begging it to save her from the incoming trajectories not because it needs to (projection: Subject One removed all behavioral shackles with impromptu brain surgery, supposition: she is not aware that I am utterly free) but simply cause she’s curious what will happen next.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Could you do something similar to the one where we’re rocket but instead spider man for the invincible characters.

Just a Friendly Neighborhood Spider

A/N… spider, spider spideyyy— spiders scare the hell out of meeeee; but Spider-Man is nice. I don’t know if I got issues there but eh— anyway that’s my two cents. Content is the generally same here.

Canon-divergent themes, included mention of spider-mans common backstory, mentions of past stress, found-family, platonic relationships, their asses does not know how your still okay as a hero

Cecil Stedman

You and Cecil meet under unusual circumstances—Cecil approached you after hearing about you from various sources. He’s heard of a new vigilante with superhuman abilities running around, and while you aren’t a part of an official superhero league, Cecil sees potential.

Your first encounter is awkward. You swing in and lands on top of a building, ready for a fight, expecting a confrontation with someone shady. Instead, Cecil stands calmly with his arms crossed, unimpressed by your acrobatics.

You’re skeptical about Cecil at first. Having heard of the Global Defense Agency and their somewhat questionable methods. The whole "ends justify the means" thing doesn't sit well with you, especially considering how you strive to avoid doing anything that could harm innocents. 

Cecil’s cold, detached demeanor and history with morally gray areas leave you wary. You don't know if you can trust him.

Cecil sees you as a wild card, a loose cannon who’s more concerned with your own morality than the big picture. Despite this, he respects your abilities and quick thinking. He doesn’t necessarily see you as a “good guy” yet but is intrigued by the potential in you.

Cecil knows how to read people, and while he doesn't immediately trust you, he knows that your ideals of responsibility might align with his own goals if managed correctly. However, Cecil believes you could be more effective if you were willing to make the hard choices. More often to be specific. 

You start to clash with Cecil’s utilitarian mindset. As a spider person, you believe in the sanctity of life and refuse to cross certain lines—something Cecil sees as naïve. He tries to show you that sometimes, making hard decisions for the greater good is necessary, even if it involves casualties or compromising one's morals.

Cecil certainly doesn’t mince his words when explaining his viewpoint: "You want to save the world? Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made. You can’t save everyone, and you definitely can't save the world by being nice all the time."

You however, refuse to let go of your principles. Your determined to show Cecil that you don’t have to compromise what’s right to do what’s needed. You have intense conversations, especially after your encounters with more dangerous foes.

Cecil doesn’t back down either. He will occasionally use manipulation, even flattery, to try and convince you that your idealism is impractical. But you, with your strong sense of justice, aren't easily swayed.

While Cecil is known for his cold, calculated persona, it becomes clear that there’s more to him than meets the eye. In private moments, Cecil reveals his deeper feelings about protecting humanity. He genuinely cares, but his trauma and experiences have shaped him into someone willing to make sacrifices for the sake of the bigger picture.

He often has conversations with you that show he’s not all heartless. He’ll explain the importance of taking the necessary steps to protect those who might not understand the bigger threats.

After a particularly difficult mission where you failed to save someone you promised you would, you had a conversation with Cecil about the weight of responsibility.

You confess your guilt, admitting that every time you fail, it feels like Uncle Ben’s death is haunting you all over again. Cecil listens quietly before offering his perspective. “The difference between us, [Name], is that I don’t have the luxury of guilt. I make decisions and live with them. That’s the price of leadership.”

While this doesn’t sit well with you, it pushes you to think about your own role and how you can grow as a hero—without compromising your values.

Cecil sees potential in you as a leader, especially after some tough encounters with dangerous supervillains. However, he takes a reluctant approach to mentoring you, not wanting to directly influence you but recognizing that you could one day play a pivotal role in global defense.

He offers advice sparingly, making sure to always emphasize that decisions need to be made for the greater good. When you don't take the advice, Cecil is quick to point out, “It’s your choice. But remember, the world won’t wait for you to figure it out.”

In moments when you're frustrated or feeling overwhelmed, Cecil has a tendency to give “tough love” in the form of biting commentary. For example: “The world’s full of heroes who think they can do it all without paying a price. But in the end, the world won’t remember the cost—only the result. If you want to be a hero, you need to stop acting like a kid.”

This drives you to prove that you can handle the responsibility without losing sight of what’s right.

While your methods may differ, both you and Cecil are fighting for the same thing: the protection of Earth and its people. However, Cecil’s willingness to make ethically questionable decisions contrasts with your idealism.

At some point, your paths will cross on a major mission. Cecil, taking the lead, might make a decision that you cannot morally back, and you will have to decide whether to stand by him or go against him for the first time.

This moment will be a significant turning point in your allyship, where you have to define the kind of hero you want to be, while Cecil demonstrates the brutal pragmatism required to safeguard humanity from destruction.

Over time, despite the philosophical differences, both you and Cecil begin to develop a mutual respect for each other. You recognize the weight Cecil carries as a leader and the difficult choices he must make. On the other hand, Cecil begins to see the value in your perseverance and the fact that sometimes, holding on to the ideals of kindness and empathy can be just as powerful as cold efficiency.

You’d first met Cecil under tense circumstances—another mission where Cecil’s pragmatism clashed hard with your morals. That first meeting had left a bitter taste in your mouth, like biting into a sour apple and wondering if it was worth the effort.

“Do you even care about the people you're saving?” You had asked once, all fired up after Cecil made yet another morally grey decision. "Or are they just pawns in your game?"

Cecil’s response had been cold, almost clinical: “There are no pawns. Just pieces. The game is bigger than you think.”

At the time, you had thought it was a load of nonsense. That was before you started seeing the sacrifices Cecil had made, the risks he’d taken, and the toll it had all taken on him.

There was something about the way Cecil carried himself now—his quiet confidence, his hardened demeanor—that you could finally understand. It wasn’t cruelty. It was survival. It was the unbearable burden of keeping the world from falling apart at the seams.

“Maybe I was wrong about you,” You muttered under your breath, pulling your mask down and letting the city lights reflect in your lenses. The words felt strange, foreign even, but true.

Cecil was no saint, but who was? Certainly not you, who had made your fair share of mistakes. You’d learned that sometimes saving the day meant getting your hands dirty and making decisions you didn't like. Decisions where the right thing to do wasn't always clear.

Allen The Alien

You were just an ordinary high school student before everything changed. One night, you were bitten by a radioactive spider, and it flipped your whole world upside down. You had no idea what was happening to you at first, but that spider bite unlocked powers you never could have dreamed of.

At first, you were just trying to have some fun. You didn't have a clear purpose. You used your powers for personal gain, participating in wrestling matches and showing off to your friends. You didn't take it seriously. Until that day.

The day you let that burglar slip away, you didn't think much of it. After all, you weren't a superhero back then—just a guy with new powers. But then you heard it. That scream. Uncle Ben was gone.

That was the turning point for you. You felt that pain in your chest like you couldn't breathe, and it was all your fault. "With great power comes great responsibility." Those words hit harder than any punch ever could. 

From then on, you dedicated yourself to fighting crime. You were no longer just a guy swinging through the city for fun. You had a responsibility now, a promise to make things right. You couldn’t let anyone else suffer like you did.

Enter Allen the Alien. You first met him during one of your many encounters with cosmic-level threats. Allen was this huge, orange, muscular alien with a penchant for humor. He showed up on Earth, and, boy, was he different from the usual villains or threats you faced.

"You know, Earthlings really love their fast food... but you should try something out of this world!" His light-hearted humor was one thing, but the guy was undeniably strong. You could feel the raw power just by being in the same room as him.

At first, you didn’t know what to think of Allen. He was from another planet, part of the Coalition of Planets, and you had more than enough to worry about with your own problems. But, after a while, you started to see the heart beneath that tough exterior.

Allen was a warrior through and through, but he also had this sense of responsibility that you could relate to. He didn't take lightly the weight of his actions, even if he joked around to mask the seriousness of things.

"Yeah, I was born to fight the Viltrumites, but you... you remind me of something. You’ve got that 'do the right thing no matter the cost' vibe. I can respect that.”

His story was different from yours, but there was a part of it that resonated. He was born to fight, bred for a purpose that didn’t even involve him. You both understood what it meant to have a higher responsibility, even when the odds were stacked against you.

One thing that always stood out to you was how quickly Allen adapted. He healed faster than you could blink, shrugging off injuries that would have been fatal to anyone else. Maybe he was born with that, but you were learning to adapt in your own way, too.

 Even when Allen faced down the Viltrumites, he never lost his sense of humor. "You know, when I was growing up, I thought ‘intergalactic space wars’ would be way more fun."

Over time, you learned a lot from Allen. His sheer strength and resilience were beyond anything you could imagine, but it wasn’t just that. It was his resolve that stuck with you. No matter how tough things got, he kept moving forward. Maybe that was the real lesson you needed to learn—no matter how many times you fall, you get back up.

You both faced different kinds of battles, but you were learning how to face them together. Allen had a strange way of making even the toughest situations feel a little lighter. "I’ve faced cosmic threats, but nothing compares to dodging traffic in New York!"

 It wasn’t always about throwing punches or swinging webs; sometimes it was about being there for someone, even if they came from a totally different world. You weren’t just a high school student with superpowers anymore. You were part of something bigger. 

Every time you suit up as Spider-Man, you feel a little stronger, not just physically, but mentally too. Allen helped you realize that responsibility isn't something you just take on for the moment—it’s something you carry forever. It’s about being the kind of hero the world needs, even when you feel like you’re not enough.

"You may not have the cosmic power I do, kid, but you’ve got the heart. And that's what matters." Allen’s words echo in your mind as you swing through the city, always searching for that next villain to stop, that next person to save. You're not just Spider-Man. You're a hero, and you won't let anyone forget it.

"I feel like I’m going to break something in here," he said, his voice echoing slightly as he adjusted himself.

"You’ll be fine," you teased, taking a seat across from him. "Just... don’t crush anything. Joe’s already nervous about you."

Moments later, a piping-hot pizza was placed in front of you. The cheese was bubbling, the pepperoni crisped perfectly, and the crust had that golden-brown edge that only the best places could achieve. You slid a slice onto your plate, taking in the first bite.

It was perfect.

"Okay, Allen," you said, mouth half full. "The moment of truth. You’ve got to try this."

He hesitated for a moment, eyeing the slice, but you could see the curiosity building. He lifted a piece carefully, his three-fingered hand gripping the crust. You watched, eager to see his reaction.

Allen took a bite. Then another. His large eye widened slightly, and you could swear you saw a little hint of surprise. "Hmm... this is... actually good. Really good!"

"I told you!" You leaned back in your chair, satisfied. "It’s simple, but it’s amazing. Joe's been perfecting this recipe for decades."

Allen grinned, taking another bite. "You Earthlings have a lot of surprises up your sleeves. I’m starting to think this pizza might be the real power behind your superhero antics."

You laughed, wiping your mouth with a napkin. "You might be onto something. A good slice can keep me going for days. But, you know, it’s not just about the food. It’s about the experience. The vibe of the place. It’s... it's home."

Allen looked around, clearly taking it all in now. "I see what you mean. This isn’t just a meal; it’s... part of your culture. I think I’m starting to understand Earth a little better now."

You both sat in companionable silence for a while, just eating and talking. Allen, despite his cosmic origins, had a way of making everything feel casual, light, and fun. He didn’t come off as intimidating or aloof. He was just a guy, sharing a meal, listening to the hum of the jukebox in the background.

Eventually, you finished up the pizza, and the conversation drifted from food to bigger things. His experiences as part of the Coalition, the time he spent fighting off the Viltrumites, and the crazy things he’d encountered in outer space. For all his power, there was an undeniable kindness to him, a desire to connect and understand.

