#idk if I communicated this idea well to anyone but here we are

[storywestistrash]

i am actually so tired of the way westerners treat eastern europeans

[myownprivatcidaho]

thoseve yall who were here a year ago might remember that a year ago He was liking tweets like "idk how people can cheat when im in love im obsessed😍" and "the honeymoon stage rlly doesnt die if youre with the right person🥰" and he was liking stuff like that up till recently now shit like this is in his likes something is BROKEN in him

[collaredkittyboy]

Well it's come up multiple times today so I'll make a post about it.

I think the popularization of the word "twink" has ultimately been really bad for people in general.

I know it's hard to track the positive and negative effects of language but I don't think it's hard to see how creating a word for a group of people wherein the most consistent qualifying trait is "being skinny" is healthy for people's self image. Obviously people have lots of ideas about what it means to be a twink- gay, lacking body hair, feminine, beautiful, young, white- but the most consistent descriptor I've seen is "skinny." Hell, it's even a body type on Grindr; the size below "average."

So it kind of functions as a code word in the gay community: anyone can say that they're only interested in twinks and they don't have to look shallow by saying they only like skinny guys. It's such an accepted attitude that no one really bats an eye when they hear it.

I'm not even going to get into how it's become part of the larger issue of people turning "top" and "bottom" into gender roles 2.0, but that is closely related, because people with any internalized homophobia can look at a skinny, feminine man and turn off their fag alarms by viewing him as a woman or not a "real" man, and it makes twinks more acceptable to society at large.

No, ignoring all of that, one of the biggest issues is that gay men are taught by society that they are only attractive while they are skinny. Just having the label "twink" reminds a boy that people are looking at his body and judging it. There were countless times when I was growing up that people would tell me, "You're such a twink," or argue about whether or not I qualified as a twink because I had body hair. People around you, unpromted, judge your body and give you a label based on it, and that label has a large influence on whether or not you're seen as objectively attractive. I know many other gay people who say they wish they were a twink so they could be more attractive to guys.

So think, you have all these kids growing up being told whether or not they qualify as a twink, and then we have the gay community as a whole where it's completely acceptable to say you're only attracted to twinks. I think its because of all of this pressure to be a twink (in other words, to have a below average weight) that many of the gay people that I interact with struggle with a negative body image or eating disorders.

I mean, people talk about "twink death" like it's an actual event that makes a gay man much less attractive, and no one thinks that, maybe, it's harmful to tell a guy that the very day he stops being young and thin and pretty, he will stop being attractive and celebrated?

I'm not qualified to speak on fatphobia in physical queer spaces because I don't have the ability to frequent them where I live, but I can't imagine that these aren't issues at social gatherings as well. I also can't speak on my own experiences with weight discrimination because so far in my life I have had a naturally thin body, but I have experienced a lot of outside pressure to be thin that have caused me to pick up unhealthy eating habits to reduce my weight in fear that I could become fat later on. Thankfully that is something that I've mostly been able to work past. I'm not an expert, but idk, I just wanted to rant on my silly tumblr blog.

Obviously it's impossible for a word to be inherently bad. I'm not trying to imply that saying "twink" is a magic word with evil powers. Obviously the real issues at play here are fatphobia and harmful beauty standards and body shaming. But in my opinion, the popular use of the word twink has made it much easier and acceptable to express fatphobia, etc, in the gay community by turning "skinny person" into a "type of guy that you should try to be so you can be attractive."

[thriftedtchotchkes]

the way we fight

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, drug use, canon-typical violence, slight spoilers for minor tlou 2 cutscene, jackson era, enemies to lovers, undefined age gap, sloooow buildup, smut, grinding, rough oral (male & female receiving)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: no idea how this got so long, but here we are! generally my fics are based on song lyrics, so this one goes out to my girl ari and social house. this honestly took a while to wrap my brain around and idk how the end got so filthy but alas, i really hope y'all enjoy! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated 💕

It’s always an argument with him. He’s just so stubborn. Actually, Joel Miller might be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. There’s never any room for disagreement or discussion with him—it’s his way or the highway. Half the time, you don’t even know what you’re fighting about, hurling callous, empty words at each other as if they don’t hurt. Immensely.

Maybe you really do genuinely hate each other. Or maybe it’s just for the fun of it.

It’s been like this for as long as you’ve known him, which, in hindsight, hasn’t even been that long. Probably a year? Year and a half? In all that time, you’ve never managed to crack his tough exterior and, as far as you know, no one else has, either.

The only things anyone knows for sure are that he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother and he’s got a daughter named Ellie. He hasn’t made a lot of friends here and it’s not hard to see why. He’s mean in a surly old man kind of way and rarely has anything nice to say to anyone—if he says anything at all.

Yet, somehow you still find yourself spending the majority of your time with him. It’s not something you do by choice. It’s a forced proximity thing.

You can’t tell if Tommy schedules you for patrols together because you’re the only one who hasn’t kicked up a stink about it or if he just thinks it’s funny to watch you both squirm. Most of the town thinks it’s hilarious, so you can only guess it’s the latter.

During your first few outings together, Joel wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary, and, even then, all you’d get was a grunt or some grumbled instructions. The silence got old pretty quickly. It wasn’t until you made your first mistake out in the field that he finally started communicating. Maybe a little louder than you’d hoped.

Now, Joel will pick a fight anywhere, usually over the dumbest shit. But his bark is worse than his bite—most of the time, at least.

On his worst days, his anger is explosive and it seems like he takes it out exclusively on you. It’s honestly a little ridiculous that you haven’t just asked Tommy to take you off his patrols already, but there’s a part of you that’ll never admit you actually kind of like your dynamic.

Not a lot happens in Jackson—it’s well-protected and even the community drama gets a little stale. Joel might be a dick, but he keeps things interesting, keeps you on your toes.

And it’s hard to ignore the fire in his eyes that makes you think he likes it just as much as you do.

It’s fucking freezing out and you haven’t even left for patrol yet before Joel’s muttering something condescending under his breath. Surprise, surprise—he’s in a bad mood and about to make it your problem. You throw him an unimpressed look over your shoulder, the best you can muster this early in the morning, and continue to saddle your horse.

“You wanna say that a little louder, Miller?”

He looks tired and annoyed and, god, you haven’t been awake nearly long enough for this shit. Today’s going to be trying enough as it is. You were assigned one of the longer routes and the clouds are already dark with the promise of rain or worse.

There are a few other patrol groups nearby gearing up to leave and their preparations suddenly slow, eyes darting between the two of you as if they can sense the impending argument. You barely notice their loitering, the small crowd inching forward to not-so-subtly eavesdrop.

“No, really, I’d love to hear to hear what you have to say,” you taunt him, hands settling on your hips. “Y’know, it’s really not like you to keep things to yourself. You sure you’re feeling alright today, old man?”

“Feelin’ just fine, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth, rolling his eyes. “Just hurry your ass up so we can get this over and done with. I’m not tryin’ to spend any more time with ya than I have to.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Sweetheart? That’s a new one. It sounded sarcastic as hell and a little patronizing but, still, that’s not something Joel’s ever called you before. Useless and annoying, sure, but never sweetheart.

Your stomach swoops, but you force yourself to ignore it; that’s not even remotely something you want to analyze today.

“Uh, yeah…whatever,” you eye him strangely, and he abruptly looks away, shifting his focus back to checking his saddlebags. It’s like he’s purposefully avoiding your gaze, and it’s weird. He’s acting so fucking weird today.

Sparing him one last glance, you throw a leg over your horse and start toward the gate at a slow trot. You don’t bother waiting for him to catch up.

“What’s our first checkpoint?” you call over your shoulder, but he’s somehow already right behind you, his horse falling in line with yours.

“You should already know that,” Joel sighs, brow furrowed in what you can only assume is irritation. Oh, here it comes—the inevitable lecture. He does this every single time you're on patrol, whether you’ve done something wrong or not. You must’ve really pissed him off if you’re hearing it this early.

Except—he’s not berating you. Instead, he pulls a map out of his backpack. “Alright, look,” he says, leaning in closer so you can see. “This is us right here, and—,” his index finger traces a route from Jackson, winding along a road that passes through a small neighborhood, and lands on your first stop, located a few side streets off a main road, “—we should end up here in about an hour if the weather holds up.”

Nodding, you look up at him. You hadn't realized how close his face had gotten to yours, and your lips part around an involuntary gasp. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second too long before he pulls away, folding up his map and tucking it back into his pack.

You try to convince yourself that you imagined it, that Joel Miller would never intentionally look at your lips like he wants to kiss you, but you can still feel his warm breath on your skin and it’s affecting you more than you want to admit.

This is…not at all like your normal dynamic and it’s throwing you off. Joel hasn’t raised his voice once today and, at most, he’s only made a few snide remarks that weren’t nearly as bad as they usually are.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you breathe out, creating a tiny puff of condensation in the air. “It doesn’t even feel like it's cold enough to snow, anyway. The worst we’ll probably get is some rain and we’ve ridden in way worse than that.”

All you get in response is a low grunt, and then he’s lifting the reins, leading his horse in the direction of your first checkpoint. You sigh. Guess you’re back to square one. You never thought you’d miss your spats, and can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to make him change his behavior so radically.

“Seriously, though, are you okay? You’re, like, really quiet today,” you prod, and his whole body tenses. He turns to you, expression angry, and it sends a shiver down your spine. There he is.

“Didn’t I already fuckin’ tell you I’m fine? What, you suddenly lose the ability to hear or somethin’?” He shakes his head in annoyance, and you’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore because you can’t suppress the grin that spreads across your face.

“This girl, I swear,” you hear him mutter as he trots away.

You don’t say anything to each other for the rest of the ride to the checkpoint. The crumbling attorney's office is basically the same as you remember from the last time you were here. It’s old, obviously, and musty, but it’s stocked with random provisions, like food and ammo, so patrol crews can replenish their supplies before heading out to their next destination.

There’s also a killer view of Jackson from one of the windows, and you get distracted looking out at the lights and mountains in the distance. It’s starting to flurry, so you drop your backpack on the floor and stick both hands out to catch some of the snowflakes in your palms. So much for rain.

“You dilly dallyin’ again? Just sign the logbook already so we can move the fuck on,” Joel’s voice startles you out of your reverie. Huffing, you turn away from the window, looking for the pen that’s supposed to be next to the notebook, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“You know what, asshole, you could’ve just as easily signed the damn thing yourself. You were there too, or are you getting forgetful in your old age?” you shoot back as you hunch down, getting on your hands and knees to search under the desk. You hear him scoff behind you.

You spot the pen towards the back, because of course it rolled that far, and bend down so you can reach out a little farther. Your fingers brush one end and then you’ve got it, sitting back up with your prize in hand. Looking over your shoulder, you just barely catch Joel’s eyes darting away from where you were a moment ago, basically puppy-posing on the floor. That’s…suspicious.

“The fuck? Were you just staring at my ass?” you ask incredulously. There’s no goddamn way. He snorts, arms crossed with an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You wish, sweetheart,” he says condescendingly, and there it is again. That fucking word. So, he’s calling you pet names and staring at your ass now? There’s something seriously off about him today and you want to know what his deal is.

“You wanna tell me why you keep calling me that? You’ve been acting weird as fuck all day and it’s giving me whiplash,” you glower at him, taking a seat at the edge of the desk and forgetting all about the logbook. He shrugs.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he says simply, and you squint at him.

“Seriously, Joel? You've called me sweetheart twice today and now you’re checking me out,” you hop off the desk and walk over to where he’s leaning against the wall. “If I didn’t know any better…,” you glance down at his lips, moving closer, “I’d say you were flirting with me."

Well, that made him angry. "Fuck you,” he growls in your face, and his lips are soft where they accidentally graze your cupid's bow. He’s trembling now, fists clenched at his sides, and you think he’s about to push you away when he grabs you by the hips and shoves you against the wall. Your head lolls back and you laugh cruelly.

“Yeah, Joel,” you roll your hips into his and he grits his teeth, tightening his grip. “I think that’s exactly what you wanna do.”

But before you can go any further, there’s a crash just outside the door accompanied by a familiar sound that turns your blood to ice.

It’s unmistakable. The clicking, guttural and stuttered, is followed by a high-pitched shriek that echoes throughout the small space, and you both freeze. You look up at Joel, terrified, and he raises a finger to his lips, eyes telling you to be quiet or else.

There’s no way either of you can unholster your guns—and reload, in your case—without alerting it to your position. Joel reaches for the hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and you move to do the same, only to realize it isn't there.

Fuck, it has to be somewhere. Probably in one of the dozen random holsters you have attached to you right now.

Frantic, you pat at your sides and legs—anywhere it could be—as your panicked intakes of breath gradually increase in volume. A hand slaps over your mouth, and suddenly Joel is crushing your body against the wall, halting your movements.

