#i hope to GOD this doesn't flop i worked so hard on this

[quirkle2]

gazes

[cyberrose2001]

Under Pressure

MTMTE Rodimus x Reader

GRAHH SURPRISE!!!!

Relic and I have been... discussing... very hard about an ask they got a couple days ago so I wrote this eheh (THANK YOU FOR DISCUSSING THIS WITH ME AND LETTING ME WRITE THIS ILY)

Also please yell at me if I forgot any warnings!

Loosely based of this ask over on @callsign-relic's blog

Warnings: Human reader, Giant/Tiny, Dub-Con(?), Nocturnal emission, Crack fic(?)

Word count: 1,887

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Rodimus denies it every time, but he's a heavy sleeper. He snores like a congested rhino; he constantly sets twelve alarms that only barely stir him from his slumber. Despite being captain of the ship, his sleep schedule is far from tip-top shape.

And no, you're not a stalker. You're just Rodimus' observant little 'pet' human, always there, with a California king on his bedside dresser. Yeah, you're treated like royalty by an incredibly hard-to-deny hot alien robot.

So, as the ship ventured further into deep space and the nights got colder, you whined and begged to stay with him.

Rodimus was very hesitant to let you join him in the berth. As much as he cared about you and would kill an army for you, he didn't want to accidentally kill you, which was very much a possibility in any scenario on this ship. But he caved. You had mastered the sad, wet cat look, and Rodimus had the willpower of a rock.

Relishing in victory, you're curled up comfortably against Rodimus' lower plating for the third consecutive night in a row, warmed by the large servo of a sleeping giant. The entire palm of his hand covers your back in subconscious protection, and every so often, you feel a twitch of one digit. It's tranquility and a rare comfort, the touch of another you haven't felt since being on earth.

Until he rolls over.

Rodimus, choking on his snores, flips over onto his stomach and nearly tosses you off the berth if not for the grip he has on you. Despite almost winding you and making an audible 'Oof' sound, he doesn't wake up, his unconscious body assuming another comfortable position.

It takes you a few moments to register what the fuck just happened, but you realise that you're now underneath Rodimus. Almost his entire body weight is now pressed against you and pins you to the berth.

Oh god, you think to yourself.

This is less than ideal; this was not supposed to happen. How the hell are you, a tiny ass human, supposed to get out from under him? You probably shouldn't even be alive right now with how restricted your breathing is, not to mention how hard he flopped on top of you. But thankfully, with how Rodimus' legs have fallen into position, it leaves you with just enough room for your chest to rise and fall.

"God." You whine, muffled as your cheeks squish against his abdominal plating.

Your mind runs wild as you try to think of a way out. Maybe he'll just roll over again soon? God, you hope so; you can handle only so much weight, and Rodimus feels like he could hold down a cargo ship. Probably because he can.

But until then, however long that may be, you need to try something at least.

"Rodimus?" You try to wiggle but to no avail. He has you pinned pinned, and you use what little breath you have to yell out to him, "Hello? Are you awake or what?"

A loud, seemingly exaggerated snore replies to you. He's still deep in recharge, ruining any chance you have of waking him up yourself. You try to use your nails to scratch the surface of his frame, hoping it would tickle him or something, but that doesn't work either.

"Great." You roll your eyes, only you would ever end up in this type of situation. If only you had listened to Rodimus when he first said no, then you wouldn't be currently experiencing a near death experi-

"Y/n..." Rodimus' hoarse voice crackles above you, sending vibrations through your bones.

"Oh, thank god," You sigh in relief. You attempt to wiggle around some more, hoping to get his attention this time, "Listen, can you get off me now? This kinda hur-"

You squeak softly in pain as his sharp pelvis presses against you, and you hear your name again. This time, though, the tone of his voice came out as a whine, like a soft plea.

Because of where you were positioned before you became a pea under a princess' tower of mattresses, Rodimus' lower panels rested right against your stomach. This means you can feel his panels start to bulge slightly.

Oh no, you think to yourself bleakly once again. You're not sure how similar Cybertronian anatomy is to humans, apart from a crude explanation by an engex drunk Swerve. Still, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're feeling him getting hard. Putting two-and-two together using two out of the five senses, you've realised that Rodimus is nearly boner deep in a wet dream.

And not to assume, but you're thinking that the star of the show is you.

It's also the wrong time to cackle to yourself about getting crushed by your crush.

You might have some issues to work out after with Rung.

"Oh fuck," You reasonably panic, trying to push against his heavy frame weakly with your pinned arms, "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck-"

You start to thrash against Rodimus when your arms fail, your tiny body rubbing up against him. This doesn't help at all, you've come to realise but actually digs you in a deeper hole as he begins to rock his pelvis into you.

Rodimus moans your name again as he sleepily grinds against you. Whatever he's dreaming of, it must be an insanely hot pornographic fantasy of you. The bulge grows bigger, pining you down further into the berth. He shutters and lets out a soft groan before his plating shifts, and you feel a very thick, very hard, and very hot object slide up against you.

Oh god, it's his dick.

Swerve might not have told you all the details, but he seemed to conveniently leave out how fucking huge Cybertronian cocks are.

As if you thought this couldn't get any more debilitating, you now have the head of Rodimus' spike pressing against your face. It's as if the Alaskan bull worm had slithered up between yourself and Rodimus to give you a kiss. The behemoth of baggage has already started leaking what you would believe would be the Cybertronian equivalent to pre-cum, smearing all across your face.

At this significant turn of events, you've realised you have come to a crossroads.

Either struggle and continue to wiggle and wrangle your way out from under him, but risk pleasuring him, whether or not he could feel you squirming against him anyway with how small you are compared to it. Or, the more realistic and obtainable outcome, lie still and take it until he wakes up from an orgasm.

Who are you kidding? You don't have much of a choice at all. Both options risk you drowning in alien robot cum. It's wishful thinking as Rodimus starts to rut against your entire body again.

"Y/n..." He whimpers again, though very garbled and unintelligible. Every roll of his hips causes more pre-cum to dribble against your face and down your chest, and with each, it spreads all around in between yourself and his train-sized spike. Making an absolute mess of you.

If you weren't getting humped up against right now, you would indeed find a way to kill him for ruining your only set of pajamas.

"Rodimus-" You gag as a spurt of pre-cum falls into your mouth, "Guh- Rodimus stop-"

His work of venting increases, and so does his rutting. The comatose mech gasps and hitches his breath, oblivious to your cries and pleas for him to stop. He pushes up against you in heated desperation, fucking into your soft body like a grind pad.

"Rodimus! Wake the fuck up!" You start to heat up yourself; the increased pressure and friction of his plating will give you a fucked up version of carpet burn if he doesn't wake up. Sweat drips from your skin, adding even more lubricant to his incessant grinding.

"Wha- Oh, Primus!" Rodimus rears his drool-covered helm and cries out in equal confusion and unrestrained pleasure. He's woken up by his overload as he shoots his load up against you, flooding the minimal empty space left between you both with hot transfluid.

"Oh god-" You couldn't close your mouth in time when a spurt of transfluid hit you in the face, causing you to cough and spit it back out, only for more to splat you in the face.

Rodimus moans tiredly, shuttering violently as his spike pulses and leaks the remainder of his overload against the berth.

Or what he thought was the berth. Since when did he use a self-service mod on his spike? Especially when he shares a room with-

"Hey!" Cough, "Are you done?"

His optics slam open in horrific realisation.

"Oh no," Rodimus rolls over onto his back, his softened wet spike flopping against his abdominal plating, "Oh no, no, no..."

He looks down where he once lay, and his face plates flush a bright blue. Laying in a puddle of his transfluids was you, his little human, sopping wet with a highly unimpressed look on your tiny face.

"Oh Primus, Y/n," Rodimus scoops you up in his servos, gently tossing you from hand to hand as he wrings them off his transfluids, "I am so sorry, I- frag what was I thinking!" Rodimus babbles and holds you to his face, "Are you okay? God, I'm so stupid-"

"Ughh," You lay limply in his palm, exhausted and out of breath, "After that... I don't know anymore."

Rodimus hides his blush with a servo before pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm glad you're okay, but what were you doing down there?"

"Great question," You lift your head up to deadpan him, then eventually drag yourself to sit up. Sticky, pink transfluid drips down your body. Your face, and hair, are all drenched in him, "It's not like you rolled over in your sleep and had me pinned for nearly half an hour. What the hell?"

Rodimus blinks, and his face turns a deeper shade of blue as he rubs the back of his neck, "Oh, so that's why I had that dream about you..."

Is he serious right now?

"Oh, you think?" You wipe your lip when it starts to drip into your mouth, "I think I could tell when you started moaning my name in your sleep."

"Well, you're just so tiny and soft and-" The red and yellow mech bites the knuckles of the servo not holding you in embarrassment. "But what was I supposed to do, huh? Hold it in?"

God, he is.

"I'm literally gonna kill you, Rodimus." You shiver, his transfluids cooling against your skin. You can't believe he dares to look you in the eye, "I am never begging to nap with you ever again, or maybe at least warn me next time."

"No offense taken," Rodimus nods in agreement for once, watching you wring your hair out, "I'm sorry, Y/n, I really am. I can help clean you up? As a sincere apology from yours truly?"

"As long as I don't come into contact with more of this stuff," You flick a bead of transfluid off your finger into his direction, "And you better be sorry, or it'll be a long time before I might actually let you fuck me."

"Wait, you'll what-" Splat, "EWUGH!!"

[ilovewrittingsmut]

Nanami as your work crush

Wc: 3406

Content: coworker nanami, I hate capitalism,co workers to lovers😩😩😩😩, FLUFF,confessing love, nanami being the best man on earth

A/n: pls don’t make it flop 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

Despite hating this job with every fiber of your being, you still find yourself waking up at 5 a.m., eager to get ready for work. Why? Because there's this one random blonde guy who makes your heart race more than it should, his mere presence glowing and shining like moonlight.

He often shows up in the most mundane clothes, his face lifeless, only smiling when he absolutely has to. Yet, on some mornings, he arrives with two coffees in hand—one for himself and one for you. You shamelessly admit to yourself that you enjoy this special treatment from him.

"I hate this job."

"Me too."

This is the usual exchange between the two of you, always ending with one of those faint smiles appearing on his handsome face, which inevitably does something to you.

"Actually, I don't hate it that much. There's still something good about this stupid work."

