#i really need to do something on this blog oops

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[corroded-hellfire]

Hello🥹 I’m new to your blog and I’m loving the AYW series. I honestly got hooked on the Ryan’s Birthday party one shot, could I maybe request a follow-up to Steve’s and Eddie’s conversation of “you should be fucking the babysitter”? maybe Eddie accidentally bumping his head against the car he was working on and coming out and sharing a beer with Steve starting with “no man, no way”, and then sharing feelings about his relationship with Brittany and with her? Maybe confessing he has somewhat of a crush on her? And then coming home to find her after that conversation with Steve? Maybe Steve is the one who drops him home and comes inside the house for a bit? Haha sorry if it is too specific 🥹💖 I’m really loving the series

It was time for some more of this dynamic duo. This picks up right at the end of Ryan's Birthday

Words: 1.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“So, uh, question for you. Are you fucking the babysitter? Because between you and me? You should be.”

Eddie’s head bumps against the hood of the car he had just begun to work on again. His throat goes dry, words failing him as he stares into the face of his best friend. “What?” he finally rasps out. “W-Why would you ask that?”

Steve can’t help but roll his eyes. Munson can’t act for shit and Steve wonders how he never noticed the man’s crush on the younger woman before. 

“Oh, cut the bullshit, it’s me,” Steve says. 

The bangs and whirs of the garage around them suddenly seem too quiet to Eddie, like everyone in the building will hear anything he says out loud. But what is he going to say? He’s never uttered a word about his feelings for you out loud. The guilt already ate at him that he had these feelings at all. It was hard enough to admit how he feels about you to himself, he isn’t sure how to vocalize it, even if it is to his best friend.

“I, uh…” Eddie clears his throat and takes the grease-soaked rag off his shoulder just to have something to do with his hands. 

“Dude,” Steve says. “Do you think I’m going to tell anyone? What, I’m gonna go to Brittany? I hate talking to her about anything at all; I’d never voluntarily do it. Just spill it, I already know.”

“H-How?” It’s the only word Eddie’s able to utter.

Steve huffs a laugh, amazed by his friend’s obliviousness. 

“You weren’t subtle. I mean, maybe to someone who doesn’t know you. But I was there back in those days when you fell in love with Brittany. Shit, you look at the babysitter with way more love than you ever did her. I thought I’d see little cartoon hearts in your eyes.”

Heat blooms in Eddie’s face, both in embarrassment and nervousness. His eyes shift from left to right, his mind running all over the map. If Steve noticed, who else did? Wayne did give him a look at the end of Ryan’s party the other day. Of course the old man knows, he knows Eddie better than anyone. 

Wait, if Steve clocked this, did Nancy? Oh God, she must think he’s the worst. Having these thoughts and feelings about a woman who isn’t his wife. A woman who is so much younger than him. Did Max notice? Did Lucas? Did you?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, chill the hell out,” Steve says, waving a hand in front of his friend. “Stop that brain from going into panic mode.” “Do you think anyone else–”

“No,” Steve says before Eddie can finish his question. “I started to look out for it once I noticed. Then it was painfully obvious. You look like a God damn puppy when she smiles at you.”

An involuntary goofy smile grows on Eddie’s face, and it’s all the confirmation Steve needs—though he really didn’t need any at all. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re really gone for her.”

Eddie looks around to make sure there’s no one close enough to hear his words. The last thing he needs is someone else learning about his shameful secret. “I really fucking am,” Eddie says. “Shit, I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Steve huffs a small laugh and shakes his head. 

“She’s a good kid. Oop, sorry. I’ll choose my words more carefully.”

Steve winces when Eddie glares at him.

“She’s not a kid,” Eddie states.

“How old is she?”

“Twenty.”

Steve considers for a moment, and Eddie takes in every little minute detail of the expressions on his face. 

“Holy shit, calm down, will you? I’m not judging you. Or her. I mean, Jesus, do you remember what I was like in high school?”

“Unfortunately.”

“I have no room to judge anyone. And besides, it’s not even that big of an age gap.”

“Twelve years,” Eddie says with a shrug. “And it’s not like she’s a teenager.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why, but something about that would make it seem weird. Never mind the difference is only a few months.”

“You’re not helping,” Eddie grits out.

Steve waves his hand in the air in a dismissive manner.

“I already said I’m not judging, damn. She seems pretty mature for her age, too.”

“She is.”

The smile on Eddie’s face warms Steve’s heart—not that he’d ever tell him that. But he’s watched his best friend deal with a shitty marriage for almost a decade now. The light in his eyes went out around the time Ryan was born, and Steve hasn’t seen it since. So Steve doesn’t care if this woman was eighteen or eighty, she made Eddie happy, and that’s something Steve worried he’d never see again.

“But you’re not fucking?” Steve asks just to clarify.

“No,” Eddie says, both of them picking up on the disappointment in his tone.

“Would you leave Brittany for her?”

And there it is. The question Eddie’s pondered on those nights when sleep just won’t find him and he’s staring at the ceiling fan spinning round. It’s all so much more complicated than just that simple question. But if Eddie can’t even come up with an answer to this, how would he be able to figure any of the other shit out? Thoughts of his sons and everything that would put them through go through his head, and he can’t bring himself to say he’d willingly inflict that kind of pain on them. 

“I don’t know.”

Eddie’s voice is quiet, uncertain.

“Would you cheat on Brittany with her?”

This is another question that’s swirled around in Eddie’s head. One that’s much easier to answer, in his opinion.

“After she’s been cheating on me for more than half of our relationship? Hell yes.”

“You’d feel guilty, though.”

It’s not a question; Steve knows him.

Eddie sighs and throws the rag over his shoulder again. He kicks his scuffed boots against the floor of the garage and rests his hands on the open hood of the car.

“I think I’d get over it.”

“Oh, I know you would,” Steve says with a knowing smirk. “The minute you find out that she has feelings for you, too? Shit, you’re going to forget you even have a wife. And that’s not necessarily bad with you, honestly. Because in a lot of ways, you don’t have a wife. She’s not been a real partner for how long?”

Eddie scoffs. “Ever?”

Steve snorts a laugh in agreement. 

“Man, I’m not telling you what to do…”

“But you are,” Eddie says with a smirk.

“Maybe,” Steve says with a shrug. “But go for it with the babysitter, yeah?”

Eddie sighs and shakes his head as he looks down into the engine bay of the car he’s supposed to be working on.

“You say that like she’ll want me.”

“Feel it out,” Steve suggests. “That’s what flirting is for, no? Not like you’re not already doing that.”

“What?” Eddie looks up at his friend in confusion.

Steve can’t help but let out a breathy chuckle and roll his eyes at how utterly oblivious his friend is.

“You’re shitting me, right? When you threw her in the pool?” Steve raises his eyebrows. When Eddie just continues to look confused, Steve rubs at his brow. “Wow. The way you held her and looked at her? You practically eye-fucked her.” 

Eddie scoffs a laugh, and his cheeks turn red.

“What? No way.”

“Whatever man,” Steve says as he shakes his head in exasperation. “Here, just take this.”

Steve takes his hand out of his pocket and holds it out towards Eddie. The mechanic frowns in confusion and he extends his hand palm up. The foil of a condom falls against his dirty and greasy hand. Eddie’s eyes widen as he quickly shoves the small square in his pocket before someone else can see it.

“You think I don’t have these at home?” Eddie hisses.

“It’s been a minute,” Steve says, and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s kidding or not. “They’re probably expired.”

Eddie groans as he drops his head back. 

“God, you might be right. They’re probably older than Luke.”

Steve would laugh if he didn’t think Eddie was serious. 

“Better toss those so you don’t accidentally use one. The last thing you need is to knock up the babysitter.”

Instead of automatically agreeing like Steve assumed he would, Eddie chokes on his own saliva and avoids Steve’s eyes. He gets weirdly quiet before he sputters something about having to get back to work. The red face is enough of a clue for Steve, though; a clue he never wanted nor asked for.

“Alright,” Steve says with a nauseated expression on his face. “That’s a conversation for another day. After, like, five drinks.”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!

Part One: Quid Pro Quo Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈

“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”

She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.

Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.

The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.

Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.

She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.

‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’

She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.

After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.

It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.

The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.

Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.

After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.

After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.

A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.

Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.

She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.

And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'

But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.

His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.

Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.

Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.

“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.

“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.

“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”

“Does they have to be within our course?”

“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”

She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.

“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”

“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”

“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”

“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!”

She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.

She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.

“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”

She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.

Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do. 

It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub. 

She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.

And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest. 

It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.

“Michael!”

The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her. 

“Michael!”

It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.

He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”

She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”

For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.

“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”

“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”

She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”

Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”

“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”

He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.

“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again. 

“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”

She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together. 

“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”

“That’d be lovely, Michael.”

He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening. 

Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life. 

At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.

His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.

“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.” 

When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”

“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.

She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”

When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.

“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”

She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”

There’s that flush again.

That deer in the headlights look.

“Uh…just sounded interesting.”

“And is it?”

“Is it what?”

She smirks, “interesting.”

There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake. 

Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”

She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-

“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs. 

Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.

She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”

He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”

It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”

He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”

“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”

“My what?”

She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more. 

He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.

“No, really, my what.”

She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like,  how you place your furniture or whatever.”

Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”

“It probably is.” she laughs.

“Can I ask you something?”

The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”

She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.

“Why did you do that?”

She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.

“Do what.”

“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”

She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”

“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”

She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”

“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”

“You've asked that before and no.”

“Well why then?”

“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”

Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.

She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it!”

“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”

“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”

He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.

“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”

Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”

They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.

“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”

He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.

When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.

“Can I kiss you again like last time?”

She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.

Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.

By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.

She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.

But this time, his hands are extremely active.

She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.

He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.

It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.

“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.

She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.

If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze. 

His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”

“Course..” she says far too quickly. 

All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds. 

She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips. 

His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory. 

There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms. 

It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.

“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.

She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again. 

“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”

“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”

Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”

He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs. 

It then becomes obvious what he wants to do. 

“Are you sure, I-”

“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.

“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”

And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.

She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.

Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.

His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”

She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.

She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.

A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.

Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.

She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.

Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds. 

She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest  as he started slowly.

“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.

As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.

“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”

“Shit, sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”

The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks. 

It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven. 

Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.

“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time. 

The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.

She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.

It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.

“Michael…”

At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.

She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.

With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.

Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.

“Oh, shit-” 

He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.

She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.

“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”

He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.

She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.

As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.

With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.

Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.

Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.

She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.

“Was I okay?”

This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.

She nods, “More than okay.”

He seems genuinely relieved.

She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.

He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.

“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.

“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”

“Yes, but would you like one?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”

She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.

“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”

His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”

She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”

She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.

And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.

“What you looking for?”

“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”

She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.

She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya@urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy

[xechu]

Fluffy, sfw, mild suggestive content, non-curse au, this blog is 18+ mdni

Boyfriend!Satoru who has a complete golden retriever personality with you

Boyfriend!Satoru who is so down bad for you, it physically makes Shoko and Suguru sick, because why in God's name did you choose this obnoxious idiot? ("Gosh, isn't Y/N just so wonderful?" "Yeah, not sure why she chose you when she had other options." "Hey! Out of pocket! We're perfect for each other." Satoru would then scoot over to Shoko and pout, "so what were the other options?")

Boyfriend!Satoru who relishes in compliments and attention of others, but if it crosses a certain line and becomes flirtatious he will instantly give them the cold shoulder. (Only you can flirt with him!!! And to be honest, you aren't exactly jealous when that happens, which somehow makes everything worse. "Baby, didn't you hear what she said to me?" "Hmm, oh yeah" "Aren't you upset by it?" "Well, you are sinfully handsome." "I—ah—ohgodshejustcomplimentedme—but that's not the issue!!!" "???" "I NEED YOU TO NEED ME.")