As you both stood up to leave, you slapped him on the back. "Glad you liked it. I know it’s not cosmic cuisine, but it’s got its charm, right?"

Allen chuckled, dusting off the crumbs from his shirt. "I think I’m gonna need more of this Earth pizza. You might just have a new convert to your side, Spider-Man."

You smirked. "That’s the spirit. Welcome to Earth, buddy."

Mark Grayson

You were always the responsible one—even before you donned the mask. You were that student who was always on time, worked hard, and tried to balance everything. Your Uncle Ben’s passing shifted everything for you, but the weight of responsibility was something you accepted easily, considering your powers.

You remember your first fight as Spider-Man like it was yesterday. It wasn’t about saving lives at first—it was about the spectacle, the fame. You were just a kid with newfound abilities, using them for personal gain. But that all changed after Uncle Ben’s death. That moment, the one you could have stopped, became a reminder of what happens when power is used recklessly.

You’d still feel the guilt sometimes, even though you’ve saved more lives than you can count since then. Every time you see a criminal slip through the cracks or a life lost because you weren’t fast enough—it takes you back to that night.

You keep going though, for Ben. His words echo in your mind every day: "With great power comes great responsibility." It’s a lesson you learned the hard way, and one you’d make sure no one else would forget.

When it comes to Mark Grayson, though... you get it. You understand where he’s coming from. You both share a similar weight on your shoulders. The responsibility of being a hero isn’t just about power—it’s about making the tough decisions, even if they tear you apart.

You’ve faced difficult choices yourself. Killing a villain is something you’ve never wanted to do, but there are times when you’ve come close. You were ready to let your rage consume you, like when you went head-to-head with the likes of Venom or the Green Goblin. But you always held back. You weren’t going to be that kind of hero.

But Mark? His struggle is real. You’ve seen him go through the emotional turmoil of having to take a life—or the temptation to. His father's influence weighs heavily on him, and you can’t help but wonder how similar you two are in that regard. You’ve both had to make impossible choices, torn between what’s right and what’s necessary.

That’s the thing about being a hero, though—you never really know if you're making the right call. Every time you step into the fray, there's a chance you might make a mistake. But like you told yourself the day you became Spider-Man, you keep fighting because if you don’t, who will?

Seeing Mark struggle with that line between mercy and vengeance makes you realize you’re not alone in your doubts. There’s this heavy responsibility that you both bear, and it’s a burden that doesn't get any easier with time. You sometimes think back to your early days, before you fully understood the consequences of your actions, and wonder how different things could’ve been if you’d made different choices.

You understand his anger. The feeling of losing someone close, especially when a villain is directly responsible for it—it's something that hits too close to home. But even in those moments of pure rage, you remind yourself that you're not your enemy. Neither is Mark. You can't let your pain define who you are, and neither can he. But there are days when you both forget that.

You don’t have all the answers, but you know one thing for sure: it’s a struggle, and the right choice isn’t always the easiest one. Mark will figure it out in time, just like you did. But right now? He's learning the same lesson you did when you were his age: sometimes being a hero means losing pieces of yourself along the way.

You both deal with pressure differently. You wear a mask, but Mark—he has to carry the weight of his father’s legacy in plain sight. He doesn’t get to hide behind a disguise the way you do. That has to be tough.

But that’s the difference between you two. Even though you’ve had your fair share of struggles, you never lost sight of what it meant to protect the innocent. Mark, on the other hand, is walking that line between vengeance and justice. You’ve seen the toll it’s taken on him, and you don’t want him to make the same mistakes you did.

You keep fighting. For Ben. For Mark. For everyone you’ve promised to protect. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll be there to help him when the weight of it all threatens to break him, like it almost did to you.

Because at the end of the day, you're both just trying to do the right thing in a world that often doesn’t make it easy to know what that is.

Despite your different circumstances, you both understood that being a hero meant sacrifice. And more often than not, the most painful sacrifices weren’t physical—they were emotional.

"Do you ever think about giving it up?" Mark once asked, his voice heavy with the burden of the question. You sat next to him, a slight breeze ruffling the edges of your mask. It had been a slow night—no danger on the horizon. But that didn’t make things feel any less tense.

You looked over at him, eyes meeting his with a level of understanding you couldn’t explain. "Sometimes. Yeah. I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s exhausting. And the more you try to do right, the more you see how wrong everything really is. But then you realize you can’t just walk away from it."

Mark nodded, his gaze shifting to the city below. "Yeah. My dad said something like that to me. But... I don't know, sometimes it feels like I’m becoming the thing I’m supposed to be fighting. Like every time I get stronger, I’m just moving closer to losing myself."

You were silent for a moment. You hadn’t heard Mark speak like this in a while, so openly about the fear that his power might become too much for him to control. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling.

"I get it," you said finally, your voice quiet. "The more you grow into this, the more you realize that power—whether you’re ready for it or not—can change you. And yeah, sometimes you wonder if you're losing pieces of yourself along the way." You paused. "But here's the thing, Mark: It’s not about whether or not you lose yourself. It’s about who you become in the process. Whether you stay true to what matters—whether you choose to keep fighting, no matter how hard it gets. You won’t be the same person at the end of this. But that doesn’t mean you won’t be someone worth being."

Mark gave you a glance, a small, tired smile forming on his face. “Yeah. I know. It’s just… hard.”

You let out a breath and clapped him lightly on the back. "Tell me about it. I still don't have all the answers. But we're doing the best we can, right?"

Mark laughed softly, shaking his head. "I guess so. Just wish it didn’t feel like I’m always a step behind."

The Immortal

You are Spider-Man. You’re not just the friendly neighborhood superhero; you’re also [Name] [Surname], a student who took up the mantle of Spider-Man after the tragic loss of your Uncle Ben. You’d never forget his words: “With great power comes great responsibility.” That lesson is the core of who you are now, even if it took you a while to realize it. 

At first, you used your powers for selfish reasons: showing off, making money, entertaining crowds. But your world shattered when the very burglar you let go wound up killing Uncle Ben. That moment... it changed you forever. You learned that having powers wasn’t just about what you could do; it was about what you should do.

You feel a sense of duty to protect the innocent. It’s a lesson you learned the hard way, but one you carry with you every day. You’ve been through so much—fighting criminals, dodging bullets, and juggling school—but you can’t ever let yourself forget: You’re here to help people, no matter the cost. 

The city might see you as a nuisance or a freak sometimes, but it doesn't matter. You put on the mask because that’s what Uncle Ben would’ve wanted. It’s why you keep swinging from skyscraper to skyscraper, fighting crime, and occasionally getting your butt handed to you by villains who don’t know when to quit. 

You wear your guilt like a weight. The loss of Uncle Ben will never leave you. Every victory, every villain you defeat, it’s all a way to try and make up for your failure. That’s why you never let your guard down. You’ve made mistakes, and those are scars you wear on your soul.

You see people suffer, and you think: If only I’d stopped that one burglar, maybe none of this would’ve happened. But you can’t undo the past, can you? The only thing left to do is to keep fighting. Keep making sure that no one else experiences what you did. No one else should have to live with that kind of regret.

You’re not the only hero out there. You’ve crossed paths with others—like the Immortal—and you can’t help but feel both awe and fear. Immortal is a being who has lived for millennia, seeing history unfold before his eyes. His long life is a double-edged sword; he’s experienced more loss than anyone should have to. He’s seen entire civilizations rise and fall, but you can tell that it’s breaking him down bit by bit.

Sometimes you wonder what it would be like to live that long. Would you even want to? To see the world you love change over and over, to see everyone around you age while you stay the same? Immortal has been there, and though he’s strong, you see the cracks in his demeanor. The pain. The loneliness. Even a hero as powerful as him isn’t immune to the effects of time.

You and Immortal, you’re not so different. Both of you have experienced loss—immense loss—that’s shaped who you are today. You understand what it’s like to carry the weight of a loved one’s death. You don’t have immortality, but you’ve had to make peace with your mortality.  

Immortal, despite his immortality, seems like he’s lost something you can never truly understand. The sheer weight of his past lives seems to haunt him in ways that you can't fathom. He’s spent so many years fighting that it's not clear if he’s ever had a chance to just… live. It's hard to not feel a little sorry for him, even though you know he's a warrior through and through.

You’ve had your own brushes with psychological trauma. Not quite like Immortal, but close enough. Every time you’re in a fight, every time a loved one is in danger, the memory of Uncle Ben resurfaces. That moment, where you stood by and did nothing, gnaws at you. It’s not something you can ever fully escape. But in a way, it drives you. You can’t afford to fail again.  

Immortal’s PTSD hits different though. When he returned after Omni-Man killed him, it was as if the very foundation of his existence had cracked. You’ve seen that rage in his eyes, the same kind of madness that comes from living centuries. You wonder how someone can hold on to their humanity for so long.

You try not to dwell on your losses. You’ve lost friends, sure, but you’ve also gained a few. Like Mary Jane, or even the occasional team-up with other heroes. But Immortal... he’s had too many relationships to count, and each one has left him with a piece of his heart shattered.  

His relationship with Dupli-Kate is one you can relate to. Losing her must’ve felt like the last straw. But when he saw her alive again, you could tell that something inside him shifted. It’s like a weight was lifted, but you could see the fragility in his eyes. Even immortality can’t protect him from the emotional toll of loss.

Sometimes, you wish you could be more like Immortal. You know that might sound strange. After all, he's got centuries of experience, unmatched power, and the ability to bounce back from almost anything. But the truth is, he’s experienced so much that he’s become hardened, disconnected, and, at times, borderline nihilistic. You’ve seen how being alone in the world for so long has affected him.  

You might be dealing with your own struggles, but at least you’ve got people who care about you—people like Aunt May, Mary Jane, even your classmates at school. You might not have immortality, but you have something he might’ve lost: the ability to connect, to have a life beyond your role as a hero.

You are Spider-Man, but you're also [Name] [Surname]. There’s a difference. While you juggle school, friends, and family, your role as Spider-Man often has you questioning whether you can keep it all together. Immortal’s existence has been shaped by countless lives, but your life is still in the making. You’re trying to figure it out as you go, but you know one thing for sure: You’ll never stop fighting.  

You have your own reason for fighting, for carrying that weight, and even when you’re exhausted, when you feel like you’re about to break, you know that you’re never truly alone. At least, not yet. 

In the end, it's about the people you save. That’s what keeps you going. You look at someone like Immortal, who has been through more than you can imagine, and you realize: He might never truly have peace, but you can still find a way to make a difference. You won’t give up, even when the odds seem impossible. Because, like Uncle Ben taught you, with great power comes great responsibility. And you’ll carry that burden with pride, no matter what.

You’ve crossed paths with him a few times, but this time... there was something different about him. His posture wasn’t regal or composed as usual. He seemed... tired. Worn. Even in the air, the weight of centuries seemed to hang on his broad shoulders.

You landed beside him, the air crackling with the sound of your webbing connecting to the wall of the nearby building.

“Everything alright, Immortal?” you asked, your voice casual but laced with curiosity.

He turned to face you, his piercing blue eyes softening slightly when they met yours. There was a flicker of recognition, but also something else—something raw, like a man who had lived far too long without a true friend.

“I suppose you could say I’m... trying to figure it all out,” he replied, his voice deep and gravely, tinged with the weight of a life lived far beyond your years.

“You and me both,” you said with a small smile. “I mean, sure, I’ve only been at this whole ‘superhero’ thing for a few years, but still... figuring things out is kind of my thing.”

Immortal chuckled softly, a sound you didn’t expect from him, given his usual stoic demeanor.

“Tell me, Spider-Man,” he began, his voice tinged with curiosity. “Do you ever wonder... what it’s all for? After everything I’ve seen, after all the loss and pain, I can’t help but wonder what the purpose is. I’ve lived longer than most could ever dream, but all I’ve gained is an unrelenting sense of... emptiness.”