"Besides getting paid?" you ask jokingly, unsure of what he's trying to say.

"Hmm, yes?" He flashes that infuriatingly charming smile before walking away, returning to his work.

——————

During lunch breaks, you, he, and other coworkers usually head out to grab a meal at the coffee shop. You try not to read too much into it, but it seems that whenever you're in a group, he always makes an effort to sit next to you, walk beside you, and engage with you the most. It’s like fuel for the fire, making you fall for him more and more, beyond your control.

"You like pasta?"

"Yep, why?"

"You always order it."

"Yep, I love pasta."

"Me too. You know what, I can cook the best pasta ever."

"I don’t believe you."

"I can cook it for you… if you want."

The idea of eating something your crush has made for you sends a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"That’s an honor."

"How about tonight, at my place, if you don’t mind?"

Of course, you don’t mind at all, but the thought of being alone with your crush at his place tonight fills you with a nervous anticipation.

“That sounds great. “

“See you after work then.”

After that, your heart doesn't stop pounding against your ribs for even a second. You know you can’t focus on work now because your mind is too busy daydreaming about what might happen tonight, just you and him, alone, on a cute pasta date.

No, it’s not a date, you quickly remind yourself, trying to erase those fluffy thoughts and ground yourself in reality. You push through the rest of the day, working until 5. (with him as your only motivation)

——————

"Let's leave."

It’s only 4:30, and he's already texted you with this message. You hate yourself a little for thinking that he’s as eager for tonight as you are, but you decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. Normally, you’d overwork yourself and stay late, but today, you choose to be kind to yourself and call it a day earlier than usual.

"Ok."

"Great, I’ll pick you up, and we can walk to the parking lot together."

"Ok."

There are countless words you want to scream out of excitement right now, but all your fingers can manage to type is "ok."

And within a minute, he's right behind you, and you can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, so scarlet, so bright. You can only hope he doesn’t notice.

"You’re red, are you sick?"

For god's sake, he never fails to make you flustered.

"I’m good," you reply with a smile and a forced giggle.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, let’s go," you say, your voice overly cheerful.

You try to keep everything seeming normal, as if you're not secretly dreaming about kissing his lips right at that moment.

—————

"Is it too cold?" he asks as you settle into his car.

"No… not at all, everything is perfectly fine."

God, you sound like Mickey Mouse right now, trying so hard to conceal your nerves that it comes off as unnatural.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

No, not at all…not really. The word "uncomfortable" isn't the right fit, it's more like "nervous." He makes you so nervous.

"No, I’m okay, really. Please stop worrying."

"How can I not worry about you?" he murmurs, his voice soft as he throws his arm behind your seat to back up the car. You catch a glimpse of those veins, and WOW who could blame you for daydreaming about this big, gorgeous man?

"Why? What is it about me that makes you so worried?"

"You’re always so hard on yourself, working too much and doing OT almost every day," he says, and you’re genuinely flattered by his concern. Little does he know, the reason you stay late is just to spend more time in the workplace with him, the hardworking man who makes the long hours bearable. And yes, he's also right, you’re always so tough on yourself, trying to prove that you're good enough to be here, to be working there.

"You’re always overworking yourself too, Nanami," you reply, and little do you know that he does it for the same reason. He loves to watch you from afar while you’re absorbed in your work. He cherishes the midnight coffees with you, making even the harshest nights feel like a dream.

“I guess it would be best for us if we stopped overworking and had more homemade dinners like this,” he suggests. Is he asking you out?

“Sure.”

“I hate seeing you drink five cups of coffee a day instead of having a proper meal. I can cook a lot, and I’m really good at it.”

“Are you talking a big game?” you tease him, his words always find the way to make you genuinely laugh.

“I can cook for you every day. You deserve to eat something good for your health and taste.”Now, your stomach is doing the thing,not the rumbling with hunger, but tickled with overwhelming butterflies. You feel like you might burst if you don’t get a handle on it soon.

“That’s really sweet. Thank you, Nanami.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? You can call me Kento.”

He’s older than you, and you hold a deep respect and admiration for him. Using just his name feels like it brings an intimacy you’re not sure you can handle, and you’re terrified that you might not be able to keep your feelings in check any longer.

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

You try to resist, knowing you might actually die from blushing too hard.

"I prefer you to call me by my name.” “Kento Or Ken, your choice."

Your entire insides feel like they're about to explode. Why does he have to be so cute? You want to be the one who gets to call him "Ken," such an adorable name. And "Baby" or "Honey" would sound amazing on him too. You long to be the only one who gets the chance to call him those sweet names.

"Kento…" you whisper, so softly that you can barely hear your own voice. The only thing echoing in your ears is the sound of your racing heartbeat.

"That’s... I like that. It sounds great coming from you." Is he trying to kill you or something? You might actually get a heart attack if he keeps being this cute.

—————-

As you arrive at his house, you're greeted by a beautiful garden filled with flowers. The sight is so sweet, making you smile as you take it all in.

When you step inside, you immediately sense warmth and comfort. His home is impeccably organized and tidy, what an ideal man.

"Make yourself at home," he says, guiding you to the living room. You sit on the couch as he turns on the television for you. Then, he heads to the nearby kitchen and begins preparing the ingredients for your dinner. The whole scene feels surreal, like you’ve stepped into a dream where everything is just perfect.

"I can help," you say, getting up from the couch and following him into the kitchen.

"Let me, please. You have just one job is to sit, wait, and enjoy our dinner."

That's probably the hottest thing a man could say, and you can't help but feel greedy, wanting him all to yourself. The thought of anyone else having him makes you irrationally jealous. You can only hope that everything he’s doing is because he likes you too, at least half as much as you're falling for him.

"Can I watch?"

"You can," he replies with a smile.

You giggle a bit as he chops the vegetables. "Enjoy the view?," he adds.

Very much, you think, though you only say, "Probably..." with a playful smile lingering on your lips. You want to kiss him so badly right now.

Little do you know, he's doing his best to focus on the knife and the vegetables because it's nearly impossible for him to tear his eyes away from your pretty little face.

He needs to kiss your lips so badly, it can actually kill him.

——————

After an hour of talking and exchanging glances filled with unspoken tension, the two plates of pasta are finally served. Yours is carbonara, and his is pomodoro, both look incredibly delicious.

He doesn’t stop watching you as you take your first big bite.

"How’s that?" His voice is filled with anticipation.

"Ummm," you murmur, savoring the taste. "I think this is the best pasta I’ve ever had in my entire life."

At your words, he smiles and laughs, as if he’s just won an Oscar. But to him, it’s not about the pasta…it’s about you. You’re bigger than any prize on earth.

As the hour passes, you find yourselves gossiping about coworkers, chit-chatting about random things, talking about work and food, and eventually landing on a more serious topic…

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asks, and your heart rate skyrockets.

"No," you reply, trying to stay composed, as if you’ve never dreamed of being asked this question by him.

"Are you interested in dating?" he continues.

Yes, yes, fuck yesssss only for you, you think, but instead, you ask, "Why do you ask? Are you trying to flirt with me or something?" You mean it as a joke, not really expecting an answer.

"What if I say yes?"

Your pupils widen at his response. "What?" You are so shocked, can’t really comprehend anything now.

"I'm sorry—"

"No, I think I heard you wrong."

"No, you didn’t… but if you’d rather stay just friends, I’ll understand and respect that."

“I think…no, I know I love you. I’m sorry if this ruins our friendship, but if you don’t feel the same way, just tell me, and we can go back to how things were.”

His gaze is so soft, unlike anything you’ve ever seen from him. He hesitates for a moment, licking his bottom lip quickly before speaking again.

“I love the way you always show up with a genuine smile, even though I know you hate working here. I love how you joke around just to make people laugh, how you make fun our boss, how incredibly smart and beautiful you are. I’m nothing compared to you.”

He pauses, searching your face, trying to read your expression. “You make me want to live like a normal salaryman. I’m on top of the world every time you say, ‘See you tomorrow’ because I’m the one who gets a chance to see you tomorrow and another tomorrow and every other single day. I want to come to work every day just to spend as much time as I can admiring you, being next to you. I want to be the one who takes care of you. You make my ordinary life feel so special, and I love you…most ardently.”

Is it the wine you’ve had? Are you dreaming, or is he really confessing his love to you?

“Are you drunk?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly, still in disbelief at what you’ve just heard.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Hell no, I’m not,” he replies, his voice steady and sincere. His eyes lock onto yours, full of a quiet intensity that leaves no room for doubt.

“I truly love you.”

The words hang in the air between you, so heavy with meaning that it feels like the world has paused. You can feel your heart racing, pounding against your chest as you try to process everything. The warmth of the room, the soft glow of the lights, and the remnants of dinner, all of it fades into the background. All you can focus on is him, as he’s standing up from his chair and pouring his heart out in the most genuine way.

His expression is earnest, a mix of vulnerability and determination. This is the man who, just moments ago, was making you laugh with casual banter, and now he’s baring his soul to you, leaving himself completely exposed. You can see the slight tension in his posture, as if he’s bracing himself for whatever might come next, yet there’s also a softness in his gaze that you’ve never seen before.

He takes a step closer, reaching out as if he wants to touch you but stops himself, respecting your space. “I’ve thought about this for so long,” he continues, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Every day, I’ve held back, afraid of ruining what we have. But I can’t keep pretending that my feelings aren’t there. You’re all I think about, and I can’t stand the idea of not telling you how I feel. Even if it means risking everything.”

Your mind races, trying to catch up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you as you can feel the way his breath hitches slightly as he waits for your response, the subtle tremor in your hands as you try to steady yourself.

This is real, you realize. He’s not joking, not exaggerating. He’s laying his heart at your feet, hoping you’ll pick it up and keep it safe. And in that moment, you know that this is a turning point, a moment that will change everything between you.

You swallow hard, trying to find your voice, trying to navigate through the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I…” you start, but the words catch in your throat, too tangled up in the disbelief and joy and fear all mingling together.

“I’m sorry, you must be so uncomfortable right now. Let me get you home… It’s already late, and I can’t let you go alone.”

No, he’s got it all wrong. You’re not uncomfortable you’re just too overwhelmed with joy that you can’t find any words to describe it . But he doesn’t give you a chance to explain, assuming the worst.

“Okay,” you respond, the word slipping out before you can stop it. Maybe it’s because a small part of you wonders if he’s actually drunk, that maybe he didn’t mean to say those things and now regrets it. Maybe he just wants to get you home and forget this ever happened.