Boyfriend!Satoru who just wants to take care of you, be with you, and cherish you, but he also respects and admires your independence, strength, and how you have your own goals, it was one of the many things that had drawn him to you in the first place

Boyfriend!Satoru who feels so safe around you. You are his constant, and his only rock. Before you, he never felt like he could rely on anyone else. That's why he swears he will never let you go. ("Satoru, what are you snickering about?" "Hmm, nothing, just thinking about how you're trapped with me…forever." "You're weird." "Only a weirdo for you! You love me." "..." "Right???" "Of course, silly." "Oh, thank god.")

Boyfriend!Satoru who feels like the world is ending when you're upset or crying. He is ready to commit murder on whoever made you feel that way, but if the source is him (it happens) then he just feels like throwing himself into an abyss

Boyfriend!Satoru who when having a down day would still put on a smiling face, it wasn't that he is trying to hide it from you, but it was a habit that he can't break after many years of being like this. You would immediately know when you see that his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. You would capture his face in your hands and brush your thumb over his cheek. He would give in and surrender to your touch, no words are needed.

Boyfriend!Satoru who would definitely watch Bridgerton, Love Island, Love is Blind, Real Housewives, etc., with you, and could sometimes be even be more enthusiastic about it than you. ("Y/N, I burn for you." "I—you ruined it, Satoru." "Hmph, well, I'm gonna go two for two and ruin something else tonight.")

Boyfriend!Satoru who doesn't cook much, not because he can't but he's never really had to and therefore, never really tried. He does make a divine beef stew, but that was only because he tried to impress you when the two of you first dated, and you complimented him - so from that day forward he perfected the dish. Usually, it's going out for food, takeout, or you do the cooking.

Boyfriend!Satoru who can't keep his hands off of you, not just in a sexual way, but he would always find a reason to touch you, or to hold you. Definitely the type where if you were seated beside him, whether it was dinner outing, or group setting, he would have his arm lounging behind the back of your chair, while drawing circles on your back with his thumb. He also helps you dry your hair often.

Boyfriend!Satoru who is an EDM junkie, and a hardcore Swiftie ("AND IT'S NEW, SHAPE OF YOUR BODY IT'S BLUE—" "Satoru, ow, you're pulling on my hair." "Oops, sorry darling, heh.")

Boyfriend!Satoru who lowkey daydreams about you carrying him bridal style into the reception hall when they introduce the 'Mr & Mrs'. He thinks it would be hilarious because of the size difference, and he could also brag about how strong his woman is. ("Have you met the strongest? Because it's definitely not me, it's my wife.")

Boyfriend!Satoru who doesn't care if you don't want to take his last name, but if you don't then he'll take yours when the two of you get married. In all honesty, he is leaning more towards taking yours. ("Mr. Gojo? I beg your finest pardon?? It's Mr. Y/L/N, I'll have you know I'm a married man now. A husband." "Relax, Satoru, it's just a telemarketer…")

Boyfriend!Satoru who still has a functioning 1st gen Garurumon Digivice that is safely tucked in his desk. ("Satoru, I can't believe you still have this, and it's in such good condition too?" "Of course, it's my most prized possession!")

[ellascreams]

Twisted Wonderland Tumblr (Twstblr, if you will)

👻outofthisworldprefect

No Twstblr I will not be adding tags I’d really rather people didn’t find most of my posts, thanks.

👻outofthisworldprefect

Ace what did you do

♥️one-heart-that-beats-as-one

A little trolling

♠️blastcycle-enthusiast

nrc-heritage-posts I know it’s only been a week since it was posted but

🖋️nrc-heritage-posts Follow

Official NRC heritage post

👻outofthisworldprefect

How dare you

60,304 notes

♦️kk-cay-cay

I haven’t been active on here in years but I love checking in sometimes just to see that it’s still thriving. Keep it up everybody! Never let Twstblr die!

#I’m still suuuuuuper active over on Magicam btw #if any of my old moots wanna follow me there

783 notes

🦇muscle-red

History classes always confuse me. They’ll talk about something like it’s the distant past when it was only 250 years ago, and it feels like it’s only been 10.

20 notes

💎magestoner Follow

Bots are the worst part of twstblr, except for Ortho bot, who’s the best part of twstblr

🛜ortho-bot

<3

3,947 notes

👟hahagetsqueezedidiot

anyone else just get tired of having legs sometimes? like theyre cool and all but why do they gotta be so heavy?

🎮gloomerai

Mood

🎮gloomerai

OH WAIT YOU MEANT BECAUSE YOU’RE MERFOLK NVM

👟hahagetsqueezedidiot

no wait explain

132 notes

📷night-raven-photography

👑vil-schoenheit-offical

I always look so radiant in your photos! Thank you for taking them!

30,355 notes

🖤overitandoverbloted Follow

Hate how many straight people celebrities are on Twstblr now. This is supposed to be the neurodivergent gay website, Vil Schoenheit has no right to be on my dashboard

🪼malevolent-river-wizard Follow

Ain’t no way you just said “straight” and “Vil Schoenheit” in the same sentence

🔥the-situation-is-direbeast Follow

FYM VIL IS A STRAIGHT PERSON CELEBRITY!?!?? THAT BOY IS THE LITERAL POSTER CHILD OF QUEER CODED VILLAINS!

2,001 notes

🛜ortho-bot

Exciting news! Not only have I been declared the first truly sapient android, but I’ve also been officially enrolled as a student of Night Raven College! I’ll have a slightly odd class schedule as I can’t exactly do magic the same way other students can, but luckily, there’s precedent for that sort of altered course work.

I’m so very grateful to have this opportunity. I’m hoping I can make lots of friends, learn a ton, and share as much of my journey as I can with all of you! I’m a bit nervous, but I think it will all work out in the end. Thank you night-raven-photography for the incredible picture of me in my new dorm uniform!

🔔nobelravenacademy Follow

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WHAT

📖reincarnatedasanisekaifan Follow

As a scientist who specializes in technomancy, I NEED you all to understand just how incredible it is that there’s a fully sentient robot. This is HUGE. This raises so many new questions, creates the potential for entirely new fields of research, it’s quite possibly the biggest advancement in technomancy since its discovery.

And he just so happens to be a Twstblr celebrity. The odds of that are so impossibly low, and yet, here we are.

💿technerdmancer Follow

Congratulations, Ortho. We’re all so proud of you.

🍄‍🟫jade-leech

Official NRC heritage post

🍄‍🟫jade-leech

Oops, wrong blog. Give me one moment.

👻outofthisworldprefect

YOU

540,798 notes

[assassin-artist]

Just found your blog today and really enjoyed reading about your OC. I'm curious about how some of the early fights would go with them working together.

Would Mercy also freeze up during the first Flaxan invasion? Would Allen keep fighting or is 2v1 against the Coalition's evaluation rules? Battle Beast... well she's probably going to need a new jacket.

Ellie visiting the hospital after the Battle Beast fight:

maybe that was her last jacket. maybe she finally had to phase the jacket out of her hero suit bc she didn't have any more... anyway, some rambling under the cut (:

During the Flaxan fight: She was there, of course - it was her and Mark's first real fight against the bad guys, and both of their first experiences with seeing civilians get hurt and die. I think she was just as terrified and overwhelmed as Mark had been during the fight, but instead of freezing up because he didn't know where to begin, she would have just gone for the closest/the first problem she saw that needed fixing. So she wouldn't have frozen up like her brother, but she was definitely making mistakes and not being where she needed to be. Mercy would have been pretty disturbed by seeing the aliens die, though, something that we didn't really see much of from Invincible or the Teen Team... Maybe because it's easy to differentiate between human = protect, alien = destroy for them.

During the Allen fight: I don't think Ellie would have been there for that one. She wanted to be there - when they got the news that an old enemy of their dad was approaching Earth, Mark and Ellie both volunteered to go in his stead because he was still healing. But I think Nolan would have said that he's not tough enough to need both of them - so Mark went alone simply because he volunteered first. I think the first time Ellie meets Allen in person is when Mark brings him to the dorm room to sift through Nolan's books for information - she gets a call from a very freaked out William that there was an alien in the room with her brother, and she hurries over. And the first thing she does is scold her brother for not locking the door and closing the windows when he had a whole ass alien in the room with him, and then Allen would say something like 'oh! you must be mercy! invincible has told me about you (:' just trying to break the tension but oops! Now Ellie turns to Mark and goes "you told someone my identity?!" and scolds him for that, too. No it doesn't matter if he's an alien and he's not gonna tattle to anyone, you still shouldn't have told anyone, Mark! And then only after all of that is done and Mark is hanging his head in shame, she finally stops to say hi to Allen lol.

During the Battle Beast fight: I was a little torn on this one because I was struggling to find a reason for Mercy to have been with Invincible on this day to be part of this fight, but I realized that at this point in time, they were still 'marketing' themselves as the twin heroes. So they likely would be going on jobs together still, so there we go, that's the reason she was with him (: Also I mentioned before that if Mercy was there with Invincible during the conversation with Titan, she would have agreed to help him right away. If Invincible said something like 'this is beneath us' she'd get mad at him and say 'you're gonna see people suffering and just ignore it? because it's 'beneath you'? it's not beneath me.' and of course, Invincible would follow after his sister instead of letting her go alone. I want her to be there during the fight both because I want her to have a brush with organized super-crime early on(so she can get a glimpse of there being 'players behind the scene' for her to think about), but also I am just a personal fan of Battle Beast so if I can have Mercy get into a scrape with him I would like to do so lol. "A scrape" as if she's not gonna get her ass handed to her... yeah, you're definitely right on the idea that she's gonna need a new jacket after that. The fight against the smaller guys would go better with her there than it did in the show, of course - two viltrumites is a significantly different fight than one viltrumite for a handful of people, powers or otherwise. But, um, the fight with Battle Beast? Yeah, that's largely staying the same. We've seen BB handle multiple fully grown, possibly hundreds to thousands of years old Viltrumites without breaking much of a sweat at all. He's going to thrash these two teenagers who are way in over their heads, and then still frown down at them and go 'you guys are pathetic, there's nothing for me here' and peace out. Get humbled by a space cat, kids.

[stonedficz]

✰ star shaped ✰ ch. 4 ❛i think i like more than just this food❜

[schlatt x streamer!reader]

ch. 1 / ch. 2 / ch.3

a/n: this is not revised. enjoy!!! more to come!!

In the time between the soon-to-be collab, you were blasting your socials with content. Any thing you could post - you were. It may be best to mention.. none of it was about Schlatt.

You were blogging, vlogging, live streaming, everything. No matter if it was to one person, or your NEW highest viewer count on twitch, 25.

Twenty-five people were watching you. You continued to cook on live, vlog your college experience, and blog your thoughts. You kept every avenue different. That’s how you start to get traction - versitality. If you can livestream your recipes, but document something else on a different platform, you get to see what works best. Maybe even switch it around a little. God only knows you needed the money.

Any way this went, you were about to get some sweet, sweet daydream time with Schlatt. Like he said - this could never help you blow up at all, it’s really up in the air if this will even do anything. At the least, you could try.

It reached Tuesday night. You were viciously anxious. What to do?

Nothing better than, of course, streaming. And, here you were, chopping and prepping your ingredients in front of a WHOPPING 30 people for your lunches this week.

“Soooo, guys, good news!” you slid some chopped onions to caramelize in a pan, grinning, despite the looming anxiety over tomorrow. “I got a raise at work! I’ve been hostessing for a few years now at a higher-end restaurant - it’s locally owned and they told me that since I started, they have had raving reviews. Something about mentioning me by name, specifically, for excellent service over 100 times in these past few years. I just - God, I felt honored.” you sighed, smiling and shaking your head. This was a great way to get your mind off things.

“I’m just - I’m REALLY excited. I got a three dollar raise. That’s insane. The family that owns the place has basically become my own family. It means so much that they think this highly of me.”

‘that’s so deserved babe! you seem awesome. luv u!’ applez2apple donated $1.

