#if anyone is interested in writing for the 2024
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Long COVID and ME/CFS folks, and disability allies:
I have something you can do in 15 minutes that will be very helpful to those of us with these disabilities!
The Canadian working group putting together recommendations for Post-COVID Condition (PCC) have released some bad recommendations regarding exercise as a treatment for Long COVID and cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) to treat Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM).
The UK just recently managed to get these recommendations out of the NICE guidelines for ME/CFS, and we should try to prevent them from getting embedded in the Canadian ones for Long COVID.
They have a survey out until Nov. 27 at 11:45pm EST asking for public input. If you can manage it, please fill out the survey explaining why these are both bad recommendations. The survey is open to people internationally, and anyone interested in the topic. Please mark #2 and #8 as "Major Concerns" and provide a sentence or two explaining why (in your own words).
Draft Recommendation #2 - recommends exercise as a treatment for Long COVID, and only briefly mentions the existance of post-exertional malaise (PEM). Given how many people with long COVID meet the diagnostic criteria for ME/CFS, this is entirely backwards. PEM should be evaluated first and regularly thereafter and exercise should only be suggested once everyone is confident that PEM isn't present.
Draft Recommendation #8 - Recommends CBT as a treatment for PEM. This is recommending a psychological treatment for a physical issue, which is inappropriate. It also contributes to the long history of treating the fatigue in ME/CFS as self-inflicted. And is an activity that can also worsen or cause PEM.
The recommendations and links to their evidence charts are inside the survey itself, or you can open the PDF link on the first page and write your answers before copying them into the survey.
Survey:
https://www.research.net/r/CAN-PCCRecommendationCommentPublic
Here's a blog post explaining one person's responses to the survey:
https://thesciencebit.net/2024/11/21/my-submission-on-the-new-canadian-draft-recommendations-for-long-covid/
And here's one on the history of these "treatments" for ME/CFS and why they're based on bad science.
https://mecfsresearchreview.me/2021/01/12/the-expert-testimony-to-nice-that-took-apart-the-case-for-cbt-and-graded-exercise-for-me-cfs/
#chronic illness#ME/CFS#CFS#me cfs#cfs/me#cfs (chronic fatigue syndrome)#myalgic encephalomyelitis#long covid#post covid#can-pcc#canada#covid 19#covid isn't over#still coviding#public health#advocacy
870 notes
·
View notes
Note
Dear BAE YUNHEE,
You are cordially invited to a private gathering this Sunday, the 21st of July. It is a dinner among old friends, and it will be just like old times. The dinner will be held at Shin Junpyoâs mansion on Jeju Island. Dinner will be served strictly at 7.30pm. Your attendance is expected by 6pm.
Donât be late.
P.S. Do yourself a favor and burn this letter once you have read and understood the terms. We donât want to piss the alums off, now do we?
Best regards,
YOUR QUEEN, 2019
đđđ đŠđđ đȘđđĄđ§đđ đȘđđŠÂ đŠđđ đŁđđŹÂ đ đ€đšđđđ§Â đĄđđđđ§Â đ§đąÂ đ„đđđđ«Â đđĄđ đšđĄđȘđđĄđ, was that even too much of her to ask for? yunhee clicks her tongue in annoyance as she now leans against the the side of the porcelain-hewn bathtub, her arms folded against the surface whilst her wet fingertips gently traced the invitation paper with a vague sense of disdain. her master suite bathroom was entirely shrouded by the quietude and the air fragrant with the scent of roses and oat milk, but even the perfumed distractions couldn't stop her own mind from wandering back to anguishing memories that never should have been reawakened in the first place.
as she placed the ivory note back onto the wooden tray, yunhee lay back and rest her head against a folded towel, trying to go back to luxuriating herself in the relaxing bath she was having. she could almost sink into the tranquil silence underneath the bathwater, washing all the worries and thoughts she'd been having. but yunhee knew too well it wouldn't do her any good for her trying to ignore both the situation and the invitation at hand. warm water splashes in lively ebbs and flows around her as she reluctantly got up from the tub, reaching for a cotton bathrobe and wrapped it around her petite physique.
a curious bounce embellished her quiet footsteps as she took the ivory letter from the bathtub tray before she meandered across the bathroom into her bedroom. with puerile curiosity, does yunhee finally read the letter and memorized its every words, letting them embedded into her mind. to think this is how min jihye decides to come back into her life again, by sending her a measly invitation to a dinner party with the rest of the king's club members after the two former best friends have already went years with barely any form of communication between them. yunhee simply scoffed in indignation at the audacity. as if it wasn't enough that it had  been an agonizingly arduous process, to collect all the jagged pieces of her fragmented heart in order to start anew after what had transpired, to try and be whole again ➻ yet here, once more, she's being dragged into a gathering with the very group of people who all contributed to her misery.Â
arrayed in nothing but her bathrobe, yunhee made her way downstairs into the living room of her penthouse where it was dimly lit, casted by the flickering flames of the fireplace. she stood in front of the heart, reading the invitation and it's details for one final time before yunhee crouches downwards in one deft movement. eventually, she let the paper slipped from her hands, and watches as it fluttered for one moment before it eventually got caught in the updraft of the heat. the soft, rhythmic sound of logs settling and the gentle murmur of the flames as the ivory note was slowly devoured by the flickering fire does nothing to soothe the dread that slowly filled her whole chest.
 HEADCANNONS & TIMELINE : THE DINNER PARTY OF JULY 21, 2024
as one can imagine, yunhee wasn't exactly the happiest when she received the invitation, especially when its was supposedly min jihye, her estranged and former best friend of all people who invited her. she can't even have the pleasure of rejecting the invitation as it is a king's club's gathering and unfortunately for her, because she's a member â her attendance was mandatory.
05.45PM â yunhee decided to come to mansion earlier than its expected time because while she may hate the king's club gatherings with every fiber of her existence, she isn't really one to be late and wasn't about to break her own streak of being punctual at events because of her own petty resentment.
06.00PM â she noticed the all too familiar uniforms and settings around the mansion earlier on. it unnerved her, as expected â as just the sight of how everything in her surroundings bears an extremely close and uncomfortable resemblance to that of midas resort where it only brought up awful memories of that fateful night.
for the next hour and so, yunhee decided to wait around pergola and the library before eventually making her way to the veranda. all whilst trying to avoid most of the king's club's members because she really wasn't in a mood to talk nor handle any of them.
07.15PM â when she arrived on the veranda, yunhee noticed too quickly that tian and sunyoung were having an extremely heated argument, catching only bits of the conversations until tian suddenly fell into the pool. she would have laugh at the sight of tian being absolutely drenched and the situation at hand, if only she didn't noticed a strange floating device in the pool nearby. when she finally realized how the floating toy looked eerily like a body and who exactly did it resemble to, her blood immediately run cold. faltering at the sight, yunhee managed fall back onto the floor before screaming in terror.
THE AFTERMATH : yunhee was absolutely inconsolable after witnessing the cruel joke. whoever organized this dinner made a mockery out of him, made a mockery out of her again. and she's once again reminded by the fact how the king's club have always loved turning her into some kind of a tragic joke once more. she refused to let anyone other than intae and aera to come near her, and refused anyone else's attempt at trying to comfort her after that whole spectacle.
07.30PM â by the time dinner was served, yunhee was practically catatonic. she was barely responsive to anyone during the dinner, having only picked at her meal while the rest of the gathering ate their shares in uncomfortable silence. but members of 2019 knew too well that only meant that yunhee was a ticking bomb, having already experienced the many times of the calm before the storm before yunhee's own outbursts and that it was only a matter of time before the bomb denotes and she explodes, burning everyone and the mansion along with her. ( and with that said, this is an invitation for anyone who wants drama and a fight! let yunhee fight your muse! let her fight! )
#cm:sink#TIMELINE : 2024#once again fae has failed big time at restraining herself#sorry i just really wanna write scene like this LMAO#ANYWAY!#it took me awhile but here's the headcanons!#if anyone is interested in writing for the 2024#i be more than happy to volunteer!
