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nowimjustastranger · 1 day ago

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I don't know if this has already been asked before but has Stcmo Ford ever had to intervene in a world where Stanley took the journel(where that world's Ford wasn't sent through the portal) and planned for it to be the last thing he'd ever do before dying?

As he was trudging through the snow back to his car, Stan couldn't help but hear Ford's words play on an endless loop in his head, drowning out everything else. Stan had wanted so badly to shove the journal back at Ford after his brother had branded him, but he couldn't. Ford was right, he was always right.

So he kept the fucking diary and stormed out.

Ford didn't follow, so Stan must've said something about giving in to his brother's will before leaving, but he couldn't remember what had come out of his mouth. His head was swimming in a nauseating way as his shoulder screamed at him, his body shook violently with every gust of wind.

He already knew that he wasn't going far. He just needed to get to the car, then he'd burn the stupid fucking journal and drive himself off the nearest cliff. He was tired. So very tired and hungry and cold. He had dropped everything just to come when his brother called, hoping against all hope that maybe they could finally talk.

He should know better than to entertain hope by now.

He didn't even realize someone was in front of him until he literally ran into them, stumbling back with a curse as he clutched his arm, a new burst of pain surging through his shoulder. He blinked the black spots out of his vision, squinting at the weirdo who was wearing a flashy all-black getup in the middle of a blizzard.

He would've noticed that something was off sooner if he hadn't been so worn down.

But, as it stood, he heard a sharp twang before a bolt was rushing past his ear from behind. Stan stiffened, adrenaline flooding his body when Ford yelled at him, ordering him to run to his car and get out of town as fast as he could.

He took a total of three stumbling steps toward his car before an arm was curling around his throat, getting him into a firm headlock. The stranger wasn't choking him though, so small mercies. Actually, it seemed like the guy was actively avoiding his brand, which was weird because why would that matter if he was gonna take Stan hostage anyway?

Stan tried to hold on to the journal, he really did, but the asshole pulled it away from his icy fingers with ease. Stan choked on what might've been a sob, devastated that he had failed the one task that he'd been given. How did he manage to keep fucking everything up so spectacularly? He should've never been born.

"Stanley!" Ford shouted with no small amount of distress, clearly upset about his journal falling into the wrong hands on his front lawn. Stan couldn't look at him, couldn't bare to see the disappointment and anger that were surely coloring Ford's face right now.

"You can either have the journal or your brother." The stranger's voice carried over the howling wind, Stan's wide eyes darting to the book in the man's other hand with a sinking feeling in his gut. Stan already knew what Ford would pick, he had proved time and time again that he cared about his research more than he loved his brother.

"Let him go!" Ford seethed, the anger far more familiar to Stan, who finally braved a look at his brother. Ford was surprisingly close, only a few feet away with his crossbow loaded and aimed at the stranger. His expression was a mixture of terror and fury, his bloodshot eyes darting from Stan to the stranger several times.

He didn't look at the journal once.

"Is that your choice?" The stranger asked, the arm around Stan's neck slowly tightening, Stan's hands frantically prying at the dark fabric and flexing muscle with a pitiful wheeze that had Ford making an aborted movement toward him.

"Yes! Yes! I choose him!" Ford's voice cracked, face crumpling like he was about to burst into tears. Stan grit his teeth and swung his elbow down to bury it into the man's kidney, the grip on his neck loosening just enough that Stan could twist and punch the asshole right in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Stan lunged for the journal, wrenching it from the man's grip as he kicked the bastard's knee, hearing the joint pop out of place. The guy grunted in pain as he went down, Stan scrambling toward his brother, who had lurched forward to meet him. Stan couldn't see what was happening, but he heard another bolt fire and then Ford was dropping the weapon to grab at Stan.

"He's gone! He's gone! He left!" Ford gasped as he dragged Stan to his feet, using his body as a crutch to keep Stan upright as the two of them unsteadily made their way back to the shack. Stan's legs gave out on him as soon as they were inside, Ford slamming and locking the door behind them with an urgency that bordered on manic.

"Ford..." Stan panted, slumped against the wall, and Ford was beside him in the blink of an eye.

"What? What is it? Did he hurt you?" Ford asked in rapid-fire, shaking hands fluttering over his body. Stan caught one, Ford flinching at how cold Stan's hand was.

"I... the journal... I got it back." Stan said breathlessly, weakly raising his other hand to offer it to Ford, who looked stunned as he stared at it. Maybe he didn't think Stan would bother to grab it? Just how little did Ford trust him?

It was Stan's turn to be speechless when Ford took the journal from him and carelessly set it aside before he was back to fussing over Stan, who was too busy blinking dumbly to stop Ford from accidentally touching the brand while searching for wounds.

Stan cried out, hunching on on himself as Ford profusely apologized, scurrying away after assuring Stan that he'd be back with his first aid kit. Stan kept his head down as he nodded, teeth grit against the pain. He was used to waiting. Waiting for the millions to miraculously come pouring in, waiting for Ford to reach out first, waiting for his next meal, waiting for those rough hands to stop touching him.

Always waiting.

He heard Ford making a racket further in the house and decided that he could wait just a little longer.

#gravity falls #side quest #somebody to call my own au #ford pines #stan pines #stan and ford #stan twins #writing #ask box

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gockruler · 3 days ago

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Went to an LGBTQ+ event this morning. Several different people in the queer community stepped up and gave speeches, it was very nice. Although at one point a woman came up saying some transphobic stuff. Apparently the organizers let her in because she's a "true lesbian" and we "need to be open to other points of view" or whatever. Several people in the audience got up and left but I stayed because she wasn't the last speech and I wanted to hear the other ones. I struggled to pay attention to what she said though because she had massive tits. Like just huge tits. I couldn't stop thinking about shoving my cock in between them and rutting against them. Spill my load all over her pretty face and chest. She said something about objects and left the stage. I got her name though, so I was able to figure out where she lives. Hoping to give her a visit and show her what real lesbian sex is.

#transfem superiority #transfem supremacy #trans superiority #trans supremacy #terfbreaking #r@pe fantasy #r@pe kink #r@pe play

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luvergirl-866 · 2 hours ago

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something like love

part - 6

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 4.7k

c/w - language, tiny bit of angst (this is only the beginning i fear.)

a/n - is it cringe of me to ask for live reactions? bc i want live reactions sb. anyway, sorry ik i said this chap would be long and juicy but i decided to hold off on the juicy part, i needed a lil more plot development! also ty to everyone who sends me asks, even if it’s just things like “when’s the next part😫” i love it sm lol. hope yall like this one!!

The next two days are—at least compared to the first two—almost peaceful. The weather is nice, just warm enough and not too humid, which Azzi’s hair appreciates. She got goddess braids done just before the trip and even in protective styles, her hair gets frizzy at the very notion of moisture.

The peacefulness largely comes from the fact that Paige is avoiding her parents like the plague, instead spending all her time with Azzi and her siblings. The third day they spend almost entirely at the local park, shooting around at the court there under the hot sun. Lauren even reluctantly joins for a few games, and she may be adamant about not wanting to play basketball but the talent for it must be genetic because she’s a natural. And if Paige and Azzi spend the whole ‘competition’ brushing hands and flirting, nobody says anything. (Though Ryan does wrinkle his nose at them a few times.)

The fourth day starts out warm, and so Paige and Azzi sneak the kids out bright and early (Azzi, of course, ends up with the job of waking all three siblings up—not one of them is a morning person whatsoever) and go to an ice cream shop, where they eat their cold, sweet breakfasts on the curb while they chat. Both Ryan and Lauren may have argued that they were too old to be excited about ice cream for breakfast anymore, but they both end up with matching, chocolate-covered grins when they’re done.

The weather turns for the worst before noon, though, and the kids want to go home but Paige insists they go to the arcade instead. When she says she’ll pay for as many games as they want, they’re easily swayed. Of course, Paige and Azzi make a competition out of the day, deciding to keep a tally of all their points so that whoever has the most wins by the end has to buy the whole group prizes.

Azzi gives it a fighting go but Paige plays way more video games than she does so she very nearly beats her—but then, when they’re almost out of game tickets, Azzi pouts at her about the whole situation, and suspiciously, she ends up making an incredible recovery, easily beating Paige at almost every game after that.

Lauren picks a koala plushie, Ryan picks some new shoes, and Azzi gets this shiny plastic tiara.

“You didn’t have to get the cheapest prize,” Paige says as Azzi adjusts the tiara on her head. “I got money.”

“I know,” Azzi replies, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “But I had to. As the princess.”

Paige gives her that stupid fucking look again—the one Azzi still can’t figure out even though she knows Paige like the back of her hand, which is just driving her crazy—and that look shows up so often Azzi should really just start referring to it as The Look at this point.

But then Paige smiles, previous odd expression gone, and the way she does that,—slips out of it like she doesn’t even realize it was there in the first place—drives Azzi even more crazy than The Look itself.

Now, it is the fifth day. And Azzi reminisces on these past two blissful days to try and distract herself from the fact that Paige and her parents are having a heated argument right in front of her and her scrambled eggs.

“No, Paige,” Amy is saying. “Absolutely not.”

“You can’t do that!” Paige replies, throwing her hands into the air. “I’m an adult, I make my own money, I can do—“

“It’s stupid.”

