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daryltwdixon · 3 months ago

Text

Teach You

Daryl Dixon x Reader

warnings: smutttttt

notes: daryl has 0 game, 0 experience, and is eager to please. I thought about this as I was falling asleep last night and couldn't wait to write it for you. Inspired by Norman saying if Daryl ever got down and dirty there would be premature ejaculation

She/her pronouns, foreplay only, gets straight to it

The invitation had been innocent enough, though Daryl had found a way to make it a minefield in his head. Dinner at her house. Nothing fancy, she’d said. Just them, some canned spaghetti, and maybe a drink.

He’d almost said no, but the way she’d looked at him—smiling soft and easy, like she wanted him there more than anyone else—made him mutter, “Yeah, alright.”

Now, he’s sitting on her couch, shoulders stiff, his crossbow propped awkwardly by the door. She hums in the kitchen, clinking dishes together. He wonders if it’s too late to leave.

“Don’t sit too quiet in there,” she calls, teasing. “You’ll scare the furniture.”

Daryl huffs a laugh through his nose. “Furniture don’t need me to make it nervous.”

She steps into the room, carrying two mismatched bowls. “You kidding? You’re terrifying. Real menace, Dixon.” She hands him a bowl, sitting close enough for her thigh to press against his.

Daryl shifts, his grip tightening on the bowl. “S’not what people usually say.”

She gives him a sidelong glance, lips quirking. “What do they say?”

He doesn’t answer, staring into the spaghetti like it’s gonna save him. She leans in, the bare skin of her arm brushing his, and he forgets how to breathe.

“You’re not used to this, huh?” Her tone is light, but her eyes are searching.

He shrugs. “Dunno what ‘this’ is.”

“Someone flirting with you,” she says, blunt as ever, setting her bowl aside. “How’s that feel, by the way?”

He almost chokes. “Ain’t what you’re doin’.”

“It’s exactly what I’m doing.”

His ears burn, and he fights the urge to stand up and bolt. “Y/N—”

She cuts him off, leaning closer, her voice dropping to something softer. “If I haven't made it abundantly clear lately: I like you. A lot.”

The words hit him harder than any walker ever could. He swallows, glancing at her, then quickly away. “Ain’t right.”

“Why not?”

“I’m… too old.” He shifts again, looking anywhere but her face. “You could do better.”

Her laugh is quiet, almost disbelieving. “You really think that?”

He nods, his jaw tightening. “Don’t got think ‘bout it. It’s true.”

She tilts her head, watching him for a long moment. Then, setting her hand lightly on his knee, she asks, “When’s the last time someone told you you’re wrong?”

He tenses under her touch but doesn’t pull away. “Not wrong—”

��Daryl,” she interrupts gently. “You’ve got this whole big, twisted idea in your head about what you deserve. And it’s bullshit.”

He stiffens. “Ain’t—”

“Bullshit,” she says again, firmer this time. “And I’m gonna prove it.”

She stands, setting her bowl aside, then his, and turns to face him. Her hands are on her hips, her gaze steady as she looks down at him. “Can I ask you something personal?”

He frowns but nods hesitantly.

“Have you ever… been with someone?”

His face flushes crimson, and he drops his gaze to the floor.

“That’s a no, then.” Her voice is warm, not teasing, but it makes him flinch anyway.

“Don’t mean nothin’,” he mumbles, fidgeting where he sits.

“It means everything,” she counters, stepping closer. “Because if no one’s shown you what it feels like to be wanted, how’re you supposed to know?”

His heart hammers against his ribs as she moves between his knees, crouching down and resting her hands lightly on his shins. He stares at her like a deer caught in headlights. “What’re you doin’?”

She smiles, tilting her head. “Only what you want me to. But you have to tell me if you do.”

He swallows hard, his hands gripping the edge of the couch. “I...I dunno.”

“It’s okay to want, Daryl,” she murmurs, moving her legs up and onto his lap with a slow, deliberate movement so she's straddling him, her hands now resting delicately on his shoulders.

His breath catches, and he freezes, his hands hovering uselessly in the air, "Okay," he breathes.

Her voice drops lower, softer. “You don’t even know where to put your hands, do you?”

“I— I can’t—”

She gently lifts his wrists, guiding his hands to the curve of her hips. “Start here.”

He stares at her, wide-eyed, his fingers twitching against her waist. “You sure ‘bout this?”

“I’ve never been more sure.” She says, her hand coming up to cup his jaw, the touch sending electricity into his skin, “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing. Only if you want me to.”

His grip tightens slightly, a shuddering breath escaping him. “Yeah. I want it. I want you.”

Daryl barely has time to process anything before she tilts his chin up, forcing his gaze to meet hers. Her hands are steady, her expression soft but laced with something deeper-desire, maybe? His throat goes dry.

"First things first," she murmurs, brushing her thumb along the line of his jaw. "You ever kissed anyone before?"

He shakes his head, his breathing becoming irregular.

Her smile softens as it spreads across her face, endearing and non judgmental. She leans in, her breath warm against his lips. "Then let me teach you."

Her mouth brushes his softly, testing, like she's giving him the chance to pull away. He doesn't. Instead, his hands tighten on her hips as she deepens the kiss, her lips moving against his in a way that makes his head spin.

"Relax," she whispers against his mouth, pulling back just enough to guide him. He exhales shakily, his shoulders dropping slightly. When she kisses him again, he leans into it this time, his lips parting hesitantly.

She hums in approval, her hands threading into his hair, tugging gently to encourage him. He nearly lets out an inhuman noise at the feeling of her fingers curling in his hair, but he swallows it down, instead focusing on her soft lips on his.

"That's it," she breathes, her voice low and sultry. "Just follow me."

Her tongue traces the seam of his lips, and he jerks slightly, his breath hitching. She pulls back, laughing softly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he rasps, his face burning. "Just... wasn't expectin' that."

"Well, get used to it," she teases, leaning in again. This time, when her tongue slides tentatively into his mouth, he meets her halfway, mimicking her movements as best as he can. It's clumsy, but she doesn't seem to mind, her soft moans sending heat straight through him. It suddenly occurs to him that she might be enjoying this just as much as hime.

As the kiss deepens, her hips begin to move, rolling slowly against his lap. Daryl tenses, his fingers twitching against her sides as she grinds against him, finally drawing a low, shaky groan from his throat.

Her lips brushing against his stubble and eventually against the shell of his ear where she whispers, "You like that?"

"Yeah. Feels-feels good." he nods, swallowing hard.

She smiles, pressing a kiss to his jaw before pulling back just enough to grab the hem of her shirt. Slowly, she lifts it over her head, tossing it aside to reveal bare skin and soft curves that leave him staring, wide-eyed and trozen.

"You're beautiful," he mutters before he can stop himself, the words tumbling out unfiltered.

Her smile softens, and she cups his face in her hands, searching his eyes. "Could say the same about you. Touch me, Daryl."

His hands flex nervously on her hips, now pressing into bare skin that feels hot to the touch. "Don't wanna mess it up."

"You won't." She reaches for his hands again, guiding them upward until his calloused fingers brush the swell of her breasts. He sucks in a sharp breath, his touch featherlight and hesitant.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice rough with uncertainty.

"It's perfect," she murmurs, arching into his touch. "Here, let me show you."

She places her hands over his, guiding his fingers to knead and explore, her soft sighs of pleasure encouraging him. He grows bolder with each movement, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, drawing a gasp from her lips.

"Like that," she breathes, her hips grinding down harder against him. "You're doing so good, Daryl."

Her praise sends a jolt of heat through him, and he pulls her closer, burying his face against her neck as his confidence grows.

"Never done nothin' like this before," he admits, his voice muffled, his lips tracing the column of her neck and moving down to her shoulders, onto her clavicle and chest.

"You're a fast learner," she says breathlessly, tugging his hair gently to make him look at her. Her lips find his again, hungrier this time, and he responds with a desperation that surprises even him.

His hands continue their kneading of her breasts, traveling around her to hug her tight against him, the swell of them pressing into his clothed chest, his hips beginning to move instinctively beneath her. The thought occurs to him that he hates clothes.

She gasps against his mouth, breaking the kiss to press her forehead to his.

"You're incredible," she whispers, her voice breathy. "I've wanted this for so long."

Daryl swallows hard, his chest heaving.

"Don't know what you see in me, but... I don't wanna stop."

"Then don't," she murmurs, kissing him again. "I'll take care of you. Just let me."

With newfound confidence—or maybe just desperation—Daryl leans forward, pressing his lips against the soft skin of her chest. He works his way down, his kisses slow and clumsy, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her breath hitches when his mouth brushes between the swells of her breasts, and when he kisses the top, then the underside, he swears she arches into him on purpose, trying to drive him out of his damn mind.

Then, tentatively, he takes her nipple into his mouth. The sound she makes—low and ragged—has his cock straining so hard against his jeans he thinks he might lose it right there. Her hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging lightly as his tongue flicks out, testing, tasting her. She gasps, and that sound drives a hunger in him he’s never felt before.

His hips shift beneath her as she continues grinding against him, her movements deliberate and unrelenting. The friction is almost too much, the ache in his lap unbearable. He grips her hips hard, trying to slow her down. “You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he mutters, his voice rough, lips brushing against her neck.

She exhales a shaky laugh, a smile teasing her lips. “That’s kinda the point.”

Before he can respond, she leans back slightly, her hands moving to the waistband of her jeans. “Here,” she says, popping the button open with practiced ease. His breath catches as she begins to slide the zipper down, revealing the curve of her hip.

His mind races. He’s never had a woman like this before—so wanting for him, so sure of herself. His chest tightens at the thought of messing this up, of not being enough for her. But at the same time, his heart pounds with anticipation. God, he’s thought about her like this more times than he can admit. What her skin would feel like. What her lips would taste like. And now, it’s happening, and he feels so far out of his depth he doesn’t know where to begin.

She must notice his wide eyed stare, because her other hand tilts his chin up then, catching his gaze, "Only if you want to," she says again.

His throat is suddenly very dry, and all he can do is nod.

She smiles, and his chest tightens. She guides his hand beneath the waistband of her jeans, the soft skin of her pubic bone brushing his fingers first. The light tuft of hair there is the only thing rougher than her skin, and when his fingers graze lower, they slide easily over the slick heat of her center.

A growl rumbles in his chest, unbidden, as he realizes how wet she is. For him. His head spins, his blood roaring in his ears. When his fingers dip lower, pressing into her, her walls clench around them greedily. She moans—loud, uninhibited—and the sound nearly undoes him.

"Yes, Daryl, that's it," she breathes. "Curl them, baby."

He does as she says, his fingers pressing into her, finding that soft, spongy spot that makes her cry out and buck against him. His palm brushes against the swollen nub at the apex of her sex, and the way she moves against him, grinding against his hand, has him gripping her hip with his free hand to ground himself.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, his voice raw as he watches her, awestruck.

She’s beautiful—blissed out and needy, her body moving with his like they’ve done this a hundred times before. He can’t take it anymore. His free hand comes up, fingers curling lightly around the back of her neck as he pulls her down to kiss him. The kiss is desperate, hungry, and the little sounds she makes against his lips make his body tighten unbearably.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps against his mouth, her voice trembling. “I’m so close.”

Her words send a jolt through him, and he groans low in his throat, the tension in his core mounting to an unbearable peak as he groans against her lips, gasping for breath as his high flushes through him. Before he can stop it, his release hits him hard and stars break against his vision. Her whimpers rise to full on ragged moans as she presses into his hand then one last time, his fingers knuckle deep inside her as they press against her spongey walls as she tightens around them, sucking his digits further into her as the climax breaks over her.

His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, her kisses trailing down his jaw and neck as her hips slow, her ragged breaths giving way to soft, contented sighs.

When she pulls back, her cheeks flushed and her eyes hooded with lust, she looks down at him and smiles. “Did you just…?” she asks, her gaze dropping to his lap.

His face burns as he remembers himself, the wetness in his pants prominent as they both look down. Slowly, he pulls his hand from her, the loss of contact making her frown slightly. He bows his head, shame tightening his chest as he presses his hands into his lap.

“That is so hot,” she murmurs, her voice rich and warm, not even a hint of laughter behind it.

Daryl’s head jerks up, his breath catching in his throat. “Hot?” he rasps, his voice cracking slightly.

She nods, her smile soft and utterly disarming as her fingers trail along his jaw. “Yeah. You’re so worked up just from me, Daryl. That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Her words make his head spin. She’s serious—dead serious—and it hits him like a freight train. She isn’t mocking him, isn’t annoyed or disappointed. She likes him. Wants him. And not just in some passing way.

“You really mean that?” he mumbles, his hands twitching where they return to rest awkwardly against her hips.

Her brow furrows slightly, her expression turning tender. “Of course I mean it. You have no idea how crazy you drive me, do you?”

He stares at her, stunned silent, his heart hammering in his chest. He doesn’t understand it—can’t wrap his head around why someone like her would want someone like him—but the look in her eyes leaves no room for doubt.

Her lips brush against his, slow and teasing. “Wanna go again?” she whispers, her voice like honey. “I’ve got a few more things I can teach you.”

His heart stutters, and he swears the heat in her gaze alone could undo him all over again. She’s not just enjoying herself—she’s reveling in it, like she’s been waiting for this moment as long as he has.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and hoarse. He swallows hard, his body stirring again despite the lingering haze of his release. “Yeah, okay.”

Her smile widens, and it’s nothing short of radiant. She leans in, her mouth covering his in a kiss that feels deeper this time, more confident. He lets himself relax, his hands finding her waist, and for the first time, he lets himself believe this is real—that she’s here, wanting him, and not judging him for a second.

Her hips roll against him again, slow and deliberate, and his fingers tighten instinctively on her waist. When she breaks the kiss, her lips curve into a smirk, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. “Good. ‘Cause we’re just getting started.”

Part II

#gooood morning!#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #Daryl Dixon smut #smutty

1K notes · View notes

revasserium · 1 year ago

Note

Hey, can I request zoro x reader (established relationship) where the Strawhats end up going to reader’s home island (unknown to anyone in the group aside from reader), and the reader is super nervous and refuses to leave the boat, so the crew goes out and walk around and they find a missing/wanted poster of the reader and find out she’s a run away princess that needed to be. Later they coke to find out that reader ran away cause her parents and the servants mistreated and was about to marry her off to a violent prince

opla requests are: open

lips on every cross

opla!zoro; 5,989 words; fem!reader, semi-established?? relationship, posessive!zoro, strawhat!reader, no "y/n", reader gets kidnapped, fluff and angst, very brief! mentions of past familial abuse and trauma, nicknames ("Princess"), slow-ish burn???, more plot than not

summary: zoro has never thought himself a holy man. but he'd kiss every cross if it meant finding his way back to you.

a/n: idk why every opla fic i write is like... more plot than i bargained for but here we are. literally, this fic was just supposed to be "zoro calls the reader 'princess'".