But you can’t let it end like this. “You can walk me home. It’s 15 minutes from here, no need for a car,” you say, trying to break through the invisible barrier that’s suddenly risen between you. You’re lying it’s almost 45 minutes away but you just want to be with him a little longer, to figure out what’s really going on.

“Really,never know that you live around here.” Of course he doesn’t know. “Doesn’t matter let’s go.” he agrees, giving you a soft smile, though there’s a sigh that escapes him, as if he wants to say more but is holding back.

—————

As you both step out into the cool night air, the silence between you is thick with unspoken words. He falls into step beside you, the warmth of his presence just a breath away. The tension from before lingers, but there’s also a tenderness in the quiet moments as you walk side by side, neither of you in a hurry to reach your destination.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable tonight. I just… I couldn’t keep it in anymore. But I’ll understand if you need time or if you want to pretend none of this happened.” Finally, he speaks again, his voice gentle but firm.

“No,” you blurt out, the word catching in your throat as you stare at him. “Ken…” His name falls from your lips, soft and gentle, as if it caresses his heart.

“Listen to me,” you continue, holding up a hand before he can respond. “Don’t say anything right now. Just… let me get this out.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of your emotions bubbling up inside you, and you decide the only way you can say this is through a story, a safe distance between you and the overwhelming truth. “I’m going to tell it in the third person, because saying it directly feels too embarrassing.”

He tilts his head slightly, waiting, but his eyes don’t leave yours. You press on.

“There’s a woman,” you begin softly, “the most ordinary woman. She got this job a year ago, and everything changed. She had to move away from her hometown, didn’t know anyone here, and for a while, she felt so alone.”

Your voice trembles slightly as you continue, but you push through. “Then she met this man. Just a regular, normal guy. He hated the job, just like she did, only doing it to pay his bills. But there was something about him…something about his smile, about how he always showed up when she needed someone. And that smile, no matter how much she tried to ignore it, never failed to drive her insane.”

You risk a glance at him, and his expression has softened, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. You swallow, continuing your story. “They became close, coworkers, friends. But she wanted more. She needed more. So she started working overtime, just to have a little extra time with him.”

“And today,” you say, your voice lowering, “it’s like a dream come true for her. The man she’s been in love with since she started working here…he feels the same way about her. But it’s so hard to believe, so good that it doesn’t even seem real. She doesn’t know what to say, so her silence makes him think she’s rejecting him, even though it’s the furthest thing from the truth.”

You finish, the last words hanging in the air between you, fragile but full of meaning. You look at him, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what he’ll say.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, his lips curl into a gentle, knowing smile. “So… what happens next in this story?”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, turning your head just enough to avoid meeting his eyes. “You tell me.”

He gently reaches out, his hand warm as it grazes your knuckles, and slowly your fingers intertwine. “He takes her hand, just like this,” he says with a tenderness that makes your heart race. “And he realizes he's the luckiest man on earth.”

Your breath hitches as he continues, “He’s so happy, now that he gets to hold the hands of the girl he adores.”

You look up at him, his gaze filled with a warmth you’ve longed to see for so long. “What happens next?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“He kisses her,” he says, leaning just a little closer before adding, “Only if she wants that.”

Your soft giggle fills the space between you. “Yes, she definitely wants that.”

He smiles, closing the remaining distance between you, his hand gently cupping your face as his lips meet yours in a tender, lingering kiss. The moment feels unreal, yet more vivid than anything you’ve ever known. The night seems to glow, not from the moon or stars, but from the way he makes your world brighter.

In his arms, love no longer feels like a distant mystery… it’s here, in the touch of his lips, in the warmth of his embrace, in the quiet joy that fills your heart. And suddenly, being a "normal" person in the ordinary grind of life seems more than enough because now, you have him.

How wonderful life is, even in the mundane, when it's shared with someone like him.

[torakowalski]

Bit of a delay since the last part, but we're back! It's still late 1986/early 1987, they're still in a hotel, Eddie has still recently seen Steve's dick. This little pre getting-together mini arc should be three parts, then we're back to swimming!

(part one | part two | part three)

Robin is laughing so hard she sounds like she's gonna die, which isn't really helping Eddie's troubles but is making him smile despite himself. Girl's got an infectious cackle, what can he say.

"Oh my god," she says, more air than words, making static blow down the phone and right into his ear canal. He winces. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I know it's not funny, but you told it like it was funny to make me laugh, don't deny it."

Eddie had told his tale of woe like it was funny to make her laugh, so he doesn't deny it. "I know I'm being stupid," he says, feeling serious now, and listening as her laughter trails off. "But I kind of feel like I'm being a creep? Like, he thinks we're straight guys together, and it's totally chill if he comes out of the shower naked, but we're not."

Not to mention that seeing so much of Steve so often is doing nothing for Eddie's stupid crush, but he doesn't mention that. Either Robin knows about it or she doesn't, and if she doesn't, he's not gonna tell her.

She sighs. "Yeah, I know that feeling. But I mean, being naked is just like the norm for him; you know what jocks are like. And even when he is dressed, it's in tiny speedos half the time. I'm lucky, he never got totally naked around me, but I literally had to scream at him to get him to remember pants."

Eddie grins to himself. "What did you scream?" he asks, privately hoping it was just the word PANTS! over and over until Steve got the message.

Robin does a little cackle. "Okay, bear in mind I was at the end of my tether but it may have been, 'PUT YUR DICK AWAY, I AM TOO GAY FOR THIS!'"

It's Eddie's turn to laugh until he's maybe gonna choke. That is so much better than 'PANTS.'

"You're an inspiration, Buckley," he tells her and he means it.

They were always friendly in Hawkins, but he thinks they might be real friends now. Mostly because half the time she calls for Steve lately, his training is running long and she gets stuck talking to Eddie, instead, just like she is right now.

It's nice, having a friend who just gets it. Who knows not just the painful things that come from growing up gay in a small town, but the weird things and the funny things, too.

"I mean, you could do it too," Robin says, like it's easy. "Yell that in Steve's face, and I guarantee he'll feel super guilty and take you seriously and never wave his dick around in front of you again."

"He's not exactly waving it," Eddie protests, except now that's all he can picture. "That'd be a hell of a way to come out to him I guess though, huh? Just scream it in his face."

"Isn't that how you tell everyone everything?" Robin asks. "Or does it only work if there's a lunch table to strut around on."

"Nah, I'm resourceful." Eddie grips the phone receiver tighter, checks the length of the cord. "Hang on, I'm getting up on the bed."

"Eddie," Robin laughs, but Eddie's already done it.

Feet planted on the slippery hotel comforter, he does an experimental bounce and almost immediately brushes the top of his head against the popcorn ceiling.

"Okay, I'm up. So? I picture I'm in the lunch room?"

"Yup," says Robin. "Table of cheerleaders over there, table of jocks over there, me waving at you from the band geek table, and Steve standing in front of you, totally naked."

"I think I've had that dream," Eddie mutters.

"Ew," she says. "Moving on. You're Eddie the Brave, you're on your stage, what do you say?"

Eddie takes a deep breath. "STEVE HARRINGTON, PUT YOUR DICK AWAY, I AM TOO GAY TO SEE IT!"

He doesn't yell it as loudly as he could, since he doesn't want anyone in the rooms next door to hear, but Robin still says, "Yes! Perfect!" sounding delighted.

Eddie grins, flops down onto the bed. Then sits up again in a startled rush, when the door handle turns and Steve lets himself in.

Any hope that he didn't hear dies the second Eddie sees his face. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows are up in his hairline, and he is definitely, definitely blushing.

"Steve," Eddie says strangled. Then, louder, "Robin! Steve's back!" He shoves the receiver at Steve who takes it automatically. "It's Robin. For you. Robin! Calling for you! I'll give you guys some privacy. Have a good talk. Goodbye."

Shoeless, he flees the room.

(continued here)

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: Chapter 2

A/N: I am so flattered by all the comments on Chapter 1! Seriously, y'all made my life with your kindness! I'm so glad there are other people who love Jo and 1975 Elvis as much as I do. I hope this one continues to live up to expectations! Keep the comments coming!

Need to catch up? Masterlist here.

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: This will have smut, so minors stay away, but this chapter is all fluff/minor angst. Elvis gets mad and Jo is a bit triggered by it. Oh and Elvis takes pills again.

Word count: ~2.4k

Jo gets back in her car, rubbing her hands together for warmth, and says a silent prayer that Elvis will call.

******

Elvis wanders around the house aimlessly, trying not to wake anyone else up. He decides to take a peek at the cameras down at the gate to make sure everything is quiet. When he looks, though, he sees a girl standing there with her hand on the gate. She seems vaguely familiar, but he can't really see her face and she's bundled in a hat, coat, and scarf. He watches as she stands there for a bit and then walks away. Sighing deeply, he watches for a couple more minutes and then decides she must be gone. But just as he goes to turn away, she's back with something in her arms.

“What the hell?” He whispers as she starts trying to throw them over the gate. A chuckle escapes him as she misses a few times and has to walk further down the wall. Then, it dawns on him what she's throwing: paper airplanes. He watches as she throws the last one, rubbing her hands together and walking away. Then, his curiosity gets the best of him and he goes to Jerry's door, knocking. “Jer! Hey Jer, you up?”

Jerry takes a while to come to the door and Elvis knocks impatiently. Finally, he opens the door, his hair a mess and his eyes bleary with sleep.

“What is it, boss?”

“I need you to do somethin' for me.”

“Right now?” Jerry looks around for a clock to tell him what time it is.

“Yes, now. Get dressed.” Elvis turns and walks away and Jerry grabs some pants and shoes and follows him.

At the front door, Elvis explains what he wants Jerry to do.

“Just go out and get the airplanes?” Jerry raises his eyebrows. This seems like a simple task.

“Yes. And bring them to me.”

“You couldn't do this yourself?” Elvis smiles slyly.

“It's cold out there.” Jerry rolls his eyes and walks out the front door down to the wall. He picks up all of the notes and heads back up the driveway. When he gets back to Elvis inside, he's shivering.

“You want me to read ‘em to you too?”

“No, that's all. Thanks Jerry. Goodnight.” He takes the airplanes from Jerry and walks back up the stairs, leaving the younger man shaking his head and trying to warm his hands up.