“It’ll be fun!”

“It won’t, because it’s not happening.” Amy is unpacking a load of groceries, and Dean is lingering in the corner of the kitchen being absolutely useless. That seems to be his brand.

“Yes it will, Mom,” Paige replies, voice lower now but still obviously frustrated. “I wasn’t asking for your permission. I was just seeing if you wanted to come with us. I was tryna be nice!”

“Well it won’t be nice when you crash and we all drown, Paige.”

“Jesus, Mom! I ain’t gonna go around crashing!”

Azzi feels very uncomfortable, wishing she were literally anywhere else, but at the same time this is sort of amusing and she has to hide a smile in a bite of eggs.

This argument is, out of all things, about a boat. Paige wants to rent one and have a lake day, and though she didn’t want to, Azzi convinced her to invite her parents—she figured they’d decline but that they’d be offended if they weren’t at least invited.

She wasn’t really expecting a lecture to come out of it, though. But by the tired look on Paige’s face, she knew exactly what was coming their way.

“You don’t even have a boating license,” Amy continues, placing a new jug of milk and some apples in the fridge. “This is illegal. If you won’t listen to your mother, at least listen to the law.”

That very nearly gets a giggle out of Azzi. She chokes it down.

“This is a private lake, I’on need my license.”

“Well that doesn’t sound shady at all.”

“It’s not, it’s super legit!” Paige makes for her phone in her back pocket. “It has its own website and everything, I looked way into it.”

Amy stares her daughter down for a few seconds, hands on her hips, before she lets out a resigned sigh. “Like you said, Paige, I can’t tell you what to do. You’re an adult, do what you want. But you will not be taking your siblings on that death trap.”

“Wha…” Paige flounders, eyebrows furrowed, and her voice raises again, “that was the whole point of this entire thing!”

“Well, that’s too bad. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll make them wear life jackets!”

“They’re teenagers,” Dean points out rather unhelpfully, and it’s the first time he’s spoken around her in days but Azzi is already sick of him again. “Neither of them are gonna wear life jackets.”

“I’ll force them, I swear.”

“Paige Madison,” Amy snaps, and Paige may be an independent adult now but she still straightens her back subconsciously at her mother’s warning tone, “no means no. They are my kids.”

“They’re my siblings!” Paige replies—rather boldly, Azzi thinks, because if Azzi were in her place she would’ve given up by now.

But Paige, as most daughters do, knows exactly how far to push her mother to get what she wants—apparent in the way Amy massages her temples with her fingers before saying, “You know what, Paige? Fine.”

Dean is jumping in immediately. “What? No, she can’t take my kids out on a boat.”

“She’s right, Dean,” Amy says, though she looks a little pained to be siding with her daughter for once. “They’re her siblings. She wants to do something fun for them.”

“It’s dangerous!” Dean motions sporadically at where Paige and Azzi are sitting at the island. Azzi’s eggs are gone now and so she has nothing to put her awkward energy into. “Neither of them owns a boat, and they are practically strangers—“

“She is my daughter,” Amy says, and it’s so quiet Azzi almost doesn’t hear it, but she does, and it sends shivers through her. Because there’s something dangerous, something protective in her tone, something only a mother who loves their child could convey. And it sends a flicker of hope through her. “She is my daughter and I trust her with her siblings.”

Dean flounders for something but comes up empty, instead storming off all red-faced like a child. Amy doesn’t look either of them in the eye when she says, “Let me know if you kids need anything today,” before leaving the two best friends alone in the kitchen.

Slowly, Paige turns to look at Azzi, something like disbelief in her expression. “Did that—actually go well?”

“Yeah,” Azzi responds. “I think it did.”

Things may just be looking up.

———————————————

Dean may be an asshole, but it turns out he was right about one thing: Ryan and Lauren will not wear life jackets.

“C’mon, guys, it’s the law,” Paige insists, thrusting a pink life jacket at her sister, who scrunches her nose in disgust.

“No way! That’s so ugly, Paige.”

“The color wont matter when you’re drowning.”

“You sound just like Mom!” Lauren sighs, and Paige’s mouth falls open.

“You did not just say that.”

Lauren gives Paige a smug smile, which amuses Azzi because it’s the same smile Paige gives her whenever she wins an argument. “And I meant it too.”

If Lauren were not much smaller than Paige, she would be tackling her right now, based off the look on her face. But instead she composes herself and turns to Ryan, who is sitting at the front of the speedboat on his phone. He feels his older sister’s gaze and looks up at her, then at the life jacket in her hands. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being so for real.”

“There’s gonna be hot girls in bikinis on the lake,” Ryan replies, as if this is the most obvious thing ever. “No way I’m wearing a life jacket.”

Paige sighs and rubs her temple with her fingers, and Azzi would never say it out loud (for fear of being pushed into the lake) but she does kind of look like her mom in this moment.

When Paige turns on her with a warning look, Azzi startles, wondering if she’s somehow read her mind. But instead, Paige picks up another life jacket and says, “Will you at least wear one?”

Azzi smiles, a little puzzled. “Paige, I don’t need a life jacket. I can swim.” Which is obvious considering she and Paige have spent various lake days at her family’s cabin.

“Yeah, but for my peace of mind, though!” Paige shakes the life jacket in Azzi’s direction.

The truth is, Azzi wouldn’t mind wearing the life jacket. But ever since she put on this bikini—pastel purple in color—Paige has been swallowing thickly and averting her eyes constantly. So Azzi thinks she has other reasons for wanting her to cover up.

And Azzi can’t let her get away with that, can she?

“I don’t need it.” Azzi steps forward and takes the life jacket out of Paige’s grasp, tossing it aside before reaching to trail her hand down Paige’s bicep, squeezing the hard muscle a little bit. “And besides, won’t you save me if I’m drowning?” she asks, smiling coyly.

Paige’s throat bobs, eyes landing respectfully on a spot past Azzi’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not really how that works.”

Azzi blinks, and she knows just how big and brown her eyes are when she looks up at Paige through her lashes. “No? Thought you’ve been in the gym?”

“I have,” Paige says defensively.

“Hm.” Azzi lets her hand trail off Paige’s arm, resting it on Paige’s side before dancing her fingers dangerously over Paige’s exposed abs. “You wanna prove that to me, baby?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and Azzi loves the way she can not only see but feel her stomach tense under her fingers. But the moment is broken by a gagging sound nearby.

Lauren—who has sat beside her brother and pulled out her own phone—is now looking at them with disgust. “You guys are so gross.”

“You shouldn’t be making sexual innuendos in front of Lauren,” Ryan adds on, though his eyes don’t leave his screen.

“Yeah!” Lauren agrees, then furrows her eyebrows and starts tapping at her phone. Azzi guesses she’s probably searching what sexual innuendo means.

“Hey, yo, don’t blame me,” Paige says, putting her hands up and taking two big steps away from Azzi. “She started it.”

“Azzi’s a freak,” Ryan says.

“Whoa, chill!”

“Hey, that’s actually offensive,” Lauren says. She has picked up a habit of defending Azzi with her life these last few days they’ve spent together, and Azzi has decided she would do the same. “That’s like calling her a monster or something.”

Ryan smirks, finally looking up at them. “I didn’t mean that kinda freak.”

“Okayyy!” Paige jumps in before Lauren can do any more Googling. “Let’s get this show on the road. Imma go untie us real quick, then we’ll head out.”

For the first time, nerves bubble in Azzi’s tummy. “Paige, you sure you’ll be able to drive this thing?”

Paige looks almost offended at the question. “Yeah, duh.”

“It’s just, you’ve never driven a speed boat before…”

“Trust me, mama,” Paige says, nodding cockily to herself. “I got driving skills like you’ve never seen.”

Fifteen minutes later, Azzi realizes Paige was telling the truth. She has certainly never seen these driving skills before.

Paige is an—erratic driver, to put it mildly. This lake is private, huge, and though there are plenty of other boaters out Paige drives as if they’re the only ones on the water. At one point, she gets to such a high speed that even Ryan grasps onto Azzi a little bit.

When Paige very nearly runs into a cruising party boat, Azzi finally gets up from her place between the kids and marches over to Paige, who glances up at her with a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

“Lemme drive,” Azzi demands, beckoning for Paige to get up.

“No!” Paige says stubbornly. “I’m doin’ good!”

“I thought I was going to die!” Lauren pipes up angrily.

Azzi motions to her. “See? You’re scaring your brother and sister.”

“Whoa, who said I was scared?” Ryan says.

Azzi decides against bringing up the fact that he kept clinging to her arm. “This is scary, I wanna drive.”

“But babeee,” Paige groans, bringing the boat to a stop so she can properly argue, “you drive like a grandma.”

“I drive like a sane person, is what I think you mean to say.”

“It’ll be boring.”

“Paige.”

Paige stares her down for a moment before sighing like a stubborn little kid. “Fine. You can drive.”

Azzi nods, pleased, and shoves at Paige’s shoulder when she doesn’t move. “Get up.”

A slow smile creeps over Paige’s face and Azzi doesn’t like the look of that at all. “I gotta show you the ropes.”

“I don’t need you to teach me how to drive this thing,” Azzi says as if it’s obvious, because really, it is. The thought of Paige trying to teach anyone her…unique ways is downright scary. “I got it.”