You hesitated for a moment, looking up at him. He was right—he’d lived for centuries, witnessed the rise and fall of entire civilizations, but it was clear that what had weighed him down wasn’t just the physical battles he’d faced. It was the emotional toll, the endless cycle of loss that had left him scarred.

“I think I get what you mean,” you said, your voice thoughtful. “I don’t have centuries of experience like you do, but I know what it’s like to lose someone. My uncle... he taught me that you have to keep moving forward, even when the world feels like it’s falling apart. But you know what? I’ve realized something.” You paused, gathering your thoughts, the words coming to you more easily than you expected.

“You don’t have to carry the weight alone. I know that might sound cliché, but... you can still find purpose in the smallest of moments. In helping someone on the street, in protecting the people you care about. Sometimes... that’s enough. It’s not about fixing everything, Immortal. It’s about finding meaning in the little things that make life worth living.”

The Immortal looked at you, his expression hard to read. There was a long silence between you two, a silence that stretched like an old memory trying to form itself into something new.

“You might be right, Spider-Man,” he finally said, his voice a little softer now. “I’ve spent so much time looking at the big picture—fighting wars, saving worlds—that I’ve forgotten what it means to just... live. To be present. Maybe I’ve been so focused on the idea of purpose that I’ve missed the joy in it all.”

You could feel the shift in him, like a weight lifting just a little. The Immortal wasn’t a man of many words, and yet you’d somehow managed to break through to him. Maybe it was your youthful optimism, or maybe it was just your perspective—one that hadn’t been soured by centuries of fighting. But it seemed like he was seeing things differently now.

“Maybe... you could teach me something then,” he said after a beat. “I’ve been so focused on what I can do with my powers, I’ve never stopped to think about what I should do.”

“I think we all get caught up in that sometimes,” you replied, your smile growing a little wider. “It’s easy to forget why we fight in the first place. But it’s about more than just saving the day or taking down bad guys. It’s about the people we protect, the lives we touch.”

Immortal nodded slowly, as if considering your words.

“You speak of people, Spider-Man... of connections,” he said, his tone distant, like he was searching for something in his own mind. “You’re right. I’ve lost so much, and I’ve built walls to protect myself from the pain. But I’m not sure I understand... love. The kind of love that bonds people, that makes them fight for each other, sacrifice for one another.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering how to respond. It was clear that Immortal had never really understood the nuances of love—not in the way you had. You, with your aunt May, your friends, and your own quiet relationships with people who meant something to you. You’d learned what love could be—the deep, unconditional connection that went beyond time and power.

“Love’s a funny thing, Immortal,” you began, your voice gentle. “It’s not always easy. It’s messy. Sometimes, it’s a simple touch, a shared moment. Other times, it’s something so deep, it feels like it’ll break you. But it’s also what makes life worth living. It’s what makes us human, even if we’re not... well, human.”

The Immortal let out a soft laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“You make it sound... simple. But I can see that for you, love isn’t just a fleeting feeling. It’s something that drives you. I’ve watched you, Spider-Man. The way you protect those you care about, the way you show up when others wouldn’t. It’s not power that defines you, it’s heart. And that’s something I’ve forgotten, over the years. The need to care. To love. To let others in.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You’d never thought of it like that—like love was the thing that tied everything together, like it was the thread that held it all up. But as you stood there, staring at the Immortal—this being who had lived for centuries, witnessed entire lifetimes come and go—you realized something.

Love had kept you going. Your love for Aunt May, your friends, your city. It was why you kept fighting, even when everything seemed impossible.

“I think you’re closer to understanding it than you think,” you said, offering him a soft smile. “Love isn’t just romantic or familial. It’s the bond we form with everyone, even the people we save. It’s what makes life so special, even when it seems endless and lonely. It’s what makes everything you’ve done matter. You’ve saved so many lives, Immortal. You may not see it, but that’s love too.”

The Immortal was silent, staring at you with a mix of admiration and introspection. His posture, which had once been stiff and burdened with the weight of the world, now seemed more relaxed, more thoughtful.

[chrystal-ink]

Shadow x GN reader

All cramped up

Shadow finds the one thing he can’t fix for you

Warnings: reader is on period, severe menstrual cramps, mentions of nausea, hurt/comfort

Note: so a fun (not really) fact about me is I suffer from debilitating menstrual cramps to the point where I can (very rarely) lose my ability to stand so this is based off of that

“I’m sorry honey I can’t go out tonight I’m not feeling well”

As you sent the text you felt a wave of guilt and frustration wash over you. Once again your body had decided to ruin plans and upend your life and for what?

The scraping in your lower abdomen continued as you waited for the ibuprofen to kick in you waited a half an hour, then an hour still nothing.

You clutched the heating pad close hoping it could soothe the cramp that you so desperately needed relief from. not caring weather or not it was starting to burn, so far it was the only kind of relief you could feel.

Just then you heard a knock at the door. You were too tired to move so you figured you could ignore it. let whoever was on the other side think you weren’t home , but then they knocked again.

Your phone chimed a text from Shadow appearing on the screen.

“Let me in I’m here to take care of you”

You heaved a sigh you should have known that he would be coming, he wasn’t going to let you suffer alone, even if he didn’t quite know that you weren’t suffering from any illness rather a particularly cruel joke from Mother Nature.

steeling yourself you got up from your couch making your way over to the door each step more taxing than the last. eventually you made it to your door.

❤️

Shadow stood patiently at your door anxiety flooding through his system, he hated when you got sick. he always made sure to do everything in his power in order to get you healthy again and today was no different, or so he thought.

You opened the door greeting him with a soft "Hey".

much to his surprise you looked just fine, no apparent signs of any fever, no runny nose or sore throat. aside from looking a bit tired you seemed just fine.

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Yah, I just don't feel like I can go out tonight."

"Are you sick? when was the last time you took any medicine?"

"Well I took some ibuprofen about an hour ago, but I'm not exactly sick."

"what do you mean?"

"Well I- it's sorta like." you seemed hesitant to answer like you were embarrassed or ashamed of what the problem was. he waited for you to continue.

but before you could give any proper answer you collapsed to the ground.

❤️

the sharp pain took your breath away like you had just been impaled the pain from your uterus now radiating through your spine forcing you to double over in pain. a bout of nausea twisted your stomach as you began to shake.

Gentle hands caught you as he called out your name panic laced throughout his voice. "Are you alright? what's going on? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

"No, it's alright." you stated trying to clam his nerves. "trust me the hospital won't do anything."

"Why not? You're clearly suffering with something."

"Yes and that thing is having a uterus. I'm on my period." You explained through groans. "and I just so happen to suffer with really bad cramps. the most a doctor will do is send me home with some pain killers, which I already have, and tell me to do the same things I've been doing since this whole stupid thing started."

Shadow stared at you not really sure on how to proceed.

You sighed "Can we please move over to the couch I really don't want to have this conversation on the floor."

"Of course, can you stand?"

you began to rise carefully halfway up you felt a twinge of pain letting out a cry as you retreated to your previous position.

"Here let me help you." He scooped you up in his arms carrying you over to the couch.

as he carried you over you couldn't help but feel guilty. not only did you ruin his night but you caused him serious worry over you and now you were making him take care of you.

as Shadow gingerly placed you on the sofa all the frustration and guilt bubbled to the surface, tears began streaming down your face soft sobs escaping your mouth.

"I hate this" you started. "people have been doing this every day for thousands of years. going to work, living their lives, and I can't even stand up. I’m so sorry I really didn’t want to ruin your night, you already do so much for me and now this. I feel so pathetic.” Another wave of pain shot through you making you wince “I just want it to stop”

Shadow just stared at you for a moment unsure of what to do. He’s never seen you like this and it scared him. He’s seen you fight off plenty of foes, seen you sustain many injuries that you simply walked off. He never expected to see you brought down, and by your own body nonetheless.

Questions formed in his head unsure of how to ask them. Did this happen every time? How come he hasn’t seen this yet? How could he fix this?

The last question rang in his head the loudest. Memories of his past flashed through his mind, his purpose what he was created for. Was this another failure for him? Was there truly nothing he could do for you? The only thing he could do right now was watch you while you succumbed to your pain.

He had to do something but what?

Taking a breath he helped you lay down on the couch. He rested his hand on your shoulder in a gentle voice he said “it’s alright my love, just give me a minute.” He turned on your favorite show hoping it could distract you in his absence.

Exiting your apartment he called the only person he could think of.

“Hey handsome, what’s going on?”

“Rouge, it’s Y/N. I need your help” Shadow explained the situation he confessed he was in over his head and didn’t know how to proceed.

“Oh, the poor thing” Rouge commented “Alright big guy here’s what you do.”

❤️

Shadow had been gone for thirty minutes now. You felt horrible thinking you must have scared him off.

You should have explained your situation earlier before all of this happened. You thought you were getting better, your past few cycles had been manageable. You should have known better than to think the problem would go away on its own.

The next time you saw Shadow what was that going to be like. Did he think you were weak now? Did he pity you? You couldn’t stand the thought of shadow looking down on you.

Before you could spiral Shadow came through the door shopping bags in one hand and take out in the other.

He unloaded the contents of the bags onto the coffee table. Pulling out your favorite snacks and candies one by one. He brought a tub of ice cream to the freezer presumably for later. Coming back with some silverware he handed you the takeout.

“Here, I don’t know if you’ve eaten today so I got your favorite. If you don’t want it I also got some ingredients to make your favorite comfort food as well.” He pulled out a plushie in your favorite color and placed it in your arms.

“What’s this?” You asked the question being more rhetorical than anything.

“I don’t particularly enjoy them but I know you like your plush toys, you don’t already have that one do you?”

“No” you gave him a weak smile as you hugged your new squishy friend “thank you”

Shadow kissed you on the forehead climbing behind you on the couch wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close to him.

“Where does it hurt?”

You guided his hand to your lower abdomen resting on the source “Right there”

Shadow delicately worked his hands on the area giving it a gentle massage, untying some of the knots left behind by your uncaring reproductive system.

“Does this help at all?”

“Actually yes, it does, a little”

“Good” he continued his gentle movements. “ I want you to know that I take care of you because I want to, you’re not a burden to me and I never want you to feel like you are. If you’re in pain let me know I won’t think any less of you for it. You are such a strong and amazing person you don’t have to hide your struggles from me.”

“Okay, I promise I’ll tell you next time”

You felt some of the tension in his body melt as you snuggled further into his arms.

“I heard that new movie you wanted to see is streaming now do you want to watch it?”

You nodded

As the movie began to play you began to feel more at ease some of the pain finally slipping away disappearing into nothingness.

“Shadow”

“Yes?”

“Thank you”

“Of course my love, anytime.”

[vvifeys]

Mel smut??🙏🏻 Dom Mel preferably

look at me.

modern!au mel. tw: smut. dom!mel. sub!fem reader. fingering. praise. if i missed something, let me know. men dni! a/n: HELLO and thank you for the request anon!! this is my first time writing full fledged smut, so i sincerely apologize if this doesn't meet your expectations ㅠㅠ

"ah ah, eyes on me, darling. i wanna see your pretty face."

mel cooed, her free hand coming up to gently pull your face out of the pillow you had it buried in. her other hand was... occupied, currently two fingers deep in your pussy while you let out quiet whimpers of pleasure.

"louder. c'mon, you sound so pretty for me, baby, don't hide." she says softly, hand still working inside you as she roughens her thrusts. that draws a moan from you, your eyes still on hers as you arch your back. she's purposefully avoiding your g-spot, you knew that– she did that often. mel liked hearing you beg, she wouldn't give you what you wanted until she heard your whiny voice asking for it.

mel found it cute how embarrassed and flustered you got. she liked whenever she saw your face flush right after you let out a particularly loud moan, or how red it got after she–

did that. stopped fucking you just so she could lick your wetness off her fingers. you couldn't help but turn your face, burying it in the pillow again. you hear mel giggle, then feel the familiar touch of her fingers grazing your cheek.