“Oh my God -“ you gasped, hearing the audio play for the donation. “Thank you! You’re so sweet!” That was your first ever donation. A buck. Guess it’s better than your 2cents? (a/n:teehee)

After you had finished your week’s worth of meals, you decided to stream editing your next youtube video. It was just your face and some background music as you typed, but you were enjoying it. Slowly but surely, the viewer count slowly dropped. When you first noticed, it was down to 10. Only a few minutes later, it was down to one.

“Hey bud.” you smiled, seeing the number having dropped all the way down. You were surprised, by this point, that you even had one. You didn’t bother to look to see who it might be though, you were deep in concentration on your video editing.

‘figured i’d pop in to see how the socials were going. doin’ good so far huh? you had 30 some people earlier. it’s no 200k, but imagine all those people in the room with you.’ jschlatt donated $40.

As your eyes traced the border of the twitch tab, trying to see who sent a message, they shot open in shock.

Oops. There was no hiding this reaction. Your face turned a deep red as you covered your mouth with your hand. “My God!” you yelled at the camera. “You- you scared the shit out of me!” your eyes scanned to make sure the automated voice was right and it wasn’t a troll. “Holy…” you were trying to make sense of what was going on. A message dropped into the chat.

jschlatt: ‘what? you think i’m fuckin with you? i told you i enjoyed your shit’

You shook your head and sighed, leaning back in your chair, “Yeah, honest to God I don’t know what I thought happened.” you tried to catch your breath. “Thank you - by the way! That’s a LOT of money for me! You just fed me for like, a week or two.” you laughed in shock as you saved the video file and minimized the tab, focusing on fixing how you looked for him. He was watching you now. You were an object. It felt good.

jschlatt: ‘small dose of my appreciation for the stuff you put out. don’t get just groceries. we can talk more about that later. i’m going to bed now, see you in the morning’

“Oh - okay!” your breath hitched as you shoved some hair behind your ear, leaning forward. “Goodnight! I’m super excited to work with you tomorrow!” grinning widely, you fluttered your eyes subtly at the screen and camera. You knew he was watching - that viewer count still said one. You were gonna look as good as possible for as long as possible.

—————.

He started typing up another message.

‘Go to bed, you know you’re gonna regret it if you don-

click click click click.

“No, I shouldn’t. She’ll get the wrong idea.” he couldn’t help but run his hand down his face. He left the stream, shut his laptop off, and leaned back. “Shit.” a heavy sigh left his mouth. Shaking his head, he stood up to head to bed. “Jambo, what the fuck man.” His eyes glanced over to his sweet boy on the bed.

“What is going on with me lately?” he sat on his bed, hunched over on his phone. “I can’t believe I sent her money.” shaking his head, he set alarms for tomorrow morning. “I feel kind of guilty,” he sighed petting Jambo and [REDACTED] on his bed. “That might get out. People are gonna lose their shit if it does.”

His eyes wandered back to the phone in his hand. “She stopped streaming when I left.”

‘What was that at the end anyways? I’m just.. i can’t tell if I’m being tricked by this bitch. Am I being manipulated? Is she crazy? Maybe I’m the crazy fucker for doing this collab. Maybe I just… fuck. I shouldn’t ‘ve agreed to this. Fuck. Fuck.”

Jambo curled up into a peaceful slumber on his lap, purring as Schlatt’s hand laid on him.

“I guess it’ll be fine. I got nothin’ to lose.” his hand ran over his tired face again, laying down for bed.

———————

The next morning, you had everything set up according to plan. This was going to work out exactly as you had wanted and dreamed of.

Were you manipulative?

A small part of your mind turned on itself. ‘what if i am manipulating this whole situation?’ your breath hitched. ‘what is he’s letting me? what if he’s into it?’

You sighed. ‘well, I know he’s not into it, but God. I gotta fix myself. This attitude.. it’s not what he would respect.’

In ten minutes you were going to call, set up, and record your first collab with your all time favorite person. The plan was to try and make homemade pulled pork sandwiches on the stovetop, something seemingly very unorthodox and probably just really hard. Why the stovetop? For fun. Why did he agree to this? No one knows. All you know is this is about to be the time of your life. You get to record yourself and he’s going to send you all of his video to edit into your own… you were going to have so much raw content of him. He was such eye candy.

“God,” you sighed, laying your head down on your bed just for a moment before calling him. “I’m obsessed I guess. But maybe.. this will die down if I just enjoy this as much as possible. He would tell me to stay in the moment, I think.

Shit. What do I talk to him about? What casual chitchat do we even bother trying?

Oh no. No, no no no no. The recipe is for pulled pork.” you looked down at Jeremy as he bathed himself. He looked up dumbly in reply. “That means hours. Slow roasting. Unused time.” your eyes went wide.

“How do I talk to him for hours? Do we hang up and call again when the food is done? Oh my Lord, dude, I am STUPID.” you laughed at the terribly poor planning. Of course, it was you who was unprepared. You thought of conversation ideas as you made sure you looked perfect for him. And for the viewers. But mainly for him.

Your kitchen was spotless.

It was time. You rang him on discord. He picked up.

“Hii buddy! How are you?” you exclaimed, fixing the positioning of your laptop on the counter, lining the framing up with the camera you had centered on your counter.

He was so hot.

“I’m good, good.” he smirked and nodded in reply, giving a soft chuckle. “Got everything ready? Lights-camera-action?”

“Ohh yeah baby,” your breath hitched. That was a… choice of.. word. “You know me. I over prepare, even.”

“Can’t relate,” he sighed, shoving what looked like the last bite of a bagel into his mouth. “I’m still fuckin’ eatin’ breakfast.”

“Fair.” nodding, you brought an iced coffee into frame, sipping it.

“Basic ass bitch.” he mocked with a mouthful. “Lemme guess - iced coffee? Vanilla? Tons of fuckin’ creamer?” he shook his head in what seemed to be a loving-mockery way.

“ERRRRRRRR. Wrong. Caramel iced latte.” you sipped again, pointing at the camera with a wink.

“Shit. You got me. Ton of MILK then.”

“Mhm.”

“Are you fuckin’ ready yet or are we gonna chat about this all day?”

Your stomach dropped. This was about to be another bold choice.

“You know me - I could stand for either, you’re my idol.” you smiled sweetly, picking up some tongs.

He squinted slightly. You don’t know that even he noticed, but you did. He shook his head and smirked.

“Yeah, yeah, fuckin’ weirdo. Get your dumb fuckin’ camera on and let’s get this over with. Bitch.” he muttered that last part.

Oh, you had him. Hook line and sinker baby. He wasn’t totally tired of you yet - this was gonna be good.

————

After your mid point of the video - that is, all prep work done, you turned the stove on.

“Now - guys - I have never done this before. Y’all know first times are dangerous for me. Cooking, I mean.” you stuttered to the camera recording for your youtube.

“Me too.” Schlatt started to do a bit, standing in front of the camera, blank faced. He slowly picked up something out of frame, standing back up with Jambo in his arms. “I bet this will taste real good.”

Your face dropped. At least, you were pretending it did, with the bit. “Schlatt. We talked about this. You signed a contract.” You watched as he blankly inched Jambo closer to the pot on his stove. “NO. NO SCHLATT.” you started to crack, fake tears welling up in your eyes as you snorted. You started laughing.

He cracked too. He started chuckling. Really hard. Why was this so funny? Why did both of you enjoy one small bit so much?

“Okay, anyways,” you wiped the fake tears conjured off your cheeks. “Time to set the timer! We’ve added everything. This is one of those ‘leave it alone’ dishes, perfect for people who don’t like micromanaging their meals, or like ‘dump it’ meals. Generally speaking, this is supposed to be easy. We’ll see.” Your eyes widened in judgement of the interpretation of ‘easy’, letting out a small laugh. “We’ll be back in six hours!’ you sighed, putting your hands out to the camera. Schlatt nodded, rubbing his facial hair.

“God, fuck,” he sighed, leaning against his counter.

“So.” you smiled and leaned against your counter, fixing your hair. "Six hours to go. I think.. I picked the wrong recipe." you laughed in mild defeat.

“Shit, fuck yeah you did.” he chuckled, picking up his laptop and sitting at the desk he streams at. “You better know you fuckin’ owe me for this, for the record. Six hours is fucking insane. I would never do shit like this.” he sat in his chair and leaned back, sipping some water.

You smiled, sipping your iced coffee. “Why did you do it if you hate this so much?"

He sighed again, looking at the screen. At you. Maybe. “Because, like I said, I respect your shit. I keep up with what you do because you try to make it meaningful, what you love, whatever.” he shook his head.

“Tell me - what’s your plan for this six hours we have to burn?” you poked again, intrigued.

“I don’t fuckin’ know.” he laughed a little. “Like I said, poor planning. Might take a nap or some shit. Get groceries. Why?”

“Just curious. I was wondering if you’d be open to talking for a bit. Not the whole time, obviously, but part of it. I have waited like.. five years to meet you? I have some fan questions." You smiled sweetly, giggling a little.

“Yeah, let’s just do it.” he rolled his eyes. “Better now than later.”

————

‘She's gettin’ on my last fucking nerve. Bein’ all girly, flirty, whatever the fuck. She knows what she's doing. Weird fucker. Parasocial bitch.

Who am I kidding,’ Schlatt thought to himself, sitting in his office. He watched you on his screen. His eyes flickered away from your face and to around your room as you walked. 'I'm as bad as her at this point.'

. . .

“Is just like, maybe an hour okay? I don’t wanna take up too much of your time if you have other things to do. I'm just so, so excited to be doing a project like this with you." you took your laptop to your bedroom, sitting it on your comforter as you sat in front of it.

"It's fine." he sighed with a small laugh. "You're already talking a fuck ton." he shook his head with that same smile.

"First question." you sighed, pulling the blanket up over your lap. "Do you view this collab like you did with Tommy donating to you - or whatever he did to talk to you? Wasn't he on your discord server as a fan and you admitted that it was all, what - some elaborate cash grab?" you held a soft face, ready for whatever answer came.

"First off," he sighed, shaking his head in frustration. "That was a unique situation that still occurs with lots of creators. You need to understand, we do this for a living, even if we enjoy it. If I have no other revenue streams besides donos from kids, of course I'm gonna feed into it. They'll give me more fuckin' cash if I do."

Ooof. That hit. He's truthful to a fault.

"Secondly," he sat back up in his chair, holding Jambo. "No, this isn't that. Bitch - oh my God," chuckling, he messed with my hair. "Listen, we both know you aren't big right now. On anything. This is almost charity work. I mean this in the least offensive way," he tilted his head down but kept his eyes on the screen. "I went into this knowing I wouldn't make a dime. Or, most likely wouldn't. I'm not even making a video to put onto my channel."

"Wait - you're not?" your eyes went wide.

"No." he chuckled loudly. "I'm not gonna give you that type of free crazy promo. Crazy bitch."

You shook your head with a smile. "This is like that collab you did with Oompaville, isn't it? You just did it on his channel and never mentioned it?"

"Have you seen all of my motherfuckin' videos? Like every single one? This is insane." he laughed in surprise. "Yes, it's like that one. I don't hand out promotion. You get me on your channel, not vice versa. It's MY channel for a reason. I'm the face." he reclined in his chair a little. "Obviously, I do collabs. There are some on my channel. BUT, but, I have specific people, if you couldn't fuckin' tell."

"What's the reasoning behind that?"

"Because I want to." his accent finally came out in full force, his upper lip curling on the "to". 'It's nice to finally hear him talk like that.' you smiled in thought.

"Good enough for me." you leaned back against your pillows. "I guess that's all I really had on my mind for now. I don't want to overwhelm you in the first hour of our 'break'."

"Alright," he sighed, stretching a little. "I'm gonna go for a while. You call me when it's time, 'kay toots?"

You smiled again. 'I love it when he calls me that. He probably calls most women he talks to that, but.. he's sweet.'