“Nah, I think you’ll need some help.”

“P, for real, stop being difficult and move.”

“I’m not about to—“

“Can we go?” Lauren says loudly, getting both girls’ attention.

“Yeah, I’m getting hot as hell just sitting here,” Ryan agrees.

“I wanna get to that diving cliff Paige was talking about!”

Before Azzi can turn back to Paige to continue arguing with her, Paige has her hands on her hips and is pulling her firmly into her lap. Azzi squeaks, grabbing onto the wheel for leverage.

“Paige!” she exclaims, turning to glare at the smug-looking girl underneath her.

“You heard them,” Paige says simply, shrugging her shoulders as if her hands are tied. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t—“ Azzi starts to argue once again, but then Lauren is sighing dramatically in that teenage-girl way of her’s and saying, “Seriously, come on!”

So, almost in a daze, Azzi turns back to the front and moves her hand to the shift, getting the boat moving slowly again. She tries desperately to ignore it when Paige leans up close to her ear and murmurs, “Atta girl,” but she can’t help the goosebumps that erupt over her neck and Paige must spot them because she chuckles lightly before leaning back, letting Azzi do her thing.

Trying to shake off the feeling of Paige’s hot breath fanning over her skin, Azzi amps up the speed a little bit, determined to show Paige that she can be fun and safe, as promised.

After a few minutes of skimming over the water, Azzi calls over the wind, “Thought you were gonna ‘show me the ropes’?”

“Looks like you got it,” Paige says, sitting straight so she’s pressed up against Azzi’s back again, and her hands find their place on Azzi’s waist.

“Why’d you make me sit on your lap, then, P?” Azzi asks, and her tone lilts teasingly but she is sort of freaking out on the inside because moments like these—moments where Azzi hardly bothers to hide her feelings for Paige and Paige, instead of shying away, responds—are becoming a little too common for comfort.

Paige rests her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, lips brushing her cheek when she says, “Think you know why, hm?”

Yeah. Definitely far too common for comfort.

Ramping up the speedboat a little bit—enough that Ryan whoops and Lauren leans over the side to touch the water—Azzi shifts her hips. She moves out of discomfort, almost subconsciously trying to get away from this buzzing energy between her and her best friend, but Paige lets out a huff of air at the motion and, curious, Azzi does it again.

A full-on gasp this time.

A flush creeps up over Azzi’s cheeks all the way down her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from pleasure or shyness, though likely it’s both. But she can’t let Paige have the upper hand, because Azzi can’t even imagine how quickly she’d fold if that happened. So instead, she turns her head to the side and says, “All good, Paige?”

The problem with this is Paige’s face is still turned toward her when she says it. And when Azzi moves to reciprocate the angle, their lips are so close that they brush on the last word. On the utterance of Paige’s name.

Azzi jerks back as soon as it happens, putting a couple inches of distance between their faces, and she’s sure the flush is noticeable by now. She tries for a lighthearted laugh, “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were so close—“

She doesn’t see it coming when Paige kisses her.

It pulls a gasp out of her, lips now pressed against Paige parting slightly in surprise, and her eyes don’t even close until she feels Paige’s tongue dip inside her mouth.

It’s a quick swipe, her tongue against the space between Azzi’s teeth and upper lip before she’s pulling away—only enough to make the kiss much more chaste.

Her hands slide from Azzi’s waist to her stomach, and Azzi grips onto the steering wheel for dear life when Paige moans ever so quietly into her mouth, the sound barely heard over the wind whipping around them. And then the wind is whipping Paige’s hair into their faces, a few strands getting in Azzi’s mouth, which she takes as her opportunity to pull away. Paige stares at her—The Look again—for only a split second this time (Azzi much prefers that over the lingering one) before her face is breaking into a smile, not cocky or smug or teasing but just bright, and Azzi can’t help but laugh with her as they pull Paige’s hair out of her mouth.

“Keep your eyes on the lake!” Lauren yells at them, and when they look at her she’s got her nose wrinkled. “What is it with you guys and PDA today?”

“Maybe someone put viagra in their coffees this morning,” Ryan suggests, looking equally as disgusted as his little sister but also twice as amused.

“What’s viagra?” Lauren asks.

“Yo, Ryan!” Paige snaps, her hands moving tantalizingly from Azzi’s tummy to rest low on her hips instead, and Azzi forces herself to look back where she’s driving. “Keep it PG, dawg!”

“I could say the same thing to you,” he replies, and Azzi isn’t looking at him but she can picture the smirk on his face—she knows the look all too well by now.

The three of them bicker for a few more minutes, and Azzi tries really hard to focus on where they’re going rather than the implications of that kiss and all the questions that follow it.

Paige is the bad driver, but when she leans forward and mimics her—“All good, baby?”—Azzi worries she may be the one to crash this boat.

———————————————

“Sunscreen time!”

“No, what?”

“We just put some on!”

“Az, I’m never gonna tan at this point!”

Shaking the sunscreen into her hands, Azzi motions the three siblings towards her. “C’mon, you need it.”

“I don’t burn,” Lauren insists as she steps up in front of Azzi, lifting her arms dutifully anyway.

“You’re already getting a little red,” Azzi points out, applying an extra-thick layer onto Lauren’s rosy nose.

“This is lame,” Lauren groans, though she still lets Azzi work in silence and mumbles a thank you before she turns back to the lake.

Ryan is next, and he doesn’t complain about it but he does stare down at his phone the entire time, his head only falling back down when Azzi tries to push it up. “Ryan,” she sighs.

He tears his eyes away from his phone, only to look around subconsciously. Azzi knows he’s trying to see if the gaggle of teenage girls along the rocky beach have noticed him getting his sunscreen done.

“Hurry up,” Paige complains, nudging her younger brother in the back, and he turns around to shove her.

Azzi fights back a smile. “You can put it on yourself if that’s better.”

“It’s good,” he says nonchalantly, but he hasn’t quite mastered acting like he doesn’t care.

Azzi finishes up quickly, ending the torture with an encouraging smile, watching him run up to join his sister where she stands on the ledge above the lake, sneaking up on her. He pushes her in and Azzi laughs at the way Lauren screeches before her eyes drift to Paige, who is now standing right in front of her, looking awfully petulant.

“You really don’t want me to tan, huh?” she says, wincing as Azzi rubs the cold lotion over Paige’s sun-kissed shoulders.

“Your white ass is gonna burn if we don’t do this every thirty minutes,” Azzi says, reiterating what she said the past five times Paige complained about the sunscreen.

“I got a little melanin in me.”

Azzi looks at the way Paige’s blue eyes are squinting against the summer sun, the way her pale skin is already tinted pink, and raises her brows.

Paige holds her hand up. “Just gimme the sunscreen.”

Chuckling, Azzi squirts some into her hand before giving the bottle to Paige, who turns around and starts doing her front while Azzi does her back. They’ve done this maybe a hundred times, before countless sunny fair days and hot boat rides, but today it just feels a little…off. Everything feels a little off about them recently.

Azzi worries it may be her fault. She has always been good at hiding her feelings for Paige, good at making sure her attraction doesn’t show on her face just like she knows all her other emotions do. But recently, ever since they began this facade—and more so ever since they arrived in Montana—she knows she’s been slipping up. She thought she’d be okay but she wasn’t prepared for the way Paige would look at her like she wasn’t pretending, the way Paige calls her pet names even when they’re alone, the way Paige told her she liked kissing her and wants to do it again.

The way Paige did do it again.

And there lies the burning question: why?

Azzi knows Paige doesn’t have feelings for her. Azzi knows that she’s the only one who lies awake thinking about having Paige in every sense of the word, the only one who wakes up in the middle of the night thinking of Paige with an uncomfortable stickiness between her legs. She is the only one, of course, who is in love.

Then why do Paige’s eyes and hands wander nowadays? Why does she call her baby in quiet moments? Why did she kiss her when she really didn’t have to?

Could she be—attracted to Azzi? Maybe through playing this role, she’s seen Azzi in a new light, and realized her best friend is no longer dorky and fourteen but rather a tall, pretty twenty year old with a great ass. (And yes, Azzi knows she has a great ass.)

She could be attracted to her and not be in love. She could be attracted to her and have no other attachment whatsoever. The two things can be true at once, can’t they?

The thought flatters her but it mostly scares her, because she’s barely surviving this unrequited love as it is. But with her best friend having any level of attraction back? How is she supposed to continue on like that?

“Azzi?” Paige asks, and the tone of her voice implies she’s already said it a few times.

Azzi hums, blinking. “Sorry, yeah?”

“Uh,” Paige says, and it’s then that Azzi realizes her hands have stopped rubbing lotion into Paige’s back and have sort of just come to rest on her waist—like it’s instinctive. Like it’s natural. “You done back there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Azzi says, but for some unknown reason she can’t find it in herself to let go.

Paige glances over her shoulder. “Azzi?” she repeats.

Azzi can’t really take it any longer.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

Paige’s sides tense up under Azzi’s hands, and then she’s stepping away, out of her grasp, and turning to face her.

The look on her face is guarded, almost closed off completely. This is dangerous territory and Azzi has barely dipped her toes in the water yet.

When Azzi’s hands fall helplessly to her sides, Paige says, “I was pretending.”