01. when love arrives

(“Hey Princess —“)

The nickname starts, as almost all things do on the Going Merry, as a joke. And, as with most jokes made amongst the rag-tag crew, it sticks. He’d said it because he’s sure you’d mentioned your name once or twice already, but he’d been napping or eating and he didn’t feel like looking like an asshole right that moment.

The ribbon in your hair had caught the light in just the right way, pale pink satin — such a strange, soft color amidst the careening, careless ocean, and the word just… slipped.

“Why’dyou call her that?” Luffy asks, lounging back against the main mast as Zoro works through the umpteenth rep of single-armed pushups.

Zoro puffs out a breath and switches arms.

“Dunno. Seemed like it fit.”

Luffy slates you a long glance, blinking owlishly.

“Really? Eh — I guess… well, she is really pretty.”

Zoro only grunts, jumping up and stretching both arms over his head with a long, steady breath. His eyes flicker towards you as well, laughing with Nami on the foredeck, sipping on cocktails, Sanji probably simping somewhere nearby.

He thinks back to where they’d found you, hood pulled low over your eyes, the tell-tale signs of distress carved into every line of your body, from the curve of your spine to the bend of your shoulders.

Luffy hadn’t asked questions, so Zoro hadn’t either.

Curiosity, the fatal flaw that runs so sharp and obvious through the entirety of Luffy’s being, hasn’t always been rewarded well in Zoro’s experience. And he’s learned by now that “truth will out”, or so they say.

(“C’mon, Princess, I thought you said you could drink.”)

Caution, on the other hand, is Zoro’s oldest friend. You are cautious, if nothing else, and the first time he sees you relax in his presence, he wonders to himself if there’s a drug in this world strong enough to induce this feeling.

Later, he would learn that this is simply called falling in love.

He isn’t the only one who notices how you casually dip a silver fork or knife into every single drink before you take a sip, or that sometimes, you blurt out the word “no’ like a promise to yourself, and “sorry” like a plea for help.

And he’s spent long enough being a hunter to know what being hunted looks like. So he doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer, and somehow, you still manage to make yourself a home in the dark caverns of his chest, curling up there till he can’t count his heartbeats without it sounding like the shadow of your name on the midnight wind.

02. a study of light and dark

The drinking game starts off innocently enough (and don’t they always), but it takes half a round for the questions and subsequent answers to devolve into loud laughter and debauchery, delirium and debasement.

“Alright, alright —“ Sanji holds up a hand, tossing back his shot to raucous cheers, “worst thing you’ve done in a closet. Go —“

Zoro rolls his eyes and takes the shot, foregoing his answer. Nami simply grins, catlike, swirling her own drink around her glass.

“In your wildest dreams, cook,” she says before taking her shot as well. Sanji lets out a contemplative whistle, followed by a good-natured wink.

“Define worst, cause… I mean, I’ve puked in like… most of them back in Syrup Village,” Usopp says. Sanji only chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ll take it, we’ll take it.”

Luffy hums, frowning for a second before smacking a fist into his open palm, grinning, “I took a nap!”

Everyone laughs, helpless and buoyed up by the casual effervescence of a night like this — when the moon is dark and the stars are bright and thin wisps of silver clouds mar the sky like tendrils of lost daydreams, caught on the wrong side of sunset.

When the laughter settles down, everyone turns to you.

You purse your lips, feeling the weight of your answer pressing down on the tip of your tongue — I hid. And I waited. And I tried not to listen.

As the silence stretches on, Zoro leans forward and uncrosses his arms, reaching out to nudge a full shot glass towards you.

“Times up, Princess — drink,” and though there’s nothing soft or even forgiving in his voice, but you feel yourself relax as everyone boos and you take your shot.

The heat of Zoro’s gaze only lingers on your skin for a moment longer before he leans back again, that familiar almost-grin tugging lazily at his lips as he turns half-lidded eyes towards the rest of his crew.

(“Talk to me, Princess.”)

When you find him later, fumbling in the dark of the hallway just outside his room, you kiss him without saying “thank you” and he doesn’t question it when, pressed beneath him on the rough linen of his sheets, you ask to keep the lights on.

03. etymology

Princess — it’s a nice word, Zoro muses to himself. The light pop of the ‘p’ rolling into the warm, round ‘r’, thinning out into the sensual layering of the double ‘s’s, till you’re left with nothing but a hiss, a shadow, a memory.

It’s a regal word; a pretty word. Though its origins might be anything but.

From the Latin primus “first” and cept “catcher”, or so Robin had told him over the pages of an ancient book he hadn’t bothered to ask the name of, because Princes and Kings have always obtained their powers through taking, and never asking. Reaping, and never sowing.

Zoro thinks then that this, too, is a form conquest — you over him. The totality of your power stunning to behold, if only because he has to let you take it in the first place. And he does so willingly.

He wonders if you, too, are as multifaceted as his nickname for you — delicacy and desire wrapped around a darker something, lace laid over a knife’s unforgiving edge.

The first time he dares to kiss you, he feels you kissing him back, the sharp canines of your teeth catching on his lower lip, drawing out a soft grunt from him. You’d paused, and then you’d bitten down harder just to hear him gasp into your mouth.

He knew then, without ever having to ask, that you are.

04. tip of the iceberg

It is winter when they arrive — but then again, it is always winter here. Here, the cold runs so deep it drives frost crystals into the marrow of your bones. Here, the wind howls like a wounded animal and the night falls with a savage, carnal vengeance, all black velvet and a blood-tinted moon.

Here, the snow storms turn living, breathing heroes into song lyrics and poetry rhymes.

You inhale a single breath before turning and heading back below deck.

Zoro frowns, and at a single look from Luffy, he follows you beneath, only to find you rummaging around the kitchen, tugging a bottle of moonshine out from under the sink.

“Whoa,” Zoro says, reaching out to stop you from uncorking the bottle, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t miss the way you shiver, “bit early, isn’t it?”

“Bit rich, coming from you,” you snap, eyes sharp, voice stinging.

Zoro only cocks his other eyebrow in tandem and pulls the bottle from your hands before turning and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He takes his time filling them both with ice, and then pouring a finger into each glass.

You don’t meet his eyes as you reach out for your glass, but he catches your wrist.

“A drink for an answer,” he says.

You pause, your lips pressed into a thin, white line. And he knows it’s unfair, to turn this game around on you, because he can tell from the hard set of your shoulders that this is so much more than a drinking game but if this is what it takes to get the truth — then so be it.

“Fine,” you say, glancing away, voice clipped.

You move to take a sip, but Zoro pushes down your hand again.

“No lying.”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes, “Obviously.”

He eases off, picking up his own glass and clinking it against yours before taking a light swig, “You know this place.”

This time, you’re the one who turns around with a cocked brow.

“Got a question in there somewhere?”

Zoro’s lips twitch, “Yes, or no.”

You sigh, tapping a finger against the edge of your cup, “Yes.”

Zoro hums, “Your turn.”

You chew on your lips before taking a sip, “Why do you care so much?”

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Stupid question. Next.”

You huff, “That’s not how this game goes.”

Zoro swirls his glass before setting it down on the counter with a loud clack, “Because I care about you.”

You pause with your own drink halfway to your mouth and look up. Zoro doesn’t shy away from meeting your gaze and for a moment, time statics to a halt around you.

Then, Zoro sighs, unclenching his jaw as he attempts a lopsided smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he reaches out to trail a finger along the high of your cheekbones, up to the shell of your ear.

The ‘please’ hangs silent in the air between you; the ‘Princess’ is implied.

And for the first time, he thinks he sees you flinch. He makes to pull back but you tug his hand forward, pressing your cheek against his palm.

“This island,” you say, finally, the tremor in your voice like a hairline fracture snaking through a porcelain vase, “it’s… well, it used to be… my home.”

05. the secret history

It is the most beautiful place any of them have ever been.

The castle is made entirely of ice, the cold winter sun refracting the light into a million and one unseen colors. Giant ice-carved sculptures dot the crystal-flower gardens, and it takes them all a few minutes to realize that the gorgeous, delicate blooms are made of glass, blown and shaped to mirror real-life snowflakes — each unique, glittering, and eternal.

“Dude… how long do you think all this took to make?” Usopp asks, his head turning as if on a swivel, his jaw hinging off his face in awe.

Robin sighs, “Too long, perhaps.”

Zoro stays quiet, and beside him, so does Nami.

You’d insisted on staying back, to guard the ship, you’d said. But the space you usually fill in the group hangs solid in the air, a gaping hole of lack when there should be none.

Luffy hums and he marches out in front of them, ever the dubious, fearless leader. Though most of the crew has now come to terms with the fact that “courage” and “sheer bull-headedness” are often two sides of the same coin for him.

It’s Sanji who pauses first, causing Chopper to ram into the back of his knees.

“Ouch! What’dyou do that f —”

“Look,” Sanji says, pointing at a poster pasted to the slick outer wall of the castle gates.

And they do, leaning in, crowding too close. Zoro grunts as Chopper jumps and scrambles up his back to peer over his shoulder at the face plastered on the dew-soaked poster, the words LOST PRINCESS: 120,000,000 FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT LEADS TO HER WHEREABOUTS printed in giant, familiar block letters along the bottom.

Beside him, Zoro can feel Nami swallowing. Hard.

“A hundred and twenty million berry…” she murmurs, her breath going shallow as they all stare, dumbfounded at the poster of what is unmistakably you.

You, with your exquisite features schooled into something like solemnity, your usually wind-swept hair twisted up into a tight braid across the crown of your head, a diadem of ice-white silver and light-cut jewels jutting up from your severe updo like so many broken teeth, sharp and unforgiving as stalagmites.

If none of them had known, it’d be impossible to reconcile you with this cold, distant portrait, your eyes rendered lifeless and dull by the depthless black ink.

Luffy, however, only blinks and turns to stare at Zoro.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

Luffy continues to stare, “When I asked why you always call her ‘Princess’.”

Zoro sighs, turning his eyes back to the WANTED poster before shaking his head.

“No. Like I said… I thought it just… fit.”

06. eternal day

Zoro is itching to get back to the ship. There’s a fish-line sliver of worry tugging at the place behind his chest where his heart should be, and he knows implicitly that something is wrong.

“Don’t worry, she can take care of herself!” Luffy says, smiling bright, his confidence unwavering.

“No Luffy, Zoro’s right — someone should be with her. What if —” and here, Nami glances at Zoro before turning her attention back to Luffy, “— she might need the backup,” is what she finally settles with. And to Zoro’s great relief, Luffy agrees.

And then, to everyone’s horror, off in the distance, your voice rises over the wind in a blood-curdling scream.

07. endless night

By the time Zoro makes it back to the ship, you are already gone.

08. torn asunder

Gone, gone, gone. The word echoes like an ill-fated alarm bell, ringing through Zoro’s entire body as he catapults himself through the ship, slamming open every door, checking every nook, corner, and crevice. Signs of a struggle, that much is clear, scuffs on the freshly waxed planks of the aft deck, nail marks along the railings, and —

Zoro’s breath freezes in his chest.

A smear of blood that drips over the side of the ship, trailing down the ladder.

A flash of pale pink catches his eye.

Your satin hair ribbon lies abandoned on the wharfs’ boardwalk, the faintest splatter of red soaking its ends.

He picks it up between gentle fingers and tucks it deep into his pocket.

His vision blurs red as he thinks about the things your captors might’ve done to you before dragging you off. He’s seen you fight and it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down.

And by the time the rest of the crew reach him, he’s already sprinting back towards the castle, his jaw set, his teeth gritted.

It takes the combined effort of Sanji, Luffy, and Robin to stop him from charging through the castle gates and tearing the whole place down.

“Runnin’ round like a headless chicken’s not gonna do her any good, mate,” Sanji says, a smoke already caught between his teeth. A pre-fight ritual of his.

Zoro jerks his arm out of Sanji’s grasp, stalking down the street with a huff.

Robin strolls after him, somehow keeping pace, looking unhurried as Zoro tamps down the blind urge to slash the entire island in half.

“We’ll find her,” Robin says, her voice level, even as her sharp eyes scan the white-specked horizon, the usually amused half-twist of her lips laid flat by worry, “and she’s stronger than you think.”

At this, Zoro whips around, “I know —” but he bites down the venom threatening to surge up the back of his throat with a sigh. Robin doesn’t flinch, and Zoro attempts a steadying breath before repeating himself in a slightly softer tone, “I know… I’m just…”

Robin nods, and Zoro is thankful that he doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

09. the tower and the throne

The cold greets you like a scorned lover— a spiteful, savage mistress. Tendrils of frost creep along the walls of your old bedroom to caress your cheeks. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, sitting on familiar satin sheets.

“Dinner is soon, darling,” your mother’s cool voice calls from outside your bedroom door, “and make yourself presentable — we’ve got guests.”

The sadistic lilt of her voice as she says the word ‘guests’ makes you jerk your head up, staring at the door as if you might be able to bore through the thick wood with nothing but your eyes. And, almost as if she can feel you staring, you hear your mother’s cold, tinkling laughter.

“Hurry now… I had your favorite dress put out for you. It should still fit — and we don’t want to keep them… waiting.”

The slow, sanguine pause before her last word makes you want to rip out your hair and scream into the wind till your voice gives out.

Instead, you push yourself up and reach for the dress laid out at the foot of your bed with shaking fingers.

The dress fits you like a second skin, the delicate lace trim barely sweeping the floor as you adjust the bodice, grimacing at your reflection in the large, floor-length mirror. It is as if the last ten months had never happened, as if you’d never escaped this terrifying hellscape of a winter wonderland. As if you’d simply dreamed every single sun-filled afternoon, every star-strewn night spent laughing and singing amongst your new-found crew.

Here, in the fragile glass reflection, you are once again a girl trapped behind her own ribcage, with a destiny carved into stone and ice, with no hope of summer in sight. You take a long breath and tighten the ribbons of your dress.

You are still and silent as the maid slips in through the door after a single knock and begins to twist up your hair. Tighter and tighter, till it sets your teeth on edge. When she pins the crown in place, it takes everything inside you not to fall apart, to shatter at the weight, the sight of it sitting on your head. You swallow as the maid dips her head and backs out of the room with a murmured dinner is served, Princess.

For the first time, you wince openly at her words.

10. waiting for the rain

The hall is just how you remembered it, huge and cavernous, gaping like the empty maw of some petrified monster, the ceiling hanging with so many cold, sparkling chandeliers, ice-carved statues jutting up from the floors like teeth.

You’re marched in like a show animal, the great marble doors swinging open before you as you step forward and feel your breath freeze in your chest.

There, strung up on a massive statue of some long-forgotten saint, is Zoro, cuts and bruises marring his already scarred and puckered torso. But he smirks as he sees you come in, his eyes bright as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the seemingly endless white floors. Around him, the rest of your crew sits, tied and slumped over in chairs like so many sleeping mannequins.

“Hey there, Princess. Just in time for dinner.”

You nearly wince at the raspiness in his voice, the faint trickle of blood that leaks out the corner of his mouth.