"Quit," he whispers harshly, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you nod quickly.

The creature abruptly changes course, jerking toward the open window, and that’s when you notice something familiar by its feet. It's—fuck, it's your backpack. And your knife is gleaming from where it sits, nestled in one of the side pockets.

Stupid, that was so stupid. If, by some miracle, this thing doesn't kill you, there’s no doubt Joel will once he realizes your mistake. His hand drops from your mouth and he glances back over his shoulder at the clicker, gripping his knife a little tighter.

He looks resolute, and it dawns on you that he’s about to make a move. It takes everything you’ve got not to grab onto his coat and pull him back to you as he slowly shifts away, but then something else stops him in his tracks.

Another screech rings out from the other side of the room, and now you know you’re fucked. There’s only one option left now. Either you run, or you get torn apart. He reaches down to take your hand in his, warring emotions of anger and fear in his eyes as he looks into yours, and squeezes; it’s now or never.

The path to the doorway you came through is somehow miraculously clear, and Joel takes off at a sprint, dragging you with him but, to his horror, you decide to do yet another stupid thing.

For reasons you can’t explain, you find yourself ripping your hand out of his, swerving to snatch your backpack from where it lies just a few feet from the clicker.

Joel is yelling, or at least you think he is, and you vaguely feel his blunt nails scratch the back of your hand as he reaches out to stop you, but he can’t. You’re moving on autopilot, can barely register your body moving at all, until your fingertips skim the strap of your pack and the clicker is shrieking in your face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to one before, even dead, and it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. The world freezes for a moment and you freeze with it, unable to move or look away from the fungus erupting from its skull, teeth gnashing inches away from your throat.

And then you feel warmth—warm, strong arms wrap around your waist and tug harder and harder until you’re back out in the cold. Joel spots his horse a short distance away, likely spooked by the commotion, but you can’t see much farther than that. What was a gentle flurry less than a half hour ago has become a violent blizzard, and you’re both getting pelted by ice that burns as it scrapes across your skin.

There’s one horse—just Joel’s horse—but there’s no time to think about the fate of your own before his hands are on your hips, lifting you up and into the saddle, and he’s climbing on in front of you.

He urges his horse forward and you’re off without so much as a glance behind you, galloping away from danger and down a street that you realize you actually recognize.

“Joel,” you squeeze his waist and he ignores you. He’s shaking and it’s definitely not just from the cold. You can feel the anger radiating off of him in waves and it’s warranted. You fucked up big time. “Joel, turn right,” you say a little louder, and he’s still not listening. “Turn right! There’s a library up ahead, you have to turn now!”

He growls, and you think he’s purposely going to miss the turn until he’s yanking the reins to the right, nearly throwing you both off the horse.

“You better know what the fuck you’re doin’,” he all but shouts back, and you wrap your arms around his waist a little tighter.

“It’s safe!” you yell, struggling to speak loud enough for him to hear you over the wind. “Ellie’s been there before, loads of times, and she says it’s safe. “

And that’s all it takes to convince him.

The library’s completely boarded up and, with the wind howling against your backs, it takes more than a few hard tugs to yank enough of them off to get inside the lobby with Joel’s horse.

He hands you the reins before moving into the next room, crouching along the rows of aging books and knocked-over bookcases, and you peek in, watching him anxiously. Cracked bricks litter the ground, and he steps over a few as he crouches into place behind a broken book cart.

He picks one up and then shoots you a look, eyebrows lifting pointedly, and you realize he wants you to get back into the lobby, out of sight. You duck behind the wall, placing a soothing hand on his horse right as you hear the sound of the brick shattering against the ground, and wait. A few agonizing seconds pass before you hear him throw one more a little farther out, just to be sure.

When nothing startles or jumps out, Joel whistles and you know that’s your cue to come out from your hiding spot. Normally, that would piss you off immensely, him whistling for you like you’re a fucking animal, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

You’re exhausted now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, and the only thing you want to do is curl up into one of the torn-up chairs in the corner and pass out until morning. But that’s not what Joel has in mind.

“Y’think you’re off the hook for the shit you pulled earlier?”

You sigh, head tipping back and thumping against the bookcase behind you. “Do we have to do this right now? Joel, I’m tired and hungry, and fucking cold, and I really don’t have the energy.”

��Seriously? Sure looked like ya had the energy when you were runnin’ straight into that clicker’s mouth,” he scowls, reaching down to grab something next to the book cart and throwing it at your feet. “Thought ya might want this back since you apparently decided it was worth more than your life.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, eyebrows pinching together. Joel…he—

It's your backpack.

You were so sure it got left behind when he saved you from that clicker and yet, there it is. You lean over to pick it up, but Joel kicks it out of reach before you get the chance. He looks livid and now, you realize, you’re about to get that lecture you dodged earlier tenfold.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Me? I'm not the one having an identity crisis! You’ve been nothing but distracting all damn day,” you scoff bitterly. “None of this would've happened if you hadn't had a complete personality makeover overnight.”

You can’t believe he…is he serious? There’s no way you’re taking the fall for this, not all of it. Yeah, you fucked up with the backpack, but Joel isn't entirely blameless, either. If you hadn’t been fighting again, you would’ve just signed the stupid logbook and moved on like you were supposed to.

"Yeah, alright, sweetheart. It's my fault you almost got us both killed. Maybe you’re forgettin’ I saved your goddamn life back there, somethin' I wouldn't have had to do if you hadn't gone and done something so fuckin’ stupid."

Sweetheart.

"Stop calling me that! I…fuck, Joel, I just don't get you. I get it—I know I fucked up, but…,” your voice cracks and you can feel your lower lip wobbling, but you can’t let yourself cry. That would only prove to Joel what he already knows—you’re weak. “I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “You really wanna know what I want from ya?” He crowds your space, leaning in slightly. His head tilts like he's going to kiss you, and your breath hitches. “I want ya to get your shit together and stop makin’ unnecessary mistakes,” he says cruelly instead.

Your jaw drops.

"No, you know what? Fuck this,” you seethe. “When we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to never put me on your patrols again. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Think I give a shit about that? Go ahead, you’d be doin’ me a favor!” he yells at your back as you storm away, and you flip him off over your shoulder. Behind you, he sighs heavily, sounding as worn out and frustrated as you feel.

What a load of bullshit. You don't deserve to be treated like this. There's a stark difference between the inconsequential arguments you normally have and whatever the hell that was.

And the worst part? It hurts so much more than you expected it to. Leave it to you to get attached to the asshole whose personal mission it is to make you miserable. This whole thing was fun while it lasted, but you meant what you said. You and Joel, it’s over.

You exhale wetly, tears still threatening to fall as you leave him behind in what the yellowing signs tell you is the romance section. Well, isn’t that ironic.

You quickly realize navigating the library in the dark is more difficult than you anticipated, even with your flashlight. Not even ten steps away from where you started, you trip over something protruding from the ground and almost land flat on your face.

Joel comes running over as you let out a frustrated noise and push yourself up onto your knees. His knife is at the ready like he was expecting danger but, no, it’s just you humiliating yourself even further. He lets out a relieved sigh, holstering his knife, but then just stands there glaring down at you.

“I’m fine, by the way,” you wave a hand from the ground. He shakes his head, reaching down to help you up, and his hand feels so nice in yours—big, strong, and calloused.

You curse yourself for still thinking about him like that, like anything at all, but you can't help it. And when his hand drops yours, it feels distinctly cold and empty.

Shaking it off, you aim your flashlight at the offending spot on the floor. “What is that, anyway?” you ask Joel as he crouches down to brush away some of the dirt and debris.

“A handle,” he mumbles, pulling out his knife again and digging it into a crack in the floor, tracing around what looks like…a door?

“Is that a trapdoor?” You lean over his shoulder to get a better look. He looks back at you and nods, looking a little less angry and a lot more concerned. “Well, should we check it out?”

Instead of answering you, he wrenches the door open and shines his flashlight into the opening. There’s a ladder leading down and you can hear something rumbling below that sounds like a generator.

“Stay here,” he eyes you sternly as he begins his descent down the ladder.

“Uh, yeah, that’s not happening,” you scoff, following him. The ladder’s longer than you expected, and once your feet touch the ground, you reach out to run your hands along the wall, searching for a light switch.

A few moments later, your fingers come across something vaguely switch-like and you flip it, a warm glow filling the room, emanating from about a dozen heat lamps hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes adjust and—

“No fucking way.”

Joel is silent beside you, and you glance over, his expression just as stunned as yours is. You step closer. “Is that…?”

“Weed,” he breathes out.

You didn’t mean to get this high. Really, you didn’t. But you're in a fucking grow room hidden beneath a library in some tiny, backwater town, and you almost just died. So really, what reason was there not to?

The blizzard’s still going strong outside and, at the very least, it’s nice and warm down here. There's also the added bonus of something fun to do while you wait it out.

…Yeahhh, so you might’ve found a mason jar full of already rolled joints between some couch cushions, literally just sitting there for the taking. What were you supposed to do? Not smoke them?

But what surprises you even more than the pot itself is that Joel is smoking it, too.

It’s cute how he coughs after every drag, eyes watering as you pass a joint back and forth. The air is thick with smoke and a strange tension that neither of you can really describe, but you’re not fighting anymore. Not yet, at least.

The couch you're sitting on is cozy and less tattered than the chairs upstairs, so you settle there for the night, sitting closer than you ever willingly have before. Enough time has passed that you’re beginning to realize neither of you plans on moving, either. That you’re actually enjoying each other’s company.

The warmth of him seeps pleasantly through your clothes, and he feels so solid and real against you. Unconsciously, you melt into his side, your fuzzy brain chemicals urging you to feel more, more of him, and he tenses only for a moment before lifting an arm to rest behind you on the back of the couch.

It's strange how readily he's accepting your touch now. With each drag, you feel a little braver and press more of your body into his, draping your legs across his lap and nesting your head in the crook of his neck. He goes boneless when you mouth damply at the skin just below his jaw, his throat rumbling under your lips as he lets out a ragged breath.

You’ve both loosened up so much since earlier. It’s an easy, comfortable sort of peace you’ve found down here, even after the horrors you experienced earlier in the day. Part of you wishes it could always be like this with Joel but, then again, that just wouldn’t be you and Joel.

Your relationship thrives on the way you fight, almost like you can’t exist together without the promise of battle. So, when the high wears off and the world feels less lazy and more dire, you’ll both remember with sharp clarity that you hate each other. The memories will fade away and the war will continue. That’s just how it is.

It’s a little sad when you think about it, but for at least a little while longer, you’ll still have this version of you and Joel. You’ll enjoy the way he feels pressed up against your body; the way he feels pliant and suggestible under your lips.

And you’ll ask the question that’s been eating away at you all day because right now, you’re positive your lips can convince him to do anything.

“Tell me why you keep calling me sweetheart,” you murmur against his skin. He freezes, clearly not expecting you to bring it up again. You lift the blunt to his lips and encourage him to inhale to calm his nerves. The smoke plumes from his nose like a dragon as he exhales, and you're enraptured by the way it swirls through the air before dissipating. He braces a hand on your thigh before responding.

"Well, I…uh—," he mumbles, his cheeks turning a deep shade of burgundy, and you can’t resist reaching out to stroke the heated skin with your fingertips. He breathes shakily as he continues, "I—had a dream about ya last night, and…you, uh—you were…"

He cuts himself off, and your mind goes fuzzy for a moment as you let that little bit of information sink in. So, Joel was dreaming about you last night…and now, he’s treating you so much differently. Calling you pet names, eyeing you up, touching you. It all makes sense—but now you need him to tell you everything.

"What was I doing in your dream, Joel?"

He meets your gaze, looking flustered and a little ashamed, and it's a far cry from the man who was yelling at you not even an hour or two ago.

"You, uh," he clears his throat, still hesitating. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, sucking it wetly into your mouth, and his eyes darken. He lifts a thumb to your mouth, tugging your lip down just slightly, and you can see the moment his apprehension disappears. "You were on your knees for me," he murmurs. "Doin' such a good job, too, workin' that pretty mouth of yours."

You inhale sharply and his thumb drops, but his eyes never leave your lips. Gingerly, you pluck the joint still burning between his fingers and take one last deep drag before flicking the rest to the side and crashing your lips onto his.

God, they feel exactly like you thought they would, soft and a little chapped from the cold, but so fucking eager against yours. You hold his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along the roughness of his beard, and he groans as you exhale into his mouth, tasting the smoke on your tongue.

Sighing, you lean back slowly, heavy-lidded eyes roving over his face to take in his kiss-swollen lips and that beautiful burgundy flush. He's so pretty, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his thick, graying hair as he pants heavily below you.

You need to feel more of him, all of him, so you climb into his lap, straddling his hips and grinding down against where he's already straining in his pants. He grips you tighter in response, working you steadily across his hardening cock.