As much as Azzi doesn’t buy it, the words—and the flat, cold intonation of them—sting. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“Why’re you being weird about it?” Paige asks, eyes dancing nervously away from Azzi’s face.

“I’m not, Paige. I just—I wanna know. For real.”

“You agreed to do this for me,” Paige reminds her, as if that has anything to do with this. But, of course, it has everything to do with this, and Azzi hates how easy it makes it for the both of them to hide under a facade, a lie.

“I know,” Azzi says carefully, also taking a step back if only to get away from Paige’s chilly stare. “But you didn’t have to kiss me this time. There wasn’t a reason.”

Paige shrugs, and Azzi hates to admit it but she is much better than her younger brother at acting nonchalant. “We’re s’posed to be a couple. I don’t want my siblings getting suspicious. They know I’m a touchy person.”

Getting the sinking feeling that Azzi won’t get anything out of this conversation other than a fight, she nods slowly, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Paige, as usual, thaws at the slightest hint of weakness, taking a tiny step forward. “Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Azzi is a little too quick to say. The kiss caught her by surprise, but they’ve only done it two times and Azzi is quickly coming to find that kissing Paige is the most comfortable thing in the world—it’s natural, and right, and like curling up in bed with a book and a warm cup of tea—and Azzi also knows they should never do it again.

Despite the earnest answer, Paige looks at her suspiciously. “You sure, ma? Don’t ever wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Azzi does her best to fix her face, which she worries may be showing a little too much. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.”

“Aight,” Paige says, but she still doesn’t sound very convinced. Azzi’s just glad she’s letting it go.

“Sorry for bringing it up,” Azzi says. She’s not.

At this, Paige sighs, reaching out to bridge the gap between them, running a gentle hand up and down Azzi’s arm. “Nah, don’t be, I get it. Sorry for getting a lil defensive.”

A little? Despite the fact she doesn’t believe Paige one bit, and that she doesn’t like anything about the interaction they just had, Azzi manages a smile. “You’re good.”

Paige nods, and her smile at least seems to be sincere. But as they jump into the lake, and as Paige talks Azzi’s ear off while Azzi floats around lazily in a donut floatie, things feel even more off than before.

Azzi can’t quite place what it is until late that night, when they’re both going to sleep and Paige is, for the first time in ages, strangely quiet. She glances over to find Paige lying on her stomach, face turned away, breathing too quickly to be asleep.

And that’s when Azzi notices it. The gap between them, the sheer amount of space from Azzi on her side all the way to Paige, who is almost on the edge of the bed.

Paige always sleeps close to Azzi.

And she always sleeps with her head turned towards her.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

lmk if u wanna be on my tag list btw!!

#pazzi #pazzi fics #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #wbb #wcbb #fake dating #paige buckets #the people's princess #wlw

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secretlyobito · 2 days ago

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Second skin

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Who knew the fearsome Uchiha Sasuke was........clingy?

Post war Sasuke x reader

Lots of things had changed about Sasuke since the war ended. He had a rinnegan now in his left eye, he was much taller, calmer and....touchy?

It freaked you out the first time it happened because before his defection and the war, you were used to zero physical affection from Sasuke. Sure there was the occasional hand holding or forehead tap but hugging? Caressing? Cuddling? Sasuke was uncomfortable with that, with letting people in that close. It wasn't a big deal to you, you knew your lover and accepted him for who was, quirks and boundaries included.

So it came as a shock to you when he showed up at your doorstep a few days after the war had ended and he had been pardoned for his crimes against Konoha. Sasuke never came to you first, it was always you putting in most of the heavy load in the relationship. You were already poised to ask him if everything was alright when he suddenly pulled you into a hug. What the hell, who's this and what did he do with Sasuke?

It startled you, you almost didn't recognize it was a hug. It was obvious he didn't give many hugs, he was stiff, akward and wasn't even fully touching you. After a few moments of you standing there and blinking in shock, he eventually grunts and shoves you away (lightly) in embarrassment from your lack of reciprocation. His cheeks are red as he huffs and turns around ready to leave. He summoned up all that courage to finally hold you and this is what he gets?

"wait! wait!" you giggle gripping his cloak to prevent him from leaving as he grumbles and tries to hide his flushed face. "Was that a hug??" you howl with laughter as he yanks his cloak out of your grasp and glares at you. "I was just...nevermind" He figures explaining would make everything worse. He was just going to leave and pretend this never happened, and if you tried to bring it up? He would just gaslight you into thinking you were crazy. Yep, sounds like the perfect plan.

You decide you've laughed at him enough, after all he's making an effort. You smile up at him before gently grabbing his hand and tugging him closer. "Thank you Sasuke, that meant a lot to me" You hope your words of praise would encourage him to take more baby steps. "But I didn't even do it right..." He huffs looking away, yet his thumb draws circles on your hand that grabbed his. "Its the thought that counts anyways" you shrug.

Sasuke always loved that aspect of you even though it felt like he was taking advantage of you. You were always so kind and caring and so understanding as a partner, even when he failed to be affectionate like other guys were to their girlfriends. Well no more, all that was going to change starting from today.

Ever since that day, true to his words he was more affectionate. He was basically attached to you by the hip now. He had gotten better at hugs too, they went from stiff and weird to warm and loving. He was also much bolder, these days you would find Sasuke absent mindedly caressing your thigh or sweeping you off your feet(quite literally) when he felt you were walking too slow, his new favourite hobby was lounging with his head in your lap and you playing with his hair. He would never admit that though.

He hadn't quite gotten to the level of cuddles and kisses yet. Whenever you brought it up while suggestively wiggling your eyebrows, he would blush and stutter calling you a little pervert before abruptly walking away to go and fantasize about how it would feel to have your lips on his.

Even though it seemed like Sasuke being clingy and affectionate was something he picked up out of the blue after the war, the truth was that Sasuke had always been an affectionate person by heart. Only his parents and Itachi knew just what a loving and tender boy he was. Much to his delight, Itachi was often the subject of Sasuke's cuddles when they were younger but the sheer gravity of the trauma of what he had been through made him into the damaged and withdrawn person he became before the war. Now he's slowly healing and learning to love again and you couldn't be more glad he chose you to take on that journey with him.

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

Guess who's back from the dead? meee. Jk I've actually been busy with uni applications, your girl's getting ready to move halfway across the world for school, pray for me ya'll ��😭😭 also if anybody knows any good scholarships for international students aside from the mainstream ones like commonwealth, chevening, mastercard etc, please recommend them to me ☹.

Thank you for reading, hugs and kisses. 😙

#uchiha sasuke #sasuke x reader #uchiha sasuke x reader #naruto x reader #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons #sasuke imagines #sasuke fluff #sasuke #sasuke uchiha #sasuke retsuden #sasuke haraguchi #sasuke fanfic #every sasuke

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buckevantommy · 1 day ago

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Buck could fill a small bakery with the amount he's baked in the past few weeks. He cleaned out the flour shelf at his local corner market, used a coop's worth of eggs, pushed his mixer to the limit, and had his oven working near constantly. Every neighbor on his floor and everyone he's passed in the lobby has had a loaf of some kind left on their doorstep or politely shoved into their hands. Everyone at the station is begging him not to overload them on anymore sugar - they'll take the carb-loaded meals he makes at work but avoid Buck the moment he enters the bay doors with a basket of saran-wrapped sweet bakes.

The worst part is that it's not even working anymore. It never really distracted him enough to not want to call Tommy, just put his hands and head to use for an hour or two at a time so that he couldn't text or call.

But now there's nothing left to bake with. And Eddie is looking at houses in El Paso. And everyone has family to go home to, except for Buck. And every reason he has for not being the one to reach out first goes out the window.

After a few rings, Tommy answers with a questioning: "-Buck?" and it's a gutpunch he doesn't need today but he's already feeling like shit so the pain just gets absorbed into the rest of it.

"H-hey, Tommy." It feels good to say his name under- well, not better circumstances than addressing his broken heart, but something with a bit of tentative hope at least.

And it's good to hear his voice. The voicemails and audio notes and videos from their time together have soothed him and tormented him at different times, but hearing Tommy respond sends a pang of longing through him.

"Um. I-I, uh."

"Are you okay?"

A bitter sound trips its way out of Buck's mouth. "No. No, I-I'm not okay."

"Are you hurt?"

The urgency in Tommy's voice thrills him; he still cares. But Buck doesn't want to misrepresent himself, doesn't want to trick Tommy into caring about what he's going through.

"Guess that depends."

"On what?"

"What kinda hurt you mean."

There's an inhale across the line. "What can I do?"

Tears prick at the corners of Buck's eyes. "I just- need someone to talk to." He doesn't say: even though we're not together anymore, can we still be friends? because even though he's missed Tommy being in his life, he doesn't know if he could be just friends.

"Okay." Buck hears some rustling in the background, footsteps, background noise receding. "I'm here. Talk to me."

Tommy wants to hear what Buck has to say, he always did. So Buck talks. He tells Tommy about Eddie moving away, and Tommy listens. And when it gets too much he tells Tommy about a new niece or nephew of his on the way, and Tommy offers his sincere congratulations. And then he tells Tommy about his baking coping mechanism and Tommy quiets.

So much so that Buck checks to see if the call dropped.