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
ao3 âą 6.1k âą @steddie-spooktober day 30 prompt: âWhere did you find that costume?â âą beta: @netflixandchilis đ§Ąđ€
Summary:
âThis is not a sex costume.â Steve rolls his eyes, âI swear, I could show up dressed as a clown and you guys would accuse me ofââ
Steve doesnât have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows afterward.
His entire cop costume is suddenly off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson.
Or, unbeknownst to Steve, he shows up to Eddieâs Halloween party dressed as a stripper.
*Knock knock knock*
Steve steps back from Eddieâs front door, then rocks back on the heels of his boots that he hasnât fully broken in yet. He knows that technically, he could just stroll into the trailerâheâs done it before after all, but sue him; heâs feeling playful tonight. And if thereâs one night a year youâre allowed to embarrass yourself a little in the name of shits and giggles, itâs Halloween, right?
Steve had drawn the short straw between the four of them and was saddled with babysitting duty earlier tonight. As usual, Steve thinks with an amused sort of bitterness. Always the goddamn babysitterâŠ
Heâd just finished dropping the kids all off at Hendersonâs house for a sleepover, but this was after they had forced him to trail after the lot of them for what felt like an eternity while they filled their pillow cases up with sugary garbage. Steveâs fucking exhausted.
When no one answers the door, Steve steps forward again, delivering three sharp knocks in quick succession.
âHawkins PD, open up,â he bellows, giving what he considers is a fairly decent Hopper impression.
Steveâs skin prickles against a sudden cool breeze. He hooks his thumbs into his belt and waits on the creaky front porch, trying not to squirm against the wedgie that this outfit seems determined to give him.
Cheap ass costumeâŠ
The front door swings open, and Steve is suddenly bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the trailerâs interior. Robin, who has a football helmet on, along with some kind of orange jumpsuit with tubes wrapped around her torso, looks him up and down.
Before she can even say a single word though, Steve cuts her off, playing at arrogance.
âGot a couple of noise complaints, maâam. Are your folks home? Iâm gonna needââ
Robin holds her hands up with barely contained glee, âWait wait, hold on! Just stay right there.â
The door slams shut in his face, leaving Steve in the darkness of the porch again. Through the door, Steve hears Robin yell for Eddie, but canât make out much of the muffled voices after that.
Left on the porch with nothing but his thoughts Steve canât help but wonder if Robin even recognized him. The fake stache wasnât that convincing⊠was it?
âMan, câmonâŠâ Steve sighs, stepping forward and knocking again, this time with more force. Heâs very quickly regretting his decision to ham it up as opposed to just walking in, kicking off the uncomfortable boots heâd been wearing all evening, and plopping down on Eddieâs lumpy, yet deceptively comfy sofa.
âCâmon, open up, Hawkins Police.â Steve calls again, trying to keep his exhaustion out of his voice.
In a blink, the door swings open again. Steve makes the extra effort to push his shoulders back and puff out his chest. This time, instead of Robin being the one haloed in the dingy light illuminating the trailer, itâs Eddie. A very confused, shockingly pale, cape-wearing Eddie.
Steve tilts his head back and peers down through his dark aviators at his friend, trying to maintain a stern, authoritative demeanor. His lip itches from underneath the stupid fake facial hair heâs got taped to his face. He canât wait to rip the damn thing off.
Eddie grips the edge of the doorway, apparently stunned into silence.
âSir, did you or anyone in this household place a call to 911 this evening?â Steve barks, trying his best to lean into his power-tripping asshole persona heâs decided to adopt.
âWhat theââ Eddie starts, but doesnât seem to have any words to follow. His wide, dark eyes roam over the uniform and his twitching smile says enough.
Steveâs putting on a good show, it seems.
âBecause itâs a criminal offense to prank call an emergency hotline, sir.â Steve leans forward, hoping for intimidation, âI could have you arrested.â
Steve suddenly becomes aware of Nancy and Robin both snickering in the background, watching the interaction with seemingly great interest. Eddie, for the most part, appears frozen at the door. Itâs an odd bunch of reactions if Steve is being honestâheâs just dicking around, after all. Was he really being that out of pocket?
âShteve, where in the fresh hellâŠ?â A bewildered looking Eddie begins, his words slightly slurred, almost as if he has a lisp. Then Steve spots them; the sharp toothed plastic tray of vampire teeth that Eddieâs got stuffed into his mouth, making his lips pucker out just a bit. He looks ridiculous. If anyone should be laughing, it should be Steve. But instead of waiting for everyone to get their shit together, Steve forges on. He makes a show of sniffing the air. He slowly pulls the aviators down his nose to shoot Eddie a look. âIs that marijuana I smell, son? You kids smoking the devilâs lettuce in there?â
Robin sounds like sheâs choking on something, Nancyâs all but retreated back into the trailer, unable to contain herself. Was it really that funny? Steve knows he can get the girls laughing on occasion, but heâs not like, a comedian or anything. And this cop bit heâs doing wasnât even all that funny, even he can admit that. Itâs just dorky fun. But Eddieâs shoulders are shaking and heâs giggling hard enough that heâs gone all quiet. Steve briefly wonders if he has something on his faceâŠ? Besides the stache, of course.
A particularly cool breeze hits his side, and he can physically feel himself break character as he brings his shoulders up to his ears in an attempt to brace against it. This cheap fucking costume does absolutely dick all to keep the cold out.
âAlright alright, jokes over, just let me in already.â But when Steve takes a step to pass through the door, Eddie quickly holds a hand to Steveâs chest, stopping him in his tracks. With his other free hand, he noisily pulls the vampire teeth from his mouth, a string of spit connecting the two until Eddie wipes his mouth with the back of a hand.
âSlow your roll, Sargent Cinnamon,â Eddie exclaims, barely able to contain his laughter to get the words out, âJesus Christ, Steve, youâre gonna get the actual cops called on us.â
Sargent Cinnamon?
Steve takes off his aviators, perplexed. âWhat? Why?â
âJustâjust turn around for me for a minute.â Eddie says. His hand falls from Steveâs chest as Steve begrudgingly takes a step back.
âYeah, give us a spin, Steve.â Robin calls from the kitchenette, and Eddie gives a noisy laugh through his nose in what looks like a failed attempt to withhold a full on fucking belly laugh from escaping.
âWhy?â Steve makes a face as he asks again, defenses up.
âWe just have to confirm something.â Eddie says, playing coy.
Now that Steveâs really looking at him, he can see Eddieâs clearly dressed as a vampire. Heâs all in black, though most of him is covered up by the long, heavy looking cape thatâs tied around his shoulders and draping down his back. The collar of it looks stiff, its points reach damn near up to his cheekbones. His eyes are rimmed with dark makeup, making them pop even more than they usually do. Most striking of all though, is the white makeup thatâs smeared all over his face, down his neck, and even over his mouth. It makes for a shock when he speaks or laughs, the deep red of the inside of his mouth contrasting sharply with the undead paleness of the rest of his face.
He looks⊠good. Spooky, but good. Especially now that those chunky fake fangs are out. Maybe Steve should have dressed as something spooky tooâŠ
âCâmon, just let me in. I donât wanna spin.â Steve frowns. He does not pout. His lip may or may not jut out the tiniest of amounts. But Steve Harrington does not pout.
Eddieâs brows pinch together in mock sympathy, âoh, Iâm so sorry Officer, but in that case, weâre gonna need you to come back with a warrant.â
Steve sighs. Heâs cold, annoyed, and heâs pretty sure thereâs two big watery blisters on the backs of his heels thatâll need patching up before the night is out. âDudeââ
Eddie holds out a finger, silencing Steve, âah ah ah. You donât get to show up here dressed like that and not put on a show.â
Steveâs brain stutters to a halt. â...Iâm just dressed as a cop. Whatâs the big deal? Whyâre you guys acting so weird?â
âLess yapping, more spinning, Deputy.â Eddie smiles wide, tilting his head. Despite being a total shithead at the moment, that smile never seems to fail at making Eddie look strangely endearing. Itâs like a trapâone Steve always seems to be tumbling into as of late.