“Silence,” your father’s voice echoes out from the high-backed chair at the head of the ludicrously long table. You don’t have to see to know his face is as smooth as just-applied plaster. But Zoro only has eyes for you — and he continues to talk as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“If you’d told us we’d be welcomed like this, we might’ve packed differently.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you almost taste the metallic tang of blood.

“Our daughter has always been a skillful liar — though it’s a habit we tried to… rid her of in her youth. The lesson never seemed to have stuck.” Your mother this time. And now, you can see the muscle ticking in Zoro’s jaw as he scoffs.

“Really? And here I always thought she was shit at lying.”

You swallow down a whimper as the maid wordlessly leads you to the far end of the table, where Zoro is still tied. You drop into the seat between a snoring Luffy and an eerily still Nami, and it’s all you can do not to turn around and retch onto the silk embroidered rug.

“Be that as it may…” your mother’s voice drops a few degrees — an admirable feat, as her voice is usually just on the other side of frigid, “it’s bad luck to kill on the eve of a royal wedding.”

At this, Zoro’s head snaps around and you shrink back in your chair, your eyes fixed on your fists, clenched in your lap.

“Mother,” you grind out, finally forcing your head up so as to meet her piercing, blizzard-bright gaze, “I’ve told you, I’ve no intention of getting married. At least not to the mongrel you’ve decided to set me up with.”

You spit out the last sentence, trying to remember all the snark, all the confidence that’d built up inside you over the past weeks and months. Away from this dreaded castle and on the sun-soaked bow of the Going Merry, it was the first time you’d begun to discover who you are — the things you liked, the ways of life that you yearned for.

Your father slams a hand on the table at the same moment that Zoro lets out a bark of laughter.

“Insolence!”

“Damn, Princess — you never told me you could bite.”

And, to your horror and perhaps deep-seated pleasure, a blush works its way into your cheeks at Zoro’s words. Your eyes snap towards him, catching his gaze as he smirks at you. And even though his shirt is slashed, his sword hilts hanging woefully empty at this hip, his hands twisted painfully behind him on the statue, he still manages an easy, condescending air.

You seize at this tiny tendril of normalcy as you force a wane smile.

“I might be persuaded to do more than that… if you ask nicely.”

Zoro’s snicker is drowned out by your mother’s sharp gasp. But you don’t look away, holding Zoro’s gaze for as long as you dare — in it, you find an entire abyss of barely concealed rage (and is that… amusement?), his entire body straining against the shackles that hold him. Then, his eyes slip from you to a point just over your shoulder.

It’s then that you realize: Luffy’s not snoring anymore.

11. to reap and to sow

You’re never quite certain of how the Merry’s crew seems to always just wriggle out of frankly gruesome and untimely deaths, but here you are, racing for the docks like your lives depended on it. Because, well, it kind of does.

“Remind me —” you shout between pants, one hand clutched firmly in Zoro’s, the other doing its best to lift the ridiculous dinner dress they’d put you in — a confection of lace and tulle, the bodice laced with pale pink satin ribbon, “how the hell did you guys manage to trick my parents into thinking you’d eaten the spiked food?”

Sanji flashes you a toothy grin, “Ah love… you know how it is — ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies!”

Luffy, however, whoops as he launches himself from a pair of solid brick buildings, catapulting himself over your sprinting crew.

“We just — pretended to eat! I mean — I did kinda actually eat a bit — but — it wasn’t that bad!”

You resist the urge to pinch your nose bridge at the nonchalance with which Luffy is talking about consuming poisoned food, but you’ve only got two hands and both are equally occupied at the moment. You settle for an exasperated sigh.

“That was — really stupid! — What if — they’d — poisoned the food — with something — other than — sleeping medicine?!” you ask, forcing air into your lungs as finally, you all round the bend onto the bustling pier, the Going Merry’s unmistakable shape silhouetted against the misty horizon.

“We can talk when — we’re all back — on the ship!” Nami calls as she sprints passed you, reaching out a hand for Luffy, who’s elongated arm grabs her and slings her onto the deck of the ship. You barely have a second to breathe before Zoro’s arm loops around your waist and you’re being pulled tight into his side.

His breath is hot against your collarbone as he smirks, “Hold on tight, Princess.”

It’s all you can do to listen as you’re suddenly whipped through the air like a doll on a drunken marionette’s string. A bright peal of Luffy-tinted laughter later, you thud onto the deck of the Going Merry, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as the world spins and spins. You’d expected to hit solid wood, or maybe even the railing or the mast but —

Zoro groans beneath you, and it takes you a long second to realize that he’d cushioned your fall, your bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders, his still steady around your waist.

“O-oh! Sorry —” you try to pull away but Zoro’s grip on you only tightens.

You freeze as he blinks up at you, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Crown’s crooked,” Zoro finally says, that tell-tale smirk twisting the edge of his lips as his gaze flickers upwards. Your hand jumps to the crown, somehow still clipped into your now disheveled hair, lopping to one side as the braids start to come loose. You purse your lips.

“I never liked it anyway…” You make to tug it out but Zoro reaches up to right it, though he lets his hand linger as he falls along the side of your face.

“Nah, looks good on you.” His voice is so low, and suddenly, air is such a language that you’re certain you’d forgotten how to speak. Slowly, he pushes up till you’re both sitting, you still pressed against him and him still pressed against you. Distantly, you can hear shouting, Usopp’s voice raised high over the wind as the Merry careens out of port and towards the open sea.

But strangely, no one makes to pull you away from him, or him from you.

“I should’ve told you guys…” you say, eyes casting down as you rest your palms against his chest. Beneath it, you can feel his heart — pounding, pounding, pounding. There’s a light sheen of sweat glimmering on his honeyed skin as you swallow, looking back up even as he chuckles.

“Sure, but we should’ve asked.”

You bite your lips, “I think you did.”

Zoro grins, shrugging as he helps you up, somehow managing to keep his arm slipped around your waist.

“Well. Should’ve asked better, then.”

12. lost stars

It takes you a while to tell them the story — the real story, the whole story. And there’s drinking involved, but it’s mostly just you clutching at your half-filled glass, Zoro’s knee pressed comfortingly against yours, even though his eyes are closed, his head leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

You tell them about the dark underbelly of royalty that everyone knows but no one wants to talk about — the blood and teeth beneath the silk and silver. You tell them about being raised a bargaining chip, of being sold and promised like a prized heifer on auction day.

You tell them about the moonless nights when the only thing you had to keep you company was the cold, about the “lessons” your mother would teach you, about how the maids would be instructed to hide the bruises just so, about the Prince who you were set to marry and the rumors that plagued his castle —

“They say that he’d take the prettiest girls from the surrounding town as his maids and that none of them ever walked out of his castle again,” you say. The moonshine burns on its way down your throat as you finish your drink.

Wordlessly, Zoro reaches over to pluck the glass from your hand and set it on the table. It’s only then that you realize your fingers are white and trembling.

“Did he hurt you?”

Zoro’s voice is not loud, but everyone turns to look at him. You shake your head, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No. I only ever… met him once, at a dinner party. It was after that that I… ran away.”

Zoro hums, leaning back again, “Good.”

Across the room, Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings and frowns.

“Were you about to offer to hunt him down?” Robin asks, sounding amused.

Zoro shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered — would’ve just done it.”

“He sounds like the kinda guy we should hunt down anyway, no?” Luffy asks, cocking his head as he looks back at you, “I mean, I’m glad he never hurt you but… he’s still hurting people!”

“Luffy’s got a point,” Sanji says, stubbing out his cigarette.

“For once, I agree with Sanji,” Nami says.

There’s a light squabble during which Sanji makes an aggrieved noise and Nami rolls her eyes, and then everyone is laughing and chatting and more drinks are being poured. Next to you, Zoro reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist again. It’s something he’s been doing more lately, and you can’t honestly say that you mind it much at all.

“We don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward, almost as if to brush his lips by your ear, “if… if you don’t want to.”

You shiver at the base rumble of his voice, at the way his eyes are so warm and full of some uncertain promise.

“No, I… I do want to. It’s just…”

Zoro’s fingers trace small, absent-minded circles into the skin of your waist and you fight down another shiver.

“I don’t plan on letting you get kidnapped again, Princess.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet Zoro’s, and there’s a faint smile kissing the line of his lips. And suddenly, the lightness of his touch doesn’t feel so thoughtless as heat curls out from the place where his palm meets your skin, radiating out till you’re breathless with it.

“Oh?”

“Never liked people trying to take what’s mine.”

And the dark possessiveness with which he says mine leaves little room for interpretation, even as you lick your lips and try to think of something witty to say.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours.”

It’s the best you can come up with; Zoro’s only response is a soft, contemplative grunt.

“What’s that saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he flashes you a satisfied grin as you narrow your eyes at him, swatting at his chest as he laughs.

“I meant it though,” he says, a moment later, as the rest of the crew all chatter around you, “about calling it off if you don’t want to. But…” he reaches up a free hand to tug a strand of your hair free from the ponytail it’s tied up in.

“Figured you might sleep better at night knowing he’s gone.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, your whole body softening as you lean into him, pressing your palms to his chest as he looks at you.

“Yeah… I think I might. And… like you said… it’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped again.”

You smile, letting your eyes flicker down to Zoro’s lips. His smile is pleased and just a little jagged as he tugs you up by the hand and the pair of you slip from the room.

Above deck, the sun is setting, and the warm, slanted light casts the entire ship in a glaze of gold that looks almost gilded. You lean against the railings, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin, chasing away the chill that’d been lingering at your fingertips since you’d all made your spectacular escape from your home island.

You feel rather than hear Zoro join you. You take your time breathing in the salty tang of the humid sea air before opening your eyes and slating him a side-long look.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“For coming after me.”

Zoro scoffs, turning away from the roiling waves to lean back against the railings, his head cocked as he looks you over.

“Like I said… I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”

But this time, you laugh, nodding, “So you’ve said. But still… thanks.”

“Hn.”

Zoro closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the last vestiges of the setting sun as it sinks ever-lower along the horizon. Then, he opens one eye to peer at you.

“Though I’ve been meaning to ask —”

“Hm?”

“What’s this about doing more than biting… if asked about it nicely enough?”

You try to duck your head but Zoro catches your chin in his fingers.

“I — I just… knew it would piss off my mother if she —”

“Mm, sounded like more than that to me.”

Your breath hitches as Zoro’s thumb traces a rough line along your bottom lip.

“How about… I show you?” and the offer is barely out of your mouth before Zoro is kissing you, his mouth seeking out yours with a soft groan that betrays all the lightness in his touch as he trails his free hand down your arm to pull hard at your waist.

And it’s not the first time you’ve kissed. It’s not even the first time a kiss with Zoro has become more than just a kiss, though you’d always been careful before to make sure that he knew (though thinking back, it might’ve just been an ill-fated attempt at lying to yourself) that the pleasure shared between bodies was just that — pleasure and bodies.

But this — this kiss becomes, and becomes.

It becomes breath and heartbeats, pleasure and heat. It becomes truth and promises and the tantalizing taste of fairy-tale endings.

“Z-Zoro…”

“Yes Princess?”

You hiss as his teeth grazes along your pulse point and your fingers fist in his hair.

“Y’know…” your voice comes out as nothing more than a soft pant as Zoro tugs you over to one of the reclining chairs beneath the orange trees and pulls you over his hips, “I’ve never liked being called that but…”

“But?” his thumbs inch beneath the material of your shirt, circling your hipbones as he smirks up at you.

“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Zoro’s grin goes wide and wolfish. Above him, the first stars spark into being as the sun finally sinks beyond the far horizon. For a second, his smile softens as he reaches up to toy with the end of the pale pink ribbon in your hair. Then, he gives it a single, solid tug, and your hair falls open around your shoulders, tumbling down in waves.

Zoro leans up to press a light kiss to the blood-stained satin before letting it flutter off in the wind, twisting into the rapidly darkening night.

“Good… cause I ain’t about to let anyone else call you that either.”

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corroded-hellfire · 3 months ago

Text

Food, Football, and Friends - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: With so many people coming over for Thanksgiving dinner, it's no surprise things get a little chaotic.

Note: Happy Thanksgiving!

Warnings: chaos that is typical of this family, Eddie's breeding kink doesn't take a holiday off, Dustin is married to someone that is not Suzy sorry

Words: 3.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Not bothering to knock, Steve opens the front door to the Munson household and pops his head inside.

“This looks like a nice house,” he says as he pushes the door all the way open. “Might be able to steal something nice.”

A huff comes from behind him and Mia pushes in the house past her father. The six-year-old scowls as she leans down to unbuckle her shiny Mary Janes.

“We’re not thieves!” Her voice carries throughout the house, summoning the little person who has been waiting all day to see her.

“Miaaaaaa!” Eliza’s heavy tread thumps down the hallway as she runs into the living room at full speed. The friction of her white tights against the carpet halts her when she reaches her destination.

Before Mia can answer, Steve crouches down in front of the youngest Munson. He frowns and tilts his head, a few chestnut locks falling in his eyes.

“What about me? Am I chop liver?”

Your toddler giggles and leaps into her uncle’s arms. She wraps her arms around his neck for a hug, but before she can pull away, Steve stands up, hoisting her over his shoulder in an attempt to keep her from her best friend.

“Noooo!” Eliza whines, her little legs kicking.

“Oh, fine,” Steve sighs as he lets her down.

Eliza straightens her black and white dress before looking up to see Wayne walk in the door right behind Nancy.

“Grandpa!”

“There’s my girl!”

Wayne scoops her up and peppers kisses all over her face. The small girl giggles and tries to push his face away, his scruff tickling her.

“Where’s Daddy?” Wayne asks.

“Dunno,” Eliza answers with a shrug.

“He’s outside,” Luke says as he strolls into the room.

Nancy can’t help but notice how her youngest’s face lights up when the twelve-year-old Munson walks into the room. She clamps her lips together, trying not to giggle at Mia’s adorable crush on Luke, acting like she doesn’t notice the hearts in the young redhead’s eyes.

“Should we lock him out?” Steve asks about your husband.

Wayne sighs. “Eh, he’s scrappy, he’ll find a way back in,” he says as he sets Eliza back down.

The moment her feet hit the ground, the toddler runs over to Mia and throws her arms around the girl’s sparkly silver dress. Concentration on Luke broken, Mia laughs and falls to the ground with Eliza, giving her a hug in return.

“Yeah,” Steve says as he watches the girls. “I think the little munchkin would let him in.” He nods towards Eliza.

“She can’t reach the door,” Danny points out to his dad.

“Eliza finds a way to do anything,” Luke says, his tone conveying all the experience he’s had in that regard.

Before anyone else can add to the conversation, the sound of clinking and clanging pots and pans rings out from the kitchen. Automatically, everyone's heads turn in that direction.

“Shit!” Your voice echoes out into the living room.

Immediately, Nancy brushes past her husband, patting him on the chest as she goes by.