"I'm on my fifth engine," Tommy admit. "I keep taking them apart and putting them back together until they work better than before. But everytime I was done I had to start again, fix another broken thing, because I couldn't fix.."

Buck takes an unsteady breath. Us. "Me."

"No," Tommy says emphatically. "I couldn't fix me. Too broken to be good enough for you."

It's a heartwrenching confession, but Buck feels a smile beneath the tears sneaking down his face. "You don't think I'm broken? Nobody stays for me, Tommy. At some point I gotta realize I'm just not someone people wanna stick around for in the long run."

"Evan.."

Buck breezes over the sound of his name in Tommy's mouth, can't dwell on how good it feels because it won't last. "Guess neither of us are forever guys, huh." His heart, bruised and battered, bleeds a little more. The tears stream freely now. He sniffles, but manages to steady his voice as he says: "I loved you. That was real."

Tommy's breath hitches. "I was a coward."

Buck nods. Cries some more. They're both fucked up.

Tommy hesitates, but then: "I'm off-shift soon. We could.."

He leaves it hanging. There's so many ways Buck could finish that sentence, most of them unbearably hopeful. He doesn't want to stay in his empty apartment anymore. "Yours?" His voice is a little wet. "Maybe I could help you with that engine."

Tommy's breath of amusement is a balm to Buck's aching heart. "You know something about vintage cars I don't?" It's teasing, and gentle, and Buck has missed this.

"Maybe. Maybe trying to do it alone is the problem."

Another breath of laughter, followed by resignation in Tommy's voice. "Yeah. Maybe you're right."

Buck listens to him breathe for a moment: in, out, in..

"I'll meet you at mine."

Buck's poor heart beats a little stronger.

It was more than an hour later, of battling crosstown traffic and then letting himself into Tommy's house because Tommy had explicitly told him to use the spare key. They never gotten to the point of swapping keys. That probably should've been a step they didn't skip over. Buck's too-long legs had skipped too many for Tommy's comfort.

He pushes all thoughts of that aside. He's not perfect, he's too much, but Tommy agreed to see him. Tommy wants.. he's not sure.

Buck stands in the little living room, surveying Tommy's space while his mind spirals, heart yoyo-ing between hope and hopelessness. He doesn't know how much time passes when the front door opens and Tommy appears in the entryway.

He looks good. Tired, if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to go by, but good. His hair is a little longer all over, and it suits him. Buck wants to tell him as much but he can't seem to say anything.

Then Tommy says, "Hey," soft and concerned and fond, a sad smile at the corners of his eyes.

And Buck's tears threaten back into his own. "Hey." His voice is watery and brittle.

Tommy's there in three strides, gathering Buck into his arms, and Buck lets himself be wrapped in an embrace. Winds his arms around Tommy and presses into his solid warmth. Breathes him in as the tears come.

He feels safe. Seen. His heart cradled in care the way his body is cradled in Tommy's arms.

Buck takes a deep, steadying inhale of Tommy's scent and pulls back enough to look him in the face. His hands loose their grip at Tommy's shirt, smoothing to palm him through the cotton.

"About that engine.."

Tommy's smile is wide enough to crinkle his eyes in that way Buck loves, with joy etched in the creases.

"I wanna help you, if you'll let me. We could make it work. Together."

Tommy's eyes glisten. His smile breaks into a grin. "I'd like to try that."

buck probably called tommy every chance he got when they were together. driving home from work and stuck in traffic, it’s time to call tommy and tell him about his shift. late night in bed and he’s struggling to fall asleep without him, tommy’s soft voice will lull him to sleep from the other side of the phone. both on shift and the calls had been particularly slow, he will go and sit on the roof with tommy on loud speaker and they will just talk about anything and everything.

and when buck finds out that eddie is thinking about moving back to texas, tommy is the only person who he wants to talk to about it. so he finally gives in and calls. and of course, tommy will answer.

#yes good. 😌🫶#evantommy #fixit #fanfiction #.txt

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arceus-insanity · 1 day ago

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Endeavor Deserves No Sympathy!

I don't understand how anyone can think Endeavor was ever a good dad. It also always comes off as incredibly victim blamie, especially towards Touya, and often Shoto too.

He literally only got married and had kids to use them. He never gave a shit about their well being, never even thought about it until he had the one thing he cared about and was still miserable. I've already gone over the math proving he gave up on achieving his dream himself at 21 at the absolute latest. (https://www.tumblr.com/arceus-insanity/763259515356512256/i-liked-endeavors-character-when-he-was?source=share)

And basic math will once again be used to prove just how little this waste of flesh actually tries.

This time the focus is on how quickly he abandoned Touya and immediately went to emotional abuse via neglect & literally replacing him, and once again risking that more children be born with self-destructive quirks.

For context we only see Endeavor doing anything with his kids that's not him literally walking through and ignoring them in two circumstances. Once when Fuyumi's a newborn and Touya is attempting to crawl (not walk) over to her. And training. Those are the only times he tries to spend with any of them, even after he starts his 'atonement'

Now comparing Touya in the scene of them training and himself as a toddler and all the child imagery this series loves to use instead of actually saving imperfect victims, Touya is at least 3 (probably closer to 4) when he's taken to the doctor and they are informed of his condition

Natsuo is 4 and a half years younger than him.

We know for a fact Natsuo (& Shoto) was conceived after they got the news, not willingly either. Pregnancy takes 40 weeks average, so Touya would still be 3 when Natsuo was conceived. So once again it took this 'man' less than a year to give up and have another child he hoped to use as a tool, and was explicitly making to hurt his existing son. And as I have said plenty of times before, risking that the new kids could be born with the same disorder, I hate how convenient it is that Shoto gets near zero negative quirk side effects.

Want to know what we never see, Endeavor doing something else with Touya and Touya demanding training, it's always him walking past/ away from Touya. Considering all of the shit they've pulled to soften Endeavor's abuse both in the manga and even more so in the anime, they wouldn't skip something like this. It's not hard to tell that Touya's 'obsession with training' is really about spending time with his dad, you know like a human child that literally needs love, proven by numerous studies and research in the real world.

He throws all parenting responsibilities onto Rei, adds more children to that load, and when Touya suffers for it (like everyone else) he does nothing, doesn't even hire a nanny

Another are you kidding me take I've seen is that somehow Touya's quirk issues are worse than Midoriya's and Yuga's. Touya managed to train his quirk to produce blue fire at 13 with zero equipment and less than no help, and only lost control of it, because of the mental abuse Endeavor had inflicted on him leading him to a mental breakdown. And/ or the theory I've only seen once of AFO using his ability to force quirk activation (seen with a passed out chapter 90 during his first confrontation with All Might)

Midoriya was breaking his bones all the way into the Shie Hassaikai arc and was only able to fight because Eri and was breaking support equipment in the following arc as well. Yuga had a support belt all the way back in the entrance exam and was still struggling with that.

Speaking of Yuga let's compare parental effort here, because as much as it backfired Yuga's parents tried a whole lot more. For starters they nearly bankrupted themselves to get him a quirk, so he could feel equal. All For One is a mythic man prior to his arrest, and those who knew of him were shown to be serious long-term villain groups, so they had gone to quite a bit of effort to find that he existed to begin with. They also got him support gear (the navel belt thing) as a kid to help him with said quirk, he literally had it in the entrance exam. Endeavor never looked into that, Endeavor is not only rich too but he's a top hero he would have direct access to support equipment companies that would jump at the opportunity and it never even occurred to him.

Endeavor's name is an irony as endeavour means to try hard to do or achieve something. He never tries hard he gives up incredibly quickly the second there's any road block, but instead of moving on he makes everyone suffer for it. He's a toxic pageant mom who'd rather force their child into a toxic world and a role they don't want than work on himself

And what finally makes him change? Getting exactly what he wanted and still being miserable, and he still expects through his actions his family to cater to him.

Not his son getting a major disability due to his actions, no, he decided to double down, mentally abusing and neglecting the son he supposedly loves, raping his wife who didn't want more kids or participate in this abuse, and again risking that Natsuo & later Shoto might have that same issue. Not when his wife breaks down and permanently scars his precious masterpiece, who proceeds to rightfully blame him, and he just thinks of it as a tantrum despite it lasting a fucking decade. Not when his eldest literally dies as the result of his selfishness. Not literally during any part of this entire process!

Dabi is 23 when Endeavor finally starts to 'try' to be better, that means that for at least 24 years he has only been caring about his fucking precious number one spot in a popularity contest that he couldn't even bother to try to be likeable for, this wasn't one bad decision, this was him constantly choosing to be so insanely selfish that he found ways that shouldn't even be possible for over two decades. And it was all him.

#bnha #bnha critical #mha #mha critical #bnha meta #my hero academia #mha meta #anti endeavor #boku no hero academia #anti enji todoroki #rei todoroki deserves better #dabi deserves better #shoto todoroki deserves better #fuyumi todoroki decerves better #natsuo todoroki deserves better

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kybercrystals94 · 3 days ago

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✨333 CELEBRATE!! ✨

Okay my prompt idea is “type 2 fun”

“Type 2 fun occurs when a task is difficult at the time, but feels rewarding afterward, often because it challenges the practitioner to test their limits and grow.”

Thank you so much!!