Back in his bedroom, Elvis plops onto the giant bed and opens one of the airplanes. His heart stops when he reads it. He quickly opens all the others to find the same thing written on them. Without a thought, he grabs one and walks to the phone on his nightstand, sitting on the bed next to it with the receiver pressed to his ear. He dials the number quickly and waits as it rings.

Jo is in bed, wide awake, when the phone rings. She looks at the clock on the wall and picks it up tentatively.

“Hello?”

“Hi…” Elvis looks at the name on the note. “Jo? It's-”

“Elvis?!” She has to work hard to keep from screaming it into the phone.

“Yeah, honey. I got your airplanes.”

“Oh my god. You did?”

“Well, Jerry got them for me, but yes. How are ya?” Elvis is strangely nervous. His stomach flip-flops waiting for her response.

“I'm… I'm great, I guess. You know it's almost 3am?” She cringes a bit, knowing she shouldn't question this amazing situation, but she wouldn't be her if she wasn't a little sassy.

“Were ya sleepin’?”

“Um, no.”

“Didn’t think so. You live in Memphis or are you visiting?” The conversation continues as they move through the pleasantries into deeper topics. He can't believe how easy she is to talk to, how cute her little laugh is, how much he wishes she was actually there with him. It's been a long time since he's actually genuinely enjoyed a woman's company like this.

Jo is in heaven. This is everything she's ever dreamed of. The only thing that would make it better is being next to him. Still, she'll take what she can get. She's giggling at some story he's telling when she realizes the sun has started to come up.

“Elvis…”

“Yeah, honey?” She tries not to melt when he calls her honey.

“The sun is coming up.” He looks at the window and chuckles, sunlight creeping in under the blackout curtains

“Well, I'll be damned.”

“I have to be at work soon.” Jo twirls the phone cord in her finger, wondering if she'll ever hear from him again if she hangs up.

Elvis doesn't want to stop talking to her, afraid this spell will be broken if he ends the call.

“Why don'tcha play hooky today and come to my house?” Jo’s heart skips and Elvis can't believe what he's said. Why on earth would he invite her over to his house?! He's been up all night and needs to sleep. For a half second, the thought that he'd like to sleep next to her enters his head, but he gets rid of it as quick as it came. As young and pretty as she is, she'd expect more than just sleeping and he's not sure he'd be capable of that today.

“Oh, umm, I'd love to, but I really need to go to work. If I miss again they'll fire me.” He breathes a sigh of relief that she's not coming over immediately, but he still wants to see her.

“How about after? What time are you done?”

“I work until 4. You really want me to come over?” He thinks for a second and then the answer just comes tumbling out.

“Yeah, I really do.”

******

Jo is filled with a kind of nervous excitement all day long that keeps her awake. She's running on pure adrenaline and caffeine, so when the clock strikes 4:00, she's out the door in a heartbeat. She slaps her cheeks as she drives to Graceland trying to stay awake and before she knows it, she's knocking on the front door. Jerry answers and leads her into the foyer.

“Come on in. He's, um, in with the Colonel, but he told us you were coming.” He gestures for her to sit on the couch in the living room. She perches on the edge, careful not to get too comfortable for fear of falling asleep.

Just as she starts to doze, she hears a door slam upstairs and the Colonel comes down the stairs and walks straight out through the front. She hears another crash and it sounds like Elvis has broken something. She stands up instinctively and sees Jerry in the dining room, motioning for her to stay where she is. Elvis stomps down into the foyer and starts yelling to Jerry about whatever he's angry about. Jo isn't sure what to do, so she looks at the door and starts to walk towards it slowly. Maybe she should just get out of here…

“No! Jo, don't leave.” She turns and Elvis is close to her, still breathing heavily from his fight with the Colonel. His hair is fluffy like he's run his hands through it a hundred times.

“I just… I'm exhausted Elvis and you're obviously upset-”

“I'm fine!” He yells at her and she flinches. When she opens her eyes there's a fire in them that makes Elvis step back a little.

“Do not yell at me. I have not done anything to you. I grew up with a man yelling at me for things that weren't my fault and I'm not going to let you do it. I don't care if you are Elvis fucking Presley.” Jerry's eyebrows practically hit his hairline and he crosses his arms, waiting to see how Elvis will respond. Elvis is absolutely floored. No woman has ever talked to him that way. His mouth hangs open as he tries to figure out what he should say. She turns away from him back to the door and he finally speaks.

“Wait, please. Please stay.” He's careful to keep his voice even and quiet, so she doesn't think he's yelling again. Stopping, she lowers her head and breathes deeply. “I just have one more phone call with the recording studio and then I'm all yours. Please.”

Jo turns slowly and sees the pleading desperation in his eyes. She couldn't leave now even if she wanted to.

“Okay. I'll stay.” Elvis smiles, obviously relieved.

“Come on, you can wait down here.” He holds her elbow and leads her down the stairs to the TV room. Jo takes one look at the plush couch and smiles nervously. “I'll be back in just a minute. It'll be quick; I promise.”

She tries to perch on the edge again, but it's so soft and inviting that not long after he leaves, she's asleep. When he comes back down about fifteen minutes later, he finds her with her shoes off, snuggled on the couch sleeping soundly. He chuckles when he remembers that she stayed up all night and then went to work while he slept. She really is something else.

There's just enough room between her head and the corner of the couch for him to sit, so he positions himself there, careful not to touch or disturb her in any way. He clicks the TVs on and turns the volume down, looking down at her while she sleeps. With her haircut and big eyes, she's like a little fairy. He runs his fingertip down the side of her cheek gently and is overwhelmed with the desire to lean over and kiss her, but he doesn't.

Despite sleeping all morning, he's tired too, and before too long he's passed out as well. Without thinking, he snuggles into the corner and puts his legs up on the couch next to her, not even conscious of how close this makes them. She stirs a little when he does and groggily lifts her head, moving her body up to be in the crook of his arm. Neither of them is really aware of what's happening, but they cuddle there on the couch sleeping for the better part of three hours. At one point Jerry comes downstairs and smiles at the scene. It's been awhile since he's seen his boss this comfortable with someone new.

Jo’s stomach is the one that wakes her up. She worked through lunch, so she's starving. It rumbles and she opens her eyes sleepily. For a second, she has no idea where she is or who this man is that she's laying with. She sits up so quickly that it wakes Elvis up too.

“You're awake.” He stretches and pulls her back down against his chest.

“You're Elvis Presley.” His chest rumbles with a chuckle and she smiles.

“That I am, honey.”

“I'm sorry; I didn't mean to fall asleep.” This position is so habitual that he presses his lips to her forehead without thinking and mumbles.

“It's okay. I know you were up all night talkin’ with some old fool.” His hand runs up and down her arm as they talk.

“Yeah, my favorite old fool on the planet. And besides, you're not that much older than me.” He scoffs.

“Honey, do you know how old I am?”

“I've been a fan of yours since 1955. I know how old you are. I'm 36.” His hand freezes and he looks down at her. He would've sworn she was in her mid 20s.

“Are ya really, honey?” She nods against him.

“You wanna see an ID?”

“Nah, I trust ya, I'm just surprised. You look a lot younger.” For the first time since he called, Jo starts to doubt herself.

“Is it a problem?” She sits up and looks down at him where he shakes his head nervously.

“No! No. Women don't have expiration dates.” They look at each other for a minute, both of them wondering what it would feel like to press their lips against the other’s. Jo’s stomach growls again and breaks them out of their trance. “We need dinner. Come on.”

They peel themselves off the couch and go upstairs. Elvis arranges dinner for them and they eat together in the dining room, laughing and talking through the whole thing. At the end of the night, Elvis is dying to ask her to stay, but he's still afraid of what her expectations might be. She's a grown woman, not a girl, and he doesn't want to disappoint her. Instead, he takes her hand and kisses the back of it gently.

“Goodnight, Jo.”

“Goodnight, Elvis.” She smiles up at him softly, wishing he would kiss her. “Will I, um, will I see you again?”

Her heart flutters and she's afraid to even ask, but she has to know. This might've been a beautiful dream and nothing more.

Elvis hesitates for a second. He's reluctant to make any real promises, but he does want to see her again.

“Oh, well, Jo, um…” She shakes her head.

“It's okay. I shouldn't have asked. I'm just thankful for the 24 hours I got with you. G’night.” Before he can say anything else, she practically runs out the front door and down to her car. She doesn't want him to see that she's crying. Even though he's only known her for a day, she's known him for most of her life, and it hurts that he doesn't love her like she loves him. She knows it's an outrageous expectation, but some part of her thought that if she could just get to him, it would happen. So she cries all the way to her car and all the way back to her apartment and if she wasn't so tired, she probably would cry all night long.

Elvis watches her go and the full, heavy ache of loneliness settles in his chest again. But she's too grown up, too sure of herself, too much her own person. It would never work. And besides, when she really got to know who he is now, she'd leave like all the others. Best to save himself that heartache. He goes back in the house and up the stairs to bed, takes another handful of pills and calls it a night.

But he misses her in his arms, the big bed feeling cold and empty.

******

Will they see each other again?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley

[dageroll]

Imagine you're a suburban housewife in a classically patriarchal 50's setting. Your husband doesn't pay you much mind, giving you plastic smiles in public but coldly fucking your ass senseless in the bedroom with loveless eyes. All he cares about is your round bottom, which he always makes sure to smack on his way to work. You're left at home, slowly growing his baby in your stomach and enduring the snips and stares of your neighbors.

As you start to show, he gets colder. Less interested. You start jerking off more and more while he's away, rubbing your pregnant belly and twiddling your girlcock while he fucks your secretary. When you're in your third trimester, he doesn't even touch you while you sleep. You cry yourself to bed softly every night.

One day, he's hosting a dinner party in the backyard. Some meeting of him and his buddies. Something the wife isn't allowed to see. You ferry then trays of snacks, endure their lecherous glances as he pats your ass with a roar of applause. You feel the first twinge then. As you cry and prepare in the kitchen, you feel the cramps growing. You try to work through the pain, but the kicking and squirming is too much. As you waddle out with another tray, it crashes to the ground along with your water. You stare your husband in the eyes, desperate for his help. He just sighs, rolling them and cracking some wise comment off. They all go back to their drinks and their laughs, uncaring of your laboring body.