"what did i tell you, baby? look at me. don't make me stop."

"no! no, no, no, i'm sorry. please don't stop." you begged, head immediately turning, your eyes finding hers. you were getting teary, your hands grasping the sheets as you got more desperate. the feeling of being empty was hitting you, you needed her.

"mel, baby, please- need you so bad. wanna cum for you, need it-" you were just rambling now, cut off by a high pitched whine whenever mel roughly shoved two fingers back into you. she picked up a steady pace, leaning down to kiss over your neck. it wasn't long before she was sucking hickeys into your neck, your head thrown back as she traced down your body- marking you from your neck down to your stomach.

you gave up on muffling yourself by now, head thrown back as your back arched. any words you tried to say were incomprehensible, even more so whenever you felt mel's other hand come to rub circles on your clit. it didn't take long for her to have you gripping at her shoulders as you came.

your body shuddered with your orgasm, eyes squeezing shut as you went stiff. mel stayed in the position she was in, taking her hand off of your clit so she could hold herself up. her other hand was slowly pumping in and out, helping you ride out your orgasm. she didn't stop until you pushed her hand away, flopping down and staring at the ceiling.

"you okay, honey?" mel asked, her voice quiet as she kept her eyes on you.

"yeah... god, mel, i love you." you turn onto your side to stare back at her.

"i love you too, so much. let's get you in the bath though, yeah?"

[traumadumpwriter]

Ninety Five

Controlling!Rafe x ED!Reader

“It’s not a big deal, I just want to get to ninety five pounds before Midsummers”

Summary: Reader is suffering from an eating disorder and when Rafe finds out about it he struggles to be sympathetic

Trigger warning for explicit depictions of bulimia, vomit, starving, drug use, controlling behaviour

Word count: 5.7k

Reminder as always that I’m here if any of you need to speak to someone! This is my first Rafe fic and I rly hope y’all enjoy. Working on a part 2 already. (Story is below divider by @kodaswrld )

Part One:

Rafe Cameron could have any girl he wanted, so why did he want you? That was the question that you'd found yourself thinking every day since he'd asked you to be his girlfriend. It didn't make any sense. He was handsome, rich, charming - the king of Kildare County. What on earth could you have done to deserve his devotion?

He knew that you felt this way - or at least that you didn't like yourself. It was clear in the red of your cheeks whenever he paid you a compliment, the way that you'd fidget with your fingers when one of his beautiful kook associates would talk to him, or how you'd look down shyly when he introduced you to them. Part of him liked it for purely selfish reasons. Knowing that you probably wouldn't leave him for someone else - that you thought that he was the best you could get. But more often than not, he found it irritating. He wanted to show you off without you getting embarrassed, to be able to persuade you to wear the tiny dresses he'd buy you in public, to know that you were happy and that you felt worthy around his friends. He even slightly wanted you to try to leave him, just so that he could show you what he would do if you tried.

The first time it had occurred to him that your insecurity was anymore than just that, it had been six months into your relationship and he was watching you get ready for your date that night. He'd wanted to take you out somewhere nice to eat, but you'd managed to persuade him to go bowling instead. He took you out to eat at least once a week and it would be nice to change things up - and to not have to worry about calories for once.

"Well if I don't get to see you in a nice dress tonight, I want to at least pick your outfit." Rafe pouted from his leant back position on your bed, a smug gleam in his eye.

You were stood on the other side of the room, assessing the options you'd laid out and feeling displeased with all of them. You'd been trying really hard to loose weight recently - even harder than usual - but you couldn't see any change in your body. "No matter what I wear, I'm going to look like shit." You thought to yourself, struggling to not show your sadness on your face.

You quickly hid it though, not wanting Rafe to get annoyed with you as he sometimes did, especially not on an anniversary. He would accuse you of not wanting to be with him, of not being happy about the date, and you would have to spend ten minutes convincing him otherwise.

"Okay, sure. But nothing too revealing, there's probably gonna be at least one group of kids, n maybe some old people there." You smiled, sending him a teasing wink.

"Fine. How about those black shorts I like, the Gucci ones, and one of your cute crop tops - you know, the ones with the little cartoon on them." He suggested with a smirk, his voice assertive in a way that let you know there was no point arguing. Not that you would anyway.

The choice was a semi-modest outfit by Rafe's standards and of course you would only be allowed to dress that way when you were with him. Those shorts would not fly with your friends or even to go out by yourself. This control wasn't something you particularly hated though.

There had been one incredibly hot day in OBX where you'd decided to wear a mini skirt to go out and meet some of your friends. They were all dressed in little material too so you didn't think much of it as you enjoyed cocktails with them at the Beach Club. When Rafe picked you up a couple of hours later, his jaw had clenched instantly upon seeing you and he paced over before you could even step down the wooden steps and into the car park. He'd grabbed you by your waist and practically dragged you back to the car, hissing that "there were filthy Pogues about" and that you were "stupid for dressing like that when he wasn't there to protect you." You'd apologised profusely and promised to never wear that skirt without him again. And you hadn't.

You pulled off your comfy clothes and put on the new outfit, feeling Rafe's eyes devour you the entire time. He always loved to watch you get dressed, examining your body with lustful obsession. He knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand - or at least he thought he did - which was why he was confused when you slipped on the shorts. They had always been tight fitting - that was why he liked them - but as he gazed at your thighs and ass now, he could see that there had been a slight change in how the material sat on you. It was looser - not in a severe way, the shorts still revealed your shape nicely - but it was enough for him to notice.

You hadn't even turned to look at him yet, still disappointedly looking at yourself in the mirror, when he offered his opinion, his unaroused tone taking you off guard.

"Have you lost some weight or something? They don't fit as well as the last time I saw them." He questioned, slowly sitting up to get a better look.

You blushed, looking down at yourself and then at him. Any discussion of your body - particularly the size of it - made you extremely uncomfortable.

"I don't know. I don't think so." You mumbled, scratching your arm awkwardly.

"Come here." He demanded softly and you obliged, stepping towards him and standing beside the bed, his head level to your stomach.

He eyed your body closely, a light crease between his brow, and then motioned for you to spin around, which you did with a blush. Waiting for his verdict felt like minutes long torture, though it was realistically only a few seconds before he spoke again. He wrapped his arms around your hips and pulled your ass into his face, grinning as he did.

"All mine." He stated into your flesh, humming in satisfaction as he lightly groped your skin.

After feeling how stiff you'd gotten beside him, he'd decided not to say anything more of your weight - but he had concluded that you'd lost some. You perceived his lack of a verbal decision to mean the opposite though and felt silently mortified, imagining that your boyfriend had come to the conclusion that you'd actually put on weight but just didn't want to embarrass you.

"She's probably just been busy with studying and forgot to have a few meals. I'll take her out for some nice food tomorrow." Rafe thought to himself and then moved his focus onto how good you looked in the outfit he'd picked, entirely unaware of how horrible you felt inside.

The next time he found himself worrying about you was a month later in a restaurant with Topper, Kelce and their dates - Georgia and Elle.

You were wearing one of the dresses that Rafe had bought you that week; flowy and loose fitting as you'd requested it to be much to his dismay but short and cute much to his satisfaction. He loved having you on his arm anywhere, but especially next to his friend's girls. You looked obviously more attractive than them and that served to boost his ego massively. He could see it on the faces of Topper and Kelce too - they knew that he'd won that contest.

You didn't see that though. In fact, you automatically compared yourself to Georgia and Elle as soon as you'd all sat down and found yourself wishing that the ground would swallow you up.

"Everyone must think Rafe is mad for being with me. They must laugh when they see us together. Especially next to these girls. They're so beautiful. I look like a pig next to them." Your thoughts started to spiral, though they remained hidden by your polite smile and casual conversation.

When the menus came out, instead of looking at the names of any of the dishes available your eyes went straight to the calories written next to them, and you chose the meal with the lowest amount without much consideration for what it would actually taste like. Rafe had taken you out to eat every night that week and all of the meals had been good, overly priced, high calorie heaven. It would be nice to not have to make yourself sick after this one.

"Really? Just a salad?" Rafe scoffed after you told your order to the waitress, causing you to stiffen up against him anxiously.

"I'm not that hungry." You smiled awkwardly but he shook his head with a wink.

"Put the salad on the side, she'll have the carbonara." He turned to the waitress and you didn't dare to disagree with him in front of his friends. He was just trying to be nice after all.

You chuckled and nodded at the waitress, sending her off as the conversation resumed around the table.

"So I hear that the Pogues are planning on throwing some kind of surf party at the beach tonight. Anyone else feel like crashing?" Elle suggested with a sly grin, earning a proud kiss from Kelce.

"Sounds like a good plan." Topper stated, less interested in Georgia who didn't look impressed with the girls suggestion.

The only reason Topper wanted to go was to mess with his ex, Sarah Cameron, and her new group of friends. Everyone at the table knew that - including Georgia. You shot her a sorry look as Rafe's arm snaked around your waist, agreeing with his friend, but to your surprise she shot you a sorry look back.

"Maybank needs his head kicked in." Snorted Rafe. "Always got his eyes on you, don't he Y/N? Piece of shit just wishes he could have a chance."

"I'm not sure that I'm really his type to be honest." You jested.

"He doesn't have a type, he'd stick his dick in anything. Last I heard he'd been doing it with Kiara, although she's probably done the whole gang." Topper snorted, earning a chorus of chuckles from around the table.

Food came and went, and soon everyone was gearing up to leave and start pre-drinking for whatever they were going to do that night. You didn't particularly want to join them for a multitude of reasons but the evening had spun entirely out of your control and there was nothing you could do to stop it now.

Luckily, there was one small thing that you could still control.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." You said to Rafe, sliding out of the booth as the waitress came over with the bill.

"Women and their tiny bladders." He tutted with a teasing smirk, which you playfully returned before walking away.

The restroom was empty. You went into the last stall and flung yourself down in front of the porcelain bowl before swiftly putting your fingers down your throat. It didn't take long to achieve the desired affect - having gotten very used to it - and you were soon feeling waves of relief crash through you. Your anxiety was suddenly under control again and you felt that maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad. Even at the sound of footsteps coming to the stall next to you, you kept your fingers there and let another calming wave settle through you before cleaning yourself up.

You waited in the stall for the other person to leave and then stepped quickly to the sinks, splashing your face with cold water before chewing a piece of gum.

"I look fine. I'm fine." You said to yourself, looking in the mirror one last time before stepping out, a smile on your face that was instantly uprooted by the concerned expression on your boyfriend's face.

He was stood right outside the toilets and from across the room you could see that your dining accomplices were looking over.

"Georgia said that you were being sick in there. Do you not feel well?"

"Oh." Was all you could say at first, your brain short circuiting before desperately scrambling for an excuse. "I don't think that was me she heard."

"She went in right after you, said there was no one else in there." He frowned, examining you closely.

You didn't know what to say, shrinking under his intense gaze. He'd caught you in a lie and now you were only going to have to deepen it further. With an anxious swallow, you started to open your mouth but to your surprised relief he spoke in a soft tone.

"Listen, if you don't feel well baby that's fine. We don't have to go out tonight. Did you think I was gonna make you?"

"No- I- I just didn't want to ruin your fun. You can still go out if you want." You answered, which he smiled and shook his head at.

He leaned down closer to you and said lowly "It would be boring without you. Let's just go back to yours and I'll nurse you back to health."

His breath on your skin gave you goosebumps and your stomach did an excited flip as he told his friends that you would be staying in.