This prompt was such a fun challenge, and I actually thought of several “type 2 fun” scenarios, but I decided to go with the sweet one ;-;

I hope you enjoy it!

Worth It

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 333

“I don’t understand the point of this,” Tech says. “We were not required to leave our campsite location until daybreak.”

Hunter turns to look back at his brothers trudging behind him, eerily green in the lens of his training helmet’s night vision setting. “It’ll be worth it.”

“It better be,” Crosshair grumbles from the back of the line.

Hunter actually doesn’t know if this trek will be worth it. After all, he only heard about the “surprise”, as he was calling it, by eavesdropping on a couple trainers that were in the hangar when they were loading up for their off-world exercise.

“You woke me up in the middle of a good dream too,” Wrecker whines.

Crosshair sighs. “Please don’t tell us about it.”

“Why not? It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do hiking in the dark.”

“Because your dreams are kriffing ridiculous!”

“I agree with Crosshair. I do not believe that your subconscious mind conjures up even twenty percent of the details you tell us.”

“Well, I gotta fill in the gaps, otherwise the dream wouldn’t make any sense at all!”

Hunter thought that the hardest part of this whole thing would be getting his brothers to wake up and pack their camp before their scheduled departure time; but now, he is starting to wonder if the hike will actually be their undoing. If they don’t make it to the crest in time, it will all be for nothing.

“Focus up, we’re almost there!” Hunter calls out.

“You told us that twenty minutes ago,” Tech protests.

“And we’re twenty minutes closer.”

It is another ten minutes of hiking and bickering later that the squad of defective clones reach their destination.

“Have a seat, boys,” Hunter says.

“For what purpose?” Tech asks.

“You’ll see.”

Hunter takes off his helmet as the first swatches of sunrise colors paint the dusky sky, and his brothers do the same. Hunter doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so beautiful. The trainers hadn’t exaggerated at all.

END

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @illogicaalbraindump @skellymom

#333 follower celebration #follower prompt suggestion #type 2 fun #star wars #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #cadet batch #humor #fluff #brothers

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mila-mi-mi · 3 days ago

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Break time memory

I drew my mains in their load outs. Hope ya like em. Because I love the characters both. (A coloured a sketch so that’s why it looks maybe a bit different. I’m still pretty tired)

Im still alive I swear. Adjusting my study techniques for the second quarter.

#tf2 #tf2 fanart #team fortress 2 #tf2 engineer #engineer tf2 #heavy tf2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 loadout

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homestuckreplay · 21 hours ago

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Pagecount: Over 900

(page 886-902)

With 17 pages, 11/22/2009 is the longest Homestuck update by number of pages to date. It contains not one but TWO huge story developments: the ominous planet and the Peregrine Mendicant.

Ominous Planet

Just as WV told us, the ominous planet is bright purple and lies ‘beyond an impenetrable veil of darkness’ (p.704/886).

Dad is here!! I think a lot of the sudden character transitions in Homestuck actually make sense – we went from John thinking about going into his dad’s room, over to Dad himself. He barely appeared in Act 2, getting kidnapped by the imps at the start and breaking out of his trick handcuffs at the end, and now he easily bests them. Clowning is a physically demanding pursuit so Dad must be well in shape beneath the business clothes, because he launches one imp right through the wall.

We also meet an imp security guard (?) who’s wearing similar but more intricate harlequin gear.

They’re watching Dad fight the imps and somehow also watching John battle the ogres, through a pair of windows similar in design to ‘one of [Jade’s] GRANDPA'S more mysterious inventions’ (p.790), the freestanding window on Jade’s gadget table. There is apparently no end to the number of people watching John.

He looks kind of familiar. On page 833, we’re introduced to the full Midnight Crew as the sky switches from blue to bright purple. And comparing these face shapes and designs side by side, these two characters feel like they could have something to do with each other. They’re both really angry, as Spades Slick’s answer to everything is violence, and this new guy refers to the other imps, John and Dad, or both as ‘graveyard stuffers’ (p.891). It’s the only text we get in relation to the character. The narrator apparently has nothing to add and no witty comment on that thought of theirs. There’s then a quick cut where seeing the next page title ‘You are now…’ suggests that we’re about to become this guy, but we instead suddenly become-

Peregrine Mendicant

THE MAIL HAS ARRIVED. Mail, packages and deliveries are a recurring motif – there have been several important colorful packages, several envelopes containing discs, and now there is a letter to Dr. David Brinner, ATTN: SERIOUS BUSINESS. Serious Business is of course the messaging client that Dad uses to keep in touch with his troupe, and we just returned to Dad in the story, so is this finally the moment that wellPressedAttire or officeurchin1280 take their starring role in the narrative? It’s definitely a person in John’s neighborhood but not Dad himself, as we’ve seen the insides of the Egbert mailbox.

PM’s mail based tirade (p.894-896) is of course reminiscent of WV’s mayoral calling (p.686) and PM’s adoption of the hat is just like WV making their sash. So there’s something to say about these chess pieces arriving at these Skaian bunkers and immediately adopting an institution of society as critically important. Both PM and WV’s monologues read as very idealistic, imagining these overly simplistic societies that function like textbook diagrams, as though they know about these things from books similar to WV’s Human Etiquette tome and have never been part of an actual human society. Comparing the two, WV’s monologue feels more peaceful, as it’s focused on everyone getting along, mutual respect, civility and a kind leader. PM talks of soldiers, a crusade, defenders and hope among the ashes; it’s far more violent and adventurous, and feels more grounded in harsh realities even while it maybe overestimates the mail’s capability.

Which is not to criticize the mail or PM’s speech, because I think they’re both great. I agree that mail is very important, highly underappreciated, and I think it’s beautiful to explore an empty wasteland and to think ‘if there are any people left here, I need to make sure they can communicate with each other’.

Looking stylish in their new hat, PM loads their terminal and tries to greet Jade the same way WV commanded John. Jade is already covered by a lot of green static, but it appears to be snowing where she is, with flakes and drifts behind her. Which is weird in itself, because Jade is close enough to the equator that a quick search suggests it wouldn’t snow in her area no matter the time of year, especially not with the geothermal power near her house. But it gets weirder, because when John resisted a command he just felt frustrated and got a headache as he tried to ignore a weird voice in his head. When Jade resists a command, she apparently blows up the command station with lightning that she transmits through time and space. Yet another way that Jade is weirder and more powerful than the other characters.

> PM: Sacrifice yourself to save the mail.

#homestuck #reaction #this is my SHIT!! getting to pull page 270 and page 900 and look at those side by side #and have the earlier one now take on more meaning with the context and comparison of the later #it feels good every time also HUGE shout out to the adventure log and search function on the unofficial homestuck collection #working so good every time it is so easy to find the things i need when i need them #truly one of the best computer applications ever made and i mean that with my whole heart #chrono

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3r1v3rm0ss · 2 days ago

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SFW PENUMBRA AGERE HCS YEAH-YUHH || AND PACI EDITS?? :0

||☠️🫀🖤||

Her age range is between 2-6

She’s a very dramatic little. If you tell her she can’t do something she’ll fall dramatically to the floor and sob

When playing hide and seek she can sometimes be too good of a hider. She’ll be giggling in the top cabinet while she hears you screaming her name

If she’s 3 or under she needs to be padded, which she’s never happy about

She loves monster high dolls and has a neat collection of them sitting on her shelf

She loves telling spooky stories and finds it funny when you pretend to get freaked out

Her favorite show when little is vampirina

If it’s raining outside she’ll beg to go out in the rain (you can’t refuse her please face)

After it rains she’ll collect snails and make a whole dramatic plot and then lets them go once she’s finished

If she’s extra fussy when it’s time to go to bed you’ll take her out for a midnight stroll with her in your arms or a stroller

She needs to have a nightlight in her room, preferably a yellow one so she can pretend it’s the sun and she’s an astronaut!

When she asks you to play with her she’ll get annoyed if you broke a rule she didn’t tell you about

Whenever she gets sent to timeout she acts like she’s just gotten a life sentence

When she’s tired but not sleep tired she’ll just lay on your lap until she wants to play again

She’s usually very helpful and always wants you to give her a task.

Sometimes you give her a list of stuff to do and she’ll be over the moon

Big arts and crafts fan

She likes cloudy weather because it’s the only time she can go outside without being burned

She gets very annoyed when you say she can’t do something. She thinks your being mean

She has a little bat plushie named Barnaby

Very mischievous

I HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDD! I HAD LOADS OF FUN MAKING THEM :33

#penumbra villainous #villainous #villanos #sfw agere #villainous Agere #villanos Agere #black hat #dr flug #demencia villainous #black hat Agere #dr flug Agere #demencia agere #agere headcanons #villanous #headcanon

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corralinesage · 2 days ago

Text

Child of September (4/?)