"Keep going,” you moan breathily. You're already so wet, and heat blooms in your belly every time your clit grazes the seam of his jeans. It's a foggy, hazy pleasure, what you feel when he speaks, and you're addicted to it. “Keep telling me about your dream—a-about my mouth…I wanna hear more.“

You feel rather than hear him growl low in his throat as he ducks his head down to your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin.

“Your mouth…so fuckin’ wet—s-soft and tight around my cock,” he sucks hard under your jaw, and you gasp. “Takin’ me all the way down, like I always knew you could.”

Your breath hitches, eyes rolling back. The thought of him dreaming about his cock down your throat makes your cunt pulse, and now you're positive you're soaking through his pants.

You bet he thinks about it when you're on patrol together, too—that when you're fighting like you've both got something to prove, he's thinking about shutting you up with his cock. Fucking your mouth to show you that what he says goes.

"M-more, Joel…ngh, fuck, I need more," you reach down to shove his shirt up so you can feel him, his stomach flexing and unflexing under your palms. He starts to buck into your clothed pussy faster, like he's fucking you through the fabric, and you whine pathetically as he tugs hard on your hair, yanking your head to the side.

"S’alright, n-needy girl, 'm gonna tell you exactly how I was fuckin' that sweet mouth of yours last night…h-how you were—," he groans raggedly in your ear, voice cracking, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat racing between your legs. "…c-chokin' and gaggin' around my cock while I was cummin' down your throat…"

He keeps giving you what you asked for, tells you all the filthy shit he wants to do to your mouth, and his hips start to stutter like he's bringing himself closer to orgasm with his own words. It would make a lot of sense—Joel's always loved the sound of his own voice, especially when it's directed at you.

But you can’t hear much of anything anymore aside from the sound of your own stuttered moaning, suddenly so, so close to hurtling over the edge with him. You’re sliding so easily over his cock now and you brace your hands on his shoulders as your thighs start to quake around his waist. He digs his fingers into the plush curve of your ass, pulling you down harder, but you squeeze his shoulders roughly to get his attention.

“Y-you—Joel, you can’t cum,” you whine into his neck, and he all but snarls in response. “No…no, no, no. Want you t-to fuck my mouth—you have to cum in my mouth—”

He abruptly yanks you off his lap, shoving you back onto the couch and wrenching your jeans and underwear down in two hard tugs.

You barely have time to let out a squeal before he buries his face in your cunt, honing in on your clit and sucking wetly. He flattens his tongue, circling once, twice, three times, and then you’re cumming with a loud exhale, gushing as you grind into his face.

Your pussy’s still pulsing, locking down around nothing, as you tug him off of you by his hair.

“Joel—jeans..o-off…now.” You help him push them down just enough to free his cock, and then your mouth is on him, sucking him down to the hilt.

His hips buck off the couch of their own accord and he groans pathetically as you gag around him. He’s petting your head and saying something raggedly above you, likely apologizing for hurting you, but it’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

Instead of pulling off to reassure him that you very much want him to keep gagging you, you guide his hands to bury themselves in your hair and squeeze his thigh, praying he gets the hint. His fingers tense against your scalp as he holds you in place and, yeah, he absolutely gets it.

Your head feels like it’s disconnecting from the rest of your body as he starts fucking into your mouth the way he was probably dreaming about last night. He’s just so fucking big, and you feel a weird sort of pride bloom in your chest at being able to take him like this.

Tears are streaming down your face from the effort and you’re drooling all over his lap but, fuck, if he wants to do this every time you patrol together, you’ll let him. You take back everything you said before—if Tommy ever takes you off Joel’s patrols, you’ll kill him.

His fingers start to tug harder, painfully at your hair and you can hear him moaning something above you, his words slurred and desperate.

“S-so fuckin’ good, sweetheart, you’re…ngh—fuckin’ perfect,” he grits through his teeth, breath hitching as you wrap your lips tighter around him, flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. “‘m gonna cum…fuck, fuck—need you t-to swallow it all, sweetheart… know you can do it…so goddamn good.”

Humming and swallowing around him, you reach up to cup his balls and he erupts, pumping thick cum into your mouth and down your throat. Deep groans are punched out of his chest with every spurt and you can feel his cock pulsing against your tongue.

There’s so much of it. You try your best to do what he asked, to be good and swallow everything, but it’s starting to leak out the corners of your mouth and down his cock. Slurping up as much as you can, you pull off with an audible pop and lick off the rest of the salty, white streaks remaining on his skin.

When your watery eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at you like maybe he really has been dreaming this whole time. He’s still a little dazed, from both the weed and the intense orgasm, and he reaches out to cradle your face in his hands almost as if to prove to himself that you’re real. It’s a surprisingly tender gesture that kind of makes your heart ache.

Your lips quirk up as you lean into his touch, aching to prolong the moment, and he leans forward to press a sweet kiss to them, mouth coaxing yours open to taste himself on your tongue. You whine softly as his tongue runs along your bottom lip, and then he pulls back, hauling you into his arms to lie back on the couch.

Those heat lamps feel unbearable now. You're both hot and sweating, chests heaving from exertion, but you still refuse to separate from each other. Your brain’s feeling a lot less foggy, so you’re probably coming down from your high, which means Joel is, too. The realization sends a pang of worry through your chest like you expect him to suddenly come to and push you away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls your back to his chest, positioning your bodies more comfortably before murmuring fondly in your ear, "You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Maybe you’ll get to keep this after all—and without sacrificing everything that makes you and Joel, well…you and Joel. You twist around to shoot him an unimpressed look, but the burgeoning grin on your face betrays you.

“What, you’re just figuring that out? Took you long enough.”

He scoffs. “Listen, sweetheart—“ But you gasp, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. No, way. How are you just putting two and two together now?

“Wait…oh my god, wait—is this why you keep calling me sweetheart? Because it's what you called me when I was blowing you in your sex dream?” You’re grinning so hard it hurts. How the fuck didn't you notice that earlier?

There was plenty of time to work it out when you were all but fucking on the couch for the past hour. But then…he didn’t actually start calling you sweetheart until he was cumming, and the realization makes your cunt throb. You file that information away for now, but make a mental note to come back to it later—hopefully back in Jackson with Joel.

…who’s still mumbling irritatedly into your shoulder. You tilt your head back to press your lips under his jaw, and you're quickly learning that kissing that particular spot turns him to jelly.

“You can keep calling me sweetheart,” you start, thinking over your next words carefully. “But I’ve got conditions.”

“Oh, she’s got demands now,” you can hear the dramatic eye roll in his voice. You suck a bruise into his skin to stop the back sass and it works spectacularly.

“Oh, shut up. It benefits you too, asshole,” you glare up at him before continuing. “I want your dick in my mouth every time we patrol from now on. And next time, you have to fuck me.”

His fingers dig into your sides, and you’re pretty sure you just felt his cock twitch against your ass.

“…Y-yeah, I, uh. I can do that,” he stutters, suddenly demure, and it dawns on you how much you like seeing all these different sides of Joel. He’s been mean and angry, shy and tender, and so fucking sexy all in the span of a single day. It's not something you ever would've expected from him.

You used to think he was just some grumpy old man and that his one personality trait was being an obnoxious jerk, but tonight you were proven very, very wrong.

You pull his arms tighter around you, let yourself get lost in the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back, and hum contently. You’ll have to thank Ellie and her weed-grower friend later.

“Y’know, I almost thought you were gonna say no more fighting,” he says after a few seconds of silence. You look up at him incredulously, and he chuckles.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

[nohoperadio]

Imagine a far-future society, we don't know what's happened but the Earth is dead, I'm vaguely picturing them all living on space stations or something, there are only precious few species of plants and animals being kept alive, very few indeed, you couldn't quite count the remaining species on your fingertips but you could certainly check out all of their Wikipedia pages within the space of an hour. Future Wikipedia I guess, I mean whatever it is they have. No edible fruit or vegetables have survived at all, I'm not sure what they do for food, something futuristic presumably. Some kind of... future powder?

But there's this project that's been in the works for decades, they've figured out they can synthesize an apple. I don't know how that works, but the scientists have figured out a way. They're going to make an apple and this is like landing on the moon for them, everyone's insanely hyped about it, nobody's seen an apple for millennia... well see part of what's going on here is that the historiography of the time back when Earth still existed is irreparably bad now, it's super impressionistic because so little survived. And I guess partly because the Genesis story has been all blown out of proportion (there's more to it but that's a big part of it) these guys have a really exaggerated idea of the importance of apples to Earth humans, they basically imagine us eating apples all day long and worshiping apple gods and making apple art and all stuff like that. It's pretty silly but remember they have NO fruit or veg, they eat powder or whatever it was I said, they don't even have a rough concept of what "eating an apple" might be, like does it get you high for example? I bet they think it does, like a really spiritual special kind of high! They must have embellished it so much right? Gotten real carried away.

So like I say it's really hype, they're going to finally make an apple! A real one I mean, not like an approximation of what some scientists theorize an apple might be like, they've figured out how to definitely do it accurately (somehow, idk, just trust the omniscient narrator that they're doing it for real). But: they can only make one. Too much resources required or some shit, like I said this is their equivalent to the first moon landing except maybe more so, it's not a sustainable plan to reintroduce apple trees or something, they can only make one apple ever and that'll be it.

So as you can imagine, quite apart from all the scientific resource that's gone into this project, there's been a ton of resource invested into (not to mention endless public fascination and debate over) the question: who gets to eat the apple? It's a big deal! Everybody envies whoever's gonna eat it; most people also don't envy them. Since time immemorial, the essence of the apple has been defined by centuries and millennia of myth and speculation and storytelling holding together scattered fragments of a mysterious glorious past. Very soon, the essence of the apple will be defined by whatever this guy says it is, whatever the apple eater manages to communicate of the ineffable experience that will always be theirs alone. Humanity will demand a report, and the apple eater will have to be a poet of rarest genius at the very minimum to be trusted to deliver it, they hold the most privileged position maybe anyone will ever hold by being allowed to do this, and all that will remain of that briefest experience for all eternity will be their words. They're an instant prophet, no questions asked. I don't know about you, but if that was me I would definitely shit myself.

Well anyway forget about all that stuff. I was only thinking of this because it occurs to me, you're kind of like the apple eater of your own life, right? I mean nobody's making a big song and dance of it like those crazy apple space freaks, but it's true no?, you *pokes you in the face quite hard* with your highly specific soul positioned in your highly specific situation, that's only going to happen once, you're the only one who's ever going to know what that's like, assuming you aren't going to give some sort of big testimony, somehow. Only difference is like I say, no one really cares in your case, although actually I do sometimes, I hope that doesn't weird you out. I'm just saying imagine being asked the question! As if the answer really did matter! In theory anybody could just walk up to you and do that! I promise I won't ask you, if you promise you won't ask me.

[fuckyeahmhawkefenris]

It is unbearably quiet on tumblr lately, and what little talking there is, it's all about the next game. Yeah, we're no longer in 2012, I get it.

I'll just keep entertaining myself however I can.

I've always wanted to talk about one fic I secretly refer to as one of the hidden gems in the fenhawke archives. I have never ever seen anyone bring it up, and in all these years I've never dared to recommend it to anyone... Don't think you can even find it so easily? For good reason tbh...

Thing is, it's a fill for da kink community on livejournal. Anyone remember that place? The safe haven where anyone could anonimously submit the kinkiest most shameless things you could think of - offering prompts, filling them... Those were some desperate times when we were painfully low on content, and it was very hard to find something to read. Finding a story with characterization that suited your vision was near impossible!

I myself was desprate enough to brave through countless pages of imageries I could not stomach, skimming through them just to get the general idea until something captured my attention.

So I found this, and honestly, to this day to me it is one of the best examples of... idk, not just good characterization, but the overall feeling of the fenhawke relationship, why I can't let go of them after 12 years? It's all subjective, of course, but no fanfic ever resonated with me as deeply as this. Also back then mage Hawke was not very popular and most stories featured rogues... I used to be very sad and lonely!

Warning: it's extremely triggery. I wouldn't even recommend reading the first part at all, because it's too difficult and painful to get through. Hell, I couldn't read it! I was looking through the text very VERY briefly to get only the most basic and vague understanding of what was happening, and it was still hard! There is a lot of abuse, rape, slavery things...