He gives a noisy groan of frustration to show exactly how ridiculous he thinks this whole thing is, before he complies and slowly turns around on the spot. Steve puts out his arms in defeat, suppressing yet another urge to dig at the wedgie now firmly up his ass. âThere. Happy? Any more questions or demands?â
âYeah, just the one,â Eddie says, seeming no less entertained than if Steve had just burped the whole alphabet backwards while simultaneously juggling a set of kitchen knives. âWhere did you find that costume?â
Steve feels his neck go red, then his ears. He stuffs his hands under his armpits to try and warm them up, then shrugs defensively, not fully knowing why he is so embarrassed, only that he is. âJust a regular costume store.â
âWhat store exactly?â Robin calls from behind Eddie while she nurses a beer, âwas there, oh, I donât know, lingerie in the window of this costume store?â
And with that, thereâs simply no helping it; Steveâs face goes scarlet. âNo! It was just that pop-up Halloween storeâthe one next to Family Video. Robin, you went there too, whatâs the big deal?â
âDid you happen to have crossed a beaded doorway in order to get to this costume by any chance?â Eddie asks in mock curiosity, barely withholding more of his obnoxiously loud laughter.
Steve opens his mouth to deny the downright weird accusation but⊠thinking back on it, he may have hit some beads at a certain point while he was in that shop.
Oh GodâŠ
âThereâs that lightbulb,â Eddie gives a smarmy type of smile, âknew it would turn on eventually.â
Steve casts a glare between Eddie and Robin. Theyâre just poking fun at him, surely. If heâs being honest, heâs sort of sick of them ganging up on him lately. Itâs like, all of the sudden, Eddie and Robin had just decided to become besties. They were always whispering and sharing these weird, heated looks between the two of them, ones Steve could never interpret. Like they suddenly had a whole slew of inside jokes that they refused to let Steve in on. It was infuriating!
If he didnât know for a fact that there was no possibility of a romance between the two of them he would think they were hooking up. But no, apparently theyâve just bonded over their shared love of torturing ex-jocks. Itâs like fucking Revenge of the Nerds out here.
âThis is not a sex costume.â he growls, bunching his shoulders up just a little in an attempt to keep the breeze away from his neck.
âSteve,â Eddieâs voice goes soft, as if heâs opting to break the news to Steve gently, âyouâre dressed as a stripper, man.â
âNo, Iâm not!â Steve shouts before he thinks better of it. He reels it in, but only a little, âItâs just⊠Iâm just a cop. Okay, maybe itâs a sexy cop, but itâs just a stupid joke costume! Itâs not my fault the outfit looks good on me, alright? That doesnât make it a stripper outfit.â
Eddie nods empathetically, âright right, sure.â
âItâs true!â
âTotally, yeah.â
âIâm being serious!â
âOh, I know you are.â
âItâs just a little tight is all.â
âIâll say.â
Steve huffs, âI swear, I could show up dressed as a goddamn clown and you guys would accuse me ofââ
Steve doesnât have time to brace himself before Eddie reaches forward and yanks. The sound of tearing velcro is deafening, and so is the silence that follows directly afterward.
The entire front of his cop costume is off of his body and somehow, inexplicably, in the hands of Eddie Munson. And without the support of the front piece, Steve feels the entire back half of his costume follow suit, slipping down and off of his shoulders. Humiliatingly, the only reason it doesnât hit the ground altogether is because the fabric is so securely lodged in between Steveâs ass cheeks.
Either way, heâs standing there, on the Munsonâs front porch, in front of Eddie, in nothing more than his bright red boxers that he put on this morning, his uncomfortable fucking boots, his fake stache, and the octagonal police cap heâs got resting atop his head.
Eddie takes a deep breath, not even bothering to try and hide the way heâs basking in Steveâs utter humiliation. âWell well well. Looks like Christmas came early this year, huh?â
Robin at least has done him the good favor of collapsing somewhere in the living room, shrieking in laughter.
âWhâWhy would you do that!?â Steve clumsily grabs for the cap atop his head before holding it to his crotch in a flimsy attempt to preserve at least some of his dignity.
âHonestly? Because I donât have a lot of impulse control,â Eddie admits truthfully, âbut mostly I did it to prove to you that you did, in fact, show up to my party dressed as a stripper.â
Steveâs had enough. He grumbles out every single curse word he knows and shoulders his way into the trailer, yanking the remainder of the costume off of his body and out of his ass as he goes. If Steve was cold before, heâs freezing now. His nipples could cut fucking glass.
âDonât tell me you took the kids out trick or treating in this.â Eddie says, motioning towards him with the bundle of thin fabric that had been, up until a few seconds ago, Steveâs costume.
Steve snatches the dark blue remains of his outfit, suddenly furious. Heâs sure his face matches the red of his boxers at this point. Boxers that are now on display for all to see, apparently!
He reaches up to angrily tear off the mustache from his upper lip, and has to bite back an honest to god scream as it tears away, taking some of his actual lip hair with it. It was like a fucking wax strip!
âYou did.â Eddie gasps, all but clutching his damn pearls, utterly scandalized. âYou really went around and gave the good folks of Hawkinâs a free fucking show tonight, huh? Jesus Christ, Harrington, you probably sent some poor fucker out there into cardiac arrest!â
âNo, Iââ Steve sputters, âwell, yes, I wore the cop costume while I took the kids around a couple of neighborhoods, but there wasnât any kind of show.â
âWere the mothers especially kind to you, Stevie?â Robin asks from her position on the sofa beside Nancy, one sandy brown brow arched. âDid they give you extra candy?â
âOne, I didnât go trick-or-treating, so I didnât get any candy at all,â Steve says, suddenly reluctant about taking his boots off, wary of losing any more of his clothing. As he speaks, he shuffles behind the countertop in the kitchen area instead, hiding at least his lower half from further attention. Everyone had already seen his hairy chest plenty of times, but still. It was the indignity of it all! âAnd two, I didnât know it was a stripper costume. And three, screw all of you.â
Thank Christ the kids seemed oblivious to that sort of thing still. Steveâs as relieved at preserving their innocence as he is grateful they didnât bear witness to his great blunder.
âDidnât it feel weird when you had to velcro the sides shut..?â Nancy asks, sheer amusement playing across her features.
âWell, in hindsight⊠yes.â Steve has to stop speaking because all three of his so-called friends dissolve in further fits of laughter. He has to shout to be heard over their cackling, âbut I just thought it was because the costume was cheap!â
âOh, Steve.â Nancy shakes her head, still giggling. She sounded a little drunk.
âSweet, naive Dingus.â Robin adds, as if she were finishing her girlfriend's thoughts.
So now Nancy and Robin were ganging up on him too. And after Steve gave Robin his blessing to date his ex-girlfriend! Traitors, all of âem, Steve thinks haughtily as he crosses his arms and glares.
âCâmon big boy, you can borrow something of mine.â Eddie says, finally deciding to take pity on Steve. âUnless, of course, you want me to help velcro your ass back into that little number..?â
Thatâs the absolute last thing he wants. So, with an angry grumble, Steve accepts Eddieâs offer for clothes and follows him down the narrow hallway, into his bedroom. Steve all but collapses on the end of Eddieâs unmade bed, snatching a pillow and holding it to his lap as he watches Eddie dig around his dresser drawers.
Steve notices that Eddieâs oddly quiet now that theyâre alone.
Steve was sort of used to Eddieâs constant prattling on when they were togetherâso much so, that the lack of it seems unnatural in its own sort of way. Itâs damn near unsettling to be near Eddie and not have him chewing his ear off.
Eddie pulls some soft, gray clothing from his drawers, attempts to discreetly give it the cautionary sniff test, then turns to offer them up to Steve. âHere, these, uh, they should fit you. Elastic waistband.â
âThanks.â Steve mumbles, still a little pissed at Eddie for the whole tearing him out of his clothes thing. To be fair, Steve would have probably returned the favor if the roles had been reversed and would have laughed just as hard. Maybe harder.