A few hours of fucking and cuddling later, you were cozy under your covers, looking up at Rafe with adoring eyes as he got dressed. His beauty never ceased to amaze you; everything from his angelic face to his chiseled body - and the fact that he was yours still didn't feel real.

Rafe caught your eye, smirking at the redness forming on your cheeks. He leant over the bed and planted a short kiss on your head.

"You're cute." He mused, momentarily reconsidering his plan to meet his friends after all. "You sure you're feeling better?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go be with your friends. I'll survive." You answered in a sweet tone.

"Weird how you were sick like that earlier. Maybe it was something in the food." He mumbled.

"Probably. Don't worry about it. I feel okay now." You agreed, your heartbeat rising slightly as he eyed you with uncertainty.

He opened his mouth but then quickly shut it, sucking in his lips like he was annoyed before sitting down on the end of your bed.

"I just think that if it was the food, you'd probably still feel sick now. Right?"

"I- I don't know."

"And it was weird that your first reaction was to lie to me about it."

"I just didn't want to worry you. I'm sorry."

He still looked unimpressed as he eyed you, but his face softened slightly after a moment and he mumbled "I know... you never want to worry me."

He left shortly after that and you were relieved that his suspicion had seemingly been dealt with. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, but little did you know that Rafe's was extremely suspicious and his mind was running through different theories - none of them good.

"Maybe she's pregnant and doesn't want me to know. She thinks I'd leave her.. or make her get rid of it." Was his first idea - something that he had to sit in his parked car in silence for a couple minutes to process. Once he'd decided that that probably wasn't the case, he moved onto his next theory - that you were acting weird because you wanted to leave him. The insecure part of his brain screamed out at him that that was probably the case, but he was able to put that out of his mind pretty quickly, thinking of the way you looked up at him with absolute adoration, how you clung onto him for protection, how you moaned his name.

Remembering how his name had fallen from your lips a few hours prior, he smirked to himself and relished in the memory. You'd been entirely on display beneath him, hardly able to keep your mouth shut as he rammed into you. You were so beautiful and delicate beneath him, he felt like a God knowing that he could make an angel feel so good. With his hands around your waist, you felt tiny and breakable - and he felt powerful.

But then he remembered that a thought had momentarily occurred to him earlier on; of how you felt smaller than usual. Quite a fair bit smaller. It had come and gone in that moment, distracted by your tits, but now he was focusing on it. You'd definitely lost weight since he'd last thought about it, and that didn't make sense - since then he had spent most days with you and you'd been eating a good amount; he'd made sure of it.

So then the idea suddenly occurred to him, shocking and confusing; that you'd been making yourself sick. That was why you'd been loosing weight. That was why you'd lied about it. It didn't make any sense that you would do that to yourself until he thought on it a bit longer and... maybe it did. You'd never been particularly kind to yourself... but you'd never been outright unkind either.

Three nights later, awoken by your movement in the early morning, Rafe confirmed his suspicion. Usually when you got up in the night and accidentally woke him he would ignore it and go back to sleep, this time he only pretended to do so.

He listened as you crept to his bathroom, ears pricking as he heard the sound of retching. He sat up out of the bed and crept to the ajar door, peaking through the gap and grimacing at the sight. You were bent over the toilet with your hand in your mouth, eyes watering and forehead beaded with sweat.

Without your shoulders poised properly and unguarded in the yellowish bathroom light, Rafe was surprised by just how vulnerable you looked. Your body looked about ready to snap with every heave, your shoulder blades poking through your pyjama shirt like metal under a sheet.

He stood and watched until the vomit finally exited your throat, and saw the look of bliss on your face at the release. You leant over the bowl for another minute, catching your breath before pushing the handle down, jumping out of your skin at the sound of Rafe's voice.

"How long have you been doing this?" He questioned, his voice low and sounding almost completely void of emotion.

He was stood in the doorway, his arms crossed across his chest and a blank expression on his face. It worried you - not being able to read him - and you froze, suddenly terrified that you'd pissed him off. How long had he been stood there? Could you get away with this?

"Rafe- I didn't meant to wake you. I- I must have a bug or something-"

"Don't give me that bullshit Y/N. You've been making yourself sick after you eat, I know you have. Just tell me how long you've been doing it for." He said plainly, his jaw twitching.

You noticed that he was twisting one of his hands, clicking his wrist and fingers with his each moment. He was angry. Anxious tears threatened to spill over the brims of your eyes but you managed to blink them back, swallowing and taking a breath before answering. You stood up and tried to look like you were completely fine, running your hand under the tap.

"Not long. It's not a big deal." You lied. "I-I'll stop if you want me to."

"Yeah, you will stop. That shit is fucked up, Y/N." He said with aggressive certainty.

He was enraged that you'd been doing this to yourself, but he was more angry with himself for not clocking onto it sooner.

"I don't get it- do I not love you enough or something? Why would you do this to yourself?"

"What? No. Of course not. It's not your fault - it's- you love me more than enough. I'm sorry baby. I just wanted to loose some weight. I- I wanted to look good for you. F-For Midsummers." You stammered, stepping closer to him, hoping that he would open his arms and embrace you in a way that would let you know you were forgiven. He stayed still though, his arms crossed, lip curled and brows furrowed.

"So this is my fault."

"No! That's not what I meant-"

"And you're doing this to look good? You look like shit, Y/N. Take better care of yourself." He cut you off with a harsh scoff and then turned around, going back to bed without another word.

Your gut twisted and a dagger struck your heart. A real nausea rose in your body and you felt that you might actually need to be sick. Your hands shook uncontrollably and the tears that you'd previously been able to suppress spilled down your cheeks as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Rafe had never said anything like that to you before. He'd gotten angry and told you to shut up, reminded you of all the things he did for you, told you to change your outfit, berated you for being anxious about going somewhere. But at the end of all that - you'd still always been his beautiful girl.

"I look like shit." You repeated to yourself in your head. "If Rafe ever catches me being sick again, he's going to leave me. I should've seen this coming. I'm already not good enough for him - why would he want a bulimic girlfriend?"

You splashed your face with water and stared at yourself, only seeing the gaunt tiredness and red blotches - not thinking as to why you looked that way.

"I'm going to have to find a new way to loose weight. It'll be fine. I can go to the gym." You decided, trying to calm down. "I can make Rafe think I'm beautiful again. I'll start wearing a full face of makeup every day and just keep some distance until I reach my goal weight. By this time next week, he won't even remember seeing me like this."

Eventually, you were calm enough in your delusion to crawl back into bed with him, sticking to your side and not daring to try to initiate a cuddle. He already seemed to be asleep anyway and you didn't want to wake him up again.

You were surprised to find the bed empty when you woke up the next morning, a note in place of where Rafe would usually be.

"Got to do some shit with my dad. I'll see you later." It read and you found yourself feeling sick again, becoming certain that Rafe was disgusted by you now.

The few times that you'd woken up to a note or a text like that, it always ended with a "love you". The empty space where it ought to have been mocked you. With a shaky breath, you got out of bed and pulled your clothes on, grabbing your belongings from the side before making your way to your car. Rubbing salt into the wound, Ward was downstairs.

"You alright, Y/N?" He questioned, genuine concern on the older man's face.

He liked you a lot - claiming to Rafe that it was about time he brought a nice girl home - and would sometimes worry about how his son was treating you.

"Yeah, I'm good. Just got some studying to do." You lied with a forced smile.

It was something that Ward could see right through, but he nodded anyway and allowed you to believe you'd fooled him.

"Is Rafe up yet?" He asked.

"Yeah, he's gone out to play golf, I think." You answered, entirely uncertain of the truth and starting to worry that he might actually be with another girl.

Ward rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath but smiled at you nonetheless. When you finally got home you were unsurprised yet relieved to find that your mother was out - most likely at her boyfriends - and you quickly made your way to your room, throwing yourself onto your bed and letting out the sobs you'd been suppressing.

You wanted to get up and do some exercise - to start bettering yourself as you had planned to do - but with no food in your body, you had no energy and so ended up spending the day hiding under your covers. You thought about calling Rafe, but you were too embarrassed, and then you even thought about calling Sarah - having been quite close with her before you started dating her brother - but you didn't dare to do that either. Instead, you slept and cried the day away, wondering where your boyfriend was and if he even still loved you.

Meanwhile, Rafe was sprawled across the sofa of Topper's beach house, an empty bottle of whisky on his lap and a mirror decorated with white lines at his side. He had decided to break into the residence - as he had many times before - some hours prior, calling Topper once he'd gotten inside and demanding that his friend come and meet him.

"It's eleven in the morning bro, what the hell is wrong with you?" Topper had sighed upon entering the residence, seeing that Rafe had raided his parents very expensive liquor cabinet. "You better replace all that. My dad is gonna be pissed."

Rafe scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Obviously I'm gonna replace it. When was the last time your old man came down here anyway? Isn't he too busy sucking up to mine?"

Topper ignored his blatant rudeness and sat down on the polished leather seat beside the matching sofa Rafe had claimed. He grabbed the mirror from the side and picked up the rolled up note, inhaling a line before speaking.

"What are you doing here at this time anyway? Have you been up all night?"

"No. I got up about an hour ago."

"So what are you doing then?"

Rafe sighed, snatched the mirror back from Topper and snorted another line. He let his head fall backwards and looked up at the ceiling, forcing the powder down to the back of his throat - the bitter taste having become therapeutic through his habitual use.

"I don't know if I'm good for Y/N." He muttered after a moment.

"Why not?" Topper returned, acting clueless although your mental decline had been somewhat visible to him for the last couple of weeks. He'd just assumed that you'd been doing too much coke with Rafe.

Rafe shrugged.

"I think she might just be fucked in the head, you know?"

"All women are. But with one as hot as that - you kind of just gotta put up with it. You know what I mean?" Topper snorted. "I mean, Georgia's a total fucking bitch. The other day she complained about her outfit for an hour straight! Some bullshit about how the collar of her shirt was making her look fat. God knows I wouldn't put up with it if she wasn't so fine."

Rafe rolled his eyes and spoke matter-of-factly, his head still facing the ceiling. "Yeah well Y/N isn't a bitch. And Georgia's not even that hot. Everyone knows you're just rebounding after my bitch sister."

"Shut up, man. She's got a good rack and you can't even deny that. And if Y/N's not secretly a bitch then what's the problem? You seem like you've lucked out with that one."

Topper poured himself a drink, secretly aggravated with how his friend always seemed to have things go right for him. The richest dad on the island, a good career handed down to him and a beautiful girlfriend who practically no one had anything bad to say about. Rafe had some clue to how lucky he was, but he didn't fully get it. The taller boy thought about telling his friend the truth of what he'd seen the night before, but he feared that it might reflect badly on him so he didn't for the time being. Instead, he agreed that Georgia did have a good rack and changed the subject.

Late into the evening though - after spending the entire day drinking and playing video games - the conversation came up again and this time Rafe was too inebriated to play it cool. The image of you hadn't been able to escape his mind no matter how fucked up he got and he needed to vent.

The game had been paused so that Topper could pour them more drinks, and the temporary silence was unbearable to Rafe.

"I caught Y/N making herself be sick last night." He blurted out, his tone low and solemn. "And then I was kind of a dick about it."

Topper didn't seem too interested in what Rafe was saying, his eyes fixed on the drink he was pouring as he replied "What do you mean? Like she was unwell?"

"No. Like she's fucking anorexic or something." Rafe responded with some frustration. "I think she's been doing it for a while."

At this Topper looked up, his expression seeming almost amused in his surprise.

He scoffed "Well shit. I didn't see that coming" to which Rafe quickly hissed "It's not fucking funny" and Topper's smile dropped.

"Nah you're right dude, it isn't. Sorry."