“Play nice,” she tells him as she continues into the kitchen. The sight before Nancy has her biting her lip to keep in a grin for the second time in a matter of minutes. There you stand, holding a pot lid in one hand, holding the top of your head in the other. Your friend cocks an eyebrow at you. “Everything okay in here?”

Lamely, you raise the pot lid and give her a small wave with it.

“Gave myself a concussion looking for this so the mashed potatoes better taste damn near perfect.”

“I’m sure they will,” Nancy assures you, coming closer to take the lid out of your hand. She gently sets it on the pot simmering on the stove and turns back to you. “Anything I can do to help?”

Steve’s voice booms out from the living room before you can respond.

“You’re on, Munson!”

Eyes rolling skyward, you heave a sigh and shake your head.

“Keep our husbands from injuring themselves before dinner?” you ask.

“I’m afraid not.” Nancy winces. It’s an impossible task, you both know that.

As you open the refrigerator to grab the milk, Luke runs into the room–never one for just walking–with a grin on his face.

“We’re going to play football!” he announces.

You raise an eyebrow as you measure out the cup of milk to add to the mashed potatoes.

“Who exactly is ‘we?” you ask.

“Me, Ryan, Theo, Danny, Uncle Steve, Grandpa, Daddy…and uh, maybe Natalie.”

The mention of your husband has you turning to give your son your full attention, letting the measuring glass of milk clank down on the counter.

“Your father is going to play football?”

“He’s gonna try,” Luke says with a mischievous snicker. You completely agree with your sports-loving son’s disbelieving and amused tone. You’re not even sure Eddie knows what the different positions in football are called.

“Is that what he and Steve were bickering about?” Nancy crosses her arms over her chest and rests her hip against the edge of the kitchen table.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Mia is gonna stay in the living room with Liza.”

“Luke, come on!” Theo calls out.

“My daughter is a little mother hen,” Nancy says with a smile as Luke runs out to join his new team. Mia may be the youngest sibling in her family, but that means she takes the responsibility of having a toddler best friend very seriously.

Noise clatters from your backyard and you take a few steps to look out the large window over the kitchen sink. Through it, you can see Steve and Eddie standing next to each other, pointing at the mass of children that are in front of them—all of them except Ryan and Natalie.

“Come on, it will be fun,” Ryan says from the next room just as you’re wondering about him.

The unmistakable sigh of a teenage girl is heard before Natalie agrees, “Fine.”

Their footsteps fade out the door and Nancy raises her brow at you.

“I’m impressed,” she says. “No one can get Natalie to do anything anymore.”

“Hormones?” you ask, turning back to the stove as some boiled water sloshes over the side of a pot. The steam hisses and floats off into the air.

“Oh, yeah. Having a teenage daughter is great.”

“Oof, I do not miss being a teenager,” you say.

“What, you stopped, like, last year?”

You spin around to see Nancy smirking at you, and you whip your kitchen towel at her in an attempt to wipe the shit eating grin off her face. She laughs and swats the rag away, affectionately wrapping an arm around your waist as she comes to stand beside you.

“Come on, now let me help you,” she chides.

“Fine,” you relent. “Want to chop those carrots?”

“No problem.”

Loud footfalls stampede towards the kitchen, but they’re not quite as heavy as Eliza’s usually are, so you’re not surprised when Mia comes racing into the kitchen. One of these times these running children are going to hurt themselves.

“Auntieeee?” she asks you as she comes to a stop.

“Miaaaaaa?”

“Eliza is hungry,” she tells you. “Can I get her a snack?”

“Sure thing, cutie.” You wipe your hands off on the towel and walk over to the pantry. The Cheerio box is right at eyelevel as you reach for it and hand it to Mia. “Just make sure she doesn’t eat too many, okay?”

“Okay!” she calls over her shoulder as she runs out with the box.

Just as you’re about to reach for a knife, the doorbell rings. You head out to the living room, smiling when you see Eliza and Mia sitting in front of the television, sharing Cheerios and watching the rerun of the Thanksgiving Day Parade. The big Snoopy balloon passes by as you grab the doorknob. There stand Lucas and Max with their daughter Tiffany, and Dustin with his wife Anne and their baby girl, Molly. The moment she sees you, Tiffany launches herself forward with a squeal. She wraps her arms around your hips and hugs herself against your body.

“Well, hello there,” you greet her. To allow everyone else into the house, you pick up the six-year-old and take a few steps back from the door. “You wanna join Eliza and Mia?” When she nods, you let Tiffany down to go join the other girls.

The moment your arms are free, you’re being pulled into more hugs with everyone and wishes for a happy Thanksgiving. Last but not least, you pluck Molly from her mother’s arms and give her a big kiss on the cheek.

“I can’t believe how big she is!” you coo. Now well over a year old, the last time you saw the youngest Henderson was when she was nine months.

Dustin grabs her walker from the car, since she’s still new to the whole walking thing and not the steadiest. He sets it down in the living room and you plop her down in the Minnie Mouse themed rover. She instantly takes off in the direction of the television, as if knowing she wants to be a part of this little girl gang.

“Eliza?” you call. “Do you want to come say hi?”

It takes her a second, but finally, Eliza finishes the Cheerio that’s in her hand and pushes herself up on to her feet. She toddles over, smiling when she sees her Aunt Max—who is arguably her favorite person who is not a Munson or Harrington. Her aunt gives her a big hug. Then, Eliza stops in front of Dustin. Saying nothing, she just stares up at him, her big brown eyes blinking a few times.

“Hi, Eliza!” When your daughter doesn’t answer, Dustin kneels down to be at her level. “Remember me? Uncle Dustin?”

She just keeps staring.

Lucas laughs at the little girl’s nonreaction and snatches her up into his own arms. “Mwah!” he presses a kiss to her cheek. Instantly, Eliza grins and wraps her arms around his neck for a hug.

Dustin pouts up at the scene before him, lower lip jutting out dramatically as he stands back up.

“Hey! I’m the cool uncle!” he protests. And it’s true; if the other kids were in the house right now, they’d all be climbing over Dustin until the poor man gets lost in a sea of children.

“Guess not anymore,” Lucas says with a shrug.

“It’s gotta be because I live further away,” Dustin argues. “She sees me less.”

“Sure,” Lucas says, his tone far from sincere.

Max rolls her eyes at the two men’s bickering, presumably tired of it after hearing it for almost a decade and a half. The redhead takes Eliza from her husband’s arms and turns to face Dustin’s wife.

“These stilly boys,” Max says to Eliza. “Say hi to your Aunt Anne?”

Your daughter gives a small wave, but it’s clear from the blank look on her face that she just wants to be put down to go back to Mia. Sensing this as well, Max grants her wish.

“Where’s Ed?” Dustin asks.

“In the backyard,” you say. “Playing football.”

“Football?” Dustin almost chokes on his own spit out of shock.

“I know,” you say.

“I have to see this,” Lucas says, looking towards the back door and rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

He and Dustin go to join the game in the backyard while Max and Anne follow you into the kitchen. Nancy greets the new arrivals while you take up your previous position at the stove. As you lift the lid off the pot on the back burner, you listen to the women behind you talking and laughing. It brings a smile to your face to be surrounded by women friends. Besides a two-year-old, the only others in the house are guys. And as much as you love them, it’s not the same as having other ladies around.

Two sets of running feet zoom past the kitchen and the sound of the squeaky hinges on the backdoor let you know the two six-year-olds have gone to join the fun outside. You peek back out the window and chuckle to yourself when you see Mia and Tiffany cheering on the sidelines. Unsurprisingly, they seem to be cheering for the team that Luke is on. Mia’s idea, no doubt.

There are only a few more potatoes to add to the pot in front of you, so once those are in you go out into the living room to check on the younger girls. A gasp strangles out of you when you first see the two. Then as your brain has a moment to adjust and see that everything is okay, you break out into laughter.

“What did you do, little girl?” you ask your daughter. You shake your head in amusement as you walk over to the two of them, both covered in Cheerios that are also scattered around the living room floor.

Eliza grins up at you, small pieces of Cheerios still sticking to her baby teeth.

“Molly hungry!” she tells you.

“Oh, okay,” you say with a nod. “So, you thought to give her a snack like Mia did for you?”

“Mhmm!” She sounds quite proud of herself, and it makes your heart melt.

“Well, that was very thoughtful of you.”

Laughter erupts from behind you, and you look over your shoulder to see Max walking into the room. She takes in the mess before her and looks between the two babies.

“What’re you troublemakers doing?” she asks as she comes up beside you.

A timer in the kitchen drags your attention away from the conversation and Max waves you on in that direction.

“Go ahead, take care of that. I’ll clean this up, then take these two outside. They can be the referees.”

“Thank you.” You give Max’s shoulder an appreciative squeeze as you walk past her.

Back in the kitchen, you turn off the timer and pull the green bean casserole out of the oven.

Cheers ring in from the backyard, bringing a smile to your face. Anne steps up to look out the window at everyone.

“I think I’m going to go make sure no one is doing anything stupid,” she says.

“Nurse is never off duty, huh?” Nancy asks with a smile.

When Anne steps out of the room, you turn to Nancy and raise an eyebrow.

“She wants to make sure no one is doing anything stupid?” you ask. “She clearly doesn’t know that is most of what our husbands do.”

Nancy laughs and nods her head in agreement.

“We should keep her here as an on-call nurse.”

“She’d be busier here than in the ER,” you joke.

You and Nancy work silently side by side for a little while, before Nancy notices you starting to buzz around the kitchen more, a hectic mood settling over you. She licks over her lips before looking in your direction.

“Is something burning?” she asks.

“What?”

You whip your head around to stare at her before looking at the stove.

“Smell it?” she asks, grabbing a paper towel to wipe her hands off on.

You take a few deep inhales, and a frown pinches your face.

“No,” you admit.

“That’s because there’s nothing burning,” Nancy says, taking a few steps closer to you. She rests her hands on your shoulders and looks you in the eye. “But it got you to take some deep breaths. Take a few more, okay?”

Catching on to her scheme, you narrow your eyes at her as you do indeed take a few more deep breaths.

“You’re sneaky,” you tell her.

“I have to be with four kids,” she replies.

It’s not long before the game outside comes to an end and people start coming back into the house in waves. Eddie finally comes in and your heart stutters in your chest when you see him. His face is flushed from the exertion, his breathing a little labored for the same reason. His hair is frizzier than usual and when he comes closer to you, you can feel the chill coming off of him. It’s only confirmed when you put your hands on his cheeks and feel how cool they are to the touch. His smile makes you dizzy, not even registering how cold his lips are against yours when he leans in for a kiss.

“Everything smells good,” he mumbles against your mouth.

“Did you win?” you ask, reluctantly going to check on the turkey.

His sigh tells you the answer before his words do.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he grumbles.

Both you and Nancy share a chuckle as he sulks out of the room. Ryan pops in right after, going over to the sink to wash his hands. His face is flushed like his father’s, but his hair is faring far better. Wayne, Theo, and Danny come in behind your son and Wayne goes into the fridge to grab water bottles for all the boys.

“Can I help?” Ryan asks you as he dries his hands.

“Of course, sweetheart.” You press a kiss to his head as you slip by him to grab the salt. “Do you want to get started on the stuffing?”

“Sure.”

Danny wrinkles up his nose as he takes a sip of his water.

“Cooking is for girls,” the eight-year-old declares.

“Danny!” Nancy immediately snaps.

“Hey,” Wayne says, nudging the boy on the shoulder. “I was a cook in the army. That don’t sound girly, does it?”

Danny shakes his head, looking cowed.

“No,” he says softly.

“What do you say?” Nancy asks.

“I’m sorry.”

Ryan ruffles the boy’s hair before pretending to spill the bowl of breadcrumbs he’s carrying all over him. Danny laughs and runs away before Ryan can actually make a mess of him.

“Hey, all available squirts!” Eddie calls from the next room.

“I’m not available,” Ryan mumbles, obviously not keen on whatever his father has planned.

Luke trails into the kitchen and looks around, confused like he hasn’t lived there for years.

“Uh, I’m supposed to set the table. Where’s the stuffs?” he asks.

“By yourself?” you ask, showing him where you already have the cookery and cutlery out and ready to go.

“Nope.”

Luke lets out a small chuckle but before you can ask what’s so funny, Mia follows in behind him. It’s clear she volunteered to be your son’s assistant.

“I’m here to help!” she announces.

Carefully, you load up both kids with as much as you think they’re able to handle. Luckily, a parade of other small humans comes in to finish the job.

“Quite the operation you’ve got going here,” you say to your husband as you step into the dining room. “Putting the kids to work.”

“They’re my elves,” he says with a shrug.

You giggle and press a kiss to his cheek before walking back into the kitchen.

Ryan and Natalie amble in, neither looking too happy. Eddie doesn’t ask why; he knows they’ll tell him.

“I don’t want to sit at the kids’ table,” Ryan whines. For a fourteen-year-old, Eddie thinks Ryan gripes more than his literal baby sister.

Natalie looks at the adult table, then at the kids’ table. There are nine chairs seated at each and she’s clearly trying to figure out how two can be added to the larger table.

“Me neither,” she says while mentally calculating.

Lucas steps into the room behind the teens and Eddie sees a great opportunity.

“Okay, you guys can sit with us,” he tells them. “As long as you contribute to the conversation.”

“Really?” Natalie asks, instantly perking up. It amazes Eddie how quickly she goes from looking like Wednesday Addams to Pippi Longstocking.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He looks over at his former Hellfire Club member and nods at him. “By the way Lucas, did you see that the DOW is down three points today?”

Lucas doesn’t miss a beat.

“Huh,” he muses. “You know, I was just talking to my broker about that over a rousing game of golf. He suggested I take another look at my portfolio.”

“Ugh fine, we’ll sit at the kids’ table,” Ryan groans.

The two of them slink off to the other side of the room as Eddie and Lucas share a quiet laugh.

“Don’t even know if I got all the terms right,” Lucas admits.

Eddie, Ryan, Nancy, and Max all help you take the food out to the table—well, tables. Eliza watches it all as Wayne settles her in her highchair at the kids’ table. She’s practically salivating as her chocolate eyes move from dish to dish. Even Mia taking the seat between her and Luke doesn’t take her attention from her dinner.

Annie settles Molly into her own highchair—Eliza’s old one that she outgrew. When Eddie had gotten it out of the garage both of you got a little misty-eyed that your daughter is getting so big.

The turkey is placed at the head of the table, right in front of Eddie’s seat. He picks up the large carving knife and Luke over-dramatically gasps from his place at the kids’ table. You finish scooping some mashed potatoes onto Eliza’s plate and playfully tug on one of Luke’s curls.

Eddie glances up from time to time, watching as you make sure each kid has a little bit of everything on the plate in front of them.

“You’re gonna lose a finger, boy,” Wayne warns. The older man smiles though, at the way his nephew looks at his wife.