He shoves the shirt on, then discards the pillow in order to stand and attempt to rid himself of the godforsaken boots from hell... Steve is unnervingly aware that the red of his underwear stands out like a fucking fire engine.
Eddie turns his painted face away, suddenly very interested in the various posters on his wall.
âOh, sure, now youâre shy.â Steve snorts, but when he steps on the backs of his heels in an effort to toe off his boots, he sucks in a sharp breath and wobbles back onto the bed, cursing. The sharp stinging pain from the blisters is enough to cut his breath. âShit, shit, shitââ
âWhat is it? What happened?â Eddieâs full attention is back on Steve, and Steveâs insides squirm a little at the intensity of it. He kind of loves that about Eddie; how he can be flighty and erratic one minute, but wholly and completely laser focused on something the next.
And Steve is man enough to admit that he sort of likes it when that undivided attention lands on him. Admittedly, he likes it when anyone pays attention to him, but⊠itâs different with Eddie. Even Steveâs not entirely sure why. It just makes him feel⊠seen, maybe. Special. Understood?
Steve doesnât fucking know. He gives his head a shake.
âItâs just these stupid boots. Iâve only worn them a few times and they always give me blisters. I shouldnât have worn them tonight but I just thought they went good with the outfit...â Steve explains, as if itâs a confession. The price of vanity, he thinks bitterly. Steve lifts one of his feet until itâs propped up his opposite knee and begins working the boot off, flinching as he goes, âtheyâre just stinging a little, itâs fine.â
âIâll get some band-aids.â Eddie mutters as he darts out of the room, nearly tripping over something in his haste. Steve can hear him digging through the cupboard in the bathroom through the paper-thin walls of the trailer. Eddie sounds like a goddamn tornado. But hey, whatâs new? Dude is tornado incarnate.
By the time Eddieâs back, armed with a battered box of band-aids and a tube of Neosporin, Steveâs already managed to work off a boot and peel away one of his socks. Heâs poking the painful, fluid-filled blister with a grimace.
âHere.â Eddie awkwardly passes both of the items to Steve. He practically shoves them into his hands. Steve accepts them all with a quick thanks and gets to work. He half expects Eddie to go and just leave Steve to it, but he doesnât. Instead, Eddie just stands there, hovering in the middle of his bedroom, staring like a weirdo.
Which sounds harsh even in Steveâs own mind, but there really was no mistaking it; Eddie most definitely is a full-blown, bonafide, one-of-a-kind weirdo. But as timeâs gone on, and the further Steveâs gotten away from high school, the more heâs realized that his favorite people in the whole worldâthe ones heâd lay down his life for any day of the fucking weekâare all freaks and weirdos. And maybe that made him a weirdo freak right alongside them. And hey, if all the best people were weird, shouldnât he be proud to be counted among them?
Steve finds he doesnât entirely hate the concept.
âYou must think Iâm a moron, huh?â Steve mutters as he smears some of the antiseptic cream over the blister, then a band-aid overtop, flinching the whole way through.
âFor getting a blister? Or for accidentally cosplaying as a sex worker?â Eddie asks, grinning. Knows heâs being a cheeky little shit.
Steve just scoffs and rolls his eyes, âit couldâve happened to anyone, yâknow. The costume thing, I mean.â
He settles his bare foot on the ground and starts on his next boot.
âMaybe. But itâs funny because it happened to you.â Eddie aims a set of finger guns at him. Steve, despite himself, chuckles a little under his breath. It was sort of funny.
âI donât, though, by the way.â The couple of words tumble out of Eddieâs mouth. Steve knows by now that when he isnât following Eddie, all he usually needs to do is wait a few seconds. Eddie never seems to mind taking the time to further explain himself to Steve, unlike most other people. So, Steve just spares him a glance and waits. âThink youâre a moron, I mean. Youâre just⊠more of a do first, think later kinda guy. It doesnât make you dumb. Maybe a little foolhardy, is all.â
âFoolhardy?â Steveâs hands stop what theyâre doing as he looks up at Eddie. Steveâs pretty sure he knows what it means, but who the hell throws around digs like that?
Well, come to think of it, Eddie Munson would. Between writing his own songs and making up those D&D campaigns, Eddieâs inner voice probably speaks to him in sonnets and soliloquies.
âItâs a good thingâwell, it is when I say itâŠâ Eddie rushes to explain, but seems to abandon a few trains of thoughts before shaking his head, âwhatever, nevermind, forget I said anything.â
âI know what foolhardy means I justââ Steve doesnât have any fight in him though, too focused on how fucking painful this blister is compared to the last. The sharp sting was enough to make his eyes embarrassingly prickle. âFuuuuuckâŠâ he groans as he pulls.
âStop, stop, justââ Eddie kneels, taking a knee, before he grabs Steveâs boot.
âNo no, Eddie, donâtâ!â Steve shrieks, suddenly terrified of Eddieâs jumpy, erratic movements heâs known for. His foot canât fucking take itâŠ
âCalm down, Iâll pull it off slow. Iâll even give you a countdown. You justâjust relax, alright?â Eddie says, looking downright ridiculous in his costume. And yet, despite how crazy he looks, Munson seems sincere. He liked to poke fun at Steve, sure, but Eddie wouldnât hurt him. Steve knows that. And when Eddieâs fingers curl around the back of his calf, the touch is gentle. Steveâs skin heats underneath Eddieâs hold. Itâs enough to make his head go a little fuzzy.
Trying to follow Eddieâs instruction, Steve hesitantly leans back on the heels of his hands, allowing his leg to go slack in Eddieâs grip. âRelax. Right. Okay.â
âAlright. My safe wordâs Ronald Reagan, but you can borrow it for tonight if you want me to stop, cool?â Eddie looks up at him through his lashes. The liner around his eyes was really something else⊠And his hair looked especially poofy tonight. Like Steveâs hands could get lost in there. Were those plastic spiders in his hair? God, Steve hoped they were plastic spidersâŠ
A beat passes before Steveâs brain catches up with him. âWhy the hell is Ronald Reagan your safe word?â
âBecause nothing kills my boner faster than thinking about that dickwad. Duh.â Eddie explains, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And maybe it was, but Steve wasnât exactly experienced with things like safe words and⊠well, the things that normally go along with safe words.
He feels himself shift anxiously at the idea. He wondered if Eddie was just making a joke or if he actuallyâŠ
âReady?â Eddie interrupts and utterly derails that particular train of thought. Heâs cradling Steveâs booted foot, one hand low on Steveâs calf, the other gripping the bottom of the boot. Real comforting like.
Steve takes a quick breath before giving a sharp nod. âReady.â
â3, 2, 1, deep breaths everyone!â Eddie says, and true to his word, he pulls off slowly, trying to angle the boot away from Steveâs heel as best he can. Steve clenches his teeth through the whole thing, determined not to utter the president's name. âAaaaand weâre done!â Eddie says triumphantly.
Steve sighs, and lets himself fall onto the bed in relief. Heâs built up a bit of a tolerance for pain over the past few years (purely out of necessity), but he still fucking hates it. Even if itâs something small like this. Call him a pussy for it, whatever. Steve doesnât care.
When he feels Eddie begin peeling off his sock though, Steve bolts upright, returning to his seated position. âY-you donât gotta do that partââ
Eddie shrugs nonchalantly and continues peeling away the sock. âItâs okay, I wanna help.â
âMy feet probably fucking reek, dude. Iâve been wearing those all day.â Steve wrinkles his nose. The idea that Eddie could possibly be repulsed by him in some way just doesnât sit right with Steve. âYou donâtâ... I-I can do this part.â
âI told you, I donât care.â Eddie says as he peels away Steveâs sweaty, ripe sock before sticking it into the no doubt equally sweaty, ripe boot.
Eddie's now kneeling in front of a pantless and sockless Steveâto say he felt exposed would be an understatement. He watches as Eddie takes the tube of Neosporin in hand and squeezes out a glob onto his finger and lines it up with Steveâs heel.