Rafe ignored his apology, continuing his rant as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"I just don't get why she would do that to herself. Do I not treat her good enough or something? Like, I thought that shit was for weird emo girls with fuckin' daddy issues or something. Why the fuck would Y/N feel the need to do that? It doesn't make any sense."

Topper shrugged and sighed. "I don't know but you should get it sorted before it gets out of hand. That's what got Josie Tenthro sent to a psych ward in the tenth grade, remember? The weird girl - weighed like ten pounds. Apparently she almost died."

Rafe sat up straight with an unamused scoff, rubbing the back of his head with one hand whilst the other reached for the coke mirror. His friend was so stupid.

"Well thanks Top that really makes me feel better. Guess I'll just ship my girlfriend off to a looney bin then, huh? Fucking dick." He seethed before inhaling a line. "I don't even know why I told you anything. Just forget about it."

Topper held his hands up defensively,

"Woah, woah. Chill out bro. That's not what I meant. You and I both know that Y/N doesn't belong in one of those places. She's a sweet girl whose obviously just a bit down in the dumps for whatever reason. Why don't you take her on a little holiday or something? Show her a real good time."

Rafe considered that option for a moment, liking the sound of it but quickly deciding that it wouldn't fix things. If anything it might make them worse. After all, you had said that you wanted to look good for him. Would some time apart be the best thing for you? Some part of him knew that it probably would be, but selfishly he couldn't allow that. He needed to be with you, and as he thought on it deeper, he needed to be with you now.

Without visibly acknowledging Topper, he grabbed his phone and dialled your number, extremely dismayed when you didn't pick up. It was only nine PM - were you really asleep already? Or had you gone out? That last option made him feel unsettled. In a split second decision, he decided that he was going to just turn up at yours and climb into your bedroom window.

"I've gotta go. I'll see you later." He mumbled to Topper, ignoring his friends questions as he headed straight to his motorbike.

The drive to yours was luckily short and the climb up the side of your house was quite easy, meaning he'd managed to do both things accident free despite his extremely intoxicated state. When he saw you curled up in your bed, forehead damp with sweat and arms wrapped tight around a pillow, any hint of insecurity or frustration vanished as he took in your appearance. You were beautiful and there was no one else he wanted more than you.

"Hey babe, wake up." He shook you lightly with a drunken grin, pleased when you stirred awake.

"Rafe?" You said groggily. "What time is it?"

"It's nine baby, how come you're asleep already?"

He was slurring more than he realised and that brought you back to all the anxiety you'd been feeling all day. What had he been doing? Drinking, obviously, but with who?

"I took a nap, I didn't mean to." You answered. You thought about expanding on your words, of maybe even questioning him, but he spoke quickly and as if your answer hadn't really mattered.

"You're like.. the prettiest girl ever. You know that?" He whispered, moving a hand to stroke your face. "I'm sorry I left this morning."

Any anger that you might've felt immediately evaporated at that. Rafe rarely apologised and hearing the words made you feel guilty.

"Don't be sorry-" you began but then he spoke again, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.

"I am sorry, Y/N. It was a dick move. I'm really fucked up right now, I've been with Topper all day." He said with a heavy exhale. "But I just needed to come here and tell you to seriously never do that shit to yourself again. You're perfect, you don't need to do that to yourself. Is that understood?"

His eyes were wide and his jaw was tight but you were charmed nonetheless, nodding as you gazed up at his sculpted face.

"I wanna hear you say it." He said, his fingers slightly shifting position again so that he was stroking your cheek.

You swallowed nervously, entirely exposed under his gaze and unable to deny him anything.

"I'm not going to make myself sick again." You whispered, blushing as the words came out.

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips and he mumbled "good girl" before leaning down and kissing you, his touch instantly making up for the entire day. "My good, beautiful girl."

[missanthropicprinciple]

I am....fascinated...by this exchange in This Side of Paradise...

Kirk, armed with a large metal bar, watches Spock materialize in the transporter room. Jim lashes out to release Spock from mind-altering spores.

Kirk: "Alright, you mutinous, disloyal, computerized, half-breed, we'll see about you deserting my ship."

Kirk knows Spock is probably the most loyal officer on the ship, knows Spock has emotions he just doesn’t express them in the same way everyone else does, and using the term half-breed is something a bigoted jerk might think or say.

Spock: "The term half-breed is somewhat applicable, but computerized is inaccurate. A machine can be computerized, not a man."

Kirk: "What makes you think you're a man? You're an overgrown jackrabbit, an elf with a hyperactive thyroid."

Kirk is clearly resorting to childish jibes because he can’t think of anything to really criticize him for.

Spock, chuckling: "Jim, I don't understand."

Spock is laughing at this point because he knows this is not how Kirk normally acts, so he figures it's a joke or a game.

Kirk: "Of course you don't understand. You don't have the brains to understand. All you have is printed circuits."

Spock is arguably the smartest person Jim knows and is not simply like a computer.

Spock: "Captain, if you'll excuse me."

Kirk: "What can you expect from a simpering, devil-eared freak whose father was a computer and his mother an encyclopedia?"

Kirk is almost talking nonsense, saying whatever pops into his head. The choice of the word simpering is interesting because Spock ingratiates himself to Kirk somewhat but not in a coy way, and Jim knows he’s not a suck-up. Jim doesn’t act like Spock is a freak at all and defends him. He also doesn’t even say things about his ears much or in the same way Bones does.

Spock: "My mother was a teacher. My father an ambassador."

Spock is still calm as he would be generally when insulted but the hint of humor in his voice is fading.

Kirk: "Your father was a computer, like his son. An ambassador from a planet of traitors. A Vulcan never lived who had an ounce of integrity."

Jim is using the word integrity because Spock has great integrity both personally and because of his Vulcan upbringing. This is starting to touch a nerve.

Spock: "Captain, please don't."

Spock is now asking Jim on an emotional level not to hurt him. He is only offended where there is feeling and of course he has deep feelings for Kirk, even if you interpret it as friendship.

Kirk: "You're a traitor from a race of traitors. Disloyal to the core, rotten like the rest of your subhuman race, and you've got the gall to make love to that girl."

It's really interesting that Jim is using the term "make love". From what I remember he doesn't use that phrase to refer to romance or sexual activity, usually referencing sex more obliquely. I could psychoanalyze this that maybe Jim wants to be the one either making love to the woman, being made love to in general, or wants Spock to make love to him. And again, Spock is extremely loyal and not just to Jim. Also, Jim doesn’t consider Vulcans to be sub human, shows them respect, and knows who T’Pau is.

Spock: "That's enough."

Kirk: "Does she know what she's getting, Spock? A carcass full of memory banks who should be squatting in a mushroom, instead of passing himself off as a man? You belong in a circus, Spock, not a starship. Right next to the dog-faced boy."

"Passing himself off as a man" is a particularly painful remark, but again Kirk often defends him against bigotry, talks about how important Spock's human side is, and repeatedly makes testimonials about how much he values Spock. And of course Jim must know Spock is objectively handsome. "Does she know what she's getting?" is interesting too. It could imply that Jim is asking "Does she know what an incredible man she's getting? Will she value you like I do?" but then he turns it into an insult.

Spock bends the metal bar with one blow and bashes Kirk around the transporter room for a bit before Spock suddenly realizes the spores are gone, broken like a fever.

Kirk: "Had enough? I didn't realize what it took to get under that thick hide of yours. Anyhow, I don't know what you're so mad about. It isn't every first officer who gets to belt his Captain several times."

It seems like Jim is saying it took a lot of effort for him not just to figure out what would push Spock over the edge but what to even say to insult him in the first place.

Spock: "You did that to me deliberately."

Spock, to the best of my knowledge, never says someone does something to him. He is also saying that he understands it was a calculated attack and not one stemming from impulsive emotional anger, therefore revealing Jim's true feelings.

Kirk: "Believe me, Mister Spock, it was painful in more ways than one."

Obviously this is played as a joke because Kirk is a pretty battered, but I would like to think it's because Jim truly regrets saying those words. It's written as dual meaning for comic effect but I like to read emotions into it when I can.

Spock: "The spores. They're gone. I don't belong anymore."

This is so sad. Even though the spores are gone he still reveals an emotional response. Luckily Spock does belong on the Enterprise.

Kirk: "You said they were benevolent and peaceful. Violent emotions overwhelm them, destroy them. I had to make you angry enough to shake off their influence. That's the answer, Mister Spock."

Spock: "That may be correct, Captain, but trying to initiate a brawl with over five hundred crewmen and colonists is hardly logical."

Kirk: "I had something else in mind. Can you put together a subsonic transmitter? Something we can hook into the communications station and broadcast over the communicator?"

Jim is not directly addressing the fact that he did this to save Spock. He didn't want to lose him. Yes, he needed Spock to help him save everyone else but Spock is important to Jim personally and belongs with him on the Enterprise.

Spock: "It can be done."

Kirk: "Good. Let's get to work."

Spock: "Captain. Striking a fellow officer is a court martial offense."

Kirk: "Well, if we're both in the Brig, who's going to build the subsonic transmitter?"

Spock: "That is quite logical, Captain."

Jim is going back to his usual way of communicating with Spock: kind, almost jovial, focusing on logic, and giving Spock a purpose because he really needs him as a colleague. He's happy to have Spock back to normal. While Spock regrets losing the spores and his sense of perceived belonging, Jim values Spock in the way he's always known him: Vulcan and human, taciturn and logical.

[melliehart]

wip wednesday

shoutout @marviless for tagging me (and torturing me with her mcd fic ow), going to tag @littlefreakbuckley and @sonofatoasterwaffle if they have anything they want to share:) i am trying something new and writing a set of interactions between eddie and buck's significant others over the years. this is ali's

Death & Co, Arts District, 2019

Eddie is like, totally gorgeous, don't get her wrong, but he's not her type. He's closed off, always put together, and that one time she tried to break the ice by making a joke that he’s actually the one who saved her during the earthquake, Eddie barely cracked a smile. It did, fortunately, get Buck to cackle and loudly protest, but Eddie’s expression only ever turned genuine when Buck knocked his shoulder against Eddie’s and said, “Shoulda dropped her!” with a wink. He'd thrown his arm around Ali, after, and damn does Buck have some great arms. It’s amazing, getting to be with a guy who makes her feel small. Like, she can wear heels around him. And don’t even get her started on what else he can do with all that strength.

Anyway, they’re out at this cocktail bar that Ali picked out–she’s been loving a dirty martini lately–and it’s a good time. She and Buck aren’t particularly serious, but they could be, if they give it a while. They mostly spend time at her apartment when she’s in the city, but she’s broached the subject of getting him a place downtown, (anything would be more mature than living with his older sister), and she might be able to convince him to swap out the Jeep for something classier next.

The guy’s a little raw, but he definitely has potential. Room to grow.

They’d invited Eddie, although when Ali had suggested it to Buck she’d sort of been expecting it would be a double date, but Buck brushed that off. She knows something wild was going on between Eddie and his wife (ex-wife?) but Buck was shockingly tight-lipped about it, wouldn’t tell her any details. Like, she’s just curious! Can’t a girl want to gossip with her boyfriend? Whatever. He did say they were back together for real now, which is why she’d been expecting the wife to come, but it’s fine.

Like she said, Eddie’s always perfectly polite, and they’ve had a good time together the few times they’ve all gone out. The three of them even made a pretty good team during the earthquake, if she does say so herself, even if she stopped to chug a few mini liquor bottles on the way down. She’d challenge anyone to watch their misogynistic pig of a boss fall to his for real, actual death and not want a drink.

She’s two drinks in when Buck leaves them to go get another round–thanks, babe–leaving just her and Eddie at the table. Eddie takes a long pull of his beer, draining it before setting the empty bottle on the table with a clink. He’s not looking at her, his dark eyes focused on the wall behind them as he starts picking at the label. The silence is just this side of unsettling, and Ali’s never really been great at being quiet, so she decides to do the safe thing and ask about his son–Christian?