To get the idea:

The Alone quest did not get resolved as planned. Danarius managed to win that battle, captured Fenris and returned to Tevinter, gravely injuring Hawke in the process (Fenris thought he was killed). To break the remains of his will, Danarius threatens to erase Fenris's memories of Hawke, and he succumbs and stops resisting altogether. I don't want to recall the details, but it was awful. Go straight to part 17 (it's a flashback) to read a very lovely take on fenhawke first night together. It's super sweet and gentle, though painfully sad in context. Still, beautiful. Well, it gets worse before it gets better! Somewhere in part 19 Fenris's friends come for him (they sailed all the way here on Isabela's new ship) and he's rescued. What follows is an exceptionally touching tender reunion with Hawke. Oh, and then, once all is settled comes the second part - All the King's men, which is much less controversial and fairly easy to read. Fenris copes with his experiences, and Hawke is always there for him. There are some truly fantastic moments as they slowly get close to each other again! Isabela is pretty great here, and Anders... sorta made me warm up to his character? And it's all fairly believable and close to how we see them in the game.

I'm saying all this and linking this fic on the off chance that someone with tastes similar to mine ever needs something like it. I know I am grateful it exists, and still hold it very dear to my heart. Definitely never regretted finding it!

[rayssyscourse]

syscourse hot take (more like syscourse tired take honestly) "pro/neutral/anti-endo": for anyone who's endogenic in any way, or even just previously thought they were endogenic, it's really tiring (and not conducive to constructive conversation) to have so many syscourse labels revolve around...an innate aspect of someone's lived experience. Like. We are fully aware that plenty of people who label themselves "anti-endo" don't necessarily think that endogenic systems are fake and/or evil etc, that's just purely a demonstrably true statement. We don't even think that the people using "anti-endo" that way are necessarily Terrible People for doing so. Simultaneously, though, speaking as a system who spent years thinking we were 100%-basic-vanilla-endogenic but still wanted to take part in nuanced discussions around system experiences and offer our perspectives on discourse--seeing 'anti-endo' or even 'endo-neutral' always still...stung a little? Even when someone was conversing in good faith. Like, the idea that it was acceptable for our personhood (which really is what it felt like the arguments were about! whether one of us was 'just a made-up daydream' and not a person) to be up for debate, that it was an acceptable "political football" or thing to be "neutral" about...wasn't a good feeling. And honestly, even though we technically have a DID dx on paper these days, we still get that little flicker of distrust whenever we see 'anti-endo' in someone's bio--because we're still exactly the same system that we were before, and if they wouldn't have believed us about our experiences then...why do they think so much depends on some rubber-stamp diagnosis? what do they think changed? We don't have a good answer to this problem, though. Telling people that they're automatically terrible bigots for not labeling themselves pro-endo doesn't feel like it'll actually solve anything, because crucially I don't think that most of the "doesn't actually believe endos are fake or bad"-anti-endos are calling themselves that for a reason that simply shaming them sufficiently will change. Also, the internet is a big place, and expecting everyone to be up-to-date on every possible niche discourse stance is absurd--and if someone really just wants to stay the heck away from system discourse entirely, they should be able to. But also...yeah, we wish they'd use different words. Don't use "anti-[unchangeable aspect of someone's identity]" and not expect it to feel hurtful to see. "Well, I just don't want people Like That interacting with me..." what if they just thought your art was cool? What if they agreed with your hot take about [insert fandom here]? Who else are you 'anti', not because you disagree with some opinion they hold, but purely because you're 'nothing like them'? Idk. It's frustrating, and I wish we had some kind of easy, magic solution.

thank you!! this is a really well written thought, and i fully agree.

to be honest, this is one of (admittedly many) reasons i dropped pro/anti-endo labels altogether. not only can they come across as denying somebody's existence, but i feel like we just don't fit in simple boxes like that. i mean, "pro-endo" can mean any plethora of things: it could mean the person is endogenic, they support endos, they don't engage in syscourse/just don't care, they just disagree with anti-endo points, etc etc. in the same way, "anti-endo" can also mean a million things. some anti-endos think endos are all faking, some think they're misinformed, some believe they exist but think they're spreading too much misinfo, some think they're doing harm to traumagenic communities, etc. i also just don't like the black-and-white way those labels portray us. somebody being pro-endo doesn't mean they support every single endo, it doesn't mean they necessarily support radqueers (weird misconception i see a lot), and it doesn't mean they have no criticisms of the endogenic community. i know a lot of anti-endos who fully believe and don't hate endos but just have criticisms of the label and/or community, who are often assumed to hate all endos or think all endos are faking because the label is just too broad and comes across completely wrong.

sorry to ramble on for so long in one giant paragraph lol. tl;dr, you're so right, say it louder for the people in the back!!

[sassykinzonline]

sometimes its actually alarming HOW uncritically the naruto fandom looks at the text like because something isnt "shown" in canon/on-screen (it usually is, but just implicitly) people think it means it couldnt have happened and therefore making sweeping statements about the character like "theyre just weak" or "they make no sense"

as usual im going to focus on naruto (😌) heres an example but it applies to many others (itachi, gaara, neji, hinata,...me)

here are some things we know about naruto:

he is inexplicably talented at taijutsu despite having no mentor

he created sexy jutsu for attention from older men (he craves a father figure)

he is rather repulsed by affection aside from certain people

he relies on shadow clones to outnumber his enemies and protect him from damage, as well as acting like diversions (he only later on seems to learn to use them practically as well, and he doesnt use them as an actual team iirc)

he represses his memories and life severely if they cause him distress or negative emotion, and when he doesnt do that it causes him to lose complete control of himself in anger

some of these things are basic signs of a child who has been abused in multiple ways (particularly verbally, physically, and sexually), but also just logically how is it possible that naruto became proficient at taijutsu when he didnt train with anyone and had no teacher to correct him? why would it be important to naruto to have, what are essentially, human shields? why does naruto freely tolerate physical abuse he receives while others openly complain about it? why would that lead to naruto eventually wanting to defend/protect everyone in tandom with ANOTHER orphan who feels the same? why would WE not be able to have a clear directly depicted answer to this as a reader?

idk to me personally there are a lot of things people say are "headcanons" are just things they logically put together based on subtext, and theres a reason why a vast majority of people who read the same text come to the same conclusion. it seems like this is a lot less common in manga form (i dont read manga so i wouldnt know, i understand different mediums have different communication norms but some things are just literary basics), so its the first time ive encountered this "why does everyone believe in [some idea not said in plain english]? it's never said anywhere!" logic...it doesnt need to be. there are certain clues and patterns youre supposed to be able to draw conclusions for based on common life experiences (archetypes/universal symbols).

if you can do these above steps and come to a conclusion, and a plurality of people come to the same conclusion, it was probably intentional on the author's part. if the author explicitly states its not intentional, then sure, but that doesnt take away from how/why the story is impactful because the author may not even realize theyre doing it. an easy example i can think of is tsunade's fear of blood, where its meant to symbolize death, but in her case also ends up symbolizing love wrt her relationships with naruto and jiraiya. and thanks to blood gaining this symbolism through tsunade, when you see uchiha tears of blood, you instantly make those same connections. then you think back to gaara screaming about having never seen his blood (coming from his forehead where that tattoo of his is......), then the eventual resolution of that being an inversion of the symbolism the manga establishes when he battles his father during the war.

more than anything though i find it kind of concerning that adults sit around laughing at obviously what is meant to be traumatic. as if there arent people in your life who sit around with these same experiences and signs, with something they havent told you about because theyre afraid youll laugh at them.

[i-heart-hxh]

In all honesty why do you think Killua made the number two comment to Gon? I feel like he doesn’t realize how messed up that is to say to someone who has gone through extensive trauma trying to prove himself to a father who also put him in “second place” to something he deemed more important. It was hurtful and I don’t see how that can be repaired now. Even if they do reunite Gon is going to just step on eggshells and fear that even one slip up will cause Killua to just leave him again. Idk I just feel like separation wasn’t the solution here. They needed to talk and then stay together. But “taking a break” rarely works out for any relationship. It also sucks that Gon constantly told Killua how important he was to him but Killua NEVER returned this sentiment verbally so Gon’s just stuck thinking he’s a piece of shit who destroyed his most important relationship. Killua really did just say “screw Gon I have Alluka now”.

Hello!

I don't agree with this interpretation at all; to me, there are a number of complex reasons why Killua made that comment, and I don't think it will destroy their relationship by any means.

This post--In-Depth analysis on the Hidden Reasons behind Gon & Killua's separation scene (ep 147) Why Gon is 'Number 2'--is the best starting point for anyone trying to understand the separation, in my opinion. It's cohesive, uses supporting evidence from the series and demonstrates the careful wording used in the separation, and it makes more sense than any other interpretation I've read of why Killua would make such a comment to Gon. I keep referring back to this post because I truly think it holds keys to understanding the separation that other posts I've seen don't.

In addition to the insight provided in that post--where Killua is trying to put some distance between him and Gon for Gon's safety and well-being, essentially--I also think it's:

a) Partly how Killua is trying to steel himself to leave Gon, by telling himself, Gon, and Alluka that Alluka is his priority for now

b) Part of Killua's campaign of teasing Gon lightheartedly on the topic, to bring it up while at the same time downplaying the emotional effects of what happened between them--because when they're separating is not the right time for them to seriously address it or work through it

I do think the second place comment hurt Gon a little, but...Gon is already aware that he hurt Killua, and after his life was literally saved by Alluka (Nanika), being put in "second place" is not the worst outcome ever, honestly. Plus, it confirms he's still one of the most important people to Killua even after everything that happened between them! Killua is not saying Gon is trash to him now, even though it is a bit of a jab.

I've also said before that I think Togashi had Killua make this comment with awareness that we, as the audience, would be like, "Uh-huh Killua, sure, interesting of you to say this so shortly after you centered your entire life on him for basically the whole series and even seriously considered doing a lovers suicide with this guy..." We're most likely supposed to see it as Killua not being fully honest, even though Alluka does obviously mean a lot to Killua and by necessity she has to be his priority now. Plus, even Alluka herself says she'll give Killua back to Gon after a while. She must have some idea of how much Gon means to Killua, to be so willing to "give him back." I've said this before, but I see this line from Alluka about giving Killua back to Gon as a promise from Togashi to the audience that this isn't forever.

Gon isn't clueless; he knows Killua cares about him even though Killua struggles to express it verbally. The degree of trust and unspoken understanding between them in the dodgeball match is a good (albeit complicated) example of this. The two didn't communicate to the degree they needed to during Chimera Ant Arc, which makes sense because they're young and have their own issues and it was terribly traumatic for both for them, but they also have a good understanding of each other overall, and it's not giving Gon enough credit to assume he has no idea just because Killua hasn't said it. He doesn't know the full extent of Killua's feelings for him, certainly (I hope he will someday!), but he is aware Killua cares about him. Even when it comes to the separation, Killua expressing his pain shows that he still cares about Gon! He's saying that what happened still hurts, because he still cares! He's making light of it, but it's honestly a step in the right direction for him to be discussing it at all. If they can't be honest with each other about how what happened impacted them, they can't heal.

Of course it would be better for their relationship if they talked it out fully and came to some sort of resolution, but neither of them were in a place where they could do that quite yet. Killua is too closed up emotionally and hurting from seeing Gon essentially die in front of him, and Gon needs to recover from essentially throwing his life away and saying those things to Killua that we know he regrets. They do need some time apart to reflect and grow.

Are the two boys in a complicated emotional situation currently? Yes. Do I think this dooms them to never reconnect or heal their relationship? Absolutely not. I see their separation as more of a "We gotta go our separate ways for now because we both have things we have to deal with," (both externally and internally) than anything final. They agree to stay in touch, they express sadness at having to part, they make it clear several times that this is a temporary parting. Why make them clearly unsatisfied with having to part if they're not going to have an opportunity to make things right later?

[dimonds456]

Okay Undertale community:

Since Undertale Yellow, I have been thinking.

UTY placed itself so firmly in the timeline, with so much to say, so much added to the worldbuilding (in a good way), so many wonderful characters, new locations, ect. that I believe we can make a prequel for each of the SOULs.

The hardest to do will probably be Integrity since their story intertwines so well with Clover's, and we hear about their actions at least twice if not more.

The only thing we gotta be aware of is that Flowey absolutely wouldn't exist before this point. He wouldn't have seen any other humans fall down, since Flowey is a more recent experiment. The Amalgamates, too, are relatively new in the Underground's history. So they might not exist.

If we were to create a prequel for Integrity, it should do something similar to UTY and create new characters, new locations, visit the old locations sparingly, and of course, end somewhere before New Home, since each soul made it a bit further and further than the last one.

The difficulty comes, again, with the fact that we know Integrity killed at least one monster- a child, no less- so doing different routes may be a bit weird. But it shouldn't be too bad; only one route is canon, right?

Maybe.

I'd like to propose a question that I don't have an answer to: Who had the ability to save/load/reset before Flowey did? He was the most determined being in the Underground, so it makes sense he got it, and then it was passed on to Frisk when they showed up, but what about before that? Imagine going up against a monster who isn't as determined as Flowey, but comes close.