You crown in the kitchen, sobbing on the floor while your poor little ass tears itself apart. His friend finds you there first, cruelly looking down at you before calling the others up. You plead your husband, demand he take you to the hospital. He just laughs, wrestling you into place with his arms while his friends pull your legs apart. Your baby pokes out more and more as you scream and beg, arms restrained from reaching down and feeling your child. The last thing you see before shutting your eyes is the men around you grinning like animals. You give out one last, massive push as your asshole tears and your child awkwardly flops out of it. Then. Darkness.

Oh my fucking god I love this. To be dependent on a husband who only likes me for my ass. The only thing close to love I get from him is the sex, so I let him use me whenever he wants. Then he gets me pregnant and I hope this will bring us closer, but it only leads to slowly losing the only affection I could get. I have to deal with the pregnancy on my own, getting less and less attention as it progresses. I still try to believe he loves me, convincing myself that once I go into labor he’ll help me and show he cares. Then I go into labor.

Curled up in pain on the hard, cold kitchen floor, unable to do anything but cry and push as the massive head presses down, obscenely stretching out the pretty little hole he loved so much. I can feel every bit of how big the baby is and how unprepared my petite body is, so I beg, scream, and cry for my husband’s help, for a hospital, encouragement, even to just hold his hand, but I get none of that. Instead, he manhandles me, holding me in place and forcing me to push the baby out right there in front of all of his friends. Restrained and surrounded by all these sadistic men I don’t know, being treated as an attraction while my poor little ass rips itself apart, my body commanding me to push, pressure increasing. I scream as my abused little hole is badly torn by my baby, finally feeling relief as it flops out of my ruined, bloody ass. As I pass out from the exhaustion and blood loss, I’d only be able to think about how cruel and heartless my husband is and how before long, he’ll make me do it all over again.

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 16

⚠️ Erm, not sure what to tag this as...fluffy whump angst? Mainly fluffy!

Timeline starts as memory and ends in the present. Hope you enjoy!

💚💛👨‍🏫🚒��‍🔥

Night fell on Tracy Island, and Virgil flopped down onto the cool sheets of his bed. Training had gone well today, despite the odd hiccup; Tam taking to the jet-pack like a duck to water. Jonesy...well, he flew with all the finesse of a drunken penguin. Luckily, the med-scanner had reported no injuries, but for a bruised backside. The merciless ribbing (as to be expected from good friends) was decidedly more painful.

Virgil smiled.

Jonesy had just batted the jokes right back. The firefighter had a good sense of humour, and a thick skin - another vital trait in their line of work. It was like having a second Gordon about the place, which was in equal parts a blessing and a curse.

His piano, for starters; having been somewhat neglected since their guests arrived, had acquired a fine layer of dust. Gordon, of course, had wasted no time at all in scribing messages on its hood.

What's the difference between a piano and a fish? You can't tuna fish!

Jonesy had laughed way too hard at that; and just a few short hours later, another dad-joke (of equal cringe-worthiness) followed. Only, this time, the handwriting obviously not Gordon's.

Why did the GDF arrest Virgil?

Because he got into treble!

Virgil sighed.

"EOS, please can you add piano polish to the shopping list?"

*. *. * .

Virgil drew idle angel-patterns in the fresh bed linen; savouring the luxury of being able to starfish in his king-sized bed after training...well, they weren't really recruits anymore. They had all integrated so well with the family, that it was nice to think that he'd been training friends.

Mac...Mac was quite quiet; that was until he and Brains started chin wagging about Star Trek.

I mean, he liked Star Trek as much as the next person, but those two must have mastered the ability of breathing through their ears. He'd never seen Brains talk so much!

And though he often opted out of their tedious-Trek-talks; it was wonderful to see their resident engineer, and friend, so animated.

Virgil was roused from his thoughts by the strumming of a gentle Spanish folk song; the lilting melody drifting through his open balcony doors.

Someone was humming. By process of elimination; he knew it to be Tamara. It was a female voice, and he had heard both Grandma's and Kayo's over Comms enough times to know that it wasn't them. He padded quietly over to the balustrade, taking in the night air as the music played on.

It was a beautiful night; the father stretches of ocean so tranquil; the surface glittered with dark starlight.

Virgil rested his head on folded arms, watching the seafoam gather and fade along the shoreline.

Usually, all this beauty went unseen. After back-to-back rescues; he was lucky to see a glimpse of his pillow before sleep took him. He sighed contentedly, and the music suddenly stopped.

"Oh God! I had no idea anyone could hear me! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to keep you up!" Tam set the guitar aside with a musical thud.

"No, no, please! Play on! I was really enjoying that," Virgil leaned his head over the balcony.

"I'm really not that good. I-"

"How long have you been playing?" Virgil stalled her from disappearing back from her balcony and into her own room.

"Erm...ever since my mum passed, so that's...six years - but it's all self-taught," Tam flustered shyly. It was the first time Virgil had seen her out of her comfort zone.

"That's really impressive. And...I'm sorry about your mom. We lost our mother, Lucy, when we were just boys. Time doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

"No... but I guess, those who are lucky have, or find others to live for," Tam sighed pensively.

They both stood silently for a moment, lost in memory and deep in thought.

After a moment, Virgil gently cleared his throat.

"Do you like stars?"

"Stars?"

"Mmmm."

"Yes. I mean, especially here. They're so vivid and... ethereal!" Tam enthused.

"Well, if you can spare ten minutes; I'd love to share something with you. You can see it best from the Comms balcony," he gestured.

"Oh...I mean, sure?"

"You don't have to. It's nothing really. I-"

"No, no! I'd love to see," Tam assured, seeing that whatever he was referencing, held a great deal of meaning to him...whatever it was.

"Cool. I'll meet you up there in five."

*. *. *.

Tam found Virgil already waiting outside of the Comms room.

He greeted her with a genuine smile, before turning his face to the tapestry of stars in the near-midnight sky.

“Okay. I'm no John, but you can't have two spacecase brothers without learning a handful of constellations,” Virgil waved vaguely.

“Mmm. I bet.”

"Erm...Do you know many constellations?” he queried, not wanting to patronize another potential spacecase.

“Erm, well...that one over there's the North Star.” Tam pointed to the brightest light gleaming proudly in the sky.

“That's…actually Five. John's obviously overdone his teeth whitening gel.”

Tam snorted as she laughed.

“Spoken like a true brother.”

"Alright...so you'll have to use your imagination...like, a lot..." Virgil smiled.

"Cassiopeia, can you see her?"

Virgil guided Tam's hand up to the constellation.

"Angle your head slightly. It's a..."

"M?"

"Mmm hmm. Now, Auriga - that's your O." He guided her wrist as she traced the shape.

"Bare with me for the next one!"

"Okay."

"This is where you'll have to really use your imagination. You see Gemini - the twins?"

"Erm...yep, got it!"

"Okay, forget their top halves.

"Said no guy ever."

"It's all about their legs." he winked.

"Look..." He guided her hand once more in the final shape of an M.

"Mom."

"Mmm hmm."

Tam hummed appreciatively; the loveliest of smiles forming on her face as she gazed on the astral wonder.

"It really is beautiful," Tam mused.

"Beautiful," Virgil agreed, watching her smile.

Quietly, Tam began humming the melody from earlier, and the palms gently swayed in the light of the moon.

*. *. *

Virgil roused.

Grandma!

He made to move before the rest of his senses had even come back online.

Pain was the elicited result.

He hissed and a gentle hand was felt at his shoulder.

"You're okay, I've got you, I've got you."

The voice was familiar but conscious thought still eluded him.

Everything hurt.

Thinking hurt.

Just then, the voice began humming a familiar tune that filled his darkness with starlight.

[archangeldyke-all]

Hi Angel!

I've been reading your kidfics and if it's okay I'd like to contribute to your little fucker cinematic universe because I have a real story that happened to me when I was tutoring and I think you might like it. 🌸

Little fucker is a clever kid. Sometimes too clever. And the problem is - she can't sit for the life of her. She will stand on her chair, rock it back and forth, run for water and for snacks and for whatever thing she wants to show you, but she will not just sit and do her homework.

Which is fair, she is only 7, but you're not so patient. So you decide it's going to be Sevika's problem now. Part of you hopes that little fucker will be more intimidated of her grumpy mom, but this hope is more of a delusion - you know Sevika is a softie and your daughter knows it as well.

Sevika thinks she got it, she is an adult, what can be hard about 7 year old's homework? Counting apples? Sevika is cocky about the whole ordeal, but you don't say anything, letting her find out by herself.

Sevika gets absolutely humbled when she sees little fucker's homework and gets confused at a math question 10 minutes in. Then she sighs in relief when she remembers she is only supposed to monitor little fucker and only help her if she is confused. Yeah, she can't sit through five minutes of work, but Sevika finds a way in a "waste my time I'll waste your time" deal. Little fucker's time management improves immediately.

One day they're doing homework and little fucker has to write a story, but before that, she needs to write details about her character (teddy bear on her shirt).

"How do you call really smart people?" Little fucker asks with a philosophical frown.

"Geniuses?" Sevika tries, also frowning in an effort to find the right word.

Little fucker looks at her disappointedly and Sevika sweats like she is a first grader in front of a teacher.

"Prodigy? Also a great word." Sevika offers, but the disappointment on your baby's face grows.

"I have no fucking idea, kid." Sevika admits.

Little fucker just flops her arms encouraging Sevika to try.

"Do you mean scientists?"

Another look of extreme disappointment. Sevika starts to feel bad.

Little fucker sighs and taps her pencil on her book, frustrated. Then she looks at Sevika again, still shocked at her lack of intelligence.

"Nerds." She says in mock surprise. "They are called nerds, mom."

Sevika is speechless. Then she snorts and nods, admitting her defeat.

"Okay. You're right." Sevika is kinda proud of her baby's sass and she doesn't even try to hide it.

"I'll use genius though." Little fucker says like an expert and slowly writes down the word.

"Yeah. Don't think your teacher will like it very much if you say your Teddy is a nerd."

Later Sevika asks you the same question.

"How do you call really smart people?"

"Competent?" You try offhandedly as you wash the dishes.

"Well, according to our daughter, they're called nerds."

"This girl, I swear to God." You snort. "It's all your influence."

"Dunno, I married a nerd after all, not you."

this is FUCKING ADORABLE IM SOBBING

[royalsunshinehotel]

Hey!! I saw dev in a movie a couple months ago and was completely shocked by how attractive dev is and I found your account a few weeks ago and I wanted to make a request if that’s okay

So like I read one of your preference works and I was thinking about like kinda angsty oneshot based of the Joshua madika part of the “how they fight” one were it’s angst in the beginning with the whole fight and all that and then more comfort/fluff towards the end? Thank you!!