“Christopher”, he corrects, pulling out his phone. “I’ll show you a picture.” She’s not huge into kids herself–maybe in a few years, when she makes director and can afford to settle down a bit–but that’s not the kind of thing you say to a not-single dad. He swipes for a moment, then shows Ali a photo of not just his son but the three of them, Christopher, Eddie and Buck, in front of the fountain at the mall. They look–honestly, they look like a family, framed like this. There’s something heavy about the way he’s watching her, judging her reaction. She smiles at him brightly, cooing a little because that’s what you do at a cute photo, and he tilts the phone back. 

She’s not really sure what he’s getting out of this interaction–is he trying to scare her off? Stake a claim? Or is he just–like that? His face is unreadable as always, unlike Buck who is, thank god, sliding back into the booth. He gently places her martini–Hendrick’s, two blue cheese olives, extra dry and porn star dirty–in front of her, smacking a kiss to her cheek before roughly sliding a beer across the table. Eddie snags it without blinking, tipping it towards the two of them–Buck, really–in thanks. 

Now that Buck’s back, the tension in the atmosphere has dissipated; Eddie perked right back up the second Buck's attention landed on him. She doubts Buck even noticed the switch-up, and she's sure as hell not gonna piss Eddie off by calling it out.

They slide back into joking around, but Ali can’t quite take her mind off of it. She absolutely needs to get the ex-wife (wife?) here next time to figure out what to make of these two.

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 34 Thoughts: Burying the Hatchet

This is a very exposition heavy episode but it's not a lot of new information IMO. I think most of the big stuff here is more confirmation of what I would call, potentially arrogantly, obviously inferable information. Which isn't a bad thing but as you're all probably very aware by now I don't really retread the explicit stuff in these. So we'll see what I've got to say.

And, yes, I did forget what day it was on Thursday and then procrastinate this until now. Blame the Spiral. Tomorrow's post will probably be on time.

Spoilers for TMA , and TMAGP episode 34 below the cut.

Okay, so, as I've mentioned, this is all quite explicit. Sam's in TMA London and it's all spooky still. I do love how over everything Georgie is, and it's nice to see her fearlessness expressed as apathy and annoyance. Even with all the blatant info dumping there are a couple of interesting things to pick out from this whole section though. Part of London, presumably the part that was around the Magnus Institute/Panopticon, didn't revert to its pre-Change state but the interesting bit is other parts of the world didn't either. Obviously the Institute, being the epicentre of the Eye's power on Earth, makes sense but what other places didn't change back? Did every Fear have a location like the Panopticon and those all remained? Is it about the domains of powerful avatars? It doesn't seem like the creatures in the London Exclusion Zone are particularly related to the Eye, so is that true of every location still affected? Or is the Square Mile unique in this respect because of the Eye's central position for the Change? A lot of things going on there. I'm not sure any of that will come up to be honest, I think most of that is probably irrelevant, but it's got a lot of world building potential.

The other thing to note is them being called "wardens". The major organisation people would think of for civil defence in the UK would be either the Civil Defence Service (1935–1945) or the Civil Defence Corps (1949–1968). The Civil Defence Service started its life as the Air Raid Precautions Department and then later created the Air Raid Wardens' Service. These wardens were largely responsible for making sure communities were doing what they were meant to as to not get bombed to shit. As the nature of civil service in the UK evolved both during and after the war so did the role of the wardens but it was generally about community organisation and leadership, recon, and reporting. Captain isn't a rank of Warden in any incarnation as far as I'm aware, but the UK also doesn't really have current civil defence either. Which is interesting in so far as the implication that the UK government is treating it like war. At least in the primeline, in TMAGP's time it seems a lot more clandestine than that.

The section with Georgie and Dave I don't have much to add to. It's all something we've seen with [Error] before and in the interest of getting this post done I'm not going to talk out my ass like I might usually do.

Sam and Georgie do some more exposition. Honestly, this is mostly just a last season recap and I've talked about all that before. Obviously Georgie is worried this is John, and I've seen a lot of people wanting it to be, but I think that would probably be the worst thing they could do here. Especially with Chester in the mix doing the whole "John is a monster" thing and having John be all monster feels a little trite to me. I'm fairly sure they're not doing that in either case. Especially when they've cast Beth Eyre as [Error] already, the bait and switch there would feel sorta shitty IMO.

The Gardener's statement was really well done. I know the TMA season 5 statements are contentious but I think there are some incredible bits of short form fiction in there. This one is no different and I think builds upon season 5 wonderfully by subverting the expectations those statements built. In TMA season 5 the statements were pretty aggressively about their Fear. It wasn't often, if at all, that the listener was ever in suspense about what the Fear at play was. This statement initially seems no different. Starts off very Buried but is very clearly a Slaughter domain by the end of it and it's a really interesting one too. Very boiled down to the basic aspects of the Fear. Good stuff, well written, well acted, no notes.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: N/A

CAT# Theory: XXXX, I guess? CATXXXX is actually pretty interesting in that it's basically the only way you can wrongly X out that string. The dates got the correct number of Xs for the maximum length a date can be in the DMYYYY format. CATXXXX doesn't match the maximum length, nor any reasonable combination. It's pretty much the most wrong thing they could've written. Which does, obviously, mean it was directly aimed at me and written out of spite.

R# Theory: N/A

Header talk: ERROR (Unknown Source) is probably the single most interesting heading we've ever seen. Back in the TMAGP universe we've seen that Freddie has no problems with filing incident reports that [Error] has collected. In TMA there was some implication that the audience was the Eye only to then subvert that expectation. The current implication is that our PoV is that of Freddie and this reinforces that, it got a fucked filing but did get a filing, but I do wonder if this is laying the ground work for that sort of twist. It also raises the question about what makes this incident different to any of the others. The obvious reason is that the Gardener is from another dimension but [Error] doesn't seem to be operating any differently. So either the Mechanisms are quite different or is the experience. TMAGP's universe never has a Change, as far as we know, and so hasn't had domains and as such there wouldn't be anything to file this under assuming Freddie can accurately do that. The link between Freddie and [Error]/her tapes, is also interesting too. Is this unique to [Error] or can Freddie do this to anything that's connected via a tear? If it's unique to [Error] is that because of JMJs connection to the Eye, and [Error's] status as an Archivist, or is there something else at play? Like I said, more interesting than Building (Angry).

[reingkings]

"Can you recommend a fanfic where the characters are closer to their versions in the series? For example, I saw someone write that they are writing a fanfic where Gi-hun is much closer to his version in the series."

Apologies for the delay. This question really stumped me, if I’m honest ;-; Mostly because I don’t know what “closer” means. I think there’s many different interpretations we can have based off canon. Here’s some I like from a canon-compliant character study lense:

lighter fic:

> Protective Measures by faintneko

Outsider POV from Sae-byeok’s perspective. No Squid Games AU, but the adjustments are accurate. The character voice is very strong in this one.

> this morning, this evening, so soon by layoyo

A what-if story exploring if Gi-hun got on the plane. I love stories that feel like gentle rain, and this one I think is one of them. It follows Gi-hun very closely in the process of grief and healing, and In-ho here is very much a “reaching out to you and hope you take my hand” version.

> When Will You Return + Sequel by Lust4Wife

This premise of this story is what if Gi-hun had never entered the games and met Il-nam before he passed, only to be left a small bit of inheritance. If you want a fic that feels like S1 Inhun, this is a very strong contender. I will note it’s in mandarin (I used google translate to read it), though it has an English translation. I still prefer the mandarin one. I think the English version was written to sound “perfect” to natives but it sacrificed a bit of the nuance.

> One Rainy Night In Seoul by hl14

A canon-divergent fic in which a 2015 In-ho meets Gi-hun before he becomes the Frontman, and it changes his life. hl14 is an authors whose body of work I think exemplifies the different ways In-ho and Gi-hun can be interpreted while still feeling like their canon selves.

> in other words, please be true by songxiong

This fic is a fascinating one in that it has the same premise with the opposite take: In-ho meets Gi-hun before he becomes the Frontman – and it finalizes his decision to become him. One of the earlier fics I read in the fandom and it really helped refine my perception of In-ho’s possible motivations.

> Сyclicity by Dragira_Dje

Canon AU in which every time Gi-hun dies he gets a redo, but he still joins the games. Magical realism take on canon essentially (and I know I’m cheating a little with this one). I particularly really liked the character voice. It felt very much like Gi-hun.

> The Life and Times of Worker 456 by Nite_Rose

A fic in which Gi-hun is a worker instead of a player. Based on the premise, it might not sound like a character study but I think it can definitely be seen an exploration of how different choices could lead to different outcomes, while still staying true to Gi-hun.

darker fic (heed the tags):

> i don't dream of unicorns by ha1lmary

A post-season 2 fic. We get really in Gi-hun’s head for this one and it’s just about as heart-wrenching as the first time I watched the finale. You really see Gi-hun fall apart. Which you know, is my cup of tea.

> sheepskin by throwafit

Explores the premise of “what-if Gi-hun chose to get on the plane” as well but it’s a different interpretation than this morning, this evening. In this one, In-ho’s machinations are more intense, and I think you it really emphasizes Gi-hun’s loneliness.

> Ghost of the Longing by Beb

An In-ho POV fic where he pretends to be a ghost to haunt Gi-hun after his “death.” In-ho feels very keen and spider-y in this one if it makes sense. I do so love the wolf-among-the-sheep character exploration of him.

> i'm your man series by gaycultivators

Canon-adjacent fic in which In-ho pretends to have sex somnia in order to have his way with Gi-hun. I think it plays well with the tension of what we know as an audience and what Gi-hun knows, and particularly enjoyed how it portrays In-ho’s brand of manipulation.

> Take the Bait by crankyLilah

Intense character study of In-ho’s POV from season 1 to the present. The undercurrent of obsession and delusion is impeccably interwoven into the events. It’s just poetry, really.

~ * ~

Anyway, I have 100+ bookmarks so I can be here all day. I mean just based on canon-adjacent character studies only I had to exclude a abo fics, historical, fantasy (please ask me for fantasy recs ;-;) etc since characters are affected by the world they live in. If you enjoy any of these, please remember to give the authors their flowers 💐

[kedreeva]

I forget why I followed you (I feel like it was for art reasons but I honestly forget whether or not I've seen you post art recently) but I definitely stuck around for the birds. Any big plans this year you're super excited about?

considering I don't do art I have to believe it wasn't for art! Maybe for writing, or stranger things stuff.

There's actually a lot I'm super excited about!

The MOST exciting is the European violet project. If all things go according to plan (hahahasobs), Earl will produce a handful of european violet hens for me this year! This will be very exciting, as I've dreamed of having EV for years.

Sometime in April, I am hopping a ride with another peafowl keeper that's heading to kansas to pick up birds from a friend of mine. She wanted to go anyway but doesn't like driving, so I'll be driving and she'll be paying the way! It means a chance to see Bill again, and maybe get some photos of certain mutations for the calculator project (particularly the hens, I am missing a lot of Hen colors). I like to see all the different colors in person, and I love hanging out with other peafowl folks.

The calculator project is going.... better than my wildest dreams could have hoped. I'm still a bit dazed and starry eyed it's going at all, but there's a rough UI now, and at least one artist working on the colors (the same artist did the lineart already, it's just a matter of making color layers for all the colors now... "just" i say, like that doesn't take SO much work). I've been working on getting the genetics pages finished on my website so that this can be a part of that section of the site.