The question then remains why that monster didn't stop Integrity from killing. Did that monster know they held that power at all?

I'm not here to propose ideas- that's for the fan game creators to handle. But I am absolutely LIVING for the idea that we could LITERALLY build our own canon.

Imagine a fan game for each of the souls, going in reverse order. We start with Yellow (Clover), then go to Integrity, so on and so forth until we get to Patience. Hell, we might even be able to do a Chara's Origins game after that!

If I knew how to program games, you KNOW I'd be jumping at the chance to do something like this. Since I can't, I'll just cheer y'all on from the sidelines should anyone decide to do this.

I might make an askblog or fan comic based on this, idk. Could be fun fgsdh

[wormlette]

I do think a LOT about why Chilchuck would join the "save Falin" dungeon dive at all tbh and it makes me feel like eating drywall. Namari is the one who brings up the "I figured you'd be the first one to leave, you never take a job without getting paid" and he's like yeah. I do insist on payment up front. But do you think he was ever going to bring up his motivations on his own? If Namari hadn't? I don't think he would talk about it because I don't think it's really that simple. We find out in the ep that just aired a few things--

1) Chil is paid in advance, and however that works, he's apparently already been contracted for future dungeon dives too ? 2) The adventurer's community is tight-knit and full of gossip, so the things you do will have impact on what kind of work you can do going forward.

There are other things we know about Chil:

1) he's worked for Laios' party for three years. Namari was a member before him (she joined at the same time the husband hunter and some tall man guy joined, iirc) and Shuro was a member after him, but after those two leave, he's the person who's worked with the Toudens for the longest. 2) He's had some really shitty jobs in his past, especially pre-union. He understands very well what kinds of things people will use half-foots for. 3) He is thinking about retiring. He was going to retire before joining Laios' party.

And one thing we learned in the very first episode -- Laios told Marcille and Chilchuck that they should sell their equipment so he could go down on his own to rescue Falin. Chilchuck asks him if he's suicidal and then invites himself along for absolutely everything that goes down after. He's more ride-or-die about eating monsters than anyone other than Senshi. Him breaking his contract is obviously not something Laios would have held against him. Maybe it would have "Changed his clientele" as he says to Marcille about Namari in the latest ep, but also: HE COULD JUST RETIRE.

IDK PERSONALLY I JUST THINK this all adds up to an implication that he is really very fond of the Touden siblings. As Marcille notes when she's making a fanfic of his wife leaving him he's not the type to ever say his feelings out loud so it's not ever really gonna be said in the text of the story and THAT'S WHY I'M HERE. They seem to be a well-renowned party during the events of the story, but when he joined up with them they were just a year out from being bodyguards in a gold-peeling party with a few other no-name adventurers (as far as I know from the extras that have come out so far, the order of main chars joining the party went Laios&Falin->Namari->Chil->Shuro->Marcille.)

Three years AFTER HE WAS ALREADY CONSIDERING RETIRING he is willing to go on a journey that every other character thinks is fucking insane for the chance to rescue Falin, even though he is not an optimistic guy and he probably has a more realistic understanding of how dangerous dungeons are than anybody else in the group. If he started doing dungeon work when he left his home at 14 then he has about 15 years of dungeoneering experience by the time of the story. He would know what he's doing is actually EXTREMELY dangerous in a way resurrection magic doesn't actually eliminate. They are going down into a floor that's so far down the story has expressed "it's really dangerous to go there and most people don't because it will be hard for corpse retrievers and necessary supplies to get to you if you die. if you are eaten you might just be gone beause no one will ever find you."

I think he's harsh on Laios because he really cares about him and Falin. We know he ranks Laios' ability as a party leader as like a 61 or something lmfao but IMHO he is like that stern teacher who is forced by admin to put a 20pt curve on every exam because everybody is fuckin failing. Nobody is doing a good enough job. But he must have faith in the idea that Laios is able to do better if he has the right coaching (kicking and yelling at him). I JUST THINK the Touden party has been the best one he's worked in, or if not the best then his favorite, for him to keep doing it for THIS LONG when he SHOULD absolutely have his pick of contracts, given that "no other half-foots had the expertise necessary to accompany Laios to such a deep floor of the dungeon".

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 28

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 27 🟣 Part 29

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, male masturbation, fingering, p-in-v sex, shower sex, ongoing vampire shenanigans, haematophilia (that's a blood fetish, people.), (hence unsurprisingly) lots of blood, paranormal voyeurism, regular voyeurism, exhibitionism, taunting August (bad idea, probably), (light?) predator/prey dynamic, elements of D/s dynamic, praise kink, hair pulling, some light spanking, spitroasting, mentions of (something resembling) subspace, the guys being fucking idiots (because why not), deepthroating, double facial...

Word count: 4k

A/N: Well, here we go... You can thank @geralts-yenn for the early posting of this chapter (And you can thank me for finishing CH29 yesterday so I feel comfortable posting this already lol... I like to have an extra chapter on file, idk why)

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2 @lizzystuffsthings @manysecrets2020

@sarcasmoverlordxo

You were on your way to Mikey’s room, where you’d been spending your nights since you still hadn’t figured out what to do with the room you’d been given, when something stopped you dead in your tracks. It was a strange pull that felt familiar and completely new at the same time — something reminiscent of a violent longing for… you. The feeling was clouded by the same static you experienced when Mike was feeding on you, sharing his gift — but Mike was nowhere near you, and therefore by any and all logic also very much not feeding. More importantly: this feeling didn’t come from Mike.

As if by magic, you were drawn towards the source of it, and the closer you got, the stronger the feeling, until you came to a halt in front of a door. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath labored, a maelstrom of unidentifiable thoughts racing through your mind. An image forced its way to the foreground — a thought not your own.

You reached for the doorknob and opened the door despite not knowing what was even behind it. A bedroom. Whose?

The faint sound of running water reached you from behind another door in the corner of the room — anyone’s best guess would be that there was a bathroom behind door number two. Another image flashed through your head — this time clearer. Closer.

You. Naked. Bloodied.

Your breath quickened as your heart beat so loudly in your ears there was no way that whoever was behind that door hadn’t heard it — although there was a possibility they were slightly too preoccupied with their thoughts to notice.

As quietly as possible, you tiptoed to the bathroom door, and you pushed the handle down without thinking about it for too long. Evidence strongly suggested you’d find Marshall on the other side of the door, and you deliberately didn’t think of the consequences in case you were wrong about that.

You weren’t wrong.

The sight before you made you clench your thighs together, and with great difficulty you fought back a gasp. He was in the shower, leaning against the wall, eyes closed and stroking himself in a lazy rhythm.

He didn’t look up, didn’t even move — any more than what he’d been doing up until now, anyway — but there was no way he didn’t know you were here. To paraphrase Mike: you couldn’t ambush him, the man could read minds.

A smile appeared on his lips. Had he heard you?

“Yes.” Alright, that answered that question.

“Want some company?” For the first time, you realized Marshall was the only person in your entire family with whom you could communicate without the possibility of anyone else overhearing you…

“I like that thought.” It almost sounded like a confession. “And I wouldn’t say no to that.”

You discarded your clothes as quickly as humanly possible, and hurried into the shower without thinking, where you were welcomed with open arms by Marshall — and met with a very unwelcome stream of water that was way too cold.

You shrieked, fighting to get away — not so much from Marshall, but definitely the glacial temperatures of the water. No wonder the glass of the shower stall hadn’t been steamed up.

“Thank you for not letting go of me,” you said after you’d rectified the temperature-situation.

“You’re more than welcome.” Why was he smiling? Did he think this was funny? “A little.”

“I can leave, if you’re going to be like this,” you warned, but his arms tightened around you, and you knew you didn’t have a prayer.

“It’s exceedingly rare that prey walks into my arms so willingly.” Your cheek was pressed against the cool tiles of the wall, a hand twisted into your hair, and you relished the weight of him as he leaned into you, pinning you against the wall. “I hardly think I’m prepared to let you go.”

Words got stuck in your throat, and your thoughts remained an unintelligible mess as you attempted to gain an understanding of the situation while every cell in your body screamed at you to run. To say you’d never seen him like this would be a lie. You had. Twice — maybe even three times, but you were a little preoccupied with the situation at hand to figure out which instances counted, and which ones did not. Entirely new, however, was your sudden willingness to surrender.

Then why did the last shred of defiance in your body demand you struggle against his iron grasp?

“We both know it’s useless.” Correct. “But I have to admit I admire your spirit. Not that I expected anything else from you.”

Were you trembling in fear, or in anticipation? Marshall’s grip on your hair tightened and you whined softly. He forced his thigh between yours, nudging your legs apart with his, and again you struggled — and again it was completely and utterly useless. A low growl escaped through his gritted teeth as he inhaled deeply, dragging the tip of his nose along your neck. With his free hand, he turned the showerhead away from you.

“Are you nervous, love?” He chuckled as you cried out when his fang suddenly pierced your earlobe. You instinctively reached for the source of the pain, the sharp sting quickly subsiding until it was no more than a dull throb that felt eerily similar to the one between your legs. When you looked at your hand, your fingertips were red.

Marshall’s sharp teeth grazed your neck without breaking skin, and you winced on instinct. “No, don’t…”

He spun you around effortlessly, pinning your wrists to the wall over your head with one hand while the other forcefully found it’s way between your legs, two fingers slipping into your eager, aching pussy with ease.

“Don’t?” He smiled deviously. “You know exactly what I want to do to you, you stand here dripping and waiting, your body begging me… I can feel your pulse so clearly inside this tight little cunt. Tell me, what exactly is it that you don’t want me to do to you?”

You had no answer to that question, knowing that if the thought of asking him to stop occurred to you for so much as a split second, he would have heeded your request long before you’d ever be able to voice it. Not a single part of you wanted him to stop for even the shortest moment.

Involuntarily, your muscles clenched around his fingers as he pumped them into you in a lazy rhythm. His teeth dragging over your skin leaving you teeming with anticipation, until he finally bit down just above your collarbone. He took pull after pull from you, in time with the rhythm of his fingers inside your core, as if he was feeding. Only he didn’t swallow. Instead, he let your blood flow out of his mouth, allowing it to run down your body. A metallic scent filled the air, adding to the already overwhelming sensations of hot steam, seemingly limitless arousal and the divine sounds of pleasure that spilled freely from Marshall’s throat.

“I’ve never had the pleasure with one of your kind,” he explained. “Always had to be careful… Forgive me.”

Forgive him? For what? For showing you exactly what you’d been so curious about for a while now? For loving you in his own, twisted way? He let go of your hands when you struggled against him, and you used your newfound freedom to grab Marshall’s face and pull his mouth to yours, the taste of your own blood strange on your tongue. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he abandoned his pursuits between your legs to pull you close against him with one arm while the other guided your leg to his hip.

A dull thud broke your fixation on Marshall for a moment. August. Near Marshall’s bedroom door. “Huh?”

“He’ll leave if you want him to.” Marshall’s thoughts were clouded, strained in a way that matched his labored breathing. “But he would love to watch…”

Although you did not mind him listening in, you had so far preferred your intimate moments to be relatively August-less — unless, of course, those intimate moments were with August, in which case his presence was not a want, but rather a rock-solid requirement — but something felt different.

“Come in,” you whispered barely audibly, ignoring the surprised look on Marshall’s face that quickly morphed into a devilish grin as he lifted you off the floor.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, twisted your fingers into his hair as he bit your neck and continued to make a complete mess of you. A quick glance down at the bright-colored water around Marshall’s feet pushed the throbbing ache between your legs back to your attention, but your interest was soon piqued by something far more exhilarating: the absolutely thrilling sight of a very worked up August, leaning against the bathroom door, his black shirt hanging open to reveal his heaving chest.

“How does it feel, love?” Incredible. It felt incredible. A moan escaped you as you felt the tip of Marshall’s cock nudge at your entrance, and you looked over his shoulder, straight into August’s almost pleading eyes as Marshall pushed into you.

You cried out, your pleading whine clearly music to both your guys’ ears. Not once did you take your eyes off August as Marshall fucked you in a steady, demanding rhythm, luring moans and cries from you with every thrust. August was clearly hanging on to his last shred of restraint, a pained expression on his face as he struggled to… to what?

“You know how we feel,” Marshall said to August with a dark chuckle as he thrust into you a bit harsher, drawing sharp whines from your throat. “By all means, enjoy yourself while I take what you can’t have…”

In a split second, you were facing the glass with Marshall’s hand fisting your hair, pulling your head back as he pressed your bloody tits against the glass. More blood still trickled down your body from the bites Marshall had left, and without hesitation, he added another on your shoulder, letting the thick, warm liquid run down your back and between your breasts.