Guilty As Sin? (Joshua Madika x f!reader)

A/N: You are struggling with internalized misogyny. Joshua's left to untangle your mean streak.

"I don't understand why we're fighting." That was a lie. Of course you know.

"How can you not understand?" Joshua snaps right back, whipping off the tie that had gotten too tight around his neck over the course of that evening.

"Joshua, she cheated on you!" You snapped, throwing your bag down and kicking off your heels. Tonight should have gone differently, you'd be on your way to the kitchen to get a snack for the two of you, but now you were going to get a snack for one person, you!

"Don't try to pretend this is about me." You hate how even his tone is, even from one room away.

"She had it coming!" No, she didn't. She didn't need you being cruel to her.

"No, she didn't!" Joshua, your Joshua, was right.

"She's not ugly, her dress was fine, and I used to love her!" The venom in Joshua's voice hits you right in the heart.

He used to love her. Why did that feel like a surprise?

"Oh. Okay." Every atom in your being falls, and you have to get away from him.

Joshua knows what he's said was a dagger he didn't even realize he'd pulled out.

"Wait, no wait, come back!" He chases you through the house, towards your shared room.

"I just try so hard! I try so hard to be the best girlfriend for you, and then she comes marching back, asking for help and you do it?"

"It's not what you're thinking!" He raises his hands in exasperation, heat rushing to his head.

You raise your pointer finger at him, "I'm thinking that I try so hard. I try so hard to be the best girlfriend for you, and you just don't even see it! You don't even care!"

"Of course I do! Don't you know I love you for that?"

A beat passes, you thank God for the break.

You start bawling first, and Joshua blinks, breathing heavily.

"I'm going to bed!" You shouted, turning on your heel, down the hallway to your shared bedroom and slamming the door behind you. Water won't stop coming down from your eyes, so you shower. You don't know how long you're in the shower for, but you don't come out until you're a prune.

Grabbing your pajamas you shiver, shuffling over to bed, exhausted. You flop down.

You pull your covers up to your neck, and fold in on yourself. Sleep doesn't come like you hope it would. Your eyes burn when you try to shut them.

Some time after, your partner comes in, the mattress bending under his weight.

"Can I hold you?" Joshua's voice comes from behind you. It's horribly mournful.

"Yes." You croak as he pulls you in.

[saintsenara]

Hi, if you're still doing the ask game, may I inquire about your opinion on the following ships ? : Tomarrinny, Bartymort, Quirrellmort, Petermort and Tom Sr/Cecilia/Merope. Also, thoughts on MoD!Voldemort or on how a meeting between Snape and Petunia would have gone ? Thanks !

thank you very much, @take-the-unknow-road-now for this wonderful selection of unhinged things for me to talk about. i am always ready for asks which inspire chaos:

tomarrinny

when she's eleven, harry's twelve, and tom is an immortal shard of soul? no.

when she's thirty, harry's thirty-one, and tom is back from the dead for some reason? absolutely.

after all, why shouldn't ginny be allowed two orphans, as a treat? and why shouldn't tom be allowed two people who are clearly less good-looking than him to pay him attention? plus, two quidditch players will definitely be willing to do all the work, allowing him to achieve his true form: undying pillow princess.

but - in reality - we all know which way the power dynamic actually lies: tom and ginny are both harry's subs.

let's hope that their ability to jointly write a poem has improved since the "his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad" days...

bartymort

canon.

there has never been a man with a more flagrant daddy kink than barty crouch jr., and we all know that he threw himself onto lord voldemort's lap the second he arrived in his first death eater meeting.

the dark lord advised him that he'd be physically chastised if this behaviour continued. unfortunately for him, that was exactly what barty wanted to happen.

the reason it burned out hard is because lord voldemort also has towering daddy issues. he is even forced to reveal what his real name and background is in an effort to make barty understand that sometimes he'd like to do something other than put on a double-breasted suit and pretend he's come home on time to attend a birthday party. [for example: "hello son, i've come to pick you up from the orphanage" role-play.)

barty literally couldn't give less of a fuck. lord voldemort isn't sorry when he gets turned into a soulless husk.

quirrellmort

lord voldemort - overcome with joy at being back in a human body after a decade - doesn't think through how awkward the aftermath of this will be, and spends the first night he's attached to quirrell's head directing him in a... let's just say... exploration of his anatomy.

quirrell is so pathetically suggestible that - from that point onwards - he can't get off unless the dark lord is talking dirty to him. but can you imagine how cringe trying to speak sexily to quirrell must be?

[hey baby, what are you wearing? a turban which smells of garlic?]

voldemort simply pretends not to have heard when quirrell brings this up. unfortunately, all this does is make quirrell want to talk about his feelings.

lord voldemort isn't sorry when harry kills him.

petermort

flopping. lord voldemort hates wormtail, because he betrayed a man to whom he would give his affections: james potter.

[seriously, he is a simp for james. there is no other explanation for why he insists that james fought him bravely when he turned up on halloween when we canonically know that what james actually did was run into the hall without his wand and then fall over.]

but don't worry. wormtail is getting some god-tier hate sex out of snape.

tom riddle sr./cecilia/merope gaunt

i'm going to answer this lightly, on the assumption that this triad is consensual.

tom sr. is getting thrown out of the bedroom within seconds. they're lesbians.

[he'll be fine. he goes for a little walk to sulk and ends up making out with frank bryce against a rose trellis. the four of them become bffs.]

and then our not-ship questions:

lord voldemort as the master of death

sounds like a lot of hard work, plus both of his parents keep appearing whenever he touches the resurrection stone to shout at him.

snape versus petunia

snape went round to speak to her about what a dick he thinks harry is [dumbledore told him to speak to her about the blood protection, he didn't want to].

they fucked.

[goddessofhuntartimas]

Comfort

Paring: Dean winchester x reader

Warnings⚠️⚠️:mentions of self-harm, blood, depression, drinking,swearing,fufffff

Summary: Dean comforting you after a breakdown.

°♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡°

You're pov:

I was currently in my room that I have here at the bunker crying. I liked to claim I was strong and I could get through anything, but the truth is I can't. Every day gets harder and harder, and the scars on my body grow to the point that there's no room anymore. There's no breathing room it's not like I'm only physically suffocating but mentally. So again, here I was crying in my room, deciding if I should shut out the lights that was until someone knocked on my door. Sam walked in with a book. In hand "Hey, I was wondering..." he stopped mid sentence, giving me a worried expression. "Hey. hey, what's wrong? " he said in a soft tone. I looked away."I don't want to talk about it, " my voice cracked. "Ok.... do you want me to get dean?" He asked, unsure of what to do, "no! Don't please dont. " I began not wanting trouble, dean more than I've already have. It's not like dean didn't know where every scar has come from or what's been going on in my mind, but for the past 2 months, I've been distant and covering up and to my luck he's been really busy so it definitely been hard for him to completely notice and I say completely because he has asked if I'm ok or would ask why I'm acting differently which I would reply with "it's nothing just been busy" or "I'm ok just tired" but that could be further from the truth. "Are you sure?" Sam asked one more time "yeah I was just overthinking nothing too bad." Lie. "Well, im always here if you need me." Ok, thank you." I said blantly. He walked out, and I sighed, flopping down on the bed. I'm so tired, but I couldn't sleep. I kept on tossing and turning.

Sam's pov:

After what y/n looked like, there was no way in hell I wasn't not going to tell Dean. Would I possibly get my ass beat later? Yes, I would. "Hey, dean. I need to tell you something, and I need you not to freak out." " Sammy, you tell me not to freak out then I'm going to, but what is it." I let out a sigh."It's um y/n. I'm worried about her." Dean got out of his seat and stated, walking, hearing all that he needed to. "Wait." I grabbed his arm he looked back at me, annoyed. "Listen, she didn't want me to say anything, so just pretend like you were asking her something." I gave him pleading eyes. "Ok" he pulled away walking to her room.

Y/n pov:

I got up to change putting one one of deans shirts hoping it would help me sleep and a pair of shorts. I was about to walk out of the room to go grab a beer, but I was met with a pair of green eyes that were filled with worry. He walked towards me, pulling me into a hug. I was tense at first but caved into his touch, and there I was crying again more like sobbing. His head was resting on mine while his hands moved up and down my back. "Baby, do you want to tell me what's wrong?" His voice deep and caring I pulled from him looking down speaking quietly." I just can't anymore dean. I just can't it's all too much." He put his hand on my cheek, creasing it and wiping my tears away. "Hey, sweetheart. Look at me." I looked into his eyes. " Why didn't you tell me sooner?" " Because I didn't want to worry you. You are going through so much yourself it's the last thing I want to do is make you worry." I couldn't hold in my tears. I just wanted to crumble to the floor. " it doesn't matter what I'm going through. You need to tell me what's going on, and we can work it out together because this right here isn't going to do anything. And trust me, it's something I need to work on to." "Ok" I whispered. " I'll be right back," he walked off . I was sitting on the edge of the bed curdled up in a ball, waiting for dean to come back. He walked in with a different pair of clothes on he smiled at me. God, i love that smile. I gave him a slight one back . He got under the covers, giving me a look to come over to him. I sat on his lap and kissed him. He followed my actions, putting his hands on my waist , we moved slowly . We pulled away. " I love you," I said softly. "I love you too, sweetheart." I moved to the side if him laying my head on his chest, and finally, I felt at peace.

[viceroywrites]

early season gary climbs through your window to hide from some kind of invention made by dr venture. he walks in on you masturbating. how does he join in? 👀 (request)

yay thank you so much for the request @kuellerr - i love it!! sorry it took a minute, hope you enjoy :)

-

'Crap, crap, crap, crap!' Gary repeats over and over in his head as he cradles the device in his hand while sprinting down someone's lawn.

The Monarch had tasked 21 and 24 to go in and retrieve an invention Dr. Venture had been working on over the past month as he was set to present it to a board of scientists tomorrow.

Unfortunately, for them, 21 had triggered a sensor on their way out, alerting Brock who was currently chasing them with blood-lust in his eyes.

24 had tossed the device over to Gary to throw Brock off since he was a faster runner out of the two. He huffs, practically out of breath as he tries to find somewhere to hide before Brock realizes that 24 doesn't have it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a window that it is open and seizes the opportunity, running towards and slipping inside with no other thought on his mind than to escape Brock.