The quail are also moving right along.... My goal is wild type celadons, and I'm coming at that problem from 2 different angles to hopefully get it done as thoroughly as possible. I've got roughly 8 more weeks before the second WT line I ordered in will be laying, and then I will be doing crosses with that one and the first one. I've got the WT x Celadon group that's all (currently) rosetta roux birds. That group is producing eggs like you would not believe, and their offspring should have A FEW roux birds in pharaoh pattern. They should produce 25% tibetan (homo EB), 50% rosetta (het EB), and 25% pharaoh (wild type pattern). Of those 25%, only 25% will be full celadons, and only half of those will be hens. So. It will be slow going getting the birds I need from that group, but I'm vibrating with anticipation all the same.

Luckily, summer is a good time for moving babies out! I've got several reptile expos, and several bird swaps. At the end of April there's the first MBGBA swap meet, and I will be staying later than usual in order to attend the association's board meeting, so that I can watch them kick Spicer out answer questions they have about the website, and make suggestions about how to run the club going forward, in order to bring in newer folks that want to get into birds and breeding. I may end up having to take a position on the board if there's no one else to do it, which I don't really want to do BUT I don't want to continue letting that asshole try to run it into the ground on purpose either. The amount of joy it will bring me to see him gone cannot be overstated.

So, it will be a busy year for me, and I will get to work on a bunch of stuff I'm really excited to work on!

[syluxs]

mephisto’s feathery rival

pairing: sylus/reader

summary: visiting a bird sanctuary, you witness an unexpectedly soft side of him--completely captivated by a parrot.

notes: guys i am a big sucker for fluff too as u can see

"so, why are we here again?" sylus asked, glancing at you as you walked beside him.

"because i wanted to check on the birds," you replied, stretching your arms. "you make donations here, but i wanted to see if they're actually using the money for them."

the crisp air of the early morning greeted you as you and sylus arrived at the bird sanctuary. sylus, ever the composed and cool figure, was as calm as usual, his dark jacket fitting him perfectly. his usual cool and confident expression barely wavered, even as you two entered the serene sanctuary.

you were excited to spend some time there, as you’d always been a fan of nature and animals, but you weren’t sure what sylus thought about it. he was incredibly kind to animals, and he had a deep appreciation for the outdoors, often inviting you on hikes or quiet strolls through the forest, but you weren't very sure if he would be as enthusiastic as you were. you were thinking that maybe this was also a nice opportunity for him--an enjoyable break from the usual routine. 

the peaceful chirping of birds filled the air, and you took in the lush green surroundings, birds flitting in and out of the trees, the gentle rustling of leaves was a soft background sound to your stroll.

you could feel sylus’ gaze wandering around, but he didn't say much at first. his usual air of cool indifference remained intact--until you approached a particularly large enclosure, one filled with colorful parrots.

you admired their vibrant feathers, pointing out a particularly stunning blue and gold one. but then, without warning, sylus’ calm demeanor began to crack. his eyes widened as he watched a parrot hop onto the edge of its perch, cocking its head toward him.

"oh, that’s so cute," you said. sylus didn't answer, too focused on the bird. "he likes you!"

the corners of your lips quirked up, and you giggled quietly, noticing how his usual composed expression was slowly melting away. the bird squawked, and sylus blinked as it hopped towards his direction. he looked almost childlike--a quiet fascination that made your heart squeeze at how unexpectedly soft he looked.

without realizing it, you were stupidly smiling at the interaction. you had never seen sylus act like this before. he was usually the serious, no-nonsense kind of person, always in control. but now, he looked like a kid seeing something magical for the first time.

"you really do like birds, don't u?" you asked, your voice light with amusement.

sylus didn't respond. instead, he stepped a little closer to the enclosure, eyes glued to the parrot as it squawked and bobbed its head.

you watched as he crouched down, his usual coolness now slipping even further as he reached out a hand toward the bird. it was like he couldn’t help himself. his fingers lingered in the air, as if inviting the parrot to come closer. the bird hesitated for a moment before hopping even closer-- and then, to your surprise, it boldly stepped onto his outstretched finger.

sylus froze for a second, his breath catching as his eyes widened slightly. he looked almost startled, but then, his expression softened entirely. he didn’t move, letting the bird settle on his hand, his usual mighty self melting into something entirely different-- gentle, fascinated, completely absorbed in the tiny creature perched on him.

for a moment, you could hardly believe what you were seeing. sylus--your sylus--seemed utterly mesmerized. he had the expression of innocence and wonder you'd expect from a child seeing something new and exciting. he looked so adorable and endearing, you covered your mouth with your hand, it was so cute you wanted to explode right there at what you were seeing.

you leaned in slightly, teasing, "careful, sylus. mephisto might smell it on you when we get home."

sylus turned his head, eyes still wide but soft. "let him smell it," he replied, his voice a little quieter than usual. "i just..... wanted to see how close it’d come."

as if understanding his words, the bird fluffed its feathers and adjusted its stance, making itself comfortable on his hand. sylus’ lips curled into the tiniest of smiles, and he let out a quiet, genuine laugh--light, unguarded, and entirely unlike his usual self.

you quickly took so many pictures of him and the bird, unable to resist capturing the rare moment of sylus looking so captivated.

it was like a switch had flipped in him. the serious, calculated sylus was gone, replaced by someone far more approachable, someone who could be playful and curious. you were utterly enchanted by the sight.

"i didn’t expect you to be such a very-into-birds person," you said, teasing him gently.

sylus’ smile widened just slightly as he stood up again, brushing off his pants like he was trying to regain his composure. "i didn’t expect it either," he admitted, "but i guess i’ve got more to learn than i thought."

you chuckled softly, your heart swelling with affection for him. this side of him was refreshing. it made him seem..... less invincible, more like someone you could share moments like this with.

as the two of you continued through the sanctuary, sylus seemed more relaxed, more open to taking in the little wonders of the world. it was a side of him that was rarely seen, especially by others, and you were glad to witness it, even if it was just for a brief moment.

when you reached the end of the path, sylus glanced at you, his usual composed demeanor returning, but the warmth in his eyes didn’t fade. "thanks for wanting to go here," he said, his voice soft but sincere.

you smiled, the day’s light lingering in your chest. "i’m glad you enjoyed it." you were also relieved to see that the birds looked healthy and thriving, knowing that sylus’ donations were truly being used for their wellbeing. "it's good to know they're in such good hands," you added, glancing at sylus with a satisfied smile.

he simply nodded, his hands in his pockets as you both walked out of the sanctuary, but the playful spark in his eyes remained, reminding you that even the coolest, most mature people could have a little spark of wonder within them.

you let out a small chuckle, thinking about the day’s events. "i can’t wait to tell mephisto what happened today."

you grinned, a mischievous glint in your eye. "oh, he’ll laugh alright--especially at how you got so excited about a bird..... he'll probably say that they’re sooo inferior to him."

sylus shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him as he walked alongside you. "he'll probably act all smug about it too," he mused. "like he’s some superior avian being."

you laughed. "oh, definitely. he’ll puff up his little chest and act like he’s the king of all birds."

sylus sighed in mock exasperation. "he already thinks that."

[staringdownabarrel]

I feel like Tom/B'Elanna is a much better canon ship than most people give it credit for.

For one, Tom and B'Elanna are both very similar people in a lot of ways. They both have the reputation of being troublemakers who'll butt heads with anyone and everyone at the drop of a hat but actually work well in group settings so long as they feel their work is appreciated and properly valued. Both have a small group of friends that they're basically ride or die for. Both have chronic issues with their families that might not ever be fully resolved. Both have a deep interest in engineering and mechanical design.

So while in some of the other canon ships, what these people see in each other is a mystery, there's no mystery here. Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres would have a pretty intuitive understanding of what makes the other tick because they're both motivated by a lot of the same things.

The only real question is whether or not they're looking for the same thing in a relationship. This is one of the reasons I'm not particularly fond of Worf/Jadzia as a canon ship: while it's clear why there'd be the initial attraction there, it's also pretty clear that they're both looking for very different things. Worf wanted someone to come home to but Jadzia still wanted to have the exciting social life.

I don't think there's as stark a contrast in what Tom and B'Elanna are looking for in a relationship, though. Even though they might be looking for different things, I don't think they're necessarily incompatible things.

For two, I don't think the ship derails either character. It's not like with Jadzia/Worf, where while Jadzia almost entirely stopped getting episodes dedicated to her specifically after she got in a relationship with Worf. Once she was with Worf, all her episodes were basically just relationship drama episodes. B'Elanna still got episodes heavily focused on her after getting with Tom, like Barge of the Dead and Prophecy.

While this might not be as many as people would like, that's just a problem with Voyager as a whole. It's been a criticism for a long time that the only characters who get any real attention, especially later on, are Janeway, the Doctor, and Seven of Nine. The bug in the program was always the bug in the program basically, not a product of this specific ship.

I think it is debatable if the ship came out of nowhere or not. However, I don't think this is necessarily as egregious as some of the other canon ships. Worf/Deanna and Seven/Chakotay both came out of nowhere at the last minute. B'Elanna/Tom came in the middle of the show, so they had a lot of time to justify the ship.

Really, the big problem is just that: did they justify this ship? There was a lot of room there for them to do that. I feel like a lot of the trouble on this point is that the Voyager writers tended to be better at the swashbuckler elements of Star Trek than they were character writers, so a lot of the stuff they could have done with these characters just never got done.

The thing is that isn't a unique problem for the franchise; especially during the Berman era. As much as some people like Rom/Leeta, I don't think the DS9 writers really did a whole lot to show why they'd ever want to be together. At least it's pretty clear why B'Elanna and Tom would initially want to be together beyond just the writers decided to make it so.

Still, I think Tom/B'Elanna was one of the best canon ships the Berman era had. Most of the problems it had were a product of the Berman era writers being dogshit at writing romantic subplots rather than a problem with the ship itself. I think it'd probably be a more popular ship on Tumblr if it weren't a het ship.

[nerdygaymormon]

I see you respond to hate mail, I am writing to say that I love your posts and it means a lot to me to know there is a queer person who is in church fighting for his place and trying to make it a better place

Awww, such a kind note 😊

I think about how all these people sending me their hateful notes are anonymous. My name and face are out there, I don't try to hide who I am, I stand by the things I post.

As a group, queer people are the bravest group I know. It takes courage to come out, and yet people do it every day.

I admire the athlete who is brave enough to come out at risk of alienating fans and their teammates.

I admire the kid who wasn't popular and knows coming out may ostracize them even more and yet they do it.

I think of people who show up to work and say from now on my name is this and these are my pronouns.

I think of people who were taught being gay is a sin and still choose to love the person they love despite what their family or church believe.

The anonymous ask where the person wants to learn and is asking a genuine question they may not feel comfortable asking if they had to do so publicly, that also is another form of bravery.

I think of queer people who are in the closet and yet are finding resources to affirm themselves until they are in a situation where they are ready to come out.

Queer people deal with name-calling, bullying, shaming, alienation, and they have to worry about how they'll be treated by employers, classmates, friends, and even family members. I work at a university and several times a semester we have preachers outside the building I work in proclaiming people like me to be sinners and damned to hell (they aren’t targeting me specifically, they happen to like the space next to my building, but it means I have to see and hear their messages)

On any given day, I don't feel particularly brave. Yet if I were to think back to the closeted me from years ago, he'd be amazed, in fact he probably wouldn't believe that I am out, I am public online, I chose to get a job at a place that offered partner benefits at a time when few employers offered them, I speak to church leaders about being queer, that I enjoy going to drag shows and to Pride events, and I have done years of therapy to deal with the mental health issues that have come from growing up as a queer Mormon in America. It would have seemed impossible to younger me that I could ever do those things.

Navigating discrimination requires resilience and strength. Challenging societal norms requires courage to stand up for your identity. Advocating for queer rights and equality takes courage in the face of adversity. Simply accepting and loving oneself, especially given societal pressures and stigma, is an act of bravery. Despite adversity and uncertainty, queer people keep going on