Eddie sets the knife down and discreetly pops the wishbone out of the bird. If he doesn’t set it aside now all the kids will be arguing over it and Eddie isn’t sure there’s enough wine in the house to deal with that. This way, Eddie can show the kids the carved-up turkey and point to where the wishbone “should be” and shrug, telling them they’re out of luck. He looks forward to using it with you after the kids go to bed.

You giggle as Molly reaches up and puts a dab of cranberry sauce on your nose. Eddie grins as he watches you. He had thought that seeing you with a baby wouldn’t hit him in quite the same way after Eliza was born, but it hasn’t quelled the yearning.

Taking advantage of the kids grabbing the rolls in a frenzy, he slips the wishbone into his pocket. He already knows what his wish will be.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #older!eddie #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWs

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cherie-doll · 2 months ago

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Could you do like a scenecore reader that also dyes their hair? and cod men? Like dunno giving them a handmade bracelet I dunno? *pokes my fingers together*

-🪒(Reserving a Anon cause i'll be back!)

hii 🪒 anon!! glad you're reserving! and if anyone else wants to do the same then feel free to do so :D

ミ☆ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Scenecore!Reader x COD Men

★ Price...

sometimes when he comes home he'll find you in the bathroom dying your hair, he loves seeing you do fun stuff with your hair and will even run to buy more box dye incase you run out or you got the wrong color (which happens often)

there's a hc that he was prob a punk or some sort of alternative when he was a teen so he's familiar with you customizing and diying your stuff

he also never thought to be into the scene subculture but he can't help but smile when you leave a handmade kandi bracelet for him, even if it looks a little out of place for him to wear, he doesn't care

he will put that on his wrist and wear it around like he wears his ring

★ Ghost...

it's funny when walking around together in public with the tall intimidating guy who's always wearing a face covering and dark clothing and then there's you, the bright clothes, the dyed and teased hair, arms covered in kandi bracelets looking like a rainbow vomited on you

they should really see your house... his side of the closet is almost the same outfits just different shades of dark colors and your side has possibly every color ever made

still, if people looked close enough they would be able to see the bracelet you made for him that just barely peeks out from underneath the sleeve of his jacket along with some jelly bracelets

people often assume Simon is some former goth dating the scene/scenecore

★ Soap...

you wonder why you ran out of dye so quickly when you need it, you had bought a couple new boxes of hair dye only to find them gone when you needed them, when you see Johnny it all makes sense; he had attempted dying his own hair

according to him he wanted to try wearing your hair extensions first but quickly realized they wouldn't stay in, you can't help but laugh at how his hair turned out, the front looks kinda good it actually surprises you, the back however...

when at a store he's actually the one hyping you up when you find something you could use to incorporate it into your look, he buys whatever for you and loves wearing matching kandi bracelets with you

his whole forearm will be covered in kandi and jelly bracelets he doesn't care he loves it!

★ Gaz...

he knows where you are in a store by the ton of jewelry you wear with charms and beads, or you might accidentally drop a bracelet or lose an earring leaving a trail he can follow to find you

ofc he knows to find you either in a thrift shop, in the jewelry section or where the box dye is at, he's quick to offer to buy anything you might want

he knows how much you love experimenting with your hair, maybe you like adding animal prints in your hair :D

in the car he likes to put your playlist on that will have you both vibing together throughout the entire car trip, poor soul to whoever is travelling with you tho

★ Roach...

loves wearing anything you gift him, especially if you customized it or made it yourself, he wants to feel included, often times when you're touching up on your hair or dying it again he'll sit in the bathroom with you

sometimes it takes a long time dying your hair, especially if you like to do prints on your hair because you're tired of your extensions falling out all the time :(

and the entire time he's sitting there keeping you company looking at you like this :D

he even helps you pick out which color you should do next when you can't decide!

he gets all giddy when you sit down and make kandi bracelets together <3 and then gift him the one you made and he gives you the one he made, so now you're wearing bracelets the other made!

★ Alejandro...

your style was definitely something new to him, due to the great war of emos vs punks in '08 in Mexico he assumed you were what he described a 'colorful emo', until you corrected him

he really likes it actually, he's seen how you manage to coordinate your outfits and even cut, dye and style your own hair, talk about being resourceful!

when your hair is freshly dyed, you'll wash it and go to sleep with it slightly damp, the next morning you wake up to find your pillow stained, it used to scare him real bad when you had it dyed red and he assumed the stain on the pillow was blood

★ Rudy...

he loves learning about what you're into, your interests are now his!!

he's also tried styling you before and he actually managed to do a pretty good job! you asked him how he did it and he mentioned he's seen you coordinate your outfits and so he was able to pick up off that

on his days off, he loves spending them with you and taking you to all the stores that have deals on their bundles so you can get a ton or new hair clips and silly accessories you end up trying on Rudy only to take a 0.5 pic of

and vice versa ^^ he loves taking pics of you in your outfits, in fact, on his phone lock screen he has you with your best outfit yet posing as his wallpaper, just to be smug he likes leaving his phone face up on the table just so that he can see that picture of you when a message lights up his screen

★ Phillip Graves...

won't ever ask you to "tone it down", it's your style and he thinks you should proudly wear it, you look unique and he personally loves it

he will definitely glare at anyone who scoffs or says a rude remark about you, especially if the area you live in is known to be more conservative, he loves seeing the look on people's faces when they see you walk past

sometimes his shadows like to tease him when they notice him wearing the bracelet you made for him, they keep saying it looks like some little kid made it but he quickly states that you made it for him

i can just imagine the whiplash when his playlist goes from his average dad rock/country music to your liked songs invading his phone when on shuffle, he might bop to it tho but won't ever admit it

★ Makarov...

he's told you multiple times he can just take you to get your hair professionally done, there is no need for you to buy cheap box dye for your hair but you like it better this way

this way you can add your own unique and personal touch to it that you love, and no professional hairstylist will be able to do it how you like it, he gives in and stops insisting after you remind him that every time

but he definitely loves your creative diy and style, he just wanted to make sure you weren't staining the bathroom towels with your box dye because you were too shy to ask him to take you to the hair salon but that's not the case :)

and he treasures the bracelets you gift him more than he does the expensive watches and jewelry he buys for himself

★ Keegan...

yk how kandi bracelets can say crazy stuff on them sometimes?

yeah so, the first time he noticed your bracelets and read some of the words you've arranged on there he was flabbergasted to say the least

you put diabolical phrases on his kandi bracelets when you make some for him, and when you put them on for him you make sure the words are upside down so HE doesn't notice it but the person who's in front of him will if they glance at it

it isn't until later when he takes them off that he notices they have sexual phrases, your favorite one for him to wear is one that says "suck me off"

★ König...

it took him a while to understand your texting whenever he peeked at your laptop when you left it open, he didn't really consider himself to be behind on trends until now even if it wasn't anything new but it was to him

he also doesn't know what half the references the words on your kandi bracelets mean either but he rolls with it anyways, you've probably told him before but you ramble on so much that he can only remember a handful of stuff you say

one of his favorite moments of the day are when he arrives home and you're just on your laptop scrolling and vibing to music, you even get up and dance to it inviting him to join you even if he's terrible at it but hey, at least you're having fun together :)

★ Horangi...

he knows how much you love thrifting for new clothes so he likes finding good thrift shops you can go crazy in and then show him the new outfits you put together with them, he also likes surprising you with brand/label clothes and items

you often feel guilty bc you know how expensive those brands can get but he insists on it, he loves you showing your colors and taking you out

he's even dyed his hair colors to match with you! you can't tell me he isn't a little into the alternative side as well, he's definitely expanded his style since he met you

you two even have your matching jewelry for almost every occasion that you've handmade when out on dates, like those places that are for couples to book so they can diy stuff together (if ykyk bc i forgot what they're called)

★ Nikto...

i can just imagine the first time you shuffled up to him and extended your hand to open it and he sees a colorful little bracelet there

he tilted his head, confused what you were offering to him, oh a bracelet? that little thing? it doesn't look like something he'd wear himself but... since you made it he slips it on, good thing the cord is elastic and stretchy therefore he can pull it through his burly, big hand

he shrugs but on the inside he feels his heart beat a little faster, later he forgets to take it off or you slip a bracelet in his duffel bag when he leaves another member will notice the colored kandi bracelet and ask about it

he's not in the slightest bit embarrassed to say it was you, no amount of teasing will make him take it off

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starlightshadowsworld · 4 days ago

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No because had I gone into Bungou Stray Dogs knowing a member of the Port Mafia was in the Agency.

I would’ve assumed it was Kunikida.

First chapter Atsushi tries to run off when the tigers mentioned. To which Kunikida pins him down with his hands behind his back.

And says you can pay for this meal with your arm.

Dazai had to calm him down. Telling him that hey the President said no injuring anyone during these interrogations.

As if he was Kunikida’s handler.

His backstory is so deliberately vague and seemingly too perfect. It’s just enough to defuse suspicion but we know nothing else about him.

And I can see a world where Dazai makes himself the mystery guy to make himself the focus in this situation.

Katai, his best friend is a hacker.

He has a lot of knowledge and experience with using firearms and explosives.

Akutugawa respects him.

The Agency all fought the Black Lizard but Kunikida was the main person fighting Hirotsu. You know the leader of the highest ranked team in the Port Mafia.

The entire Azure Messenger arc being like hey Kunikida has the potential to be the great threat we’ve ever faced.

He’s broken the law several times without issue.

And Jouno, a former criminal executive finds a kindred spirit in him.

Like the pieces are all there I would’ve believed it. If anything I could’ve seen Dazai as the former teacher from how he spoke to Atsushi to begin with.

I dunno how to explain it but it’s giving Korosensei from Assassination classroom.

So yeah as far as the beginning goes if I went in not knowing anything but hey this reformed bad guy in the Agency.

My money would’ve been on this delinquent right here.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd kunikida #kunikida doppo #bsd dazai #dazai osamu

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coffeegnomee · 1 month ago

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genuinely i think alot of kaboodle's actions on lifesteal can be explained by her scripted lore background. the world of scripted lore is fraught with the idea that "lore" is just... being miserable. it was something that made it difficult for me to get into ksmp (though i did eventually enjoy it), because it felt just so awful all the time. pointless arguments didn't tug at my heartstrings, it made me frustrated. but that's besides the point

i think maybe one of the reasons she takes everything way harder than she should and exaggerates relationships and disagreements is perhaps because she is drawing in past experience to be a good entertainer, in the way she is familiar with. which is so fair! we are formed by our backgrounds. it does unfortunately make it difficult to watch her if you're accustomed to the more ""live action"" sort of format lifesteal is usually in, where people seperate their characters from themselves a little less. but she has a good size audience that seems to fw it, so i dunno

that's just my take on the overuse of the word "betrayal" and such

agree but disagree. yes scripted is usually just being miserable but zam is just miserable all the time and his lore actually makes sense and is very entertaining to watch and he also separates himself from his character (to a degree). but when he is miserable he is consistently miserable while also doing some fun things to distract from the misery or making some impact on the server like cleaning up spawn while being miserable to chat. kab just sits around and talks and does fuck all. sorry. hating. a lot of hating below.

and it's annoying because she is miserable but then will go be fighting her inner demons of destruction, but then won't destroy because she doesn't want to be mean and she cares so much, but then she plans to destroy anyway but then she doesn't do it and doesn't have any consistency in any motivation or characterization and she's all over the place. every hour her emotional state is different and there's absolutely no effort at a throughline and everything before is just thrown out the window.

And it pisses me off that she does come from scripting because surely her characters on ksmp had some throughline and consistency.

and yet her inconsistency on ls does make sense bc in scripted you can plan and succeed with every plan you make when you are literally scripting the outcome.

but on lifesteal you can plan for something cool and fun and it can be taken away in an instant by the very same people you were trying to impress and that is hard and will send anyone into being tilted.

and trying to decide how to react to that is wildly difficult and i dont really envy them having to figure out what to do, but i do wish she would DO something. but that's also unfair because she is doing something, she's rebuilding. but while rebuilding she's going between wanting 4c to help her while also trying to convince him to betray his team while also trying to convince him to give her a heart without a fight while also planning to kill him while also reminding herself she has to be nice to him. so she's just using him. just say it with your full chest. you never cared about him and you just want someone else to do the work to get your own selfish self-pity plan back on the server.

you want to complain and then have someone swoop in and save you. and you dont want to make any effort to actually care about that person.

it's miserably sad and annoying to watch because lifesteal is about caring about people, and she goes on and on an on about caring *so much* but she doesn't give a shit about anyone but herself. and she lies to herself and and chat and insists that she cares.

and yes that's a rather consistent characterization to through at ls!kab but damn if it doesn't read like that at all and she went from genuinely apologizing to 4c to just using him flat out and reminding herself that she needs to use him and cant just kill him.

maybe its just that she's vilely unlikable. maybe that's the point in her scripted mind. make a hatable character. and yet her actions also speak to desperately trying to make a likable character whom youre sympathetic to, she tries desperately to guilt trip and pull at the heartstings about how shes just been betrayed so many times and life is so hard for her and shes so weak and how could you be mean to someone so pathetic and wounded.

but she's not likable at all. she doesnt care about a single other soul or what they care about. the second they put a boundary up she wants to run and leave, which, fair enough, actually a cool characterization of trauma but like also so abusive-coded. but in the end she chose to not abandon bacon as far as we can tell, but i can tell you give it two seconds and that thought will come back and she'll decide to betray him anyway. because nothing is consistent and nothing she says has any long term value. she just goes on the past five minutes to decide what she will do.

she's just so fake and that fakeness can be attributed to the character, but it only feels even more fake because she insists it's a character and not her as she turns around and does something that makes more sense for her to do as herself than the character. she is being two people existing on the same account, swapping out whenever necessary. but that's stupid. take responsibility for your actions and your emotions. stop blaming others.

and yes. it all goes back to how painfully different scripted mcrp is from unscripted.

and i know for damn sure that this will not be like this next season because she will learn from this season. or she doesn't. and that's what's so frustrating. the possibility that she never learns why lifesteal is lifesteal.

the possibility that she keeps writing asshole abusive characters that just get more abusive because of her own internal mental problems that lay unresolved and shoved under the rug like they aren't part of the character even though they are part of herself. she refuses to look at herself and acts like if just just acts hard enough they won't affect anything. they effect everything. you can't run from yourself when you are making unscripted content.

and yes. i am being really mean about someone who clearly has a lot of baggage. yes i am being mean about someone who is abusive as a defense mechanism and hates boundaries because of fear of being alone and all these things that are basically the bully being bullied at home type beat.

but she embraces none of it. doesn't even see any of it. thinks she has written a cute story with kazam, a cute ship that may be a little messed up but is at it's core cute.

it's fucking abusive and shit. it makes my skin crawl. zam is screaming to be let out of it and she thinks it's sunshine and roses. she is, to use the word literally, delusional about her actions. she thinks they are one thing when they are anything besides that.

but we do have one success story. and the trend goes that every lifestealer learns what lifesteal is by their second or third season. they all eventually get it. vi chose to do a very distinct character vs streamer in s4 and he crashed and burned to a degree unfathomable. and he learned from it. and he now says that was his favorite story he ever told. he see's how he's grown as a person because of it.

there is only hope in the future when it comes to kaboodle. lifesteal genuinely changes you and makes you grow. not because you choose to grow, but because it forces it out of you.

but in this moment im just constantly a ball of rage and constantly sent into sadness every time i watch. and she keeps interacting with my mains so im not going to just miss the story, and the progression is already happening, the kablantis shock is a genuinely lifesteal trauma moment for kab and is already changing her in good ways. this is the story, this is part of watching lifesteal. the meta conflict is what makes this server painfully unique. this difficult encounter with players that piss you off. because people in life are like this. people can suck and hurt each other and don't look at their internal mental state, they shove things under the rug and think they're fine and cause sorrow and pain when life gets difficult. that's life. encountering it as story really helps understand the people around you. to be more compassionate, be able to see when theyre hurting and chose to be kind anyway. to learn how to feel the negative emotions and process them and not run from them yourself. or learn how to stick up for yourself and put up your own boundaries and learn that you can. to figure out who you are. it's the best. and the worst. and leaves me hating until i realize it is interesting even though i hate it.