The last he expected to see was you splayed out on your bed, vibrator in hand as you pleasure yourself, your moans the first thing he hears upon entering the room.

He bites down on his lower lip at the sight, feeling a mixture of shock and arousal at the situation he's found himself in. His pants began to feel tight, his cock slowly hardening as he can't look away from the sight.

Your eyes flutter open briefly and they widen at the sight of a man dressed up in a butterfly costume standing in front of your window, half-hard as the yellow material of his costume does a poor job in masking his bulge.

As your eyes meet, you both stare at each other frozen and before you can let out a scream, Gary rushes over to cover your mouth, causing you to look up at him with a slight pang of fear.

"Oh my god, dude, please don't scream! I-I didn't mean to walk in on your personal business, I was trying to get away from someone!" Gary pleads to which you relax against him.

Gary removes his hand and you let out a sigh of relief, "Lower your mask, butterfly boy, then I won't scream."

He complies, lowering the cowl to reveal his face. You take in his appearance, finding him quite cute with his short ponytail and round cheeks. Based of appearance alone, he seemed harmless.

"How the hell did you even get in here?" You mutter to which Gary simply responds by pointing his thumb in the direction of your wide open window.

"I'm so sorry, dude! I swear I'll be out of your hair once the coast is clear for me." Gary says and your eyebrow raises in skepticism, "And how long will that be?"

"Well.." Gary trails off, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

"If it's going to be a while, at least give me some privacy to finish what I started." You sigh, running your fingers through your hair, though your eyes linger on the prominent bulge that strain through Gary's pants, "Looks like you need some too."

Gary glances down and his face goes red, covering up his bulge. "Oh dude, sorry, can't help it. You're super hot."

Your cheeks flush in response and you throw your pillow at Gary, "Alright, go to the other room! I'll come get you when I'm done!"

Gary nods, taking the pillow off the ground to cover up his crotch as he begins to head towards the door. You grab your vibrator, about to turn it back on, before you freeze, realizing it ran out of batteries.

"Fuck me! Now it's dead." You groan, flopping back onto the bed in frustration. Gary winces at your reaction but an idea forms in his head. It's a wild one, straight out of a porno he's watched before.

He walks up to the edge of your bed and clears his throat, "I could like... help you if you want."

You pause, raising your head to look at Gary. The gears in your brain slowly start to turn as you seriously consider the offer - I mean he's pretty cute, definitely packing a Shai-Hulud and you're sure anything he can offer is better than your fingers.

"You're serious?" You say, eyebrow raising.

"Dead serious!" Gary responds, waiting in anticipation and hoping you don't kick him out right then and there.

You pause briefly and Gary winces, ready to be yelled at but to his surprise, he feels your hands on his cheeks, "Well, it's the least you can do for rudely interrupting me, isn't it?"

"Y-Yes." He stutters before groaning as you pull him into a kiss, feeling your tongue eagerly searching for his.

You break your lip lock, panting softly as you tug the fabric of his costume, pulling him down on top of you, "I need your name, butterfly boy."

"G-Gary.." He stutters out, entranced as you pull off your top.

"Alright, Gary, let's see what you can do." You grin.

[xxs4d-b4st4rdxx]

I have no idea why, but I have a sudden urge to talk about what Dr. Alto Clef is with in my head. It's probably because of that post of resent.

I'm going to be up and front with that this is more of me just rambling than a well-thought-out. I do better if I ramble with no form or idea where it is going. Also, I don't care if you think in any way is a waste or stupid. This is my blog, and I and do and say what I want, even if it's mindless rambling about a character or whatever else. -----

Well, to be honest, He does have a special place within my mind. It's greatly personal, I Rather not talk about it much, mainly because I rather keep the bad times behind me. Just know he has helped me get though some hard times in my life, even though he's a god-damn asshole of a character, lol.

Um… how do I start these things… Well first I must be clear that I have been out of the fandom he belongs in for some years now and so, much of what I view him is when I was really into it. SCP-4231 is a big piece to how I see him. I read that when it first came out, though I probably shouldn't have read it at that time.

Ok, enough of the rambling. For me, I view him as a bitter old man that real does not want to have anything to do with anyone. Which I don't blame. I thought of him being three different people with Alto being the last and Francis being the first, though the middle of the both does not really have a name He's just dubbed with Ukulele. Francis's GOC code name. With Ukulele being switch of dealing the stress of work and well their personal life. While Alto being formed when the incident happen and being the main for Francis to heal. Which never fully happen, Francis never really came back and only few years after it simply left. While Ukulele kinda linger not much anymore either being the next to fade leaving Alto be the last one left abandoned and the feeling that he had failed in sense. More bitter than anything in his mind left with the mess Francis had left him. Hope that makes sense in a way.

Another thing with the shipping of him and Kondraki (surprised I still remember how to spell his name). I like it though, I see it more of that Kondraki to him is a person that hang with and fuck around with once in a while, nothing more than that. I just see Alto being mainly a loner for that when he feels the safest at. I also do like the idea that he has amassed a large family of cat, those are his people. Furthermore, I like to think he thinks of himself as a cat as a way to cope with what he is.

The why I think he looks is pretty much what it most views him as. A white short fat man that doesn't have the greatest look, blond hair three eye colors, you know the gist. I have added on to that over the years with having a bad tan, you know what I mean. Have some numbers of scars from his year of living. A thing I also like is that he flip-flop in having somewhat short hair to have it long enough to have it braided. To be honest, I don't think he gives a shit how he looks other that his abundance of Hawaiian shirts, he's very prideful with that. His third eye I like to imagine he can move it anywhere on his body or hide it all together, another thing to fuck with people. Oh, Yeah, a chain smoker, of course.

Even with him being a shit person, I think deep with in him, he still cares about well… Francis's kid. Alto himself doesn't consider them being his kid nor being ever married. Though still cares about them.

I might be the reason he never just says fuck it and leave, to disappear, to live a life quietly without the Foundation being up his ass all the time. Maybe there's a different reason, who knows, he will never say, maybe he doesn't know himself either.

Do really think he's an anomaly of his own kind, being that most reality bender or what ever you want to call them, usually supper nova or simply disappear. Yet he's still there, well, depending on what stories you read. He does do either which is odd, potentially it's because of the circumstance he was in when there was still Francis and how him and his partner were like how two stars act when they are close to one another. Where the larger of the two slowly eats the other. Possibly that had some cause for it other than well... The trauma that comes with such an abusive relationship.

-----

Beyond this point, it is me rambling more about my old interest of realty benders than Alto himself. I was really into the concept of reality bender back in the day.

-----

As a side not I do compare reality binder with stars because of their life, cycle are really remind me of stars. With the more large hotter one having quite fast and destructive ends while the smaller and slow burning one much quieter ends.

Though, I'm just going to generalize things for the sack of understanding what I'm saying. But You want to go more specific, you can learn and use the lettering system that is uses to categorize stars. For example, our star is a yellow Dwarf and the spectral type G and with that will evolve into red giants. In turn, a white dwarf to finally a black dwarf where it does not have any more materials to produce energy (light). If you know the life cycle of a reality bender, you can fit it in within those terms.

There's also how some I would think some would bend reality some much they would leave tears within the fabric of reality, maybe creating a sort of black hole like some stars that are dense enough can form when dying. With what I said about super novas being how that is their max, their own unmaking. I think of it after math becoming nebula like in how mushroom producing spores, the matter with the disrupted reality creates others like as we are made of star matter someone can have that distorted matter that might form them as a reality bender. As they are not made with the same matter as others, but the same as another's demise for filling the cycle once more. Though like Alto, not all will meet their own destruction, with some living after that mass or simply never going through it. Leaving them much more stable in some sense. Though that does not mean they can't just go back to being a risk, which leave me to the point of why they might just simply disappear as a way to avoid that fate. As they might make their own small packet with in the fabric of reality, maybe that's how universes are made if you want to think of it that why. For me in star term I think of Alto a white dwarf star as something that is stable but has no risk of being destructive though much weaker than it was once before. That really does not matter with dwarf stars they live a very long lives, as like Alto they don't simply leave they stay for a very long time out live other stars, other reality bender without much change. In my head, I think he knows this, but I don't he likes it any. I think sometime he wished he was one that lives a short life that fades very soon after it was created.

To not stop on a sad note with the concept of cluster of stars like galaxy because I've already said what where nebulas as that is left over star matter which can in turn to make new stars. With galaxies, I see it as some reality bender might want to form groups, in a sense as a hive mind of sorts. Whereas in before they find their own space outside by themselves, this with a group can establish new one that are which much larger. Where the core normally being a black hole, their equivalent being a tear in reality. Which others get drawn to going from there leaving within the tare uses it as their own space allowing others to join with most leave to original for to become as one and in turn as a hive mind. With this being the case, they will hide that opening as to prevent unwanted out. Maybe this could be a way naturally how rips are mended in a way. Galaxies don't pose a threat as they have no more interest with their own reality from once they came, but they might have interest in merging with others like them.

I hope my word salad gave you some enjoyment. I really just did this for myself as a way to finally clean out what was left for my SCP days.

Thank you, for listening to my TedTalk, lol.

[superpyodan]

here's a free pass to gush about Kenny 💚

GOD. I've been thinking about this ALLLLL day, like since the second you sent it, but now that I have explicit permission to talk about Kenny, I don't even know what to say. LMAO like... my brain is just complete mush, every thought I have about him leaves as soon as it arrives or turns into something else entirely. It's hell in there!!!!

Rambling below :P

I just. Have been thinking a lot about Kenny's mental health struggles (for obvious reasons) and the way that translates into how he treats Alex?? And the part it plays in their relationship dynamic??

I tend to think of Alex as someone who has mental health struggles, but has a really good support system which has allowed him some level of healing. He has Evelyn and Haley, and by extension Emily. And Haley loves Alex so FIRECLY that he doesn't have the space to truly feel sorry for himself. In a good way though - Not in an 'everything gets repressed' way. Alex is just a TALKER and he talks to Haley and he talks to Evelyn and it helps him a lot!! I think the people arouns Alex have proven to him that he is loved, and he truly believes that he is. So the gay thing was like, the final hurdle to him essentially just becoming the best version of himself.