Still, your eyes never left August’s, except to glance down as he took his cock out. The sight was enough to make you whine, silently cursing the glass that kept you from reaching out and touching him. A shiver ran down your spine as Marshall pushed into you from behind. It was a struggle to keep your eyes open, yet you couldn’t bear to take them off August as he stroked himself at a slow, steady pace. You gritted your teeth as you looked at him, rage ripping through you so suddenly that you couldn’t hold back a growl.

“That’s normally our line, princess,” August said, his mouth curling into a smug smirk. “What’s the matter?”

“Bastard,” you cursed under your breath, your eyes still trained on his — your gaze cold and harsh while his was devious and provocative. “Come here.”

The sound of the sharp smack Marshall delivered to your ass bounced off the tiles, followed by a fierce, stinging pain. “Mind your manners.”

Yes, Sir…

The feeling of willing obedience subsided, washed away by the same rage from before. Defiance…

“It’s called being a fucking brat, love.” The echo of Marshall’s voice in your head was cut off by the sharp sting of another smack on your ass.

“I’m glad to see you don’t intend to spoil her education,” August said with the most insufferably arrogant edge to his voice, followed by an equally insufferable chuckle.

“Mike will take care of that, I’m sure,” Marshall grunted through gritted teeth, never wavering in his rhythm as he continued to fuck you. “Melot, in time, too.”

You huffed, the sharp breath coming out as a half-snarl. If Marshall knew about your curiosity towards Melot, then August, no doubt, did too.

You placed a hand on the glass at the height of August’s hips and looked up at him with pleading eyes. He was relentless, as always. “Isn’t she wonderful?” he asked Marshall softly. “I just can’t get enough of that wet, throbbing pussy…”

Your nipples hardened against the glass as sparks skittered up and down your spine. Moans turned into cries, your back arched further, seemingly acting of its own accord, and your clit throbbed almost painfully.

August’s doing, no doubt. But why were you fighting him?

“Sweet princess,” August chuckled, “it’s pointless, you know that. You’ll come for us, and you’ll do it now.” A smug grin spread across his face as your restraint shattered and stars danced before your eyes as you toppled over the edge.

Marshall took pity on you and your quaking knees, and slowed down, gently guiding you down from your peak. “Good girl,” he whispered softly. “That’s it. Good girl.”

He and August exchanged looks. “Look at her,” Marshall said. “Still so desperate for you…”

“For both of us,” August corrected. “If you don’t mind…”

Marshall clearly didn’t mind, because a brief wave of cool air later, you were in August’s arms, one arm draped around his neck while the other grasped desperately at his hip.

It probably shouldn’t have surprised you that all this time, Marshall’s thrusts — although relentless and rough — had been gentle enough to avoid any painful situations, but it did.

“To be fair, I do believe August is helping,” Marshall muttered as he finally slowed down, allowing you to catch your breath.

“Minimally,” August said casually, lifting your chin so you were looking up at him. He winked, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he lowered his mouth to yours and you were lost in a searing kiss. August moaned into your mouth as you wrapped your hand around his cock and stroked him in time with Marshall’s rhythm.

The way August looked down at you, licking his lips as he took in the literal bloodbath Marshall had created, turned your knees weak as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. “It never used to be my thing,” he muttered, shooting a quick glance at Marshall before locking eyes with you again, “but I must admit you’re a sight for sore eyes, princess.”

You moaned loudly when August’s hand closed lightly around your throat. He took a step back, moving his hand to the back of your neck and dragging your head down. Your heart skipped a beat, and nerves gnawed on your insides for a moment — but only a moment. August simply didn’t allow for much time to work yourself into some unnecessary frenzy about this: he impatiently tapped his cock against your lips. “Open up, princess. And spare me the attitude.”

“No need to panic, no need to resist… We know exactly what you think and how you feel, love.” A comforting thought, in a way.

They took good care of you, exactly as you’d expected — but make no mistake; they certainly took good care of themselves as well. Too much thinking certainly didn’t serve you well in this situation, that much became clear immediately, but as soon as you surrendered yourself to them, you fell into an easy rhythm that worked well for everyone.

No matter how fun it was to oppose and provoke, you couldn’t muster the strength — or maybe you just didn’t want to. Instead, you let yourself slip into the deep, calming comfort of the knowledge that you were safe and loved — a thought that seemed to be completely contradictory to the fact that you were literally being used as a mindless fuck doll, if you were being honest.

You could have lasted forever in that comfortable, floaty feeling — that’s what it felt like, at least — had it not been for the interesting sound. A slap — but different, and somehow your brain registered it for what it was immediately, and dragged you back to reality. And your attitude with it.

You stood up straight so abruptly that you finally seemed to have succeeded in taking your vampires by surprise, and you looked at them with a suspicious glare, going back and forth between Marshall and August a few times before you found the words you needed.

“You did not just… high five…” Those dumbass grins told you everything you needed to know. “Really? Four hundred years and you still haven’t managed to grow the fuck up?” You silently cursed yourself. You’d been having fun, right? Then why, pray tell, did you feel this intense urge to somehow ‘gain the upper hand’ in a situation that did not call for anything like that at all?

Of course, they saw right through you.

“Princess, I’ll give you two choices. Either you get on your knees…” August started, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Make me.”

“And that would have been option two,” Marshall said. He was suddenly behind you, holding your wrists together behind your back. “I’ll ask one more time.”

What was it with you and this continuous urge to struggle and pick fights when you knew you couldn’t win?

“It’s because you know you can’t win, love,” Marshall whispered. He was right — of course he was right!

It was completely unsurprising, then, that you were suddenly on your knees, unsure of whether you had done so of your own volition. One thing was clear, though: You were where you wanted to be, on the floor, looking up at August and Marshall as they towered over you.

Marshall was fresh out of however little patience he’d still possessed before your unruly intermezzo. “Be a good girl, love,” he said slowly, “and finish what you started.”

As he pushed his cock past your lips, you didn’t object. Instead, you slowly felt yourself fall back into that same calm headspace from before. It came from a place of total trust — feral nature be damned; Marshall would never hurt you.

Your vision was blurred by tears as you tried your best not to choke, so you had little else to go on than the sounds and near-continuous stream of swearing that spilled from Marshall’s lips, and the feeling of the tightening grip on your hair as he got closer and closer to orgasm with every thrust.

“Eyes closed, mouth open, love,” Marshall growled as he pulled his cock out of your mouth. This was not an order to argue about — there was no time: He finished himself off with a few swift strokes, and August followed mere seconds after him. ‘Eyes closed’ had been a very solid instruction…

“Fucking hell,” August muttered. Was it his finger that lightly trailed along your jaw? Had to be.

“I’m never getting this image out of my head.” Marshall’s words made you chuckle, and for a moment you furiously wished you could see yourself right now. Maybe someday, in a flash of Marshall’s thoughts. “Alternatively, I could take a picture…”

The idea both frightened and excited you — not because you thought you couldn’t trust the guys with a photo like that, but mostly because you were afraid you wouldn’t look good in it, although Marshall — and then August, once he got wind of the idea — was quick to point out that was a total non-issue. As far as they were concerned, you looked hot as fuck right now.

“Not that you normally don’t,” August said, chuckling softly.

“Just… Make it quick,” you laughed. “I feel sticky.”

“Might be more than just a feeling, love,” Marshall replied. “Done.”

That still didn’t mean you could open your eyes, but at least you didn’t have to try so hard to sit pretty. You slumped down on the floor, suddenly uncomfortably aware that you were cold, and tired. A strange, sinking feeling hit you suddenly, but before you had good and well thought about what it could be, August was on the floor next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.

Then, water hits your knee. “Is it warm enough, princess?” August asked kindly, his voice soft and warm. You nodded, unable to speak for some reason. “Alright, that’s good.” He spoke slowly and clearly, obviously doing that on purpose, but you couldn’t figure out why exactly. “Is it alright if I clean your face? Do you want to do it yourself?”

“You can do it.” You weren’t kidding about suddenly feeling very tired.

As soon as August was done washing your face, and you opened your eyes, you felt a very stern grasp on your chin. August turned your face to him. His voice was still gentle when he spoke: “Look at me for a second, okay? Don’t look around right now — I mean it. Do yourself a favor and keep your eyes on me.”

He said it in such a way, with such seriousness to his voice that it simply made sense to do as you were told. Had you decided against that, you would have been confronted with a gigantic mess.

Blood. Lots of it. Everywhere. The wall, the glass, and — last, but certainly not least — on you.

The guys were right to assume that would have thoroughly freaked you out, so August kept you warm, snuggled up tightly against his chest in the corner of the shower while Marshall set out to turn the place into something a little less ‘Saw XI’ and a little more ‘normal bathroom’. After that, it was your turn.

You grew more and more tired by the second — especially since Marshall turned out to have a hidden talent for scalp massages, which you had the privilege to discover when he took it upon himself to wash your hair, even after you insisted that you could do it yourself. It wasn’t a complete lie: You probably could have, but there was absolutely no denying how very nice it was to not have to.

August and Marshall seemed determined to clean every inch of you thoroughly and with the gentlest care, never missing an opportunity to ask if you were okay, if you needed anything, if there was anything they could do for you…

“Stop asking that,” you whispered. “And get me into bed, please.”

You barely registered being carried out of the shower. They made quick work of drying you off and rushing you back into the bedroom.

“The bites,” August said to Marshall before he sealed his mouth over one of them. Marshall followed suit, dragging his tongue over another bitemark. “This one won’t stop bleeding.” His voice was so calm that you weren’t startled by the message.

“Does it need more than a simple band-aid?” Marshall asked, equally calmly. Why was he asking? Didn’t he already know the answer? “You deserve to know what’s going on, love. In that spirit: a band-aid is plenty. I’ll be right back.”

As always, he was true to his word, gently tending to your neck within seconds of announcing his departure. Then, someone knocked on the door, and Marshall disappeared again.

“Thanks,” he said to whoever was on the other side of the door — you couldn’t be bothered to turn around.

“Take care of her.” Of course it was Mike. You couldn’t help but smile, especially when Marshall returned, holding a cup of tea.

You drank it in silence, after the guys had made sure you were tucked in comfortably between Marshall and August.

“Will you both stay here?” you asked, somehow afraid of the answer. What if they said no?

“Neither of us would dream of leaving, princess,” August whispered. “We’ll be right here for as long as you need us.”

“Is… Is there anything you guys need?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’m good like this,” August said, and Marshall agreed with him. “You’re all we need right now."

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Gwen's Spider-sense always on Miles?

Okay, so a few days ago I had an ask about my opinion on Gwen spider sense activating when Miles got in danger, and I accidentally ended up deleting the entire thing.

@ficsinhistory Sorry about that.

However this may had been for the best, because I went from not having much of an answer to what the fuck all of this means.

So, let's go with the basics.

We see Gwen's spider-sense before, when she was looking for Miles on his room while he was in Earth-42.

Now, this is something I had interpreted as she trying to use her spider-sense to see if she could sense Miles; a bit odd, but in the first movie the spiders literally sensed each other, sometimes even before realizing they were there.

(Alternatively, this may be them searching for them; tho considering Miles got bit recently on this movie and still was doing it, I am going more with they just sense the others at that moment.)

She came to the conclusion that Miles wasn't in this dimension by not sensing him here, which in theory could be him getting caught on something else but I mean she isn't wrong.

Here is the part where I actually ran out of answer.

(Side note, how HARD can Prowler Miles hit?! We had seen Miles got thrown into a billboard and get up fine, I know he is probably tired after everything but still.)

It really is that quickly, Miles is down and Gwen is immediately sensing something.

And here...I have nothing.

I wish I could have more thoughts about this, but honestly my mind had just been going on circles with this scene, and all I am thinking is how?

Look, I wish I could have a more to say about this, but honestly all I can think of is that I need an explanation as to how this is happening because the math isn't mathing for me.

However, I also saw the first movie recently, and something that brought my attention was a plot point in the last movie that ALSO drove me up the wall because I couldn't get how or why.

Gwen, unlike the other Spiders apparently, was blown a week before the incident with the Collider, and her Spider-sense told her to go to Visions Academy.

This always bothered me because I truly couldn't imagine how exactly this worked.

Spider-sense is primarily, suppose to work as a way for the spider to sense danger. In this movie, it also servers the purpose of communicating to the other spiders when they are around another who is one of them

Neither of those things is suppose to give you any directions, and more importantly, her spider-sense activated before Miles was even bitten.

Now, I thought that was perhaps because she was blown into last week, meaning she came through the portal when Miles already has been bit. So I try to think that maybe she could sense it because her spider-sense recognized the spider that was on the Collider?

It always felt like a flimsy excuse but I had nothing so oh well. I thought it was just a convenient plot point to get Gwen there and leave it like that.

Now? This has to be connected.