"M'kay." you nodded. He smiled at your reply. "You're a sweet kid. I won't lie to ya, I think we're gonna have to do something like this again. It hasn't been miserable so far. Irritating, yeah, but.. bareable."

"That's good." you grinned shyly. You weren't able to hide your blush now - the flustered feelings finally got to you. He smiled when he saw the red on your cheeks.

"Whaat, I'm gettin' you flustered?" He leaned in towards the camera, tilting his head a little. He leaned back after a moment. "Don't tell me now you're gettin' shy. We've gone this whole time being fine and put together."

"Ohh stop it." You shook your head, covering some of your face with your hand. "I'm a fan of you, of course I'm nervous." you were nervous, but you were very, very flustered. 'He's so handsome. Teasing me is some sick dream come true.. he's not even trying to get with me. This is just playful banter. God, this is just.. just..'

"Naww, I didn't say nervous." He furrowed his brow with that horribly handsome smirk of his. "I said flustered."

"I'm not flustered!" you exclaimed with a defensive giggle, looking up at your ceiling for a moment before looking back down to Schlatt on your screen.

"Ohh I think you are." he chuckled louder. "I think you're fangirling a little."

"Shut up. You don't even know me." you rolled your eyes. "I fangirled the night you replied to my dm. Not now, dumbass."

"Oooh, so, what, you think I'm handsome? Sexy?" he smiled, crossing his arms and twisting back and forth in his chair. "I know plenty of bitches drool over me. I jus' don' get it." his accent was even more pronounced now as he seemingly got into his confident, proud character he uses online.

This was your opportunity to start bantering. You could play fight. Yet another thing you had always dreamed of.

"I think you're ugly as shit." you laughed, crossing your arms at him.

"Well I think you're an ugly fuckin' bitch too." he said in faux shock. He laid his hand on his chest in playful hurt.

"Whatever," you sighed with a big, shy smile. "I'll call you when the food is supposed to be done."

"Aight. See you."

click.

[604to647]

Marine Attraction

4.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: When a stakeout at the aquarium does not go as planned, Detective Tim Rockford must interview all the aquarium visitors, including you.

Warnings: Fluff! Meet cute! Maybe a dirty thought or two that reader really should not be having about a (hot) man just trying to do his job 🤭 Made up Merge Mansion lore. One cute nickname because it’s me (won’t spoil).

A/N: This was written for @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge – thank you for hosting a lovely event.  Please see #Jamie’s Ocean Challenge for all the wonderful works! I’ve noticed that as of late, some of the authors that I look up to and consider mainstays in this community since I started lurking 2+ years ago have wanted to leave, needed to take breaks from the fandom or felt disconnected from the community.  This story is for you, about stepping away when you need to and maybe rediscovering how something old can still bring you joy. Xoxo, love you all.

Fishy dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

EDIT: Oops this turned into a series - Masterlist

You’re not really sure how this happened.

You’ve been feeling a bit off, as of late.  Nothing was wrong, per say - your job is fine, your friends are dear, your life leaves you grateful.  It’s just that you feel… untethered.  Like you should be doing something more?  Work is fulfilling enough – you achieve and excel.  Friends and family make for wonderful company, but your social battery isn’t infinite and as much as enjoy your get-togethers, they can leave you drained.  Even some of your solitary pursuits, cooking, watching tv, scrolling through social media don’t seem to be as satisfying as they used to be – you consume, but you don’t create.

On a whim, you decide to take the day off work (the first in who knows how long?) and go somewhere you’ve always loved: the aquarium.  You’ve been visiting this aquarium since you were a child – something about the gentle hum of the tanks and the darkness that’s illuminated only by the glow of the exhibits has always relaxed you.  You’re going to go specifically to take photos.  Photography used to be a casual hobby of yours; you were even featured on local news blogs and had your photos chosen for a gallery showing once – but as life got busier and your other endeavours required more of your time and energy, it had fallen by the wayside.   It’s been forever since you took a photo walk or even a picture that wasn’t for capturing a moment rather than a snapshot.  You’re actually getting excited about shooting photos again.

It had been a serene couple of hours spent watching your unhurried fish friends and the silent watery dances of the marine plants that shared their abodes.  The aquarium is playing host to a few young families and two eager fieldtrips, but otherwise, you’ve had the place nearly to yourself.  Able to loiter so you can try different lenses and play with the lighting of your shots, or wait as long as you want in order for a mixed rainbow hue of fish to swim into frame, the morning had passed quietly and contently.

But now you sit in the children’s play area, the last of today’s aquarium visitors, waiting for your turn to be questioned by the police. 

---

Detective Tim Rockford is not really sure how this happened.

It had been a simple enough stakeout operation.  He and his team had received a tip a few days ago that there would be a handoff taking place at the aquarium today: an exchange of money between one of Grandma Ursula’s henchmen and a mystery player whose identity has eluded Tim for the entirety of this case thus far.  Perhaps it was unreasonable to expect Mr. Pie (so nicknamed by the squad for the Bolton Berry pies he consumed) to show up himself, but Tim held out hope that whomever they nabbed today would provide the break in the case that he so desperately needs.

Only, Grandma’s man had come and gone and none of the six men, Tim included, posted at the various vantage points and exits had seen a damn thing.  At some point between spotting their target enter the aquarium with a briefcase in hand, they had lost track of him and picked up his movements again only when he was already leaving the gift shop, empty handed.  How was it possible they couldn’t account for what happened in the aquarium?  Did the meeting with Mr. Pie occur?  Or was the briefcase stashed somewhere?  Tim presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and grimaces – the operation had been an utter failure. 

Not only did they not get what they came for, but now the remainder of the day was completely shot.  What had followed once the police realized just how out of depth they were, was a complete shut down of the aquarium with all visitors locked in and needing to be interviewed before they could leave.  Even the elementary school trips of thirty children.  Each.  After giving instruction to the additional LAPD support he called in to search the aquarium top to bottom for the missing case, Tim had settled in for a long afternoon of what he expected to be fruitless Q&As.

As he wearily enters the kids play area once again (an officer more considerate than he had suggested that given the number of children being held, it might be the best place to have everyone wait), Tim sees only one witness left to interview: you.  He had noticed you earlier, each time he came in to select another interviewee, in fact – if your pretty features and sweet smile hadn’t caught his attention first, your everlasting patience and kindness would have.  Several times, he spotted you playing patiently with the children – the sound of your melodic voice and gentle laughter floating above the grumblings of the other adults who had also had their days ruined. The sound eased the tense spot in his shoulders where his holster straps had started digging in a little bit.  At first, Tim thought you might be one of the teachers or a field trip chaperone, but then he noticed that you let all the school trips and families with children go ahead of you, and he overheard you tell his fellow officer that you didn’t mind waiting, that it must be much harder for the children.  He was grateful for you and he didn’t even know you.

As Tim approaches, you look up from your phone and shoot him the soft smile that’s been his one bright spot in this disaster of a day, though he thinks it seems a bit more tired than when he first had the pleasure of seeing it earlier this afternoon.

“Is it my turn?” you ask him, still in good spirits despite the circumstances.

“Sorry for the wait, miss.”

“No need to be sorry… Detective?”

“Detective Rockford.  Tim Rockford.  I appreciate that, it’s been… a day.”

You hold out your hand to shake his before repeating his name, then giving him your own.  Tim can’t decide if he likes the way his name rolls off your tongue, or the way your own name floats above the cheer of your voice more. 

“Well, hopefully I can help with… whatever has made it such a day,” you give him a sympathetic smile.

The kind of smile you might offer to him when he comes home after a long hard day.  Damn. He’s in trouble.  Focus, Rockford.

Since you’re his last witness of the day, he offers to conduct the interview right here instead of the stuffy office that the aquarium staff had lent him.  As you acquiesce to his suggestion, you stretch out your arms and legs, arching your back to work out a bit of stiffness from having sat for so long and Tim finds himself admiring your figure in a way that is decidedly not going to help him solve this case.  He tries to cover up his less than professional gaze by stretching himself – it feels good.

After collecting your information and starting with his routine questions, Tim realizes he’s pinning his hopes on you having seen or noticed something today – not only because no one else has, but so he can keep speaking with you.

When it becomes evident that you didn’t, he sighs a heavy sigh of disappointment. 

He hadn’t realized that he’s done so until hears you apologize; quick to reassure you that that you don’t have anything to apologize for, Tim places his large warm hand over yours before he can stop himself.  You gasp softly, you think only to yourself, but Tim hears the sweet noise and smirks a little – it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who’s been affected.  When he notices that you don’t move your hand away,  he lets himself revel in the feel of your soft, small hand under his for a beat longer before he removes it and somewhat begrudgingly starts to wrap up the interview.

---

Fuck. This fucking detective.  Rockford.  Tim Rockford.

Even his name is hot. 

You had noticed him earlier, of course – how could you not?  He was a hulking presence, impossibly broad and tall, and he carried himself with the authority and gravitas of a man in charge.  During the earlier hours of your wait, you had been preoccupied with helping entertain some of the young children in the waiting area who were restless with boredom, not sure why their promised day of aquarium fun had to be ruined by something as trivial as a police matter.

But once you caught sight of Detective Rockford’s handsome profile, it became impossible to not be captivated by the deep richness of his brown eyes or that strong nose that centered his face perfectly.  His grave countenance conveyed the seriousness with which he took his work (that facial scruff screamed he worked too much), but he was quietly calm and his tone gentle with all the witnesses, especially the children.  You couldn’t help but hope it was him every time an officer entered the waiting area. 

Some time between now and the last two times he had come in to call forth witnesses, the detective had lost his suit jacket, strolling in wearing only a gun holster and a white dress shirt that stretched taut over his firm chest and bulging arm muscles; you thought you were going to have to dunk yourself into one of the aquarium tanks to cool off just from the sight of him.

Your heart picks up a little when it’s him who appears when you’re the last one left to be interviewed; silently, you pray to Beyoncé to give you the strength needed to coherently answer the detective’s questions when he asks them in that honey laced baritone of his.

When Tim mirrors your big stretch, you hope you’re discrete enough that he doesn’t catch you staring: his limbs extend fantastically long, arm span wide enough to cast a shadow that reaches across the floor in front of you - he's huge.  After hearing the detective inhale a deep breath, it feels to you as if all of the air has been sucked from the room, leaving you dizzy as you gawk at his hard chest, expanding and pushing up against his crisp dress shirt, held closed only by the strained efforts of a few valiant buttons.

You feel bad that you have to answer in the negative to Detective Rockford’s questions.  Unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary during your visit, too engrossed in your own photo taking, and you don’t remember seeing the man in the picture that he shows you.  You can tell that Tim tries hard not to show his disappointment and wish very much that you could please him, be the one to wipe the weary look off his face and the release the tension from his hunched-up shoulders.  Maybe please him in other ways, as well.  You have a feeling that praise from one Detective Tim Rockford would have you dripping wet and clenching around nothing embarrassingly quick. 

GIRL. GET IT TOGETHER.  For all you know, a serious crime took place here today!

You apologize.  Outwardly, for your inability to help him with his case, and inwardly, for the dirty thoughts that are wholly inappropriate to have about a complete stranger who is just, very competently, doing his job.

To try and put you at ease, Tim relaxes his handsome face and hopes to reassure you when he gently pats your hand; instead, a jolt of electricity shoots through you and you warm all over from his touch.  Maybe it’s your imagination but Detective Rockford seemingly lets his bear paw of hand linger over yours for a bit longer than he needs to, and you think you spy his plush lips curve up slightly at the corners when you gasp.  You might just melt off this bench right now.

“Oh, one last thing, did you take any pictures at the aquarium today?”

You nod, but are suddenly shy as you anticipate the Detective’s next question.  Tim nods at you matter of fact, “Good.  Could you please show me?  I just need to look through them quickly to see if there’s anything in the background that might be useful.”