Here's some comforting fluff to start the weekend. I hope you're having a good day, and if not, maybe this will make you feel slightly better<3

18+ contains nudity and sexual undertones

Chapter 4: Malyshka

w/c: 4,2k

You were angry beyond measure, hot flashes of rage going through you as you stared at the canvas before you. The unfinished piece seemed to be mocking you as the poorly painted portrait of a man stared back at you. It wasn’t your style. It wasn’t what you wanted to paint, what you knew how to paint, but you had no say in your assignment. You needed to finish it no matter what, but all you could think about was how much you loathed the piece. You observed the paint, feeling like every stroke on the canvas was wrong. No shade of paint was accurate, no shape or texture was correct. You could barely handle the rage inside you, your hands itching to grab the canvas and tear it apart, to shred it into a million strips that could never reveal the awful image to anyone who might have come across the remnants of the frame. You were beyond stressed, your fingertips clawing over your skin in an attempt to control the feeling, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t control the feeling and all you could do was leave the room. So, without another glance at your easel you stomped out of your bedroom and into your small kitchen in the hopes of finding a non-art-related distraction.

It was a stormy morning, wind whipping leaves against your window, the gloomy light outside providing you at least a hint of comfort. The beginning of the storm made you feel more at ease, like you were being hugged by Mother Nature during your difficult time with university assignments. You got yourself a warm drink, a big, fat hot chocolate that you topped with a mountain of whipped cream that you were going to shamelessly eat with a spoon before it would even get the chance to touch the hot liquid below. You needed to do something, do something useless and pointless. Something that didn’t require your brain in the slightest, but most chores around the apartment had been completed the day before. You had food in the fridge, your laundry was done, you had recently vacuumed and mopped the floors. Your room was spotless because you had cleaned it beforehand with the intention of making time for your painting, that very cursed painting you were trying your very best to avoid. You sipped on your hot chocolate, squeezing the mug with unnecessary force until you decided that it was all way too much for you.

Natasha came to your apartment thirty minutes later, returning from a meeting at the Avengers tower, her ears immediately noting the loud banging coming from the kitchen. It was aggressive and enough to make the counters shake, which was rather alarming in her opinion. She exchanged her boots for a pair of fluffy slippers before entering the kitchen, a confused frown on her face.

“Baby, what the hell are you doing in here?” She looked almost wary, her eyes studying your rigid form as you kept banging the counter for some reason, something small, like crumbs, flying to the side and onto the floor. You hadn’t heard her come in, Natasha soon recognizing the odd substance to be cookie crumbs, her eyes spotting the empty wrapping paper soon after. “Y/N?” You whipped around at the sound of her voice, your eyes glinting harshly but no tears had fallen yet. The mere sight of her was enough to change that, large droplets sliding down your cheeks immediately after registering her arrival, yet you went back to abusing the cookies. Natasha approached you slowly, her hands touching your elbows gently to tell you to slow down before sliding her touch down your forearms.

“Let it out”, she whispered gently in your ear, aware that you were mere seconds away from a breakdown. She pressed herself against your back despite the fact that you gave the cookies a few more rather loaded bangs before you whimpered in defeat. You were so utterly disappointed in yourself that you couldn’t take it. You couldn’t handle the pain it caused you, a few restricted sobs falling from your lips as you leaned into Natasha’s embrace. “Shh, it’s alright”, she assured you, holding you tighter until you moved in a way that let her know you wanted to turn around. She kissed your cheek before bringing you into a proper hug, her arms pulling you tightly into her as you let out a few more quiet sobs. Her hands rubbed your back in long strokes, doing their best to soothe you, but you were still practically trembling from anger.

“Come on, malyshka (baby girl), let’s go somewhere where you can take your anger out on something a little less delicate.” She pulled away from you, tugging you toward the bedroom to find a place where you could calm down and maybe take a few breaths, but you took it as an opportunity for something else, your lips pressing down on hers in a feverish kiss. You knew something that was a little less delicate, or rather someone who was a little less delicate. Natasha let out a small grunt of surprise but welcomed you regardless, the touch of her hands turning from gentle to greedy in a split second. You both fell on the bed, bodies heating up with urgency, quickly tuning to the change of circumstances your capricious mind had initiated. You straddled Natasha’s lap, pushing her down on the bed, your lips never leaving hers as she tugged up your shirt, your mouths parting for only a second, so she could discard your comfortable sweater to the side. Her hands found your bra next, unhooking it in a practiced manner. You were forced to pull away to get some air, Natasha taking advantage of the small gap between you to slide the bra off your arms, but as you looked down at Natasha, her softened eyes and small smile, your chest heaving in a manner that you honestly couldn’t differentiate from an emotional breakdown, you felt your anger quickly dissipate.

She had stripped the rage off you alongside your clothes, making you realize that you had no reason to be angry. You were simply disappointed in yourself and your abilities. It didn’t make you angry, it made you sad and hopeless, your body craving for something gentler than rage-blinded sex. You craved to be held by Natasha instead as you let the emotional turmoil pass you by. You looked at her, unable to push aside the tears that welled up in your eyes, her head cocking to the side in a sympathetic gesture as her hands pulled you into her embrace, followed by a small hum of understanding from her. You sank into her arms, your tears falling silently as you settled down, nuzzling into her neck for comfort. You took deep breaths, refusing to actually lose your mind over a pathetic painting.

“I’ve got you, malyshka (baby girl)”, she whispered, her hands stroking your bare back, gently rubbing away the stress that your work had instilled in you. There was nothing you could have done, your body simply freezing into position as you grew numb to everything, the emotion seeming to intensify the longer you lay there. You allowed yourself a moment to just be, to forget about the stress, forget about the intense emotions that rampaged inside you, focusing on Natasha’s warmth instead. She was soft and unyielding beneath you, her firm touch reminding you that she was there to carry you for a moment, your mind growing fuzzy from how pleasant and relieving it was, how effortless and easy. The silence between you and Natasha stretched and stretched until she became too curious about your predicament to stay quiet. She could practically hear how hard you were thinking.

“What are you thinking about?” Natasha hummed quietly, glancing down at you as you lay on her chest, cheek pressed against her breasts. You sighed quietly, not sure if you even possessed the energy to talk, but then her hand found your hair and her lips pressed down on your forehead in a kiss, and you caved. You weren’t going to mention your painting. You had no desire to even think about it, a spark of anger still fighting to stay alight somewhere deep within you. But there was something else on your mind that you could bring up instead, something that had crept to the forefront of your mind as you had become more aware of the placement of your head. It was something that you had been thinking about for a while but had never quite dared to ask for.

“I’d wanna try something, but I feel weird about it”, you stated, tilting your head up to see her, Natasha’s eyes roaming over your face to note that your tears had dried a while ago. She tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

“What is it?” She was clearly intrigued.

“It’s weird. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” You could already feel your cheeks heat, unsure of how to word your wishes, moving your eyes back down to avoid her gaze.

“I might like it”, she reasoned, earning a huff of disbelief from you.

“Yeah, but you also might not, and if you don’t, it’ll be too awkward.” It really was nothing serious, or it had the potential to be, perhaps, possibly. Natasha chuckled softly at your whiny tone, smoothing her hands down your back to press you closer to her body.

“Try me”, she whispered. “I won’t make fun of you, dorogaya (darling).” You thought about her words for a moment, gathering the courage to say what you wanted to say.

“Umh, fine.” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and preparing yourself for the possibility of embarrassment, despite knowing it was more than unlikely since you knew that you could trust Natasha. “Here goes nothing”, you groaned, hiding your face into her chest. “It’s not exactly sexual. I just- it’s a comfort thing”, you mumbled, feeling her stroke her hand over the back of your head.

“Krasotka (pretty girl), I’m sure it’s perfectly normal, whatever it is”, she mused encouragingly, wrapping her arms around you in a hug. You sighed heavily, pushing your nerves aside.

“I’d wanna suck your boobs…” you said hesitantly. “While you just hold me.” Your voice turned meek and quiet, an even heat overtaking your cheeks.

“Baby, you do that all the time”, she murmured into your hair, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Yeah, but that’s more like aftercare, but would it be okay if I did it now?” Your fingers were playing with the blanket that sat beside you to ease the nerves you felt.

“It would be more than okay”, she whispered, a small smile on her lips. She found it slightly amusing how timid you were being, although she understood the fear of rejection.

“And you don’t think it’s weird?”

“No, milaya (honey), I don’t. I like it.” Her voice was reassuring, her hands sliding you off her body to be able to undress her top half. “It’s my favorite part of your aftercare routine”, she whispered almost secretively, coaxing a soft smile from you. You felt your abdomen flutter weakly at her words, watching how she pulled off her long sleeve shirt to reveal one of her favorite black bras, her fingers unhooking it at the back to let her heavy breasts free of the lingerie. She settled down onto her side, her head propped up onto her elbow as she pulled you down on the bed with her. You looked up at her a bit hesitantly, her hand coming to the side of your face to brush aside some of your hair.

“It’s okay, detka (baby).” She spoke in a quiet, soothing tone, her hand moving to the back of your head to guide you closer to her as if to simply hug you, your face pressing into the crook of her neck. The warm smell of her perfume was intense there, a wave of comfort washing over you immediately, prompting you to take an even deeper breath of her delicious scent. You allowed your body to relax against her, the smell, the warmth, the intimacy coaxing you to open your mouth to feel more of her against you, your lips pressing open-mouthed kisses over her smooth skin.