âUnless,â Eddie halts, as if an idea had just occurred to him, âunless you donât want me to.â
The two of them just stare at one another for a few seconds, as if theyâre both just realizing that they donât really know the limits of their friendship yet. Both of them seem to be asking the other for permission to cross some kind of a line that they donât know even exists or not. It should be awkward, but somehow it isnât. Itâs a little uncomfortable, sure, but⊠exciting, in a weird way.
Steve swallows, âno, I want you to. I mean, if you want to, of course. Iââ
I like it when you touch me.
The thought hits Steve with such a sudden and sharp clarity that for a second heâs not sure if heâs said it out loud or not.
But if Eddie somehow heard it, he doesnât let on.
Instead, the sides of his mouth twitch into a tentative grin, but then Eddie ducks his head before Steve can watch it blossom fully into a smile, though he can tell by the way his cheeks rise near his eyes that it indeed does.
Eddie smears the antiseptic cream on Steveâs blister with guitar string scarred fingers, with more care than most people bother using when they reach for Steve. Then he wipes his hands on his own bed sheets before unpeeling a bandaid from its wrapping and laying it overtop of everything. He smooths a finger overtop of it, once, then twice for good measure. Why Eddie runs his finger over the band-aid a third time, Steve hasnât got a clue.
Thereâs something about the way Eddie so can flip the switch from being a loud, boisterous, all out terror of a human being, to this sincere, gentle⊠almost sweet person. Itâs hard for Steve to wrap his head around. Especially since Eddie doesnât show the second side nearly as often as the firstâand only to a lucky handful of people. Steveâs one of those happy few.
Itâs like a secret Eddie.
Steve briefly wonders if thereâs a secret Steve, but if there is, not even he knows about him. Steve has a feeling heâs more of a âwhat you see is what you getâ kinda guy. Hopefully, that doesnât mean heâs shallow.
And just when Steve thinks Eddieâs done with him, the guy spins around and rummages in his top drawer for a few seconds before turning back with a rolled up set of fresh socks for Steve. Without a word, he kneels and begins putting them on Steveâs foot for him.
WhichâŠ
Honestly, Steve doesnât know how to feel about it. Good, obviously. That much, at least, is crystal fucking clear. But thereâs more. Like the fluttery sort of warmth that comes specifically when someone brings you a bowl of hot soup when youâre sick, or cares enough to hold your hair back for you while you puke your guts out after drinking too much. Itâs that same sort of feeling. Only more.
âThanks, man.â Steve says, utterly relieved his voice comes out sounding steadier than heâs feeling. Because⊠Well, because no one takes care of Steve, except Steve. Itâs been that way since he was old enough to tie his own shoes. Heâs always on his own. Self-sufficient. Steve takes a sort of pride in it.
But hereâs Eddie, on his knees, tending to him, even though Steve can do it perfectly fine on his own. Heâs still doing it for Steve, and for the hell of him, Steve canât wrap his head around why. And all of it over some stupid blisters. It makes Steveâs chest ache, fixing to burst.
âNo problem, Officer. Just doing my civic duty.â Eddieâs tone is soft when he flicks his eyes up briefly, paired with a grin. He finishes putting the fresh set of socks on Steveâs feet, careful to avoid the blisters. The socks are pilled, and scratchy, as if neither Wayne nor Eddie bothers with fabric softener, but theyâre comfortable enough and blissfully warm.
âWell the city of Hawkins thanks you too, Mr. Munson.â Steve replies with a two fingers salute, attempting to match Eddieâs energy, but the words sound so deeply stupid when theyâre strung together like that, that it has them both chuckling.
âChrist, youâre cute.â Eddie mutters, dragging a knuckle under his eye to clear away the stray tear that had formed from all of the laughing heâs done tonight. Then Steve watches as that easy smile that he had just been so admiring quickly fall away as Eddie seems to realize what heâd just said.
Eddie thinks heâs cute?
The question of what kind of cute he was referring to bombards Steve's brain. Cute could mean a hell of a lot of thingsâfrom puppies with big wet eyes to Michelle Pfeiffer in a skin tight leotard. Or maybe Eddie didnât mean to say cute at all. Yeah, maybe it just slipped out. Hell, maybe Eddieâs just high. He does get a little extra tactile and emotional when heâs high. And Eddie definitely smells like weed, butâwell, Eddie always smells like weed.
âHereâs yourââ Eddie suddenly stands, cape fluttering behind him, and tosses the sweatpants from earlier back at Steve who catches it with ease, despite the newly unmoored feeling heâs got in his gut. Steve suspects Eddieâs blushing by the way heâs holding himself, but because of all the makeup, Steve canât be sure. Eddie anxiously twists his rings around his fingers muttering a quiet, âsorry, man.â
Itâs said so timidly that Steve almost misses the tacked-on apology entirely. Now, timid isnât usually something that Steve would associate with Eddie Munson but, well, there it is. And despite their playful back and forth with one another, Steve can tell this is wholly different. He doesnâtâcanât leave Eddie standing there with egg on his face.
âDonât be sorry. Itâs notâitâs whatever, dude.â Steve says, forever baffled at how the English language, the only language he even knows and is apparently fluent in, still manages to sound like knotted garbage when it comes out of his mouth. He shoves his legs through the sweatpants, yanking them up to his waist.
Eddie seems to get it though, thankfully. âYeah?â
âYeah.â Steve says, quick, casual-like.
Eddie chews on his lip. âI didnât make it weird?â
At this, Steve barks out a laugh. Because, yeah but⊠well, if Eddie started going around apologizing every time he did something weird the guy would never stop apologizing.
And Steve likes Eddieâs flavor of weird anyway.
âHey, Iâm the one who showed up to your house dressed as a stripper, didnât I? If anyoneâs made it weird tonight, itâs me.â Steve runs a hand through his hair, briefly concerned about how the stupid hat probably left an embarrassing indent where it was sitting.
Eddieâs wide smile is back, the one that lines his face and makes his eyes do that starlight thing. âThatâs true.â He chuckles.
âI like your costume though.â Steve grins, feeling that fluttery feeling in his chest when he gets Eddie smiling like that. âVampire, right?â
If possible, Eddieâs eyes widen further, giving him a manic look. He hastily pats his various pockets before finding his fake fangs and shoving them into his mouth. They look terrible, but admittedly, they sort of complete the overall look.
âThatâs Count Dracula to you, foolish mortal.â Eddie says with a truly terrible Transylvanian accent as he dramatically swishes his cape over one of his arms, then positions it underneath his kohl-rimmed eyes.
Steve pretends to cower, but heâs always been kind of a shitty actor so he just ends up snorting and shaking his head. âTerrifying. If you hadnât torn it off me earlier, Iâm sure I would have shivered right out of my uniform.â
And again, itâs enough for Eddie to break character and bark out a laugh around his plastic fangs. He recovers quickly though, a smile still pulling at the sides of his mouth.
âCâmon, the girlsh have probably put the movie on without ush.â Eddie says with a very distinct lisp. Itâs sort of adorable.
Itâs profoundly less adorable after Steve hears how Eddie needs to suck back the spit trapped between his teeth and the tray so he doesn't drool all over himself.
Thankfully, Eddie doesnât end up wearing the fake fangs for the whole movie, especially not after Nancy demands their removal after two or three noisy, spit-retrieving sucks. Thereâs some petty back and forth that lasts a couple of seconds, but itâs settled quickly and amicably, as most of their squabbles are.
Steve and Eddie spend the majority of the horror flick pressed up against one another, from shoulder to knee. Steveâs not entirely sure what the hell is happening between them, but whatever it is⊠itâs nice.
And when thereâs a particularly scary bit that makes Steve nearly jump out of his skin, Eddie teases him and slaps a patronizing hand to his knee just to further torment him, but itâs the damnedest thing. Even after the jokeâs over, and their collective focus is back (in theory) on the movie, Eddie just⊠doesnât take his hand back. Neither one of them seems keen on addressing it either, afraid to spook whatever it is away.