He holds his hand out, not really expecting any resistance - you’ve been nothing but perfectly cooperative so far.  But when his hand remains empty, he looks over to find you adorably chewing your bottom lip while gripping your phone tightly with both hands, making no motion to hand it over.  For one ridiculous moment he panics, Are you Mr. Pie?!  He shakes his head slightly to rid himself of that ludicrous thought, and waits patiently for you to tell him what you’re ruminating on.

“It’s just that there are a lot of pictures..,” you start, “… and a lot of them are kind of duplicates…”

You know you’re being deliberately vague – sighing in resignation, you decide it’s best to just rip the band aid off.  Unlocking your phone, you go to your camera roll and filter to today’s library before handing over your phone without meeting the detective’s gaze.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tim scroll slowly through hundreds of photos of the aquarium’s exhibits; you attempt to avoid meeting his eye by focusing on how your phone looks inexplicably small in his big, rough hand.

“That’s… a lot,” Tim finally says when he reaches the bottom of the roll.

When you look up, you expect to see maybe a cringed look or even a mocking expression on the detective’s handsome face, but instead you find the massive man looking at you with a gentle curiosity, maybe even holding himself a little smaller in an attempt to not intimidate you.  It doesn’t seem to matter that you don’t really know him, you suddenly feel comfortable enough to tell Detective Tim Rockford this very personal thing about yourself – he might look like he's perfectly cast as the 'bad cop' in interrogations, but you have a feeling he’s got just as good of a track record playing 'good cop'.

“An old hobby of mine was… I guess they call it iPhoneography? Using apps to mimic traditional camera captures?  I used to love it, actually.  Selecting the different lenses and choosing different exposures, then seeing how the images would developed – of course, with the phone, you wouldn’t have to take it in and wait for a week or anything, it would be processed digitally in a matter of seconds.  But… editing apps are so common place nowadays, and most social media platforms have built in filters and effects - iPhoneography has sort of fallen out of favour,” you explain.  Tim is nodding along - he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about, he has three apps on his phone that he uses regularly (Weather, Candy Crush, and the app from the City that reminds him when to put out his garbage bins); the rest of the apps on his phone were preinstalled and he can’t figure out how to delete them.  But he encourages you to go on.

“In fact, I haven’t really gone out to shoot in years.  But lately… I’ve sort of wanted to get back into it?  I came to the aquarium today to fire up the old camera, so to speak.  That’s why there’s so many – a lot of the pictures are just of the same frame but where I was trying out different lenses or exposure options.  I’m not, like, super obsessed with fish or anything,” you finish up quickly, hoping you haven’t made a complete fool of yourself.

Tim hands you back your phone, still open to today’s photos, and smiles, “Why don’t you tell me about what you shot today?”

“Really?” you look up, surprised.

“Really,” Tim tries to convey his genuine interest via his eyes, and is instantly rewarded by a smile on your face that could light up the room.  It’s certainly lighting him up.

And so, you tell Detective Tim Rockford all about the photos you took today.  You swipe through your pictures and show him how the different lenses affect the lighting, exposure, saturation and even colour tinting of the resulting photo.  You proudly tell him about how you had to switch up your technique and settings when shooting the tanks where the marine animals or plants thrived primarily in the dark or relied on bioluminescent light.  You laugh, mainly at yourself, when you tell him about how long you stayed at certain attractions, waiting for a particular school of fish to swim perfectly into frame.

Tim thinks your laughter is the loveliest sound he’s ever heard.

You tell him your favourite sea creatures to photograph are the jelly fish because they’re so weird and they move with such alien grace, unpredictable yet seemingly purposeful, and that’s why there are more pictures of them than any other animal in your camera roll.

Tim finds himself enchanted watching you get more and more animated and excited as you go through the pictures you took today; while your eyes are peeled to your screen, he admires how they twinkle and the way your mouth slopes upwards, grinning wide even as you talk non-stop about your long-forgotten hobby.  Your pretty face is aglow.  He thinks he could listen to you talk about the things that bring you joy forever.

He lets you talk for an hour.  You don’t even realize until you get to the last photo (a school of clown fish weaving between the tentacles of their anemone home) and glance up at the time at the top of the screen, “…oh my gosh!  I’m so sorry!! I’ve prattled on for so long, I’m sure none of this was helpful at all!”

Tim won’t have any of that, “Don’t be sorry.  You had fun.  I’m glad you had some fun today… before I ruined it by sequestering you here in this waiting area for the entire afternoon.”

You shyly look at his apologetic face, “I’m having fun now.”

Tim can feel his ears warm and is sure they’re pink at the tips.  Darn, you’re sweet.  He distracts himself by flipping to a brand-new page in his notebook, “Me too.”  You feel your heart expand at his soft confession.

“Now, I have some good news and some bad news.”

You look at him expectantly with an innocent, doe-eyed expression that Tim thinks might be one of the most dangerous things he’s ever encountered in all his years on the force, “The good news is that I think you’re a very, very good photographer.  It’s clear you enjoy it and there isn’t a single photo you showed me today that isn’t obviously a labour of love.  I think you should get back into it if you can.  The way you were talking about your photos today, I don’t think I’ve seen that much joy on someone’s face in… I don’t know how long.  I’m grateful you shared that with me.”

You’re speechless.  His words are so, so kind… and exactly what you needed to hear today.  You’re filled with tremendous gratitude and fondness for Detective Tim Rockford.

“… the bad news is, I spotted the reflection of our man in the shadows on the glass in some of your photos, and I’m so very sorry but I’m going to have to confiscate your phone,” Tim could not be more truly sorry.

After the initial shock of being told you’re losing your phone for a few days, you quickly recover and tell Tim that you’re genuinely glad you could help.  You give him your email and use your phone to send off a message to a few of your group chats regarding how you can be reached for the next few days before dropping your phone into the evidence bag Tim produces.  Under different circumstances, you might be upset at this turn of events, but the expression on Detective Tim Rockford's face is more than enough to make the minor inconvenience worth it – he looks invigorated, energized.  Clearly, this is what he loves doing.

Walking you to the aquarium exit, Tim apologizes and thanks you again before seeing you out.  Right before the door closes behind you, you turn and see him already rushing off to brief his team, your plastic covered phone clutched in his hand and an excited grin on his face.  After the kindness and patience the detective has shown you today, you’re glad to have played a small role in putting that smile on his face.

True to his word, you receive an email from Timothy.Rockford@lapd.online.org just a few days later, letting you know your phone is ready for pick-up.  When Detective Rockford meets you in the precinct lobby, you have to suck in your breath – he’s even more handsome than you remember, and you’ve been spending nearly every waking minute over the past few days picturing his strong jawline, soulful eyes, and that charming facial scruff you’d give anything to run your fingers through.  He’s jacketless again, just another pressed white dress shirt that his broad frame threatens to rip through, bordered by those leather holsters that make you want to swallow your tongue.

As Tim takes you to Evidence so you can sign out your phone, he tries to chat amiably and not cast too many obvious and admiring glances your way; you’re all warmth and serenity in this place that he only ever associates with being loud, bustling and cold.  He simultaneously never wants you to leave and wishes to sweep you far away and keep you only for himself, distanced safely from this place where his every day is synonymous with darkness and mystery.

When you’re once again outside, Tim leans against the frame of the precinct’s front doors and you look up at him from one step down, hopeful, “Did I help?”

Yes.  You help more than you know, Tim thinks, having been unable to get your incandescent smile out of his mind since he last parted from you; finding that it’s become the image that grounds him during his long grueling hours.  Instead, he says, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Oh no – not this again,” you grin.

Tim smiles back, emboldened by your cheery demeanor, “The good news is that a lot of your photos and what the tech guys called… um.. meta data?  A lot of it helped generate some good leads that we’re now following.”

“Oh!  That’s wonderful!  I’m so glad, Detective Rockford!”

“Tim.  Please call me, Tim.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like calling you Detective,” you tease, good naturedly.

Tim should not feel his pants tighten at this, “The bad news is, because your photos had so much useful information, there is a very good chance they will be used as evidence if this case ever goes to trial.  I don’t think you will need to testify, as you yourself didn’t see anything, and that meta data gives us the info on when and where the photos were taken.  But even so… it means I can’t ask you out until the case is over.”

“Oh no,” you’re disappointed, but somewhat mollified that Tim has just basically asked you out without asking you out.  “That is bad news indeed.”

Tim looks around to make sure no one is looking before he reaches out with his hand and gently strokes your cheek with the back of two of his thick fingers just once, whispering, “I’ve never wanted to put a case to bed more.”

You can’t let the joke pass you by, “The case?  The case is what you want to put to bed?”

The booming laugh that shakes Detective Tim Rockford’s entire torso reaches all the way to his eyes, crinkling them in the most adorable way.  It’s staggering the difference it makes – he looks 10 years younger, you think. 

He’s needed this.  A really good laugh.  He’s needed it more than he realized.  He’s needed you.  He looks at your impish grin, so proud of yourself for pulling this sound from him, a sound so rare that it’s become almost foreign to his own ears; Tim hopes he’s able to convey his gratitude for you with the way his eyes have brightened, flecked with gold and mirth. 

He thinks you just might understand him perfectly. 

When you lift up on your toes to brush your lips softly against his scruffy cheek for a goodbye kiss, he whispers low in your ear, “I’ll call you, Shutterbug.” 

A promise.

7 months later

The Grandma Ursula case has taken the nation by storm.  The TV in your workplace breakroom is permanently dialed to the court case broadcast so no one misses a minute of the scandalous proceedings, a single interview with those involved in the case, or any legal and criminal analysts’ commentary.  For someone who is billed as the Lead Investigator, Tim makes shockingly few appearances onscreen, but you feel a little thrill go through you whenever you catch a glimpse of his striking figure in the background of a news broadcast about the case, or when you see him standing stoically behind the head prosecutor while the latter debriefs the press from the steps of the court house.

You gaze dreamily at his face while the press shouts out what everyone (your friends, colleagues, the public) all want to know:

How many aliases does Grandma Ursula really have?

Can we even call it the Bolton Mansion anymore?

Why that particular number of pies?

You’ll be honest, you’re just as interested in the case as everyone else, but you have one pressing question that you know no one else is asking: Will he call when it’s over?

You’re in a departmental meeting when the verdict is read.  It takes you forever to get back to your desk, caught up in everyone’s excited chatter about the ruling, but when you finally sit down and pull out your phone from your drawer, it’s to the best outcome you could have hoped for from the Grandma Ursula case.  Positively beaming, you reread the text message sent from an unknown number only two minutes after the verdict was announced: Hey Shutterbug, take any good photos lately?

End note: The iPhoneography aspect of this fic is a bit self indulgent; some might know that this Tumblr used to be a photo blog before it became my writing blog. Just like reader, it's something I used to enjoy a lot but I haven't opened those camera apps in years - maybe I'll get back into it one day! In the meantime, yes - the aquarium photos in the moodboard are by yours truly 🤭

[theprettynosferatu]

Gatekeeping or This Fiction of Ours

State of the Blog, June, 2025

Well these monthly reports are getting weirder and weirder, aren't they?

Business first: I'm producing around 2 stories a month and captions quite consistently. I've made an effort to showcase some of... the goodest girls around and minimize AI content, although I doubt it will be gone entirely soon. I confess the way the platform is erasing blogs left and right has me concerned, especially in light of proposed US legislation that would in effect make ALL of our content illegal.

Oops politics snuck into one of these posts again! Almost like my head is constantly mulling the topic!

Well, now that we're here, there IS a point I want to make.

There is an idea that we shouldn't gatekeep kink, with the obvious exception of those who can't consent due to age or other reasons. Positive, enthusiastic, informed consent is the one barrier we should uphold. I find this idea generally good. BUT I feel we should be at least vigilant about one other aspect.

Now, I'll be the first one to admit I've fucked up in the past. I'll surely fuck up in the future. I've been called out about it in private and in public, and almost always the people that called me out were right.

Until recently.