You descended a little lower, kissing over the more solid area of her collarbones before finding the pliable flesh of her chest. You opened your mouth, licking over the silky skin of her breast before gently wrapping your lips around her nipple just like you always did, although the lack of sex beforehand made you feel even more vulnerable for what you were doing. Natasha hummed quietly as her hand started to move in your hair, petting you affectionately, scratching her nails over your scalp. Your cheeks grew hot, the wave of heat descending into the rest of your body. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut as you relaxed further into the bed and into her hold, softly suckling her, your mouth barely moving at all. You both adjusted your positions on the bed, cuddling to get more comfortable to allow you both to ease into the sensation, a blanket of comfort wrapping around you both. Natasha’s hand moved up and down your back in long strokes, her lips occasionally pressing into your hair. She had her eyes closed, her body relaxed under the touch of your warm mouth. She loved it. She loved how casual and gentle it was, how intimate, finding herself to be at peace beside you, yet she still opened her eyes to see you, wanting to remember the moment down to the smallest of details.

“That’s it”, she whispered, leaning to kiss your hairline, feeling so connected to you when your mouth was on her. “You’re such a good girl”, she mumbled, your cheeks heating right back up at her comment, followed by a little grin that found your lips. You pulled back to see her face, Natasha offering a knowing smirk to you.

“How’d you know?” You asked in astonishment, not exactly having expected her to be so aware of what you were looking for in the act. You had nearly brought it up yourself, having hoped that she would talk to you, tell you how good you were, praise you, but you had ditched the idea after feeling like you were asking for too much.

“I know what my baby needs.” There was a hint of smugness in the confident tone she spoke with, the backs of her fingers caressing your face softly. Your heart fluttered rather intensely at her words, pleasant warmth pooling in your lower abdomen. “You always treat me so well”, she mused in a slightly sensual tone. “You’re so excellent”, she continued, meaning every word, her style of speaking leaning toward something more patronizing, but in a good-natured, caring way, a small pout on her lips. “It’s only fair that I return all that love and effort.” Her fingertips ran up your jaw, eyes taking you in as if admiring every last inch of your face. All you could do was submit to the overwhelming comfort her assertive demeanor brought you, completely and utterly enraptured by her. “Why don’t you just put that pretty mouth back on me and let me take care of you?” Your blush was violent, cheeks heating in record time as you looked up at her beautiful face, heeding her command and slowly lowering your mouth back on her breast, eyes sliding shut automatically. You nuzzled closer to her, drawn in by her warmth, occasionally sucking a little harder on her nipple to hear her sharp inhales that made your stomach swarm with butterflies.

“Mmh, malyshka (baby girl)”, she hummed dreamily, placing her hand back to the nape of your neck to keep you flush against her. “Your mouth feels so good”, she crooned, smiling softly to herself. She could see it on your face, she could see how happy her words made you, how you fought the smile that threatened to disrupt the movement of your mouth. “My pretty baby”, she sighed, her lower body feeling a little too warm, mind wandering to the thought of those lips of yours trailing lower. She couldn’t say that she was unaffected by the act, but she decided to keep things casual to follow your request. You had said it was a comfort thing, and she thought it should remain that way at least for the time being. She pulled your body a bit closer to her own, sliding her leg between yours to get more comfortable. You hooked your arm over her middle, the touch of your mouth growing a bit firmer as you parted your lips wider, taking in more of her breast.

“Is my detka (baby) tired?” She asked casually, fingertips detangling your hair absentmindedly, enjoying the sound of gentle squelches against the silence of the room. You nodded your head, letting out an affirmative hum. “Oh, you poor thing”, she lamented, splaying out her hand over the expanse of your back. “Natasha’s got you now.” The third person form was intentional, probing for something that she knew to be there.

“Mommy”, you corrected her with the smallest voice you could muster. Natasha felt a jolt of pleasure go through her, her body warming up instantly.

“Mommy? You want mommy?” She asked to confirm if she had heard you right because you had never used that term seriously. It had only been used as a silly, little joke to cope with your mommy issues, but Natasha had had a feeling that there was something more there all along. You had been easing her into the thought for ages, maybe even used it as a way to get yourself more comfortable with the idea.

“Uh-huh”, you nodded, keeping your eyes shut, your body limp against her, clearly hiding from her just in case. Maybe you were even hiding from yourself.

“I’ll gladly be your mommy”, she assured you, her voice holding such tenderness that you could feel your eyes start to itch with tears. “Mommy’s got you”, she added in a whisper, her hand finding the back of your head in an affectionate caress. “You just relax.” You felt so heavy in her arms, yet your mind was light and airy, your jaw slowly growing more tired, but you didn’t stop just yet. Natasha focused on your body against hers, your teeth starting to sting as they brushed repeatedly against her delicate skin, her breast eventually becoming too sensitive to your touch.

“Mmh, malyshka (baby girl), time to switch sides”, she whispered carefully, easing you off her breast, your eyes fluttering open to see her flushed nipple that was a deep, vibrant pink. You glanced up at her shyly, Natasha offering a sweet smile to you, feeling enamored by your groggy face as she held it by the chin with her thumb and index finger. “Oh, you’re so adorable”, she chuckled, a small pout finding her lips as she leaned forward to kiss you, hearing you huff out a laugh before your mouths connected in a sweet, little peck.

You pulled back enough to allow Natasha to roll more onto her back so you could better reach her left breast that had been pressed into the mattress. You still felt slight embarrassment for the entire predicament, but you pushed it aside as you allowed Natasha to cradle you against her chest again, your mouth finding her breast on its own. You sank into her embrace, falling asleep soon after you had shut your eyes. She held you there, your lips wrapped gently around her nipple, unmoving. She was so in love with the quiet moment as well as the new discovery she had made about you after a full year of being in a relationship with you. She found it endearing that there were still things you might not have known about each other, finding herself feeling relieved that you had finally found the courage to ask for what you needed, the silence allowing her to ponder the idea a bit further. She liked taking care of you, she had always been more than prone to it and the moniker of your choice somehow only seemed to amplify that feeling because it was more than just a girlfriend. You wanted her to be more.

Natasha couldn’t lie. She had thought about it many times, sometimes even felt the urge to refer to herself as mommy in a more serious manner just to add a layer of excitement to your intimate moments together. It was thrilling for no reason, something exciting and fun, a way to let loose, kind of like how you were currently letting go of the burden on your shoulders. She wanted to provide you whatever you might have craved in a relationship, especially if she craved that very same thing herself. She played with your hair, twirling the locks between her fingers as she allowed you to recharge yourself in her arms. It brought her an indescribable kind of high to think that she could mean so much to you, that she could be someone so important to another person. She felt the corners of her mouth turn up in a slight smile, her eyelids fluttering shut to revel in the warmth and intimacy between your, her mind growing fuzzy, longing to submit to the ubiquitous sense of relaxation that wrapped around her like a shield of protection from the world. Her head lolled to the side, her nose pressing into your messy head of hair to breathe in your comforting scent as her mind slipped away from her.

You woke up some time later, unable to tell how much time had passed, your blurry eyes taking in the splatter of rain against your bedroom window. The storm had finally broken out, wind throwing droplets of water against the glass, the steady rumble of thunder reaching your ear. You had moved slightly in your sleep, or maybe Natasha’s had moved you, your head resting fully on her chest as she lay on her back. Your warm cheek was pressed up tightly against her soft breast, your skin almost glued to her from the warmth of your bodies, the rest of your naked upper body attached to her in the same manner. The sensation was slightly sticky, which only told you that you had probably just had the best nap of your life. It made you smile. You felt almost rejuvenated from all of it. The intensity of the coziness you felt both physically and emotionally was on another level. You nuzzled your warm face into Natasha’s breast, smiling against the soft skin as you moved your body just enough to allow it to start waking up a bit.

You saw a flicker of light flash across your room, your eyes only barely catching the white flash of lighting that was shortly followed by the deep rumble of thunder. You closed your eyes, your heart seeming to buzz in your chest from joy as you hugged Natasha a little tighter feeling her stir beneath you, a soft, groggy moan sounding from her. The noise was followed by a small whine as she arched her back, your head nearly sliding off her chest at the disturbance, but her hand came up to the side of it to keep you in place. You couldn’t help but to let out a gentle hum as you kissed her skin, her arms tightening around you. Natasha tilted her head down enough to be able to see you, the action causing you to lift your head up to meet her gaze. Her face was groggy and relaxed, perfectly gorgeous, just like always. You smiled at each other, Natasha moving her head forward enough to kiss your forehead, her hand tucking your hair behind your ear. Neither of you really felt the need to speak, Natasha’s mouth pressing on your lips next, the quiet squelch of your mouths followed by a low rumble of her stomach. You couldn’t help but to giggle quietly.

“You were baking something, milaya (honey)?” Her words made you laugh a little louder, the rasp of her voice stirring something else within you.

“I was.” You nodded your head, Natasha’s gaze dropping to your lips again and then coming back up.

“You up for a snack?”

“Half the cracker crumbs are on the floor but sure”, you chuckled, leaning down to kiss her again. She laughed with you, her fingertips trailing down your spine so delicately that it almost tickled. You got up from the bed, getting fully dressed before lighting a few candles in the living room to bring some warmth and atmosphere to the middle of the storm outside while you whipped up some cake filling, not really bothering to assemble your cheesecake when you and Natasha were too impatient to wait for it to firm up in the fridge, so you grabbed the bowl and some toppings, enjoying the dessert together, cuddled up on the couch as the storm wrapped you into a bubble of your own.

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