They stay that way for the rest of the movie. He doesnât risk putting his hand over top of Eddieâsâhe canât. Not yet, at least. But Steve will think about little else besides the feeling of Eddieâs warm hand curled around the top of his knee, searing into him like a brand, for many nights to come.
Itâs hands down the most embarrassing Halloween Steveâs ever hadâbut itâs also kinda the best, thanks to Eddie.
#steddie#my writing#Iâm thinking of putting together a tag list for all of my Steddie works#if anyone is interested??#message me/comment to get added!#steddie fanfic#fanfic#write Rae write#Steve Harrington is a himbo#and youâll never take that from me#Eddie Munson is a chaotic gremlin with a crush#costumes#Halloween#Steddie spooktober 2024#Steddie spooktober#stranger things#stranger things fan fiction#my edits#steddie edit#Steddie graphic#Eddie Munson#Steve Harrington#eddie munson is alive
129 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pac: I wish I had a really nice background story for my- why I'm here. But you know, Felps just crashed the ship and I'm stuck! Fit: You've got an interesting history though, Pac! I mean, look at you escaping that prison! Like, that was not easy for you to do. [...] You've told me lots of stories about yourself and Mike's adventures. You've got a very interesting backstory. Pac: Thank you Fit, thank you. I'm glad to hear that you think it's cool. Fit: I meanâ the cannibalism part, that sucks, but it isâ It's cool! It's cool.
People keep wondering when Pac's going to tell Fit how he lost his leg, but during their date last week, Fit implied that their characters already had this discussion! Although this could've been an OOC part of their conversation, they've referenced this specific part of Pac's lore in past streams (this is just the most explicit example we've had so far).
[ Full Subtitle Transcript â ]
â
Pac: I wish I had a really nice- um, background story - background story for my- why I'm here. But you know, Felps just crashed the ship and I'm stuck!
Fit: [Chuckles] Well no- you've got an interesting history though, Pac! I mean, look at you escaping that prison! Like, that was not easy for you to do.
Pac: ...No, yeah, you're right.
Fit: You know, and you've been- you have- you've told me lots of stories about yourself and Mike's adventures, likeâ You've got a very interesting backstory.
Pac: Thank you Fit, thank you. I'm glad to hear that you think it's cool.
Fit: I mean, I meanâ the cannibalism part, I mean, that sucks, yeah, but it isâ It's cool! It's cool.
Pac: Yeah, right? Yeah- that's- that's not a good part, right? Yeah, I- ugh, yeah, it's aâ [He takes a deep breath] Yeah. It's ok.
Fit: Y-yeah, yeah...
Pac: It's ok.
#Hideduo#Pactw#FitMC#QSMP#FitPac#January 9 2024#I was like ''???'' when I didn't see anyone else talking about this but tbf a LOT happened that day#So this is just me dusting dirt off this gem of lore and polishing it before presenting it to the community for re-inspection#<- can you tell I'm writing this in the early AMs#I'm falling asleep at my desk#Q#Anyways. Fit is so lucky Pac's got... interesting taste in men#''Cool trauma bro!'' are you INSANE#I can't remember how chat reacted but I was screaming#lmfaooo#Pac and Fit are so awkward and I find that hopelessly charming#Even if it makes me want to hide my face in my hands and scream#frickin. ''cool trauma bro'' FitMC you're so lucky he loves you#ALSO has anyone else noticed Pac almost always looks down at his leg whenever they bring up the topic of what happened to him in prison?#It's such a small little character trait but I LOVE it#The attention to detail!!! I love it!!!!#Pac's such a good roleplayer
272 notes
·
View notes
Text
Maedhros and Maglor for @feanorianweek.
Inspired by a scene from my fic, What Fades Away.
Excerpt:
Maitimo swallowed hard. It was disconcerting to be so near one of the Powers. Though he had been taught that the Valar loved Eruâs Children, he could not help but be aware that such a being could reach out and crush him or one of his family if it so desired.
OromĂ«âs head turned to Maitimo suddenly, as though he knew his thoughts, but the Vala only blinked his bright yellow eyes, watching Maitimo curiously for a long moment before turning back to Atar and Amil.
MakalaurĂ« had squeezed his hand hard when OromĂ« glanced over, and Maitimo looked down to see that his little brotherâs face was pale with fear. Despite this, MakalaurĂ« moved around so that he was standing in front of Maitimo, as if to shield his older brother with his slender frame. Maitimo wanted to whisper reassurances to him, but he did not want to draw the Valaâs attention again, so he settled for lifting MakalaurĂ« into his arms.
Makalaureâs thin arms wrapped firmly around his neck, nearly choking him, but he could feel the frantic beat of his brotherâs heart against his own chest, so he did not try to loosen his hold.
âWhat is his name?â OromĂ« asked in a voice that was both as deep as thunder and as soft as a breeze. The air shook with it but quickly settled.
âHe will be called TurkafinwĂ«,â Atar said, an arm now around Amilâs shoulders.
Maitimo was amazed when OromĂ« stooped down and lifted a hand toward Amilâs belly. He glanced between Amil and Atar and asked, âMay I?â
Atar gave a curt nod, holding himself proudly, but Amil smiled when she nodded her consent.
Maitimo took a step closer, but he stopped when Makalaure twisted around with a fearful lurch to see what was happening.
The Vala spoke again, his voice quieter this time, so that it seemed as if whisper wound around whisper, only hinting at words beneath the hiss of the sound. Then the Vala smiled wide.
âHis spirit is fierce and bright like wildfire,â OromĂ« said, looking pleased as he stood, towering above them again.
Amil looked like she did not know what to think of this pronouncement, but Atar raised his eyebrows a little, and Maitimo wondered what he would say.
âHe is my son. My fire burns in him as it does in my other sons, and as it will in all of my children.â
âYes,â OromĂ« said. His smile did not fade, though his eyes changed somehow, as though seeing something not here. Maitimo had seen this look on his motherâs face before, and it always unsettled him when she fell into solemn contemplation afterward.
#tolkien#feanorianweek#the silmarillion#maedhros#maglor#my art#feanorianweek 2024#what fades away#I'm disappointed I only managed to get 4 drawings done#i might still try to make some more before feanorian week is over#but I'm so drained and so busy#I guess we'll see#i love these boys so much#i really want to start writing What Fades Away again#i'm just wondering if anyone is still interested in reading it#as it's been a long time since i posted the last chapter#i need motivation
119 notes
·
View notes
Text
i recently remembered DickTim Week 2024 is happening very soon and i looked at the prompts again to see if i could get anything out for it and. the Hades & Persephone AU prompt for day 1 has got me really thinking so here's a vague concept i plan to write.
i've been pretty burnt out on modern Hades & Persephone retellings because of how they always seem to fall into the same generic "innocent wide-eyed girl runs from her evil mean mother into the arms of a dark mysterious man because actually she went willingly and chose to marry him" which has gotten repetitive for my tastes. (for clarity i don't care if this retelling is your cup of tea personally, so long as you're not actively trying to rewrite the original myth and claim untrue things about it, if this is your favorite flavor i sincerely hope you enjoy the buffet i just have little interest in it since it feels overdone for me and exhausted of it's supposed commentary atp)
but? but. biblically accurate Hades & Persephone AU has me all kinds of interested. because wait listen so hear me out right. Hades!Dick and Persephone!Tim, obviously. i feel it'd be more loosely inspired by with themes and imagery (though playing with death and nature powers could be interesting, i haven't decided) rather than explicitly making them gods and all. but. something dark and fucked up where Dick and Bruce are especially estranged. maybe to do with Jason's return, maybe to do with them just clashing and having their usual explosive arguments. and Bruce knows the peace needs to be kept, if he and Dick are at odds then everyone starts to pick sides and things just fracture so he needs a peace offering.
and the peace offering is Tim.