I've gotten dms and comments to the effect that I am a misogynistic asshole, or a fascist, or that I believe the things I post in kink. Now, most of us understand that this is fiction. Life and kink are not the same thing and the ideas that turn us on are often the opposite of what we truly believe; their power, in part, comes from the fact that we know they're wrong, that we don't believe them. It's this fiction of ours we indulge in together, knowing we don't really believe in, say, female inferiority. As clear as I've been trying to be about it, however, some people are unwilling to understand or accept that such content is NOT a reflection of real life beliefs.

And you know what? I get it. I do.

I've had the experience of scrolling through kink Twitter, seeing a retweet of something I think is kink, following through to the person's feed and realizing... oh. Oh no. This person is an ACTUAL fascist.

The little twerps are emboldened. They are infiltrating more and more spaces, ours included. They are more open, more brazen, and sometimes their deluded hateful posts are almost indistinguishable from the exaggerated fiction we post AS KINK.

So in this moment I say we gatekeep. We gatekeep as hard as we can. The only way kink can be healthy is if it's safe and understood as fantasy- and these dogfuckers are making the space unsafer by the minute. So, we must be vigilant. We can't reblog real fascists. We let our real colors show, even if it breaks that fiction for a moment.

So with that said, let me be clear:

Fuck fascists.

Feminism is necessary. Perhaps more than ever.

Fuck homophobes.

Trans rights now.

Fuck white supremacy.

Fuck Trump and all authoritarians.

Fuck corporations and their vampire-like need to suck up the work and wealth of people.

Shelter, food, and Healthcare are universal rights and the profit motive should be nowhere near them.

A woman's right to choose about her own life and body should never be violated.

Sex work should be legal and safe.

Income should never be a barrier to education.

Billionaires should not exist.

Conflating labor and productivity with the value of a person is monstrous. People have value because they are human.

The ultimate function of the police is to protect the interests of the ruling class.

I'm sure I'm missing quite a few things. But that should give an idea of where I stand outside kink. I feel we should all take the time to state our core beliefs every now and then. Yes, it harms the fiction of it all. But sometimes we must let truth shine through this fiction of ours.

-Nos

[ducktracy]

hi sorry to drop this long ass ramble in your inbox but god you and that anon are both so right and the tlts post made me realize something

so i personally don’t mind that much when the looney tunes’ characterizations are off, just bc of how often they seem to change. even in the original shorts it seemed like every director had their own spin on the characters’ personalities, to a point where there’s never really felt like there was one “correct” way for them to be, at least to me. but they’ve always been funny is the thing. even when i don’t care much for an interpretation of them, if the show has strong enough writing it’ll still make me laugh! gonna be honest, i really don’t like TLTS Bugs a lot of the time, but he’s still funny! I think about the bit where he gets addicted to energy drinks and punches a hole in the wall for no reason at least once a week! 

but then we get into the thing you mentioned about fandom-ification, and THAT is what ends up bugging me. when we get into the same tired incorrect quotes and snowclone memes and “bugs is gone so i’m gonna cut off all the sleeves on my shirts bc he’s 80% of my impulse control blah blah blah STOP ITTT!! it’s not funny anymore and that’s like the most important thing the looney tunes have to be!! i love TLTS but oh my god it’s so clear a lot of people have never engaged with any other LT media and they just want archetypes to project the same years old fandom tropes onto. if you make the looney tunes unfunny you have failed, go watch a roadrunner cartoon and write me a paper on what you’ve learned about visual gags /j. This is also kind of the same reason i don’t like space jam 2 or a lot of the 90s stuff that does the “heh.. in case you didn’t know, we’re the looney tunes, and yeah. we’re pretty wacky” thing. if you have to tell me how looney you are i don’t believe you.

sorry again for length i had a lot to say abt this dhsjdjd

MY FRIEND you are sending this to the long ass ramble BLOG!! IT’S MORE THAN WELCOME! especially because i um. kind of exploded in this oops. you are not the long rambler here

and before i get into this too deeply, i just wanna say THANK YOU—both for you sending this and the receptiveness of these Hot Takes. it’s hard for me to put my usual positive spin on this subject because my opinions are so strong, and i’ve ended up annoying a lot of people over this in the past and so i just end up kinda grinning and bearing it.. plus it’s not conductive to my time, spiraling over what i don’t like does no good.. but i do feel so strongly about this because it’s tied to what i do love and. just. YEAH. we all know this. but i still feel the need to apologize because i hate coming off as gatekeepy or like a know it all, it’s not my intent or belief at all. so i’m grateful for you guys giving me the chance to rant and knowing that i’m not alone, because very often i feel that’s not the case :’)

I AGREE WITH THIS.. and thank you for reminding me, i probably should clarify that, again, LT has no canon. these guys are always changing characterization and context. we have shorts where Daffy is miserable and calling Bugs despicable and getting his beak shot off, and in the same release year we’ll have a short where the cartoon ends out on him going HOOHOO HOOHOO and he’s the one with the relatively calm disposition. these characters are always changing! there is no canon! and so i guess when i say i don’t think TLTS is “in character”, i moreso am saying “TLTS doesn’t preserve the integrity of the characters in my eyes”. i’ll get into this in a bit

therein lies the rub. there are persistent character traits regardless of director, but there are so many different shades of character. and modern adaptations don’t have this benefit! because the directors who made these guys are dead, but because modern adaptations don’t have the same sort of flexibility in structure. and i very much think it’s possible to make an “amalgam” of a personality for these guys—i do it all the time! you can borrow elements from multiple different directors and shades of these characters. but the TLTS characterizations are the TLTS characterizations, and i think this makes people think that this is how THE characters act, period. because it’s all they know, and because i think the admittedly convoluted existence of these characters can be hard to understand… at first. i’m losing my words on this, but hopefully that makes sense? i think that’s a very big part of this “condensation” of these characters found in TLTS. and, again, that’s compensated for in the writing by replacing many unique traits these guys have with stock sitcom tropes. and most people don’t know these characters well enough to identify any differently. it’s this caricature-within-a-caricature homogenization, and when you say that these characters weren’t intended to be like that, you’re seen as a blow hard or a pretentious know it all. but yes, please tell us about how “um, actually, Daffy’s neck ring is made of diamonds” when speaking about Daffy as a whole/all LT media as a whole. or how um, actually, these characters are actors (i’m more sympathetic to this one, it’s a common angle for these characters and more modern stuff like Back in Action doesn’t do much in clearing this “misinformation”. but i don’t think people realize that they’re actors only in the shorts where they’re established as actors—it’s just a funny way for the directors to “explain” the meta elements of the shorts, running with the joke of “wouldn’t it be funny if these guys were ACTUALLY actors”? it should only be assumed that they’re actors in the shorts where they say they are. it’s a set dressing. Daffy Duck is Daffy Duck. not Daffy Duck, actor. Porky pulling out a script in Porky’s Duck Hunt does not mean that every single short that has him in it means he’s an actor. it’s just a silly gag. sorry this is irrelevant and more innocent of a misunderstanding, but thats always been something i find myself explaining too and people getting weirdly defensive about)

ANYWAY, getting back to relevancy. i agree with you!! there is a lot about the show's writing that IS funny! again, i should reiterate that i LOVED this show! i've seen every episode a minimum of 3 times, there are still things that make me smirk, i once skipped class to watch episodes in the college library lol. i'm very well acquainted with the show because i was once a fan, and it has made me laugh. but anything i have laughed at is purely divorced of the characters. i would laugh probably more if this were a show that had entirely original characters instead, and i wish it did because it would be one of my favorite shows in that case.

but that's The Thing. it's tied to these legacy characters and does them so. dirty. i always rant about Porky because i think they did him worst, and he's already had such a volatile legacy as is, but i'm ranting about his portrayal again because i think it's just the best encapsulation of my issues with this show. here is my every issue with TLTS summed up in one image:

THIS SHOULD NOT BE A VIDEO THAT EXISTS!!!!! IT LITERALLY GOES AGAINST HIS CORE CHARACTER! I!!!! AHHHH!! i know i sound insane ranting about this because it's Looney Tunes. it's fucking Looney Tunes. but the original directors distinctly abstained from having Porky be too hurt because he's a sensitive character, and they knew that it was unpleasant to watch him get beat up! or made fun of! when Daffy makes fun of his stutter in Tom Turk and Daffy, there's a long pause where Porky just blinks and stares at him and doesn't react, before continuing on with his day. because that puts the blame back on Daffy. the joke isn't "lol Porky stutters", the joke is "lol Daffy is a complete asshole here". and there's no "lol Daffy is a complete asshole here, but we love him, right?" like there is so much of with TLTS. i don't know, they have Daffy act horrifically towards him in TLTS, and i know it's not saying "let's all be like Daffy" BUT PORKY GETS NO.. COMEUPPANCE.. OR ANYTHING. there's no "checking in" or "revising" on Porky's part to show that it didn't affect him. or, a lot of times, the originals will have PORKY be the instigator, and that justifies Daffy's retaliation against him! and, again, in the case where this isn't true, where Daffy is just beating up on him for no good reason (The Ducksters), THE SHORT HAS PORKY GET HIS COMEUPPANCE AND DELIVER THE EXACT SAME TREATMENT TO DAFFY. there is a very carefully curated balance here. because nobody wants to see Porky get beat up. the directors were very conscious of this. Porky in Wackyland has him getting hit on the head with a bunch of bricks, and he starts crying--the remake, Dough for the Do-Do, cuts this out because THEY KNEW THAT WAS UNPLEASANT! EVEN FOR A GAG! i don't really like DftDD, but that's one thing i think they did right.

and THAT'S why i get so mad about the Porky abuse in this show. not only because of how it completely misunderstands the Porky and Daffy dynamic and leading people to make bizarre assumptions about them ("Daffy and Porky are toxic together" 1. it's Looney Tunes 2. no your only understanding of their dynamic is from TLTS which is violently misrepresented 3. IT'S LOONEY TUNES 4. IT'S. LOONEY. TUNES.), but because it just feels like it goes directly against these intentions that the directors had with the character. Porky differs per director, but there are still some resounding rules in place

and it just comes off as accidental resentment for the character. i don't think it's on purpose. i know the whole thing is "but Porky's actually nice, he doesn't deserve this" BUT IT DOESN'T COMMUNICATE THAT EFFECTIVELY. your fat jokes about Porky being fat--WHEN HE'S THE SKINNIEST HE'S EVER BEEN--AND HIM TAKING OFFENSE TO IT, WHICH, AGAIN, SHOULD NOT EVER HAPPEN, EVER, ARE!!!!! I. I JUST LOST MY WORDING I'M SO MAD!!! BUT YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN!!!! making an entire song about how Porky is a lonely loser incel shut-in and will never get a date isn't on his side or pitying him. and it's literally just mean for the sake of meanness.

i always feel silly complaining that TLTS is meanspirited, because so are the shorts. this is why we love the shorts. LT is filled with assholes and cynics and characters of every shade of derangement. the shorts are mean. i love Bob McKimson's shorts and they're some of the meanest around. i love them because they're mean. one of my favorite Porky shorts ends with him killing himself and it being played with extreme cynicism. i'm not at all opposed to cynicism or meanness, but that cynicism or meanness in the originals is never at the expense of the actual integrity of the characters. there's a baseline of respect, i guess. the mean-ness in TLTS just comes off to me as putting down the intent of the original characters, and it comes off to me as accidentally disrespecting the vision these directors had for these characters. i again don't think it was on purpose. but you can see how that becomes a chain reaction in fandom circles of fans misrepresenting even what they're watching on TLTS (i've since been told that there are some people out there who say they've gotten into LT, and by that i mean watching those godawful YouTube tumblr-brained compilations that clip things out of context and nothing else. sorry i'm being incredibly mean right now but i just. agh. sorry). and there's just this convoluted chain reaction that ends up feeding into this feeling of disdain for the originals, even if it's unintentional