Whereas Kenny is... not a talker. He's never had a support system in the same way that Alex does. He and his parents fell out after Allen's death, but he didn't have a particularly close relationship with them anyway. He had no friends in the city, and Oliver was obviously NOTTTT an option. I think that like- Kenny's been taught time and time again that no one cares slash wants to know about the things that are going on in his brain. So being in Pelican Town is kinda overwhelming for him - He's like huh? Abby wants to know things about me? Nah, she's just asking to be polite. Like... MAN IS ALLERGIC TO TALKING ABOUT HIMSELF, in any context! So talking about negative stuff is soooo much worse for him!

Anyway, what Kenny CAN do is be there for other people. We've seen that he's good at doing that -- For Shane, and for Alex. Alex likes Kenny for so many reasons, but truly believes thet Kenny has a very big, very soft heart. I think everyone believes this, really, and it's true!! If he didn't, he wouldn't be such an anxious mess. He's just been hurt so badly, dude. So many times. It's hard for him to believe that other people won't take that opporunity if it ever arises.

He was so quick to fall for Alex, though. And that's because Alex has that big soft heart on the OUTSIDE. It's not until Kenny and Alex are actually in a relationship that Kenny starts worrying about things, becuse he doesn't even really process that there's anything wrong with him. He doesn't WANT to, you know? He did all of that already! He was depressed as a teenager! He can't be depressed as an adult, too!!

Except, he is, bro. Jesus.

So Alex and Kenny's dynamic turns on it's head a little bit. Kenny's always been the caregiver. He's always made an effort to show up for people. Alex, on the other hand, is usually the one that's taken care of. This swaps around during Shades of Green, and creates a really sweet dynamic between the two of them. Kenny's struggling to talk to Alex about things, but the thing is - Alex wants nothing but to LOVE Kenny. Kenny is deserving of love, and Alex knows he hasn't gotten that love, and wants to do everything he can to make Kenny feel... safe, I guess!

They both care so much about each other, in exactly the same way, but because their brains work so differently emotionally, it creates a kind of flip-flop of who the emotionally dominant one is in their relationship. This has been seen already (I hope... If my writing is good enough? lol) but it's only going to get more prevalent. Kenny has to FIGHT the urge to scoop Alex up and take care of him because he's injured, whereas Alex knows that Kenny's going through a tough time and is like ''BRO... LET ME DO THE NURTURING!! PLEASE!!''

idk. This went on for far too long, but because it's what I'm writing about at the moment, it's what I'm thinking about. I really hope I'll be able to portray how fucking sappy they are about each other, though. Like once Kenny's guard is down, that's IT. You thought Kenny was lovesick before?? Oh baby it's only going to get worse. and I'm EXCITED. and I LOVE them.

<3

[torakowalski]

Swimmer Steve - Part 11

And we're back! Where have I been? No clue. Well I've been right here but my ability to make words has... not. So we're starting slow, easing into it and hoping they don't notice me creeping up on them.

(part one | part ten)

Steve's part of the Olympics lasts six days, then he turns up at Eddie's door, lays his three(!) medals down on Eddie's dresser, crawls into Eddie's bed and falls asleep for ten hours.

He wakes up, eats some fried chicken that Eddie went out to buy, then goes back to sleep for another four hours.

Eddie, usually never ever able to stay still, discovers that lying on his belly next to Steve, watching him snore softly is way more soothing than any of the herbal teas Wayne likes to press on him.

"Morning," Steve says, blinking sleepily at him at like, ten at night.

"Morning, doll," Eddie says. "Sleep well?"

Steve yawns. "Hm, kept dreaming I was at the Olympics." He blinks around himself, exageratedly. "Well, what do you know?"

He looks so sleepy and smug that there's nothing Eddie can do but scoot over and kiss him. Steve makes a happy noise and hooks an arm around Eddie's neck, pulling him closer.

Steve stripped down to just his boxers before he fell asleep the first time, so Eddie's got nothing but smooth, hot skin under his hands. He still mourns Steve's chest hair, but maybe Steve can grow it for a while now and Eddie will get to experience it, at last.

"Did I dream it, or did we have the best friend chicken ever, at some point?" Steve asks.

Eddie would be more offended that Steve's thinking about food while Eddie's making out with him, but the poor guy has been living the high protein, low carb training diet for way too long now.

"You didn't dream it, but it was only maybe the third best fried chicken I've had here."

Steve's eyes light up when he grins. "You've gotta take me sightseeing before we go home. I want to see everything you've seen and eat everything you've eaten."

"Then your wish shall be granted, good sir," Eddie promises.

"Yeah, talk nerd to me," Steve says and hauls Eddie into another kiss, which Eddie happily gives him until Steve bites his lip, pulls back, and says, "Hang on, I need to piss."

Eddie laughs, rolling off him and flopping backwards onto the bed. "That the kind of romantic way you speak to all the girls, Harrington?"

"No," Steve says. "But I don't feel like I've gotta pretend with you."

Well shit, Eddie thinks, as Steve climbs off the bed and heads for the bathroom. Who knew Steve was gonna be sincere?

He lies on his back, watching Steve's ass unashamedly as he makes his way to the bathroom. He leaves the door half ajar, while he's peeing, because first and foremost: jock.

"I'm gonna shower," Steve calls. "Wanna join me?"

Eddie feels a laugh punch out of his chest. Hell yes, he wants to join him, but he's pretty sure Steve's joking.

Then he remembers that, wait, Steve doesn't have to worry about the Olympics sex curse anymore. Maybe he does mean it. Eddie's half way to sitting up, when Steve pops back into the room.

"No?"

"... Can't tell if you're teasing me," Eddie admits.

Steve looks at him then looks over at the dressing table. "Remember what you said the first time we kissed?"

"Was it oh my god, am I dreaming?" Eddie asks, racking his brain to try to work out what it actually was.

Steve grins at him. "You said you'd shower with me, if I brought home a gold medal." He reaches over and picks up the one gold, sitting it between his two bronzes. He takes a second, seeming just to need to look at it, then holds it up. "I know it was for a relay so I only won like, a quarter of it. But does this count?"

Holy fuck, Steve does mean it. Eddie always gets a little hard when they make out, but now he's hard hard and it maybe robs him of his ability to breathe. Or to answer questions.

Steve grin starts to fade. "But totally no pressure," he says, hand curling tight around his medal. "Sorry. Stupid joke, or well, not a -"

Eddie rolls up onto his knees and holds his hands out demandingly. "Give me my prize, Harrington."

Still with that half-grin only, Steve's eyebrows draw together and he lifts up the medal like a question.

Eddie nods. He can breathe now, but it's coming fast, and he feels hot all over.

Steve steps forward and loops the ribbon around Eddie's neck, murmuring, "Congratulations," like Eddie really is winning a gold here. Let's be reasonable though, if this is going the way Eddie thinks it's going, he definitely is the one who's winning.

[ooops-i-arted]

renewing my "anti ahsoka" club membership on a monthly basis now because i'm beyond done with her stans getting pandered to especially at the expense of other jedi. and i'm one of those people that didn't mind her much in tcw even though i really think she maybe should have been the apprentice of plo koon or literally anyone else instead of anakin. but it's apparent to many people that she's outlived her narrative purpose and is there just so filoni can make live action fanfic.

like i was watching the disney gallery episodes for Both bobf and mando and everytime filoni feels the need to go into his "isn't ahsoka so amazing and powerful, she trained under anakin" spiel i fast forward through that shit, like we Get It filoni you want to worship your precious darling! he even describes working on her show as a "religious experience" and wants her to be this enlightened force goddess, aka the Daughter reincarnated. if he's already like this when she's a mostly redundant cameo, can you imagine how insufferable he is going to be in the behind the scenes episodes for her own show?

just scenes of badly recreated togruta cosplay with mediocre acting, parodying better made samurai films. maybe a trapper wolf cameo thrown in somewhere. who wants to sit through episodes of that shit? not me.

I am so glad you pointed out the TCW thing because I've often thought the show would be MUCH stronger with a tighter focus on Ahsoka as another Jedi's apprentice and just occasional cameos or episodes featuring the Main Characters like Anakin, Obi-Wan, Padme, Mace, Yoda, etc. More like Rebels. It could've been really cool to see the Clone Wars through a young apprentice's perspective since the main films we usually see it through the eyes of the higher ups. (That's what I liked about Rebels the most - it's not just Leia and Luke and Han who deal with the big picture, but we got a tighter focus on fighters on the front line, and new characters to fall in love with.) (Also one of the biggest reasons I hate TCW is how they warped Anakin especially but also Obi-Wan ooc, those are NOT my boys, and a focus on Ahsoka would've mitigated that and kept Filoni away from them.)

I don't begrudge any fan their love for a character, and Ahsoka has undeniably widened the playing field for female characters in Star Wars, but Filoni, please: variety!! She doesn't have to be in everything!! I'm tired of watching a show for something else and then suddenly it's TCW 2.0 Featuring The Super Specialist Jedi-But-Not-A-Jedi-Because-She's-BETTER Ahsoka. Mandalorian S2 E5 spent more time on her than Din and Grogu!! She completely took over the Rebels season 2 finale!! Filoni invented time travel in the Star Wars universe to save her from Vader and had Ezra save her over his father figure. What the fuck??? I mean, I can write endless fanfic about Cara Dune bc no one is paying me for it and I owe no one anything. He's helping lead an entire franchise and for god's sake can we PLEASE have something besides Ahsoka, Order 66, and Man Adopts Child? (And stop acting like Ahsoka is the third member of the prequel trio. IT'S PADME.)

I'm not gonna lie, I hope the show flops hard. I'm not proud of that, I'm still torn because don't want that to affect Rebels characters, and I do hope the Ahsoka fans like it, but I wish Filoni would get a reality check as vengeance for ripping apart Zahn's Trilogy for pieces and rebuilding it around Ahsoka and for handing Din's set up arc in The Mandalorian to Yet Another Fucking TCW Character. Or at least that Lucasfilm stops licking his butthole and lets him greenlight what's basically his own fanfiction.

Don't even get me fucking started on the Daughter and the Mortis arc. That was when I quit TCW when I tried to watch it all. THAT'S NOT HOW THE FORCE WORKS. (Also doesn't Anakin like resurrect her with the Force or something? The power he was trying to get in RotS when it's pretty explicit it isn't a thing and Palpatine was lying to him to mainpulate him? Filoni broke canon just so precious widdle Ahsoka won't die? Are you shitting me???)