#hating #hardcore hating #crit #discourse #all the negtive tags #don't at me i literally warned you im hating #asks #lifesteal spoilers

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shinycrybaby · 6 days ago

Text

strawberry milk - gojo satoru x reader

Genre/Tags: Fluff, No Curses AU, Highschool AU, Implied Nerd!Gojo but also he's kind of like a jock?? I dunno man, his classmates are done crushing on him, twins!sukuna and jin, Satoru fell first he's going to fall harder

Warnings: Not proofread sorry :((

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: In which confessions are a norm and yet among the other outcome he's calculated, this one was not something he considered a possibility

A/N: I honestly don't know what else to tag here because holy sht this was written on a whim. My neurons were activated I just locked in. Head empty, no thoughts, only Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru was no stranger to receiving love confessions through gifts and letters. Throughout middle school, he’s experienced it all even in kindergarten. Girls and boys would flock to him for his bright smiles and hypnotizing blue orbs, wanting to play with him on the playground or simply just hold his hand.

All of this was the norm for him. So, when he enters his classroom and finds a lone carton of strawberry milk on his desk, he knows that it is ‘probably’ from a secret admirer. He was yet still to rule out the possibility of someone accidentally leaving it behind on his desk.

“Hey! Anyone left this on my desk?” He calls out to his rowdy classmates. Some just shook their heads while others teased that it was another of his secret admirers.

Finding that no one seemed to pay attention to him right after as they were all busy with their world and conversations, he asked his seatmate, Sukuna, who was moved to the front row with him because the two were too noisy being seated in their respective friend groups during classes. “Y’see anyone place this on my desk?”

The pink-haired boy looks at him incredulously, “Do I look like your watchdog or something? Of course, the fuck not.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, “I was asking nicely.”

“Yeah, well, I got here a minute before you did, and that thing was already on your desk,” Sukuna replies calmly; nicely. “Fucker.” He adds, wanting to not reply nicely anyway.

Satoru pouts, squishing the other boy’s face. “Aww~ Don’t be mean to me Kuna Tuna~ Otherwise I won’t share this strawberry milk with you~”

The boy hissed at him, slapping his hands away. Satoru snickers in turn at his reaction. Soon enough, their homeroom teacher enters, and everyone gets back to their seats. He settles in his seat, stashing away the strawberry milk for later when he gets home. Because that’s how he was – stashing away sweets for when he stays up late to do his homework and do a bit of advance reading.

Usually, when someone gives him a gift, it’s because someone has yet to gather their courage before confessing to him. And from his experience, the gift-giving would usually last for a week before the person would introduce themselves through a note along with the gift – asking him then to meet him somewhere within the school grounds so they could talk privately.

He'd calculated it well and yet this person was yet to show their face. Was yet to even leave at least a hint of who they were. He even ruled out everyone from his class. The girls in his class were so used to him that they just looked at him unimpressed sometimes (he started to think that they were all carbon copies of Shoko). That, or they were in love with his best friend, Geto Suguru, or the sweetheart that was surprisingly Sukuna’s twin, Itadori Jin.

Heck, he even ruled out each boy in class. However, they either had a girlfriend, were crushing on someone that was known in class and definitely not him, or were too hyper-fixated with their pixel husbands or wives. For shits and giggles, he even suspected Sukuna, started teasing the boy about it too. But of course, that did not end well.

If he wanted to know who this person was, he had to start ruling out the possibility of the students in their batch. It wasn’t just curiosity that was driving him to find the person, but it was his need to stop them, so the person didn’t get the idea that he liked them back. He wanted to not lead them on. He wanted to not hurt this person.

However, he kept receiving gifts on his desk each day for about a month and a half. He was honestly thankful for the free food, but he had to end it at some point, so he planned. A very foolproof and easy one at that.

He wakes up early. Going to school early, which was quite unlikely. Because he likes sleeping, especially after staying up reading a lot of books and playing.

Even then, when he arrived before anyone else did in class, the strawberry milk was already there. But like the smart kid that he is, he figures that maybe it was one of the students from the other class, so he walks around the hallway, peeking at classrooms to see if anyone was there. But no one was. And this sets him off because he just wants to end this no matter how thankful he is for the gifts. The last thing he wanted was to hurt someone because they thought he liked them back.

For another month, he was on edge. He wasn’t even sure if he should continue receiving the gifts. That was until a note finally came with the strawberry milk carton on his table. No, wait, the note was hidden in the compartment of his desk, just sitting effortlessly on top of his notebook – wasn’t even hidden, just sitting there on top of his notebook inside of the desk compartment.

Sorry for taking so long! I was really nervous about this. But can you please meet me behind the school? Right by the flowerbeds.

Satoru has seen handwriting far and wide, from his parents to his friends, from his classmates to strangers. All were ranging from the prettiest of cursive to the more… illegible ones. But as he rereads the note repeatedly, he can’t help but find that this is the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen in all his short number of years living on earth. He’d grown ever more curious now of this person. Were they as pretty as their handwriting? Gentle and poised? Or was there some kind of gap that would throw him off and find it a hundred times more interesting?

He loved riddles and puzzles as they exercised his brain, and this person has been giving him quite the exercise he wanted for the past few months. So, to say he was excited to finally give a face to this stranger, to this sweet and silent admirer was a treat he would be damned to let pass.

The day dragged on and he got so antsy in his seat that it annoyed Sukuna from his peripheral view, earning him a crumpled paper to the head while their teacher was not looking in the middle of class.

Finally, as the bell rang, he was so quick to pack his belongings that Shoko and Suguru could not even get a word in about how they were about to check out a café near the station a few blocks down. He’d muttered quick apologies as he sped down the hallways and stairs until he was a panting mess when he reached the entrance of the building by the shoe lockers. He composed himself, breathing in and out calmly as he changed his indoor to outdoor shoes before walking out and rounding the corner to the familiar place behind the school building. The flower beds greeted him while the afternoon summer breeze brushed through his hair.

As he approached, he was met with a girl crouched before one of the flower beds where one of the school cats rolled over the flower patch, “No, you shouldn’t do that. The flowers are getting crushed.” The cat meows in reply, not caring for the plant and only wanting to have its belly rubbed. “You’re a greedy baby.” The girl chuckles and the scene had Satoru’s breath hitching.

The scene before him was so soft and alluring. The heat of the summer wasn’t helping him too. He thought he was hallucinating for a second, so he fidgets, turning away and then looking at the girl again, before finally deciding that it wasn’t a hallucination. It wasn’t because as the wind blew hard this time, his eyes were unfortunate to catch the stray dust and dirt around them. He curses under his breath. “Useless eyelashes.”

This of course catches the attention of the girl. She looks at him surprised, familiar with the white-haired man who wooed everyone in school. “Oh. Hello, Gojo. May I help you?”

Satoru stopped rubbing his eyes before looking at her confused. “Did you not call me here?”

She tilts her head in question.

“Your confession. The note you left along with the strawberry milk.” He shuffles inside his bag in search of the colored sticky note and stretches out his arm to show it to her.

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise before panicking. “Why do you have that!?” She stood up hastily, surprising the cat who’d stopped rolling around, running away in fright.

The white-haired boy was confused at her reaction. Why would she panic when she was the one who placed it on his desk in the first place?

“That’s not for you! Give it back!” She reaches out, trying to grab the note which startles Satoru, making him step back from her.

“Huh? But…you gave it to me. You’ve been giving me strawberry milk for months too.”

“What? Why would I give you those? It’s for Itadori Jin! Give the damn note back!”

Satoru halts her, “Wait. Wait. What do you mean by Jin? You placed it on my desk, sweets.”

This makes the girl halt in her actions, looking at him, a little wide-eyed with evident confusion. “But…it’s beside Sukuna. That’s where Jin sits…”

The white-haired boy rubs his brows, feeling an on-coming headache. “That’s my seat.”

“Huh!? There must be some kind of mistake! I’m pretty sure he sits there! He always sits there when I pass by your classroom at break time.”

Satoru thinks she’s not wrong. Because Jin really would sit there during their break time, because he asks to switch. Jin would sit beside his twin while Satoru would sit beside his friends Shoko and Suguru at the very back of the classroom.

“That’s because we exchange places during break time. That way I’d get to sit with my friends, and he would get to sit with his twin and their friends.” He explains calmly.

The girl takes in his explanation, and when dawned with realization, she blushes profusely from embarrassment. “Oh God! I’ve been sending gifts to the wrong person!” She whines into her hand.

Satoru watches in amusement. Albeit relief that he hadn’t led the person on, there was a feeling he couldn’t quite name at the fact that it wasn’t him that this mystery person liked. Still, he couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his chest. Full and bright and light-hearted.

The girl glares at him, “Please don’t go laughing at people’s misery.”

“No, it’s just,” he takes in a deep breath, trying to calm himself from laughing, “this is quite a turn of events!”

The girl stands there, unamused as she watches him wipe away a tear. “Are you done?”

The boy holds up a hand, before finally calming down. “Okay. I’m done.” He stares at her before a smile plays across his lips. “I like you. You’re funny.”

The girl grumbles before walking away and flipping him off. Satoru was hooked just from that interaction alone. He was right. There was a gap between that pretty handwriting and the attitude she gave him.

Sadly, he didn’t get her name that afternoon as he was for a few seconds just watching her retreating form. No matter, he’d have plenty of time to get to know her name.

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

A/N:

Will probably write a drabble about this. I dunno. Whatever flows I guess.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! Thank you!

#jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine

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followerofmercy · 11 months ago

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I think Freminet has some of the most interesting dissonance in his self perception of any Genshin character.

Like, of the Hearthlings we know, he's one of the most emotionally mature and intelligent. Lynette might still have him beat, but after playing her hangout... I dunno. I think they're tied. Lyney is Crumbling, Alrecchino is. Well. Arlecchino. Everyone else is a deeply traumatized child or adult and Freminet seems to pretty regularly be people's emotional support. His character stories talk about getting his vision by saving a bunch of other kids on a dive that went bad. The Selkie event literally had him being a therapist for a grownass woman, citing his past experiences with all the other Hearthlings that have died or killed themselves. And he handled that situation WELL. Yeah, he seems to live in a fantasy, but goddamn he's alive and a lot of people in his position aren't so clearly something is working.

Either his or Lyney's character story talks about the time Freminet had reached out to Lyney to try to ease his burdens, which resulted in Lyney blowing up at him. That probably contributed to Freminet thinking he's not good at it, but I think the reason Lyney reacted so badly was BECAUSE Freminet is actually a good support. He can't allow himself that from the little brother he's supposed to protect.

Freminet seems to both cry and dissociate often, but like... Kiddo you are in fact the only person in this family actually processing your emotions. Lynette dissociates 24/7. Arlecchino. Lyney lies and tells everyone he's fine and would literally rather die than admit otherwise. In comparison, Freminet is doing FANTASTIC

Freminet also gets a lot out of helping people! Like anyone, he needs to feel useful and needed. He seems to be an excellent mentor to the younger Hearthlings and perfectly competent on his own, but when you put him in a room with Lyney and Lynette who baby him and insist that THEY take care of HIM, he withdraws into himself.

Like, Freminet by himself feels like a young man and Freminet with the magician twins feels like a teenager. I have no idea how old he actually is. Logically, he would be OLDER than them! He's been with the House much, much longer and his experience shows. I think it's fascinating that they love him SO MUCH and yet, they just Cannot let him help them. Which is hurting him.

(Lynette is much better about not babying him and that is probably why their relationship is so much better than Freminet and Lyney's. Also why she keeps having to mediate between them. Because Lyney charges off trying to Fix Everything and that just makes Freminet feel useless and he doesn't want to get in the way and- you get the point)

Idk. It's hard to tell what things the previous director said to him vs what Arlecchino has said to him. I'm inclined to think our Arlecchino was the one that said he cries too much, but in a "crying in front of your enemies will get you killed" way and she herself is too fucked up to realize how "you cry too much" could be damaging.

Also I try not to consider gameplay stuff when it comes to story, but Freminet also has some of the most BRUTAL animations. He SMASHES HIS EMOTIONAL SUPPORT METAL PENGUIN INTO HIS ENEMY'S FACE. He doesn't think he's the most amazing fighter, and by Fatui standards he probably isn't, but he is winning fights against most grown men.

Tldr Freminet thinks he cries too much and is a burden and isn't good at helping people when he's actually the most mentally stable Hearthling send tweet

#freminet #genshin #house of hearth #character analysis #this is all over the lplace bc I'm on my phone #many freminet thoughts today #I don't wanna talk about trailer spoilers but also #this young man is a physical MONSTER #he's so similar but so different to Kaveh #where a lot of people Do perceive Freminet as a little... off #and he is #but he is a beacon of hope for all the other fucked up kids that are lost and alone #and I just think that's neat #kiddo benefits a lot from helping others #you can see how he lights up #even the hydro dragon hydro dragon don't cry #I'm sorry #this kid is comforting GOD #i think that says something

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luna-the-cretar · 29 days ago

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I feel like Shepnax would be the kind of couple that it’s not entirely clear if they’re dating or not. Like, they don’t kiss or really hold hands or anything like that. But they cuddle and their tails will intertwine if possible. Occasionally Shepherd will press a light kiss on the top of Sarnax’s head while they’re cuddling, or Sarnax will inspect the wonders of Shepherd’s hair and horns (especially the hair. On more than one occasion, Sarnax will throw a dozen questions about Shepherd’s hair—“what is it made of? How does it grow? Why does it grow? Why is it this color? Why does your hair look different from the others?”—and Shepherd always answers them to the best of his ability, even if most of his answers are simply just “I dunno, ask the Professor ‘bout that.”).