I am not sure how, why, or if it can work the other way around (Miles maybe sensing Gwen is in danger? Or have a better idea when she is around? Idk.) But I don't think it is a coincidence that Gwen had her spider-sense going to Miles before he was bitten, and now she can known when he is in danger in another dimension.

(Honestly this is all great material for a soulmate fic so anyone feel free to get on that.)

In the first movie, we saw the spider that bit Miles' glitch, but I really didn't saw people commenting in the possibility of the Spider being from another dimension, in fact most of the people I know had been shocked to realize that this was there for the beginning.

So, what are the chances that is not just all connected, but part of something bigger than we had yet still to know?

[the-s1lly-corner]

Gooooood day to you wonderful author! I hope you’re having a swell time and that those pesky wasps called negativity are swatted and shooed away. I’ve scrolled your work and have thoroughly enjoyed your stories and thoughts, so maybe if you would be so kind as to hear me out, I’d gladly pay you a penny for my thoughts!

The TADC work is brilliant, and thus I had an idea! What if this rambunctious crew, met a their S/O who is rather cartoony in nature and take to the world of the circus rather well, being bouncy, stretchy and all around a ball of joy as they embrace this toon power they’ve been given.

The idea came to me when I was fiddling with a sticky hand, whilst rewatching the pilot, and thought how amusing it would be to see someone embrace these looney toon abilities.

TADC cast x cartoony!reader !

yahoo i now have some down time to take a crack at requests today! im making gingerbread cookies, peppermint macarons w/ white chocolate ganache, and double chocolate macarons! all for a friend as a christmas gift! yahoo!! waiting for the first bath of macarons to dry out before baking; cant do both since i only have one decent sized pan that can pit my silicone mat without it bending... bent macarons..... thinks also dullahan by worthikids has me in a death grip rn so im playing that on loop while i tackle these requests i am going to go insane!

CAINE:

oh this man fully embraces it... in fact he even encourages it, i think! i mean caine himself is pretty whacky and cartoony, it only makes sense thats hes going to really enjoy you. i think his approval may lead to you being a little more rowdy than you normally would be with anyone else... likes to use IHAs to see how far your funny physics can go... bonus if you get those little... emote things when you're feeling an emotion particularly strongly (ex. hearts for adoration, the red vein for anger or annoyance, the blue line things to express sadness or disgust and the like. stuff like that idk i just think that would be neat). you guys get outright silly with it, totally funky, completely strange you know? whimsical, even! plus i like to think that caine has a touch more "cartoon physics" than the others but thats just admin being silly

POMNI:

obligatory "pomni is put off by it at first thanks to her being new and having to adjust to the physics of this new digital world.... well adjust to the digital world as a whole" so without a doubt, shes going to look mildly uncomfortable or confused when you just fully embrace to funky cartoon physics of the world. in fact it even looks like your physics are even more cartoony than everyone else's... odd.... i think it would take her some time to get used to it, but she wouldnt try to be rude about it or make you feel bad for her surprise discomfort, you know? doesnt like when your rambunctiousness makes you a little reckless, though, but thats just her care for you showing! you can be a little overwhelming for her, sometimes, by being all... bouncing off the walls... literally and physically... communication is key here if you guys want a decent relationship; be it romantic or platonic

RAGATHA:

for the most part she loves you for who you are, and your randomness and shenanigans do put a smile on her face more often than not. she just finds you so endearing, and finds your funky physics to be just as cute! buuuuut.... sometimes you can get overwhelming... ragatha already has so much on her plate, with being this beacon of optimism for herself and others, the IHAs, having to make sure no one is at each others throats.. i mean i know we only have the pilot to work off thus far but ragatha gives me mediator vibes. so getting back on topic, i do think that sometimes she needs to be firm and let you know to tone it down, or to let her have a moment to herself because the last thing she wants to do is make you feel bad if she gets too irritated... holds

JAX:

another obligatory thing but you can stretch and squash hes going to try to find a way to tie that in with a prank or one of his jokes. now if youre teaming up with him or the one being pranked really depends on how jax feels; because i think even his "partner in crime" wouldnt be immune to his bullshit. but consider, given the readers personality, what if theyre a little bit of a prankster themselves and they utilize their extra bounciness for pranks; effectively starting a prank war with jax. like imagine the chaos that would spew from something like that. i could go on a tangent for that, but the admin has a pea brain rn TToTT

has probably crushed you down into a ball shape and used you as a bowling ball. throws you. au where reader is in the circus but theyre the bowling ball jax throws at kinger

KINGER:

honestly he might mistake you for an npc at first and be wary of getting close to you because... well you arent real... except you are..! it takes him a while to realize that, he didnt know someone as whacky as you could exist, and hes been here for a long while! that said when you guys do befriend each other. please try to tone down any recklessness that may come with your rambunctiousness, this poor old man is already stressing out enough about things...! dont give him a heart attack,..! though i guess the bonus of having funky whacky body physics is that you give good hugs and/or cuddles since you can easily and comfortably wrap yourself around the other person.... ponders... so you know what, at least hes comforted via that

ZOOBLE:

easily irritated so you guys are going to have to work together to make things word; so zooble doesnt too overstimulated and so you dont have to change or greatly suppress yourself. say it with me: communication is key, baby!!! definitely takes a lot of time to make something work.... stealing this idea from jax's part, but if youre in the middle of a prank war with jax, where its just you and him going at each other zooble is going to be sliding you ideas and perhaps might come up with ideas to utilize your weird anatomy... very evil, they just want to see jax get karma, i think...

GANGLE:

also can get easily overwhelmed with your wild personality, but not so much in an "overstimulated" way and more so a... wait no i guess thats the best wording for it? plus gangle seems to be the type of person to enjoy her calm and quiet peaceful time, when shes not thrust into the chaos of an IHA... so similar to zooble, you guys are going to have to do a lot of communication and teamwork if you want a good relationship. gangle DOES feel bad, though, like she is inconveniencing you... please reassure her... not many ideas for the whacky physics thing here, simply because i dont think she would have any special thoughts about anyone's looks or bodies if that makes sense

[renjunniex]

Thank You, For Being You

Isaac Lahey x Fem!Reader Series

Omega Part 2

Omega Part 1 | Shape Shifted | Ice Pick | Abomination | Venomous | Frenemy | Restraint | Raving | Party Guessed | Fury

A/n: hey guys! I hope part one was good, honestly i feel like I could’ve written more but idk i guess as i continue this series I’ll learn what’s a good length for each chapter. ALSO I’m trying to think of a name for this series so if anyone has any ideas, let me know!! Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

Prompt: After leaving Isaac and the cemetery, you made it to the hospital and you, Stiles, and Scott are ready to look for Lydia.

*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧

“Is this the one she was just wearing,” Scott questioned. At the moment you three were packed into Stiles’ Jeep trying to figure out your next step in the plan. Stiles glanced at you in the back seat with a look of desperation, you nodded back to try and reassure him the best you can but in a situation like this, is it really possible? He let his eyes meet Scott’s once more before giving a slight nod.

“I’m not gonna let anyone hurt her. Not again,” Scott reassured, but to you it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself more than the worried boy in front of him and you couldn’t blame him. Lydia really had gone through the most horrific incident and knowing the fact that Peter, the alpha, had done it to her only means this was the least of her problems going forward.

You shifted in your seat, catching the boys attentions, “We’ll figure this out, we always do, okay?” You gave their shoulders both a squeeze, before they turned from you back to one another. “Alright, well shove the thing in your face and let’s find her,” Stiles sighed while starting up Roscoe, the lights reveal Allison making you three jump in surprise.

“Wow!”

“What are you doing here? Someone’s gonna see us,” Scott stressed.

Allison shook her head before responding, “I don’t care, she’s my best friend, and we need to find her before they do.” You furrowed your eyebrows at that statement. It didn’t make sense, who was ‘they’? You noticed Scott also wearing a slightly confused face, “I can find her before the cops can.”

“How about before my father does?”

“He knows?” You and Stiles synced.

“Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUVs.”

You three quickly glanced at each other, “Search party,” you voiced.

“It’s more like a hunting party.” Allison glanced over at you. You moved from the middle of the seating to behind Stiles’ seat while Scott opened his door to let her in, “Get in.” With that, you were on the road and the long lists of questions started.

“Alright, but if she’s turning, would they actually kill her?” Stiles drove down the road as fast as he could. You turned towards Allison and she shook her head, “I don’t know they wont’t tell me anything. All they say is we’ll talk after Kate’s funeral when the others get here.” You grabbed her arm, “Others?”

“What others?” Stiles questioned.

“I don’t… they won’t tell me that either.”

“Okay, your family’s got some serious communication issues to work on. Scott, are we going the right way?” Scott had his head out the window trying to find Lydia’s scent, if this wasn’t such a stressful situation you might have actually laughed at how amusing the sight was. You called out to him the best you could with the wind in his ears, “Please tell me you picked up on something.” Scott sniffed the air, “Take the next right!”

Stiles turned fast making you and Allison slide into each other, once you had settled back into your seats you glanced at the window when you felt your thoughts become all fuzzy. It was like everything around you blurred and your senses lowered as well, but you felt something. Something so fainted it was hard to focus on but as you try your hardest to listen to it, you realized it felt more like a wave of energy. Suddenly your mind became clear again, everything around you came back from being almost rendered useless to completely heightened.

Lydia.

It was almost like you could feel, see, and touch her but she was no where near you. Almost like some kind of supernatural energy is allowing you to locate her by using some kind of connection. To what, you couldn’t possibly know, this hasn’t happened before. You knew some kind of strange phenomenon happened to you when Scott got bitten. You couldn’t even for sure say when it started but the first time something major happened was when you made your locker close by itself out of anger. After that it just felt like every situation brought on more strange occurrences.

However, you couldn’t think about all that right now. Whatever it was that was happening to you, it was allowing you to possibly find Lydia. You could handle the confusing feelings about everything after she was found and safe.

You finally made it to where Scott was picking up a scent but it didn’t feel right. You decided to keep that part of you quiet since you know to base it on just your ‘gut feeling’ is crazy and there’s no way they would go off that and you wouldn’t blame them. You had no time for uncertainty, you had to find Lydia… before they do.

“She came here? You’re sure?” You picked up your head to see Stiles turning around to look at Scott and Allison, considering they had been trailing behind you and Stiles the whole time, you figured they were discussing something important. Scott nodded his head, “Yeah, this is where the scent leads.” You both looked at each other before Stiles sighed lightly while you two kept up your lead. After barely taking two steps, Stiles turned around again.

“Alright, but has Lydia ever been here?”

“Not with me,” Allison replied.

“It’s possible, it’s not even in her control. If she is in fact turning that is,” you said.

Your suggestion seemed to peaked Allison attention as she turned to Scott, where you could barely hear them discussing about the idea of how packs work. “Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?” You finally heard her question. “Yeah, we’re stronger in packs.”

“Like strength in numbers?”

“No like literally stronger, faster, better in every way.”

“Same for an Alpha?”

You glanced over to see Scott hesitate, “Yeah, it’ll make Derek stronger too. It’s why Peter wanted Scott so bad, not to mention his insane ego problem with that sprinkle of absolute crazy he had,” you turned to them as they looked up ahead at you. “But to be honest, I don’t think she’s here, in fact something tells me, she barely had passed through.” Scott’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean?” You shook your head, “I can’t explain it but something feels off, like I don’t think Lydia is anywhere near here anymore but I couldn’t tell you how I know that though.”

“Hey look at this. I think it’s a trip wire,” Stiles said messing with the wire line.

“Don’t touch it, you idiot,” You rushed over to smack his shoulder but it was already too late.

He had tripped the wire and had got his best friend got in it. “Stiles.”

“Yeah, buddy,” Stiles turned to see Scott hanging upside down and you with your hands covering your face. “Next time you see a trip wire, don’t trip it.” Stiles pointed to him, “Yeah, noted.”

Stiles walked over to start to try and release Scott, not before earning a smack on the head from you, which in turn earned you a giggle from Allison.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Scott said in a rush. You three froze almost simultaneously. He continued, “Someone’s coming, hide.”

No one moved causing Scott to wave his arms chaotically.

“Go!”

Allison and Stiles scattered while you slipped behind a tree nearby in case anything happened. While you technically speaking, had no control over whatever power you gained you knew well enough that emotion triggered it. When it came to Allison’s father, anger was easy to feel. You finally heard his voice once he got close enough.

“Scott.”

“Mr. Argent.”

“How are you doing,” Argent inquired.

Barely in your eye line, you could see Scott shrug his shoulders, “Good just hanging out, is this one of yours? It’s good. Nice design, very constricting.” You chuckled slightly, Scott always had a thing for being so socially awkward it almost physically hurt you.

Argent sighed, “What are you doing out here, Scott?”

“Looking for my friend.”

“Ah, that’s right. Lydia’s in your group now, isn’t she? Part of the clique, is that the word you use or is there another way to put, part of your pack?”