Bruce (the stand-in for Zeus) offers up Tim. agrees to have Tim move to Bludhaven and be Dick's... whatever Dick wants him to be. knowing that with the implication comes the likelihood of Dick grooming Tim. and Tim has no real say and is hesitant to put up a real fight. he doesn't want this, he knows what this is going to imply Dick will do to him, but he also knows if he says no things have the possibility to just... fall apart. so he's the unwilling bride, dragged off to the metaphorical underworld (Bludhaven) with Dick, away from his family, his friends, the life he built.
and on the flip side, i think weirdly enough, your best pick for the Demeter stand-in is *Jason*. just, hear me out on that. not necessarily on the side of it being motherly, but on Jason being just estranged enough from the Batfamily to be the one willing to call it out for being bad and wrong and raising bloody hell to get Tim back. maybe it's because Jason wants Tim for himself, maybe it's truly out of a concern for Tim to have autonomy, i'm toying with the idea of it primarily being Tim's POV and him genuinely not knowing which of these is true. (and the truth possibly ends up being a complicated middle ground) and because i like Helena, i think you can use her as the Hekate stand in, the one who strikes a tentative alliance with Jason and tries to go find Tim and bring him back. Tim stuck with Dick, getting groomed and hyperaware of it, possibly even getting fucked the whole time as well, knowing he can't go back without causing massive issues for Dick and Bruce because well, Bruce did promise him to Dick. so he has to adjust his whole life, try to figure out being a vigilante in this new city with Dick breathing down his neck the whole time.
and then much like the ending of the myth, a sort of compromise is struck that's a shaky deal for everyone involved. Tim is put on an essential timeshare, going back and forth between Gotham, where he has friends and family and a support system, then getting dragged right back to Bludhaven with Dick in this brutal cycle that he slowly gets used to and stockholm'd into even liking it. Dick isn't so bad, once he gets used to the quirks of their unbalanced 'relationship'. the sex is even something he can adjust to as well. not quite a happy ending but one that sits in this realistic grey area that becomes Tim's life.
i will write this, eventually, but i don't know if i'll get to it before DickTim Week ends so by posting the idea i'm essentially putting it out into the world so the peer pressure holds me accountable. i just. really like the potential of making Hades/Persephone AUs as fucked up as they can be simply by adhering to the source material and making it a raw story of being stolen away and forced to like this new home you didn't ask for.
also a less fleshed-out aspect of this idea i have ties into Persephone becoming the Queen of the Underworld when she's taken and how the transition from Kore to Persephone could be reflected in Tim. how he makes the best of the worst situation and becomes something far more dangerous and dark when he's in Bludhaven, possibly takes on a new vigilante name/identity and leans into the worst quirks of his personality he tries to tamper because there's no point in not going full tilt Obsessively Weird if he has no choice anyway and it being one small way he takes back his autonomy, and that inevitably making Dick *more* into him, because he gets to see Tim finally just. let loose.
#dicktim#timdick#batcest#necrotic festerings#necrotic works in progress#dicktim week 2024#fandom event#this will be written i've just got a pile of things before it.#i'm mostly posting it so i don't fucking forget about it#i'm also interested in some of the other prompts#day 2 is full of goodies. and day 7.#but the other prompts are probably ideas that'll be shorter and quicker#this one i feel. if i rlly fucking ran with it. could go on to be a novella length idea.#idk how long it'll get when i write it#but there will be smut this i promise you#also i'm respectfully begging y'all pls don't do hades/persephone myth discourse on this post#i really *don't* care if you like romantic retelings i promise. they're just not my vibe#and i also promise i am *incredibly* well read on this myth#if you try to give me the âwell in some versions-â argument i'm *going* to get incredibly boring with so many sources.#like i will go step by step through every ancient version of this myth.#i save that discourse for spiritual spaces tho so pls don't drag it here i will combust#anyway making jason the demeter stand in is funny bc greek mythos also does do the incest pretty hard#so like. it still works. it's funny#how long will this take i honestly cannot tell you#depends on if i cave and bump it up in the queue bc it's behind like. four fics i'm so sorry.#but you're welcome to send asks or whatnot to shout at me about this idea and 'yes and' me#that applies to any of my ideas anyone is welcome to 'yes and' that shit#it delights me dearly.#my sole hang up on this rn is how godly do i make it. do i give them powers. or do i just make it vaguely inspired by the myth.#both are fun for their own reasons.
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
âšAzerbaijan Abnegationâš
Monaco Malaise Part 2
Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Max Verstappen
Word count: 16,976
Chapters: 2/2
Warnings: Angst, Conflicted Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, Light BDSM, Fluff if you squint
Summary:
Charles stares at him intently, âLast time was an anomaly.â Not for the first time, Max recalls the awkward swell of humiliation after Charles had told him to stop. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle at the memory of everything that followed, âYeah, that better not happen again.â
After Monaco, Max thought heâd made up his mind about Charles, and their little arrangement.
Theyâre in Azerbaijan and Charles is everywhere: in his head, in his messages, in his hotel roomâŠ
Will Max be able to hold onto his resolve, or will his attempts at self-denial only prolong the inevitable?
*
Chapter 2:
This week has been correction after correction, managing the fierce oscillation between wanting Charles and wanting to stop wanting him, and now he has his arms full of opposite lock. Charles, yet again, has a front row seat to watch Max spin out of control towards the barriers.
Authors note:
Technically Iâve been working on Part 2 since June last year. After failing miserably writing it in Charlesâ POV I abandoned it. Then I started to re-work this fic back into Maxâs POV in October.
To see it finally posted in honour of Monaco, and Monaco Malaise, makes me a little emotional, I sincerely hope you enjoy it!Â
Read on Ao3
The intention is to one day write the Part 3 Iâve had in my head since June last year, but thatâll be a long way away. I hope to see you back here for a refresher if I ever manage to finish it. As always, you're welcome to dive into my DMs so we can swoon over Lestappen together!
#this was a long time coming#thanks for being patient anyone who was waiting for this x#I really do hope you enjoy it!#lestappen#max verstappen#charles leclerc#Azerbaijan Abnegation#Temptationâs Trajectory#Monaco Malaise Part 2#fic#2021 âAzerbaijan GP#will I still be writing about the 2021 season in 2024#most likely#almost certainly#hope youâre still interested in part 3 by then
96 notes
·
View notes
Text
Äakava tiho, da se nekej dogodi
âDo you think someone will ever love me?â He asked before thinking, freezing up when his brain realized what he had said. âPeople do love you, right now, the guys love you, I love you.â Not like that, he thought. - Bojere week day 4: AU free space
Testing the waters with this AU that hasn't left my mind for ages đ„°
#anyways if anyone is interested in it send me an ask i am more than happy to explain wtf is going on here#because oh boy there sure is a lot going on here#alien writes#kÀÀrijĂ€#joker out#bojan cvjetiÄanin#bojere#bojere week 2024
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 31: LandmarkÂ
(Morrigan x Orest Mahariel and Past Tamlen x Orest Mahariel)
Back in the Brecilian forest, Orest Mahariel tells his new friends about the places he remembers from his childhood. Some landmarks bring back good memories, some bad, and yet they all seem to be tainted by a sadness he canât bring himself to speak about.
#abgink 2024#original content#dragon age#ao3#dragon age origins#da warden#da morrigan#morrigan x warden#tw tamlen#tamlen x warden#orest mahariel#I really like this one#a good fic to end inktober with#I linked the original Oneida (part of the Haudenosaunee nation) story in the author's note at the end!#Dragon Age clearly pulls from North American Native cultures when making the dalish#Orest and my to-be Dalish rook are both quite Native in the way I write them#I'm so glad I got the chance to take some Native American studies in college and actually study the Haudenosaunee and other groups#Found some great Native authors#Really recommend the âMoonshotâ comics collection and stuff by Eric Gansworth#I can grab a full list of texts for anyone interested!#Hope y'all enjoy!