Neither of them really use pet names either. Sarnax doesn’t understand the concept of pet names, and Step doesn’t really see the point in them (“why not just call ‘em by their name?”). At one point Sarnax learns about the concept of pet names (via not-so-subtly asking the others about them), and tries to use a couple for Shep, though Shep swiftly put a stop to it (the first time Sarnax called him “My Dear” Shepherd just about died. He can’t quite decide if he loved it or hated it).

They’re dating for over a year and a half before anyone else in the party finds out. It’s not like they were really hiding it, it’s just that nobody ever really asked. Clayton had asked Shepherd if he had any experience with past relationships—just trying to get to know his party members better—and Shepherd tells him that Sarnax was really the first person Shep has ever been with, and he’s just…trying to figure it out, y’know? Clayton is so shell-shocked to hear that his cleric and ranger are just…casually dating, and asks how long this has been going on. Shepherd says it’s been roughly a year and a half, and Clayton flips his shit. They’ve been dating for a year and a half, and he’s just now hearing about this!? What other secrets are his employees hiding from him!? (Don’t tell him what Victoria and Kana get up to in the middle of the night. It is not nearly as innocent and wholesome as Shepnax)

Sarnax is very interested in Shepherd’s scent. Like, to an abnormal degree. Shepherd found it kinda strange, at first, but now finds it quite endearing. Sarnax is outright obsessed with how Shepherd’s scent changes, based on the day’s activities and when he last bathed and what soaps he used (if any). Shepherd has found that Sarnax prefers it whenever he smells like sweat and dirt (which, coincidentally, is what he smells like most of the time anyway)—he assumes it’s because of some primal part in the lizardfolk’s brain. Though he doesn’t mind the way Shepherd smells when he’s freshly bathed, as long as he doesn’t use those fancy smelly soaps (Sarnax likes the smell of fire and bourbon that Shepherd somehow always smells like. Mix that with the natural musk of the forest, and he’s practically got the lizardfolk salivating). Shepherd has, on more than one occasion, walked in on Sarnax obsessively smelling his poncho before he’s gotten a chance to wash it. Coincidentally, those are also the days they spent the entire day traveling.

They are both very curious about each others anatomies. Not necessarily in a sexual way (though Shepherd was very confused about Sarnax’s cloaca, and Sarnax was very interested in the workings of mammalian genitalia), but like. Generally. Such as Sarnax’s obsession with Shepherd’s hair, or Shepherd being oddly curious about lizardfolk laying eggs, or Sarnax being cold blooded (not like it’s really an issue with Shepherd being warmer than most humanoids)

#idk man I love the idea of them being oddly domestic?#like they’re such intense characters but I feel like they’d have such a domestic relationship #this is what happens when you give me a ship where I headcanon both characters to be aspec/arospec #I don’t necessarily want them to kiss or fuck or anything #I just want them to cuddle and be cute together #legends of avantris #curse of strahdanya #sarnax of the edelwood #silas shepherd morgan #shepnax #this is a long post and I’m sorry #if it isn’t obvious ifs 2am and my brain has decided to Ramble #because I am still obsessed with these two and I’m still not over the finale #in my heart everything is fine and shepherd and Sarnax live on a farm in yona wirh their son

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fallow-hollow · 10 months ago

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Heyo! I came by to ask if it’s possible that you could write a Chilchuck x non binary! Reader who has a stutter and hasn’t gotten any help for it since childhood? Like not being able to say sentences properly without suddenly pausing by accident and having moments where the reader struggles on just one word? It’s mostly because I have irl and I don’t see a lot of books about readers that have a stutter as I think it’s used mostly to be cute or uwu- so maybe Chilchuck could try to help them?

cold reading

ft… chilchuck tims x nonbinary! reader

tags… pre-relationship, pining, reader has a stutter, fluff

word count… 882

notes… hope i did a good job! i had a friend who stutters be my beta reader to make sure i did alright, but further notes are always welcome! also fun fact, a ‘cold read’ is a read through or performance of a script or text with no prior practice, so i thought it would make a cute title !!

This may have been your idea, but you were already starting to have some second thoughts about this plan.

Chilchuck was well aware that you often had some trouble speaking, but it was never something he wanted to intervene on without your permission. The man had his own fair share of experiences being babied by those around him, so the last thing he wanted to do was belittle you by acting as if he knew more about what would help you than you did. So, naturally, reaching out about wanting assistance was up to you.

If there was anyone you trusted to help you with this vice of yours, it was Chilchuck. It wasn’t even that he himself was particularly well spoken or collected — no, it was your trust in him from a personal perspective that made it so easier to confide in him. The two of you had always been pretty good friends, and plus, it was rather nice how he never judged you for things you couldn’t control.

Truth be told, seeking help from someone like Falin likely would have been equally as helpful, but if you had to be honest with yourself, you also just enjoyed spending time with the man. Something about his presence put you at ease, despite the standoffish demeanor he had most of the time.

That’s how you found yourself here, trying to read from a book while he sat patiently beside you.

However, this may have been far less embarrassing for you if the book you borrowed for this little practice session wasn’t one of Marcille’s romance novels.

“She tr- trekked across th- across the muddy dirt path, her, her boots… boots covered in…..” Even when reading completely inoffensive narration, you still tripped up on certain consonants and found yourself repeating certain words. Sometimes, you’d even lose your place or space out, and end up unconsciously repeating the end of a word when you ‘picked up where you left off’, so to speak.

Chilchuck stayed silent, of course, not wanting to be rude by calling you out or correcting you in the middle of your sentences, but the long periods of yourself speaking and nothing else did make you feel rather awkward at times. After you sighed and shook your head, signifying that you had given up, he allowed himself to speak.

“Maybe try reading some dialogue instead. It could feel more natural if it’s something you could say to an actual person instead of just narration.” At his suggestion, you nodded, letting your eyes scan the page to the closest piece of dialogue you could find.

…Ah.

Well, it wasn’t that embarrassing. Compared to the other things one might find in a novel like this, it was really rather tame. Yes, you could make this work.

When you glanced up, the half-foot was still meeting your gaze, looking as if he had something to say. You murmured a quick “Yes?”, to which he responded promptly.

“You’ve mostly been looking at the text while you’ve been talking.” One hand gestured briefly to the book you were holding. “I dunno if this is the case, but focusing too hard on the written words could trip you up.”

The statement did ring true, at least somewhat. You’d been very fixated on matching the written words to the pronunciations in your head so as to not mess them up, but maybe that was contributing to this unnatural sort of feeling you’d had while you were reading. Talking to Chilchuck certainly did help you calm down most of the time, so maybe you’d feel more relaxed if you tried that instead.

He didn’t directly tell you to, but you chose to look at Chilchuck’s face while you talked. After reading the words and trying to internalize them the best you could, looking at him was almost a way to relax your eyes. Without focusing on a particular point or feature, you let yourself just… take him in. Register that this was the person you were speaking to. Allow the words to be fully and wholly directed at him.

In hindsight, the method may have been a bit too effective, judging from how the sentence came out almost immediately and with great fervor,

“You have no idea the lengths I’d go to just to see you!”

Hey, why did the man across from you look ever so slightly pink…?

Oh.

“Oh no, no I’m so- s-so sorry! Sorry!” Your hands shot up in an apologetic yet defensive behavior, which seemed to ease Chilchuck’s nerves, judging by the small laugh he let out.

With a wave of his own hand, he responded, “You don’t need to be. Just surprised you’d get so bold all of a sudden.” He then shot you a wink and a point, something that threatened to make you melt entirely. So easily could he touch your heart, yet at the same time it was hard to falter when he smiled at you like that.

“Did a good job on that one, though. Sounded great!”

Either way, if you can one day manage to speak your true feelings to him, then maybe you’ll be able to say all the other things you want to as well.

“Tha…thank you, your help, it, um… it really means a lot.”

#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ fallow’s works!#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #dungeon meshi imagines #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon x reader #delicious in dungeon imagines #chilchuck tims #chilchuck tims x reader #chilchuck tims imagines

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isa-ghost · 1 month ago

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Just finished the Patreon episode of Shut Up I'm Talking about Dream and. God, watching them both just be so speechless eventually... Man, same. Jack's right, I'm just perplexed. And disgusted. And tired.

I dunno man, I've said I wish I could have some kind of genuine chat with Tom before. He's gone through so much, lost so many mentors and friends, and put up with so much shit. He's so exhausted with all of it, and I don't blame him one bit. But as someone who's watched him since 2020 and seen how much he's grown and matured in so many ways, it sucks to see him so demoralized by everything even if it's totally understandable.

Forgive me for sounding so parasocial, but I just really wish I could tell him what it's been like to be a fly on the wall for going on 5 years now, and to give him some appreciation for persevering through all the bullshit and coming as far as he has. Because like. Hearing that stuff from your family and friends probably means more to you, sure, but you kinda expect the praise from them, y'know? But when a stranger you don't think twice about, if at all, tells you something so meaningful, it sticks with you more, at least I think. I know I have a bunch of personal anecdotes from high school like that myself. There's a word for this specific experience but I'm drawing a blank on what it is.

Idk, I think that's a long-winded and weird way of saying I just wish there was something Tom could hear that would breathe some joy back into things for him. Not just from me, but from literally anyone. Because it's one thing to be aware in the back of your mind that what you do has had and still has the impact it does, and helped so many people and has built like. Huge core memories for them and stuff. But it's another to be told that face to face, and to see it in a form that isn't just text from some rando on the internet. The former isn't better than the latter, but it still sticks with you harder and feels like a stronger reminder that it's all worth it. Like seeing the good you've done in tangible form just makes it more real, if that makes sense.

I wish all the bullshit yapping from garbage people like the ones Tom has had to put up didn't overshadow the astronomical amounts of good his involvement with YT has done for an unfathomable amount of people. I don't know how else to explain how it feels to bystand all this.

#shut up im talking #shut up i’m talking podcast #tommyinnit #tom simons

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kamatha · 1 year ago

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I love the idea of leafling scars!! Such a cool idea but I’ve never seen anyone draw anything life that! Maybe I’m biased because I like Bernard.

Had this idea brewing since the game came out and there are SO many ways it could be applied to imply extra stories for Bernard and the castaways! I have no idea when else I'll be able to talk about this in length so thank you for sending this I can finally ramble!!!

To summarize:

Cured castaways are left with vine stitches that protect and keep together any internal or external injuries (may or may not disappear once the injury is fully healed)

The pikmin parasite potencially focuses on the head to control the host

The longer they're a leafling the more vibrant the hue left on the skin is. (I wasn't sure how much of a tomato Olimar would be)

Flowers can bloom in their leafy coats

Despite being brought into the same Onion they have different types of leaves/vines/flowers

I left it ambiguous whether or not castaways are still being healed after they've been turned into leaflings

Other info and ideas I didn't include:

A lot of times the plant grown will be poisonous ie. a yellow leafling grows buttercups. This is to protect them from predators.

Marks resembiling their leafling eyes might be visible on their corneas

Drinking nectar gives them a similar effect to the pikmin; blooming flower, faster speed (maybe strength? forgot if that's boosted), they also get "extra lives" but their pain receptors are more sensitive than the pikmin so they get temporarilly incapacitated for longer

Keeping it ambiguous if castaways are straight up revived from the dead or need to be brought in while they're still hanging on (there's so much story potential if theres a time limit tho!)

They might be able to use the vines as a second limb (I accidentally drew Olimar's vine too low so he probably has a vine tail now)

Dunno if I did Yonny's speech pattern justice here (still experimenting) but-

I REALLY wished we could've gotten notes from Yonny about this since he got to see them up close. And dang it I'm really curious about how the leaflings work, I get that they're all dandori n stuff but what if the pink ones can fly or the purple ones are stronger. Maybe all of them except blue leaflings get hurt by water.

So many questions and no answers, and so much design and story potential!!!

I cut the image in case tumblr's compression kicks me.

This was a pretty fun way to start drawing the castaways too. Now I'm really tempted to draw everyone's leafling forms (I may have already picked flowers for the rescue corps team based on their symbolism)

#pikmin 4 #pikmin 4 spoilers #yonny pikmin #bernard pikmin #fan art #captain olimar #leafling #castaway #kamatha answers

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ivyblossom · 29 days ago

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Lessons in Story: Artificial Intelligence

Artificial intelligence is not an element of story, and yet here we are.

I'm aware that AI is bad for the environment. So's tumblr. That's all true. I'm also aware that AI scrapes copyrighted material like google does. I'm aware of how it steals art for its knowledge base without compensating artists and uses is as a model and replacement for skills. That's bad. I'm not going to address any of that here.

I have been observing how people talk about using AI in various parts of their writing process at the same time as I'm been trying to understand my own process and the obstacles I'm facing, and these two topics have oddly collided.

As I've said previously, my background is in some kind of woo woo where narrative comes out in one whole piece. So the fact that writing is many different and iterative pieces is something I had to figure out in my own bizarre way, but at the moment I now understand the basic process to be in these four general stages:

dreaming/planning (coming up with characters, ideas, goals, worlds, etc.)

outlining (not to say that this isn't many sub-stages, all of these steps are big catagories)

writing (actually putting words into sentences so your story exists)

Editing (revising, restructuring, polishing, etc.)

Are there more steps that I'm not accounting for? Those are the stages as I understand them. You can move back and forth through these stages throughout the process, so it's not necessarily linear, though it could be. For me, the key has been embracing the fact these are all radically different activities that require a completely different headspace, different skills, sometimes different tools, and a different perspective on narrative. That has been freeing revelation, because I was trying to do most of it at the same time.

But here's what else I've learned:

Dreaming/planning: this is a zero consistency space when it comes to how close or how far away you are from your protagonist. Are you feeling what they feel, or are you 30,000 feet up looking at the task they have in front of them and the path they're going to take? Or are you somewhere in between? Kind of all of the above at different points.

Outlining: in my experience, this can and should include emotional through lines, but outlining usually focuses on the 30,000 foot view. I have personally never written an outline that didn't miss critical details because of the 30,000 foot gap between me and the protagonist when I outline.

Writing: this seems like the very closest and most intimate you get with your story and your protagonist, right? This is where you live through it with them in extreme detail. There is no distance between you and them, you have to use a telescope to see 30,000 feet up. I find I have to revise my outline in small ways because I often underestimate or overestimate what something's going to feel like on the ground. This is like a micro-discovery phase: not plot discovery, emotional and intimate detail discovery.

Editing: I'm not an expert at this, but so far I feel like it goes back to being extremely inconsistent. It's either very close in a different way, or 30,000 feet up, or various in-between levels, depending on the type of editing or revision. And sometimes it's none of those, it's completely outside looking at how many times you use the word "feel" or whether your verbs and nouns agree.

Right. So people try to insert AI to do the graft for one or more of these stages.

AI in stage 1: I've seen some folks talk about using AI to get ideas for stories. I don't understand that, ideas are the easiest part of this process, as far as I can tell. Life's a rich pageant, maybe that's not universally true. Now, having AI to help you refine an idea, I can see that. Especially if you ask it to point out tropes and cliches as you go. Is that bad? Is that cheating? I dunno.