"Porky would be a more popular character if he wasn't the brunt of so many fat jokes and, in spite of shows like TLTS trying to play it off as irony, it's sort of absorbed by osmosis and subconsciously absorbed into a lot of peoples' opinions about him. the same applies to the stutter jokes through the years" is unfortunately a real opinion i have and got mocked for lol. which, to be fair, there is a lot to mock, it's FUCKING LOONEY TUNES, but it's coming from similarly pedantic people who try to play off their knowledge as gospel and will call you a gatekeeper for saying that that's not representative of the character

ugh sorry im getting on a whole 'nother rant but. like. WHERE'S THE JOKE. WHAT'S THE JOKE HERE. "the joke is that Daffy was wrong the whole time, it's a misunderstanding" OKAY BUT HAVING PORKY TAKE GREAT OFFENSE TO THIS AND NOT EVEN IN AN INDIGNANT WAY, BUT JUST A SAD WAY, MAKES THIS SO UNPLEASANT HOW IS THIS FUNNY. WHERE IS THE FUNNY. "it's funny because he was wrong" BUT THAT STILL DOESN'T MAKE UP FOR THE FACT THAT WE'RE JUST SUPPOSED TO LAUGH AT THIS? "well it's supposed to be meanspirited and Daffy is the asshole" OK BUT THIS IS JUST UNNECESSARILY CRUEL? and THIS IS MY FAVORITE EPISODE OF THE SERIESSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!! AAAAHHhhh. AND HE'S NOT EVEN FAT HE IS STARVING GIVE MY MAN A SANDWICH

and again i keep saying it but there's this weird phenomenon of "well, the originals made fun of Porky's weight!" Daffy saying "oh well, i'll be [the bigger person]...........goodnight, fatboy!", demonstrating how he's NOT BEING THE BIGGER PERSON AT ALL and is being an immature little shit is SO much more different than this or talking about how Porky needs to lose weight because he has so much face or whatever. not that it makes the fat jokes in the originals better, they're very much there, but at least it feels like there's some sort of weird, twisted endearment behind them. Daffy calling Porky an "overstuffed cherub" is much different than characters telling him straight to his face that he needs to lose weight. and this is not an issue just with TLTS, it's incredibly common all through the past 30 years of LT content, even LTC has a "lol Porky's lying about what he actually ate because he's fat" joke that gets me :/ because the originals never! did! that! and i just. iunno. complete misunderstanding of the originals

and i want to say again that, in spite of all this, i don't think the originals are the end all be all. i don't think you have to see all 1000 LT shorts to be a fan. if you're just in it for TLTS? THAT'S AWESOME! enjoy it! but my issue comes from people acting like these things are FACT and SAYING these are FACT, and will go out of their way to say "don't correct me because i didn't watch some old ass short" or will accuse you of being uppity and "sophisticated" just because you're saying "that's not how this was intended". my issue is that people will "fansplain" (i hate that term im so sorry i know i sound like such a pompous elitist but it gets the point across quickly) these things to me and insist that these misrepresentations are cold hard fact (like, again, Daffy's neck ring), and then they get mad at you for trying to correct them. and it's not like i think people are stupid for not knowing these things!! but there's been such a violent pushback against educating yourself ABOUT FUCKING LOONEY TUNES GUYS IT'S LOONEY TUNES!!!!!! that has really just... ?????? i swear i've never been in a fandom that takes such pleasure in bragging about its refusal to educate itself than i have in the LT fandom. and yall. i have a very unfortunate track record of having been young on the internet and being in fandoms i should not have been. eyeballing the 10 or so of you who followed this blog from 2016-2018. hi.

god i'm getting off on so many different tangents i am so sorry anon i'm just 😭. in response to the fandomification thing/extension of that, i'm not even AGAINST the fandomification of things... IF THEY'RE DONE RIGHT. i've been a part of it and know it firsthand (hi guys you know how you are👋)! write that fic draw that fanfic have fun do what you want, etc. but it's so clear that the CONSUMPTION of these characters is purely FOR a fandom lens, when, preferably, it's the other way around. characters first, then add what you wanna do on top! but it's always the other way around, these characters are fit into the most stock and milquetoast tropes and it becomes a breeding ground of misrepresentation and turns into a domino effect of people yelling at you for disagreeing with their points that they play off as fact. life is short do what you want HAVE FUN FOR YOURSELF FIRST AND FOREMOST. i've been teaching myself this again. you don't have to have The Official LT Guidebook to draw or write what you want. but there is very much a fundamental issue of people viewing these characters with a Fandomification Lens first and foremost and using that to base their entire perception of the character and acting like that is how these characters were intended to behave, and that you're a pompous gatekeeping asshole for saying otherwise

i'm not saying you can't make your ooc posts, i'm not saying you can't ship things, i'm not saying you can't write or watch or surround yourself in what appeals to you. but i am saying that i take issue with the frequent ego problems i've run into this fandom. THE LT FANDOM. IT'S LOONEY TUNES!!!! i take issue with the ego problems i run into that are based purely on misinformation, and the borderline pride people get out of refusing to budge from it. there's so much proud ignorance and i just. iunno. me getting offended on behalf of a bunch of dead 110 year old men who have offended me on multiple occasions with some of their cartoons doesn't do anything very productive either, but. "Anti-Intellectualism and The Looney Tunes Fandom: An Essay". <- that's it that's the tweet because it made me laugh because of how insane it sounds, but i can't say it's not the point i'm trying to make

i also agree wholeheartedly with the 90s thing too. ugh. these characters and these directors and this franchise has been done so dirty over and over again

thank you so much for giving me a chance to rant i am so sorry for how whiny and obnoxious i've surely been i've just hit my limit 🙃 so many problems could be solved by watching a Daffy Duck cartoon instead (a real one that does his character justice) (just kidding) (kind of) (a little bit) (hypothetically)

how it feels

[luckyartdrawer]

100 Follower Milestone Poll! 🎉🎉🎉

Heya lovelies!!! This blog hit 100 followers oh my goodness!!!

I really can't believe it, it's so awesome to see you all here! <333 Whether you're new or old around here it doesn't matter, I am electronically hugging and/or patting all of your heads in great thanks! ✨💖✨💖✨💖✨

To celebrate, I have some options in a poll for y'all to choose what you would like to see for this milestone! I HIGHLY suggest reading the explanations of each option below the break! It clarifies some important details. Its down there so any of y'all just scrolling by won't have to worry about a wall of text! <3

Please feel free to vote even if you aren't following me!!!

Poll Options explanations:

Drop early chapters of EYED / Dreamlike: This is a Moon-centric x reader fic I've been working on for several months now and I originally planned to start posting it when I finished it or got really close to doing so. I dropped a sneak peek of it here! I find myself currently on a standstill on it's later chapters, which is why it hasn't been finished yet, but otherwise I am reallllly happy with it's messaging and pacing. (Rn I have plotted out 15 chapters but it's looking like it could be longer with how I write oops-)

The first chapters have been pretty polished at this point, so if people are really curious about this one, I don't mind to start posting the chapters up to a certain point. If this wins, I'll post the first 3 chapters for 3 sequential days, then 4 and 5 will come out in the next week, and then the last week I'll post ch. 6 for no particular reason mhmm yup I am not planning anything nefarious-

Drawing requests: This would be my first time doing something like this, and while I know I can pop out some bangers for y'all I also don't want to dig myself into a hole and leave y'all waiting for a long time. 😅So if this wins, I'll take the first 10 requests and draw them out! If I feel capable of doing more I may open some more slots for y'all, but I need to test my speed and my capabilities here first. Expect some lovely rendering bc I love it so, but I won't be doing backgrounds (besides simple colors) for the sake of my sanity.

Drabble requests: Most of ya here probably see me as only an artist, but I do write and actually started out as a writer first for this fandom hehe. ✨ I've been doing well recently with short stories so as long as y'all want em, I can hopefully dish em out at a reasonable pace! I, again, haven't done something like this before. So if this wins, I'll take the first 10 requests, but I feel more confident that I can do this at a reasonable pace, so if things go well I'll open up 5-10 more slots for y'all!

Rendered drawing of a dca AU: Hehe, my forte /J. I've drawn some whacky crossovers, cute sillays, and horror stuff at times, but some of y'all also know I love soooo many AUs in this fandom, hehe! I definitely do not mind drawing AUs, there are MANY I haven't drawn for, but I will be avoiding drawing other's specific AUs. I love making fanart, but this is going to thank y'all for being here, so I would like to keep from using someone else's AU -- it would feel like I'm stealing them e3e.

Plus, this is from me to thank you! And so will the goobers! I'll try to be as detailed as possible with both the characters and location <3

If this wins, I'll set up another poll to last for 3 days. It'll have some general au options like Mer, then I'll list out some crossovers I have done like Submas! Sun/Moon, and I'll add my own AUs! There will also be an option to suggest an AU/crossover! (Please don't be afraid to do so, as long as enough people have an interest in the option, or even if it doesn't win I may still make it if I really like the suggestion! <333)

Rendered drawing of Biblical dca: This means the drawing will be as realistic to the original as I can get it! Gonna do my best to do material rendering and all mwehehe! Though, I may make him extra polished/shiny to not only play with reflections, but to also say how sparkly y'all make me feel hehe ✨✨✨

If this wins, I'll try to finish the drawing within a week or 2 after I make the announcement of the poll's winner! I'll also throw out a really quick poll for 1 day to let y'all pick who will be our biblical goober: Sun, Moon, or Ruin Eclipse!

Something else: This is pretty self explanatory, but if you have ideas, comment below! (You can even if you didn't pick this option!!!) And if you see an idea you like or that you wanted to comment already said below, please reply to that person's comment to keep things easy to track! You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, just drop something simple like ✨ in it and I'll know that means ya voted for it. :) (I'll be checking to make sure people didn't vote on the same comment more than once! But you can vote for multiple ideas <3)

If this wins/has enough interest, I'll choose the most popular suggestion! Depending on what suggestion wins, I may actually do BOTH that suggestion and the winning/2nd place option on the poll!!!! ( Woah 2 for one what :O )

My choice 💥💥💥: I typically don't like making choices actually, but in the case y'all are indecisive I will step up ✨✨✨ If this wins, I'll likely choose whatever sounds best to me in that moment hehehe, you'll never be 100% sure what I'll do >:)

Moon's bald and we love him for it: Oh yeah we do! <3 This is just a joke option to let people who don't want to vote to see the results. If this wins... Uh... We'll go for the 2nd place vote! And also I'll add a bald Moon doodle as a bonus goodie. (I'm so good at making incentives to get people to vote, I know I know ✨✨✨)

Thanks again for all the love guys!!! This fandom has been so good to me and I cannot thank y'all enough for making it as awesome and welcoming as it has been! <333

[saturnseuphoria]

✧ Intro post thing woohoo!!! Please pay attention to the rules :)

This intro is highly inspired by @yanderefarm 's!!✧

Minors please don’t interact! I post nsft content occasionally so I would rather you don’t be on this account at all! 

DO NOT. UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. Feed my works to AI or chatbots!

I post yandere and dead-dove content! I will try to provide accurate content warnings but please let me know if I miss something! Make sure to read the warnings carefully!

This is self explanatory BUT I DO NOT SUPPORT THE BEHAVIOR I WRITE ABOUT! This is all fantasy!

I often get demotivated so please be kind when sending asks!

Please interact! Comments, reblogs, and likes are all very appreciated!!

You are free to draw or write about my ocs but please notify me and tag me if you do!

Also I use roblox for character face claims! It's easy sue me ;(

✧ I WILL write-

Ftm!reader, Ftm!Character, Monster!reader, Dom!Reader, murder, smut [although I can’t guarantee it'll be good!], fluff, angst, general silliness, knife play, wound play[?], piss stuff, murder, dub con, non con, dead dove, [list will update as blog grows!]

✧ I WON’T write-

Fem!Reader, Fem!Character, Gn!Reader, Bottom!Reader, vore, inflation, scat, graphic vomit, period blood, period sex, [Again this list will update!]

If you want to request something I haven’t listed, please send in an ask! I know these lists are fairly brief right now!