You could already feel your body start to shake from anger, he was so infuriating! You understood that his family had a way of doing things and that it had been like that for centuries but Lydia is just kid.. Scott is just a kid! Both were put into the situations they’re in now, so you couldn't even fathom how this grown man, this father, could just so blindly follow his so called ‘code.’

“Actually, clique sounds about right to me,” Scott rebutted.

“I hope so, cause I know she’s a friend of Allison’s, and one special circumstance, such as yourself… One I can handle. Not two.”

There was a moment of pause before he kept with his point. “Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?”

Scott’s breath shook slightly, “I have a feeling I don’t want to.”

“A medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. Cutting them in half, takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that. Let’s hope a demonstration never becomes necessary.”

All you could see was red, he was threatening Scott? What was this guy’s deal? You were glad that Allison and Stiles were out of ear shot because before you even could think you came out from behind the tree. “Really? Because I’m willing to bet that a certain someone would love to know about this conversation.” Argent glanced at your position next to the tree with a slightly surprised look.

“So unless you would like me to inform said person of this conversation,” you continued, “I suggest you walk away now and go about your night.”

Argent took one more moment to glanced at Scott before standing and turning around to go on his way. Before he could get too far away though you let your voice be heard once more, “And Mr. Argent?” He stopped and his head turned to look over his shoulder, acknowledging your presence again. “We will find Lydia and you will keep you and your men away from her, because if you don’t, I’ll make sure you end up that demonstration… and I won’t need claws and fangs to do it.”

You smiled once his eyes met yours, “Enjoy your night, Mr. Argent. Drive home safe, I’m sure Mrs. Argent is worried about you.”

With that, he left.

A few seconds went by and when they were finally out of sight, Allison and Stiles rushed back towards you, asking Scott if he was okay. To which Scott replied back, “Just another life threatening conversation with your dad.” Allison went to try and get Scott down from the wire asking you and Stiles for help as well. Only for Scott to take his claws and cut himself free when we weren’t paying attention. “Thanks, but I think I got it.” You three glanced at each other with sounds of amusement and agreement before you join Scott back towards the Hale house and back on your search until finally you had to all go home, especially since Allison definitely couldn’t get caught out and about with you guys.

~

The next morning, you decided you would just walk to school for some fresh air, you knew the route would take you passed the cemetery but what you didn’t know was that there would be a crowd occupying the space as well. Among them happened to be none other than Mr. Lahey, Isaac, and Sheriff Stilinski. You checked your watch and decided being even more late to a lacrosse practice wasn’t too awful, considering you were just the team manager and not a player.

“Sheriff, hi!” Sheriff turned to see your smile and wave, returning the gesture before his expression took on a confused front. “Shouldn’t you already be at school, for practice?” You glanced at the other members in the party as you reached the huddle, while one pair of eyes made you feel a soft and floaty feeling instantly, the other was so cold it made any content emotion you had dissipate. You had also taken notice to a black eye on said soft and floaty eyes, you gained your composure back as fast as you could and shrugged in response to the Sheriff’s question. “Well you know me sir, sleeping in is my middle name.” Sheriff huffed a small chuckle and nodded along.

“Plus, I saw Isaac here and figured he could use a second person to voice to Coach on why he’s running late for practice, he’s on the team, you know?” You gave a nod in Isaac’s direction, Sheriff turned back to the father and son, “You play for Beacon Hills? My son plays for the team. Well, I mean, he’s on the team, he doesn’t technically play. Not yet, anyways It’s-”

“We’re working on getting him to play now.. hasn’t been all that successful, as you know,” You responded, which earned you a raised eyebrow from Sheriff and a soft smile from Isaac. You raised your hands up, “What? It’s true!” Isaac’s glance was no longer on you but behind you, which both of you noticed and turned to see nothing but empty forest.

“Something wrong, Isaac?”

Isaac’s gaze snapped back to Sheriff and he quickly shook his head, “No. Oh, no, sorry. It’s just Y/N’s right, I have a morning practice to get to.”

“Just one more question.”

You readjusted your bag on your shoulder, “I’ll wait for you over there, while you finish up. Mr. Lahey, nice to see you again. See you later, Sheriff.” You received a stiff nod from one man and a slight pat on the shoulder from the other. You made your way back to the entrance of the cemetery and Isaac joined you a few minutes later.

You walked in silence for a while but you just couldn’t handle it anymore, “Where did you get the black eye?” You could feel his panic as he tried to glance at you nonchalantly, “Lacrosse”

“Lies,” You shook your head, “He did it, didn’t he?”

“Isaac please, why won’t you let me tell someone, Sheriff could help and I know he would listen.” He instantly rejected the idea, “It was nothing, just an accident, that’s all.”

“Okay, fine, even if I did believe what you’re telling me. I know for a fact he’s done something and probably stuff a lot worse than I could ever imagine.” You stopped and placed yourself in front of him, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, grabbing his hands, “Look, I know we’re not close, really we hardly know each other outside of chemistry and lacrosse but I do care about you and I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

You felt his whole body freeze for a split second and he took a jagged breath, “I know and I appreciate it, but I’m okay.” You couldn’t have hidden the slight look of disappointment even if you tried but you nodded anyways. The two of you continued your walk in silence until you reached the locker room.

By the time you both made it to the locker room, it seems that you ended up not really being late after all. Coach had started giving a speech that had to do with Lydia. To be honest, you zoned out so all you caught from the whole thing was to contact an adult about anything.. and something about losing a testicle to exposure..

Everyone scattered to head to the field, while you looked for Stiles and Scott, only to find them huddled in the corner with the one person who makes you wish your head would explode.

“If Lydia wants to take a naked hike in the woods, why should I care?”

You walked up to the trio, putting your arms around your boys’ shoulders, “Because, being an apathetic jackass is far from cute, and you’re low on the scale when it comes to that rating already.” You felt both Scott’s and Stiles’ arms wrap around your waist to support your position. “Because we think she might be.. you know, turning,” Scott redirected the conversation.

Jackson sent you a narrowed glance, which you gladly returned, “Into..?”

You three met each others eyes as if you had just been given the most ridiculous logic problem known to man. “A unicorn, what do you think, dumbass?” Stiles snarked. You let your head rest on Stiles’ shoulder before scoffing, “I can’t believe we share oxygen with this guy,” You remarked.

Stiles and Scott gave a slight breath of amusement, while Jackson continued to shoot daggers at your head. Jackson readjusted his feet before looking back at the boys, “Well if Lydia’s turning, I don’t think she’s the one that’s gonna need help.”

“What do you mean?” questioned Scott.

“When I was with Lydia, you should of seen the scratches she left on me,” smirked Jackson.

You huffed, “Yeah, probably out of desperation to escape.” Jackson’s head snapped towards you and you gave him the most sickly sweet/sarcastic smile you could muster. You felt both boys tighten their arms around your waist and squeeze your sides, to let you know to chill out. You just couldn’t help yourself around Jackson, his face alone made you want to give him a right hook to his jaw.

“What do you think she’s gonna do with a set of real claws,” Jackson pushed in between you and Stiles, making you lose your balance and start to fall, luckily Scott’s reflexes allowed him to balance you back on your feet. You scoffed, “God, I really hate that guy.”

~

Later on, you were at your locker still seething about Jackson from earlier this morning. You banged your fist on the closed locker next to yours and let out a slight yell of frustration while slamming your own locker shut. You turned to find the hallway no longer empty, now housing Isaac, who stood frozen probably due to your outburst.

“You okay?” You felt your face get hot from the embarrassment of your slight tantrum being caught. You let your back lean against the lockers and you shook your head keeping your eyes on the ground.

“Jackson’s such a dick.” Isaac let out a laugh and nod in agreement.

You felt pressure on your shoulder and looked to the side to see Isaac now standing side by side to you, leaning his head down to try and meet your eyes.

“Yeah I think the whole county could attest to that. What did he do?”

“Exist.”

There was a moment of silence between you two before you took a breath and slid your back down the lockers, Isaac joining you moments later.

“He just pushes my buttons, this morning the boys were trying to talk to him and he was just being an arrogant ass like always. Just frustrating.”

“I thought you three hated him.”

“Oh trust me, we do.”

“Then why were they even talking to him.” You looked at him for a moment debating on what you should say and deciding on something close to but just not quite the truth was good enough. “They wanted to know if he had known anything about where Lydia could be.” Isaac nodded in understanding. He put his hand on yours, “Hey can I ask you something?”

Your hand turned so that way he was now holding it, “Of course.”

“How did you three become so close?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Me, Scott, and Stiles?” He nodded, you gave a breathy laugh.

“Honestly? We’ve known each other our whole lives basically, I guess our parents all knew each other some how but my parents ended up dying in an accident when I was little, I don’t remember it. Melissa and the Sheriff took me in after that, eventually Melissa took me in full time and I’ve been there ever since. Those two empty headed boys are truly like my brothers, we grew up together and they’ve always been pretty protective of me, I guess it was only natural for us to be so close.”

You let your eyes meet Isaac’s and what you were met with made your heart flutter. He just had the softest look in his eyes, a look that made your whole world seem like it was just you two. You couldn’t even explain it fully if you tried. “Why do you ask?”

Isaac shook his head with a slight smile, never breaking eye contact. “You’re always together so I figured talking about them would help relax you.” Your eyes widened and then as if out of a manic episode you started giggling. “You’re right, it did.”

“Okay then, tell me something else.”

You hummed in response. “Why are you always in the middle?” You chuckled, “You noticed?”

“Yeah, those two will always switch which side of you they stand on but you’re always in the middle, why?”

You adjusted your position on the floor to your shoulder being the part of you that's leaning on the lockers, “Well do you remember that one kid in the third grade, he almost always wore plaid and his parents were both realtors? They moved later on, when we reached middle school,” Isaac nodded, “Okay, well for some reason, that kid was obsessed with me, and I’m talking OBSESSED, but not in like a cute way. He would be nice to me some days and then others it was like his mission to make it the worse day of my life.”

“I went home crying almost every day that first semester, Melissa and Sheriff didn’t know what to do, the school didn’t know what to do either. Eventually, Scott and Stiles came up with this plan, since we were in the same home room, they would stay by my side all day, everyday. 24/7. When we were in the school, there wasn’t a moment they weren’t on either side of me. After that, the boy wouldn’t come near me anymore, I guess there always being an audience to his acts was enough to get him to leave me alone.”

Isaac chuckled, “I guess that’s one way to deter a stalker.”

“Yeah, and then it just became second nature to us, I guess.”

Ding!

Your world was broken back into reality by a text tone. Stiles. Again.

Why was Stiles always the reason these moments of yours were broken up?

You opened the text to see something about a funeral, the Sheriff and a car disturbance in the woods. “I’m sorry, it’s Stiles, he wants me to meet them somewhere, I should go.” Isaac smiled at you, “Of course, not a big deal.” You didn’t even give yourself time to think, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug and his arms secured themselves around your waist

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you.”

*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧

A/n: AND THATS ALL FOLKS! I wanted to leave the first episode on a sweet note, especially since Isaac really doesn’t appear too much in the first few episodes. I hope you guys enjoyed! Let me know what you think! Btw this isnt edited so please forgive me for any mistakes lol

Taglist: @somiaw @pecxiebu

[ollipaj]

a really uhhh Amusing coincidence has happened (i feel bad finding it funny but like also cmon) . so the magnus protocol started releasing (and i started listening) around the same time a new girl started working at my job, give or take. this new girl's name was gwen, and we got along pretty alright . we were both invited to a "girl's night" by another coworker, had a few shifts together, made small talk, etc. i didn't know her well.

but anyways im listening to the magnus protocol and i try to imagine the characters in my head. i dont really have super solid ideas of what most of them look like, all of them are kind of nebulous combinations of the various designs i'd seen online at the time. but for some reason that baffled me in the moment, gwen bouchard was really really vivid to me. and she didn't look in my head like any of the designs for her i'd seen online either, this was fully a Me Original here.

and like at some point i realize, probably after coming in to work and seeing coworker gwen after listening to a tmagp episode on the drive minutes before, that Ohhhhh. Ohhhh magnus gwen looks like coworker gwen to me okay thats whyyyy

anyways this is funny in an ironic way because coworker gwen has been taken off the schedule/soft fired because she was consistently not showing up to work without warning, in some cases even after specifically saying that she intends to show up the day before and then bailing with zero communication to anyone and i think magnus protocol gwen would probably pop a vein if she had to manage coworker gwen LMAO

(i do feel a bit bad for my coworker though. idk what her reasons for bailing were n all and i sympathize. but on the other hand i certainly didnt appreciate being on shift on saturday mornings at a coffee shop while we were short a person during rush hours so hopefully whoever takes her spot on the schedule will be more consistent ;-;)