AI in stage 2: I've never seen anyone say they do this. If you have an amazing and complete story idea and you want to shaped into a 3 or 5 act structure, or a hero's journey, etc. I'm sure AI could do that, but that's mainly just typing. That's like AI as workbook. Is that cheating? I dunno. Does an AI generated outline help you? Or do you just skip the thinking that would have created the details of your story? Hard to say.

AI in stage 3: The wildest version of using AI in the creation of fiction, and there are whole subreddits for it. This is the people who are constructing novels scene by scene by telling AI to write it for them to their specifications and then "heavily editing" the result. So they are ostensibly doing stage 1, 2, and 4 themselves, and are outsourcing stage 3, the hard graft. Though I'd be very surprised if they aren't also using AI for stage 4, but let's assume they aren't.

Stage 3 is the only part of writing process that is protected by copyright, so it's a weird one to outsource. It's also the stage, in my experience, where you do micro-discovery, the in-the-moment scene details and the actual, living emotional experience of your story that you can't completely capture in outline. So if you just animate your outline without living through the story with your characters, it's always going to feel emotionally 30,000 feet in the air, I think. Right? If you feed AI an outline, that's what you'd get. i think doing this is just avoiding doing the most intimate and immediate discovery process of creating a story, and I don't think that serves the story or the writer (or "writer").

I'm intrigued that people think you can do this and it makes sense. You'd have to believe that the writing process is simply describing the contents of your outline, but I don't think that's true. It's like trying to get from the twelfth floor to the first floor by skipping the stairs, the elevator or the escalator and just leaping into the air assuming you'll land just fine because those intermediary systems are just time-wasters anyway.

I've read some arguments that using AI for stage 3 is something people with disabilities need to get their stories out into the world. As a neurodivergent person, I think that's short-sighted and is a disservice to those stories. I'm pretty sure it's just skipping the work of living through the emotional through line of the story and just not making all the little decisions and constructing the tiny details that go into the telling of a story. That's a heck of a missing staircase. Outlines aren't stories. Skipping the writing part means you're missing 2/3rds of the discovery, and therefore 2/3rds of the richness and depth of the story. How does that serve disabled voices? I don't buy it.

AI in stage 4: the one that looks innocuous but is actually dangerous. Dumping your work into AI and having it fix everything for you. This is a bad idea. Dump your work in there if you want to, but have it tell you what it's finding that needs adjustment so you can make decisions about it yourself. Copying and pasting out of an AI engine means you aren't making decisions about it, you're deferring decisions to a machine. That's the fastest way possible to erase your own voice. I can see getting it to flag things it has questions about, but taking AI advice on your writing is way too trusting.

I think this is especially dangerous for writers who don't have confidence in their own voice. AI's voice may seem like a better chose to them, and that's really sad.

I have more to say about AI, but this is more than enough for now.

#lessons in story #AI

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polaris-stuff · 9 months ago

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Hey Noffy again

These last three episodes. Honestly I am still in shock.

As someone that was in the middel all the time. Right now at least the fandom seems United in being pissed (at what part certainly different, but i don't see anyone really liking this arc)

Right now...I don't think I gather my thoughts enough to say anything about the track the celestial family's arcs are going. Just that I am disappointed.

I am trying to find a way they can safe this arc.

Wich lies with that last but in the mgafs episode. The 'this all feels very orgistrated, moon losing his mind. Killing bloodmoon'. Or something along those lines.

If based on that. There is a sort of 'virus' reveal that some people have been speculating. I want something else to happen.

It still needs to hurt. That earth and lunar gave up on moon. Like it's the virus that made it all so quick and violent? (If that's what they are going for)

But still keep that part of the angst? I dunno. Something along those lines (still don't want old moon back without new moon. Answering for whats going in or the family trying to help. )

Gosh and I hate that sun wasn't here. People saying he needs to make a decision and then he isn't here?

I am afraid of next episode and what they are gonna tell sun. Sun is gonna be so utterly broken.

Uugh I think I am gonna join everyone in the fanfic reading.

I am still holding a sliver of hope they can fix this.

Or more I WANT THE SHOW TO FIX THIS.

I have not been in this community long. (Got introduced just around when Bloodmoon came back. ( A little before that))

I have not interacted with people much except in comments on ao3. Or asks where I can be on anon as I can't use my main. Or in the comments of threads.

But the people have been kind to me. Even if I held a different opinion. I've seen the joy this show gave. The art that it creates. And I am scared this arc is gonna destroy all that. Because people lose motivation because of this arc.

I really really hope not.

I hope the show brings it back. I hope they can do something. Even if for right now it feels like shit.

-noffy

I missed your asks, Noffy 🥺💖

Tbh I had no idea people were speculating about a virus until yesterday, and honestly, if it all ends up being about a virus (or the Ruin virus on Moon) I'll still be so upset. Because I won't be able to stop thinking about how Moon changed a little, became more aggressive and his family abandoned him at the first "No, I don't want help."

This whole arc only confirms the worst fears of all Moons: they will never be loved. They will always be the bad guys. << Which is btw what New Moon feared and talked to Earth about in therapy.

This arc feels rushed, gross, and not only did destroy the family, Moon's entire development was thrown in the trash. They butchered Moon's character. How are they going to fix this? Why tarnish the name of one of the show's protagonists so badly? Someone they're going to need later?

And you know what I hate more than everything? Sun doesn't know anything about what's going on. Puppet went, told him "you have to make a decision", Sun couldn't do it and Puppet went and sent Moon into space. Without authorization from Sun. And I hope Sun is really upset about it in the next episode.

Oh! And by the way! Earth comparing Moon to the creator felt like a stab in the back. The creator is a horrendous being who killed children for his own benefit, who does horrible experiments, and who planned and killed many people. New Moon has never killed anyone, New Moon was always helping his family, New Moon bought a house so Sun could have a place to relax, New Moon helped make Earth's new body with love, New Moon was so concerned about Lunar's well-being (when Eclipse came back) that he asked for and helped build a bodyguard for him.

New Moon was there ALL THE TIME for everyone.

But no one was for him.

I propose that the entire fandom pretend that this arc never happened :3 💖

#tsams #polaris stuffs #the sun and moon show #non art post #tysm for the ask!#💖💖

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blueberrypancakesworld · 2 months ago

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Heyaa dunno if u write NSFW so read no further if you don't!

May we get uhhh Franco Barbi having his... "Lupara" (wink wink nudge nudge) kissed by a reader who happens to be one of his working girls and him being surprised at how sweet and gentle she is with him pls? Also reader is very shy because she's a newbie

Thank uu 😇

Love can be gentle

Franco Barbi x fem!reader

warning : smut, gun play, getting oral m, fluff, comfort, kissing, no use of y/n, nicknames like ma'am and good boy

Summary : It wasn't easy to run a theater, prepare a show and above all be a good boy who would make his mother proud. But even Franco needs a moment of peace and one of his girls has a special eye on the gangster. Perhaps there will be a romance movie for a change instead of just porn on the big screen.

info : Of course you will get something like this dear anon thanks a lot for the request, i had a lot of fun writing it especially for the shy reader it was really sweet. I wish you a lot of fun reading ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In his area, his trial, he could do anything he wanted to sleep, drink milk, carve his ammunition from the most beautiful teeth or even turn to his victims who were all like playthings for the gangster whose lust is only surpassed by his love for violence.

Everyone knew Franco Barbi and his brutality but also his genius even down here in the hell of an asylum or wherever they were, nobody really knew and wouldn't think about it for long.

Because either you died in the first few days or you lost your mind trying to understand it...only the fewest still had something like emotions, morals or a mind.

A mind that still worked and a mind that could be used to give something to the more important experiments, like a wind-up toy that kept working instead of breaking.

,,You are his dolls, his girls so try to take it with a pinch of dignity, think of it as babysitting my dears” it was these words before the pills had taken effect and the new batch of prisoners was sent to Franco.

A couple of new pretty girls who would be Franco's poster children and decoys and weapons for his prey, they were bad kids who needed to be punished, he knew it, the dead knew it, they realized it too late and she knew it.

She knew it as well as the black patent stiletto heels on her feet as she made her rounds in the theater, her route now worn out for several minutes as they all did regardless of whether the game had begun or not, ,,Where are you?” she muttered, switching the revolver in her hand again to get her fingers moving again.

Franco had been gone for hours she had only seen him in the morning or however many o'clock it was when he disappeared with a few teeth, nervous and more excited than usual.

A thing she shouldn't really care about, no one should care about anyone here because their own survival was more important but Franco, her boss, her experiment, her sweet boy was something else to her since she met him which had almost resulted in the loss of her head if he hadn't pulled his lupara away when she had introduced herself to him.

This man the gangster psychopath with mother complex had just done it to her, he was cute and misunderstood and maybe it was the drugs, the pills, the gewlat or her lost hope for recovery but she had lost her heart a little to the man-baby.

Before her thoughts could go any further and she hoped that no one had seen her lost in thought look, she heard an unmistakable scream and wailing from afar.

Franco was back and seemed more stressed than usual, she immediately felt worried as she watched him come into the theater by the broken window and the ,,I hope for you dolls you're all on your fucking posts!” scream could be heard, something that seemed normal to the others put her on edge.

Was it normal? Did he want something? Should she go to him? Didn't someone have to calm him down because babysitting was her job, so to speak?

But the warmth on her cheeks and her heart now beating faster than it should didn't make things any better, despite everything she had seen, her nervousness didn't seem to have gone away, let alone her shyness.

Something that wasn't even bad Franco even seemed satisfied that she didn't talk so much because she was afraid to say the wrong thing and couldn't get anything out without dying of heat exhaustion...but now she finally had a chance.

Holstering her gun, she finally broke away from her route and walked down the stairs from the second floor as best the building would allow into the main hall where only he sat, each step making her more nervous, the questions and scenarios she imagined becoming more and more terrifying.

But her shoes betrayed her and the creaking of the old wood seemed to be a scream in the relatively quiet room, ,,What the fuck do you want?” the question from Franco, who had his gun pointed at her, was a shot and she put her hands up briefly, seeing how he seemed to relax as much as possible.

Her voice trailed off for a moment and she cleared her throat before coming to stand in front of him, looking down at him, ,,I...I saw you were nervous, do you need something?” she asked, her fingers clutching at the short skirt that exposed most of her legs to him.

An outfit not quite to her taste but it seemed to do something for Franco whose blue eyes were reluctant to leave her and smirked, ,,Do I fucking need anything? Doll, I don't think you can give me what I need, can you?” he asked, a challenging look in his eyes.

A look that she had often seen, especially when he had found a pretty, beautiful victim whose body he wanted to use for his personal collection, a look that not only made her nervous but also turned her on more than it should.

I'd give you anything Franco she would have liked to scream and get down on her knees in front of him but instead her gaze dropped nervously to the floor and she stammered around the right words, something that seemed to amuse the gangster greatly and he had forgotten his worries, at least for now.

She was new and he had been playing this game for as long as he had been here, it was a game of cat and mouse, a game of knowing and giving in but here she knew he only spoke the language of brutality...but in the few moments she had seen him for herself he was not only alone but also searching for love and gentleness.

Maybe as he didn't have to admit his side she just had to jump over her shadow and whether it was because of the gas and drugs or her love for him didn't matter as she carefully knelt down in front of him and Franco's gaze became curious.

The baby had become interested in what was happening in front of him, a beautiful woman, perfect shoes with heels that could and would surely hurt him, hands that would hit him if he leaned on them and a gun that would shoot if he pulled down her skirt.

Just as he reached his hand out to her, still feeling impatient and angry, she laid her cheek against his hand, her warm cheek seeming almost alien to him since every female body he played with was actually cold.

But this warmth was almost pleasant, so pleasant that he began to caress her cheek lightly, breaking their eye contact every now and then, both unsure if this was the right thing to do, ,,I can show you gentleness...if you like Franco” she began to find her voice seemed to be in the right place as she knelt between his legs looking at him a gentle look meeting his now uncertain one as he was not used to this new feeling.

Her hands moved from her skirt to his white-streaked suit pants, tracing the fabric, the skin underneath squeezing slightly with a pleasant tug, and she plucked up the courage to reach for his gun.

His most important possession, which he also clutched for fear she would take it away from him, ,,Gentleness can also be loving, caring and nurturing,” she continued to murmur, the words escaping her lips and a Franco unaware that such a thing even seemed possible.

But he hesitantly loosened his lupara and her lips kissed the wood and metal, the cold weapon giving her a goose bump that seemed to pass to Franco as he groaned at the sight.

How pretty she was, how gentle she was with such an ugly thing, how her lips kissed along the gun, how his mind interpreted the image into something ambiguous and he felt how he wanted her...but not rough and dead, he wanted that softness she gave him.

She ran her tongue over the barrel of the gun metal and blood tasted unpleasant but not strange and her fingers ran over his strokes, ,,Gentle-gentle is good, the baby will like it” she heard his rough voice as he kept his noises under control not wanting to interrupt her.

She didn't want to lose the idea that had rarely fascinated and above all aroused him so much, an arousal that pressed painfully against his pants and she had seen this long ago when she finished her little performance, encouraged by his reaction.

Encouraged by how he saw her, what he thought of her but most of all that he liked her gentleness was something that gave her the courage she needed as she placed her hands on his cheeks for a moment, ,,A good boy you are Franco, so good for your ma'am” she murmured with the same warm cheeks as she engaged him in a kiss. Franco felt her hold his hands gently on her hips, yet not letting go, he had taken a liking to the new feeling.

Something he'd never had and would now only get from her and he let her pull as her fingers traveled down his torso, running over his arousal, the deformed one whimpering as his fingers dug into the back of the seat instead of gripping her tightly.

The praise did wonders for him, along with the gentleness it was just something he'd never felt before, ,,Your reward baby...for behaving to take some of the stress off you,” she said, and he barely remembered in his fuzzy memory why he'd been so angry when he'd burst in here.

Undoing the button of his pants, she ran her tongue over the fabric of them first and was almost surprised at the hasty movement of his hips, he really was an impatient man.

But she didn't let herself be put off and licked once more over the fabric gently, teasing a little before she freed his cock from the fabric, the whimpering and pleading of the psychopath rewarding her with a kiss on the already dripping tip.

Spreading it a little with more kisses and licks, she was sure he could come from that alone.

He had held out so well for her, responded so well to her praise, ,,Be gentle and Mommy gives you everything,” she said, her hand gently stroking his and he held onto it as a breathless begging continued to come from his lips and she finally took his own 'lupara' in her mouth to show him how gentle and intimate something like this could be.

He just had to behave and be a good boy who simply had to accept the feeling of love and softness if he wanted to continue to feel it on him...because even love is soft.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@lovesick-on-the-loose , @millie-milkshake , @xgrisleyx , @trash-flowerss

#outlast trials #outlast #outlast franco #franco barbi #franco barbi x reader #male x female #reader is female #the outlast trials #franco bambino barbi

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