✧ Finally my introduction! ✧

✧You can call me Saturn! I’m transmasc, use he/him and I’m 19 :) I really enjoy writing so I hope you enjoy my shitty musings! <3

✧I won’t talk on this blog about it much but I also really like musical theater so if you want to talk about that shoot me an ask! My faves are Starlight Express and Hadestown [I will make a tag to block if needed!]

Updated last: 4/3/2025

✧ Ansel ✧ ["Normal" Yandere]

✧ Ezekiel ✧ [Cultist yandere]

✧ Ansel- #"Normal" Yandere

Intro Post!

✧Ezekiel- #Cultist Yandere

Oops nothing yet! ><

Divider credits!: 

✧ Labels & Moons & Adult and Dark Content Warnings ✧

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #8729:

A couple days ago on reddit, I read an eloquently-written post about how author self-deprecation can be off-putting for readers when they open a fic. OP explained how, while they understand authors' desires to temper expectations before someone reads their fics, it primes the readers to expect lower quality. One person also commented how if the author thinks their fic is bad, then readers are going to naturally trust their opinion as a basic litmus test for if it's worth reading at all. If the author loudly declares it's not worth reading, they'll be more prone to skip it. Excessive self-reproach is also unappealing, and not something people like to see in general. Nobody likes being around someone where all they do is share negative self-talk and this goes the same for constantly running into those words online. Anyways, the OP called this "self-sabotage".

My own opinion was similar, with the added notion that insisting one's writing is horrible puts unnecessary pressure and burden on commenters to not only comment on the fic, but also address the self-deprecation specifically. A lot of people aren't equipped for this, and they feel awkward if they think they need to provide a confidence boost beyond simply saying "this fic is great". So again, people will be prone to leaving - or if they do read the fic, reading but not commenting.

This goes double if the author makes implications about the people liking the fic, such as, "this isn't worth the kudos or likes, why are you commenting, it's trash...". Because that implies the people who liked or kudos'd the fic have bad judgment and made a mistake.

Fast forward to this morning. I stumbled upon a person on tumblr who saw this post and boy, they went on a long spiel about how the post offended them, how "it's writing culture to be self-deprecating", and they missed the point entirely. Writers doubt their work a lot and are often never satisfied with it, especially if they're fervent writers who like to self-improve. But in a social context, it's simply not very appealing to constantly put yourself down. It puts pressure on other people to go above what they otherwise would have commented. It can also feel like "compliment fishing", ie. manipulative. And lacking confidence in your work isn't grounds to imply other people are idiots for liking your work, which unfortunately a lot of people do.

In a way, that person's response post reminded me a lot about the tumblr RPC. In the RPC, back when I was participating in it (thank god I no longer am), it was completely normalized (and I mean that word when I say it) to self-deprecate and put yourself down, and to also extend this to everyone. It wasn't just considered good form to say "you were a loser at your keyboard pretending to be a character" (which frankly, even the "pretending" part isn't correct, we're all just writing, we're not LARPING, I've written for 20 years and never once considered it to be "pretending"). No, you had to go beyond that and say, "we're all just dumb losers at our keyboards pretending to be fictional characters."

You can see what the problem is. And in the RPC, there are many people who post almost daily about how they suck, and how their writing is awful, and nobody likes them, which elicits lots of kind comments. The interesting part is, these comments never come from the same blogs more than a week or two in a row. They always rotate out because people get tired of propping them up over and over again. This translates to AO3 where instead of a single person self-deprecating, it's a bunch of different ones. And readers often browse lots of fics at a time, so that self-deprecation can add up to a lot of pressure, very fast. It's no wonder people made a post like the OOP did on reddit. And people like the tumblr OP? They really need to get a bit of perspective.

[sitehound]

I didn’t port her onto this blog but did you know that in Gumi’s larger narrative she adopts a little yōkai baby she finds in the dumpster? Her name is Emiri and she’s the reincarnation of a nascent dragon deity.

I don’t include Emiri because just. General timeline cleanliness + idk if people like family RP but in the ~narrative~, nebulous as it is. Gumi does take her in. I won’t ramble too much because I need sleep but a lot of Gumi is about being unorthodox and doing things on your own terms and that includes being a parent.

I’m especially fond of Gumi as a mother because she entirely lacks maternal instinct, dispelling the myth that women will just know what to do with a child if you give them one. It’s a huge learning curve for her and these two wrestle a lot for a bit before really coming to love each other. Gumi doesn’t even adopt Emiri because she feels something for her, it’s just more practical to have a nascent god in her custody rather than in another yōkai’s stomach, or for the government to experiment on.

Hotaru ends up helping a lot with Emiri which. Because I’m a social commentary bitch, highlights the importance of community raising a child rather than the expectation of it solely being placed onto the mother under the misguided belief that she’s some maternal oracle with visions of how to raise babies properly.

I like that it takes time for them to really grow into each other and for Gumi to figure out what she’s doing and showing the tears and frustration and just straight up failure that goes into parenting. Further highlighting that Gumi isn’t naturally good with people, but she tries so hard and she may be angry crying and kicking a wall but then she locks in and tries again. That relationships with others are so precious and difficult but worth working through, that it’s worth building things with other people even if you don’t always understand them.

Oops I rambled more than I meant to good night! Sorry for no writing I’m dying

[princelylove]

Good morrow, dear Prince, I hope that you are well. I just want to say that I absolutely adore your characterization of La Squadra members (they are my personal favourites), but you are one of the blogs I get most excited about when I get a notification from tumblr. I humbly enter your ask box to request any headcanons you may have regarding yandere Ghiaccio, Prosciutto, and Risotto with a darling who turns to substance abuse to cope with being held captive. Liquor (or pot) making darling more agreeable and keeping them in a head space where they can maintain a level of ignorance to their current situation (and maybe even enable darling to be more comfortable or affectionate with their captor). Would any of the yanderes be upset at darlings affections or pasivity while under the influence because a lack of sobriety could be seen as disingenuous? Many thanks to your Highness in advance <3

Good morrow to you as well, although it is evening by now. I favor them quite heavily, so they're a bit more developed than some of my other interpretations... oops.

Ghiaccio has been known to smoke every once in a while. He likes to hotbox with Melone in the bathroom, sometimes. The bathroom... that Prosciutto doesn't use. God, no way in hell. Don't smoke weed in front of Pro if you know what's good for you. Smoke a cigarette, a cigar, a cigarillo, fuckin' anything besides from weed. He'll get all prissy about the smell, and when Prosciutto isn't happy.... neither is the whole apartment.

Ghiaccio would feel better about it if his darling got their weed through him. This way, he knows it's not laced, and you're safe. His precious, pretty, stupid darling should only ever get it through him. You're really cute when you're high... but you're too trusting. It's anxiety inducing, not that he'd ever say it like that. God forbid he comes home and you're wrapped around one of those [REDACTED. REASON FOR REDACTION: CONTAINS SLUR.] cocksuckers, like Formaggio. Only he can grope you when you're barely there. You're his stupid slut.

He really likes when his darling is too high to think. He's attracted to stupid bitches (Note: he does not use the word stupid) that don't know what's good for them anyway, so stay high. In his fantasies, he likes to think about his darling on his lap like a clingy housecat while he's trying to play (insert 2000s male demographic game. My betrothed has said Call of Duty, so let's go with that. Although I have it in my head he's a Dead or Alive player.). If you're clingy when you're high, it's his heaven. Stay on his lap and fidget with him while he 'ignores' you. And don't worry, he doesn't rage that bad. ... When he's also high. He's swapped from hitting his desk to pinching his darling's ass. As hard as he can.

Prosciutto... will often mock his darling, especially if he's a man, for turning to absolutely anything as an 'out.' When you get like that, it's like you're asking for something bad to happen to you. Men should be able to tolerate liquor, too. He knows you won't be able to respond to him, but he still goes on one of his lectures anyway. "Thought we talked about this, sweetheart..."

He's really not happy about it. You ever see Prosciutto scowl? That's a joke, Prosciutto's scowl is burned into his face like 4chan is on Ghiaccio's old monitor. He'll get rid of any weed his darling has, but there's nothing he can do about any liquor because he's been known to... let's call it indulge. Prosciutto's ideal way to relax after work is sitting down with a glass of whiskey- with ice in it, in one of his special glasses he won't let anyone touch. If he needs to baby his darling about alcohol, so be it. Getting wasted is your idea of salvation? (What are you, Leone?) You're so pathetic that it agitates him.

He absolutely loathes his darling when they're inebriated. Don't cling to him, don't try to get all friendly with him now- broads shouldn't be so easy to get with and men shouldn't act like that. Tell the nurse at the hospital you fell down some stairs. Just kidding. You're not getting a hospital visit after your beating, you're getting Melone.

Risotto can't say he's fond of his darling's... habit. He's very tolerant of his darling suddenly clinging to him, but he'll often silently move the bottle out of their reach while they're distracted. He gets it. It's stressful, what he's doing, but... he's there, and you've had a bit too much. Maybe... he should be doing more to help you adjust.

Risotto's worst quality is how emotionally distant he is. He's like a father that was always there but never spoke to you. Doesn't even discipline you, Mom Prosciutto does. He's not particularly confrontational when he's not working, so he'll never bring up his distaste for it, he usually just... allows you to get it out of your system and keeps you safe during your high. He's a very good tripsitter, if you'll allow me to borrow the term. He'll let you crawl over him, kiss him, hug him, whatever you want, as long as you're within arm's-length and don't try to go anywhere. Or try to take another hit. Be good.

He's unfortunately very complicit. It's not that he doesn't know how to change the behavior, it's just.... he sort of pities his darling. He was selfish to take them. They deserve to cope, and it hurts his heart to take something comforting away from them.

He's happy when his darling's weed eventually gets taken away by Prosciutto. Now, just to prevent them from getting more...

[mxrcusflint]

getting to know mutuals!

tagged by the lovely @halestrom 💕 perfect timing bc have some new friends I wanna get to know better so!

what's the origin of your blog title? was deep into flintwood, marcusflint was taken and the x felt ~aesthetic~ enough as a replacement

otp(s) + shipname(s): jake/bradley, hangster. marcus/oliver, flintwood. steve/bucky, stucky. and a bunch of other ships but those are my main ones

favourite colour: emerald green; i had a gorgeous velvet emerald green couch but it wouldn't fit in my current place

song stuck in your head: Old Recliners by Role Model (listened on loop for recent soulmate au!)

weirdest habit/trait: if i'm eating a sandwich, at some point i'll eat it layer by layer i.e. bread -> filling -> bread

hobbies: writing, making edits, some baking, trying out new workout classes, trying out new cafes!

if you work, what's your profession? i'm a creative in tech LOL

if you could have any job you wish, what would it be? i really like my profession, but like – i do not dream of labor. I like projects tho! also think i'd be good at event organizing but not a dream.

something you're good at: writing an itinerary + scoping out food i think my friends would like

something you hate: ppl who listen to music out loud on public transit! cooked carrots!!

something you collect: stuffed plushies - gimme a cute plush thing and i'm eager to buy it

something you forget: to take my meds at night time oops

what's your love language: all...of..them... but I think gifts tbh

favourite movie/show: derry girls, arcane, ocean's eleven

favourite food: as a whole cuisine, thai food. an item? hash-browns.

favourite animal: sea otters!!!

what were you like as a child: very shy, loved reading, very unathletic lol

favourite subject at school: history + english!

least favourite subject: chemistry :( i ALMOST failed it

what's your best character trait? i think i'm pretty resilient as a person! and pretty good at holding my friend's emotions!

what's your worst character trait? I can be stubborn as shit

if you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? give myself 20/20 vision so i could stop needing to spend money to see

if you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? frida kahlo, her art haunts me

no pressure tag for @intrepidjourneys @ghostlykiss @rcgersromanoff @tornadeoqueen @magdarko @paulmezcal @urmomsonfire @pissmotif and anyone else!!