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alright, fellas, I'm getting back to work on my original story! đ„ł That one edited dril tweet about adding 0 words to a WIP day in and day out and wondering why your story isn't progressing got to me... I'm going to make a habit of writing again, at least three times a week C:
#you know how anxiety about not writing builds and builds and you feel increasingly guilty for not honing your craft more?#but then you sit down and write for one hour and you're like: instant relief why didn't i do this sooner?#this is my 2024 goal! i AM going to finish this original story and share it with my friends!!#(those who want to read it of course i am not going to force anyone to do)#(i already have a couple of people in mind because i value their insight ^_^ and they've expressed interest in this story before!)#bunny babbles
1 note
·
View note
Text
The Nisenan tribe in my local area has the opportunity to purchase 232 acres located on a historic Nisenan Village site called YuliÄa, but they have a limited time (until April 4, 2024) to raise the needed funds. You can learn more about the fundraiser and donate here.
Especially if you have ever enjoyed any of my writing, like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Aren't Dead, it would mean the world to me if you'd consider donating what you're able.
I'm also happy to take commissions and donate the funds in full to the fundraiser or to write anyone who sends me proof of their donation oneshots upon request; dm me or send me an ask if you're interested!
Reblogs are appreciated to spread the word. Thank you <3
#i have like no followers since remaking my blog & this is the only time i've regretted that lol so reblogs are appreciated thank you#also i realize sharing this info pinpoints the general area where i live so everyone be cool about having that info thanks đđ»
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
A Ballad of Lost Souls
Eric Draven (2024) X f!reader
Summary: what happens when two lost souls find each other? Cling to each other? Love could be a very dangerous drug indeed. You and Eric meet during rehab.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, p in v, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, brief handjob, hair pulling, choking, size difference, size kink if you squint, bit of inexperienced!reader, Eric is actually a sweetheart, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of substance abuse, addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, this movie is dark what do you want me to say
Reader has tattoos, but has no further specifications, yâall get to be tattooed girlies today, youâre welcome
WC: 5.7K Iâm sorry
Inspo creds @kingkat12, she also posted an Eric fic with the same concept and some of the elements of this story like some of the dialogue bits were inspired after reading hers. Please give her some love! Sheâs a great writer
A/N: NOBODY LOOK AT ME. idc, I love Eric okay, stfu. I just had to write him. He just needs love man. Thatâs all. I want to give him love. So here you go. I might make a part two if thereâs enough interest. When I tell you the Eric fic supply is LOW, Iâve never seen one so LACKING. So I just had to yk? Enjoy and donât cancel me alright.
You didnât often dwell on the past. You had a live in the moment kind of mindset. You didnât know where youâd be tomorrow so you made the best of the moment. But sometimes, you wondered just where your bad decisions were taking you. You didnât mean to end up here, in this awful bubblegum pink sweater and sweatpants, surrounded by people who didnât care why you were here, or if you got better or not. The disappointed words of your mother played in your head, and the angry words of your father hammered in the back of your head. You were a fucking disappointment, and thatâs why you were here.Â
You thought about ending it. This mess your life had become. It wouldnât be too hard to find a razor around here if you truly tried. Who would miss you anyway? What even was the point of it all? By day two you couldnât take this shit anymore. And then you saw him in the yard. You were almost entranced by him. He was so tall, he towered over everyone he walked past, you couldnât imagine how ridiculous you would look standing next to him. You could see his ink cover his hands and fingers, and you wondered just how far the ink traveled. You were intrigued by him, he was quiet, morbidly so, he didnât say a word to anyone, no matter how much they pressed or tossed him around, he just stared. Whether it was the doctors, the counselors, the guards. He always chose silence. And he always had this look of defiance, of apathy, he took everything with a locked jaw and deadpan eyes. And that intrigued you.
Should you try to entertain anyone in this facility, let alone the loner covered in tattoos? No, absolutely not. But lord, something about him drew you in.Â
You caught glimpses of him for a few days, in the cafeteria when you walked past him to your table, maybe he thought you didnât notice, but you caught him turning his head to watch you walk by. One time, your eyes met, they were a pretty shade of green. It was brief though, as soon as he realized you caught him, his eyes were in front of his plate, but not before you managed to flash him a tiny smile. Welcoming, playful.Â
Eric remembered that.Â
The next time you saw him was out in the yard. They encouraged exercise in this place, for some dumb reason. The most people did around here was stand in a corner, feeling completely miserable under the scorching sun. But much to your surprise, after some time walking around the yard you found Eric, lingering by the gym equipment. It wasnât much, just a pull up bar and that was barely tall enough to accommodate him. No weights, of course, because someone could hurt themselves, or someone else with them. It wasnât much, but you couldnât help but watch as he pulled his sweatshirt over his head, revealing even more tattoos going up both of his arms. You stood in a corner like a fucking weirdo, watching as he did pull upâs, as best as he could having to bend his long legs to accommodate the short bar. Why were you just staring at this man youâve never even spoken to? Of that you had no clue. But you couldnât take your eyes away. He had his back to you, but even under the material of his white t-shirt you could see the muscles in his shoulders tense, his arms flexing with each pull. And you could only I magine the true sight of him. Sweat dripping down his forehead, lips pulled between his teeth as he did each pull. God, you felt like such a pervert. You shouldnât be eye fucking him like this, but you couldnât help it, something about him twisted the most secluded corners of your mind.
Ultimately your trance was cut short, since it didnât take long for a group of guys to take interest in whatever Eric was doing and went straight to push him around some more. You frowned, almost upset by the sight of him getting tossed around and hazed like this. You couldnât hear what was happening, but Eric had his head down, chest heavy as he clenched his fists at his sides, but he otherwise did nothing. You didnât care, any fucks you still had to give were gone the moment your parents and your ex-boyfriend conspired to send you here. You were about to walk over there, not caring about what weird opposite sex rules this place had. But when you started walking, Eric did too, getting shoulder checked as he pushed his way past the group of guys. You felt awful, you wanted to say something to him, but you were frozen when he walked past you, his green eyes shooting a quick glance at you, a bit of curiosity laced in them. But you were more focused on how his shirt was clinging to his sweaty chest. And just like that he was gone.
The next time you saw him was during a group meeting that afternoon. You were almost disappointed at first when he didnât show. You sulked into your seat for the first minute or two, upset you wouldnât get to see him today again. And then you saw him. His expression as apathetic as ever, like he would rather get beat up than sit through this bullshit. His hair was soaking wet, small droplets of water still falling from the tips of his raven hair. Great, now the image of him in the shower was ingrained into your brain. As if you didnât feel filthy enough.
You bit your lip softly, sitting up as he sat across from you, his expression blank with disinterest as his tattooed fingers played with the hem of his pink sweater. You werenât paying attention either, you were more entertained by the way his long legs spread open as he slouched on his chair, taking as much space as possible. You thought about how nice it would be to sit on his lap. You glanced at his hands, they were huge. How easily he could grab a hold of your ass, or hold you still by your neck. How his long fingers would feel so deep inside you. You thought about how easily he was doing those pull ups, and you thought just how easily he could hold you down, throw you around to as he pleased with you. Truly, you would happily let him use you. You could feel heat rush to your face as you crossed your legs, trying your best to ignore the heat pooling between your legs. Why were you lusting so hard over him? You didnât even know his name.Â
Almost as if he could hear your pounding heart, Eric looked up to find your eyes lingering on him, one leg crossed over the other tightly. He tilted his head with curiosity, and his fingers twitched around his sweatshirt as your eyes met. He didnât feel like looking away this time. The longer his hooded eyes were on you, the more nervous you became. You could feel your breath hitch in your chest as his eyes burned you. You only looked away when the counselor said your name, followed by stares.Â
Shit, were you supposed to say something?Â
You opened your mouth, immediately closing it as you had nothing to say. You didnât even hear the question. You pursed your lips and shook your head lightly. The counselor sighed softly and looked to the girl beside you instead. It was common for most people here to refrain from speaking so he didnât think too much about it. But when your eyes found Eric again, there was a small hint of amusement in his eyes, a ghost of a grin tugging at his plush lips. For the first time since youâve been here, you saw something other than disinterest on his face.Â
Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.Â
~~~
You pulled your lips into a disappointed pout as you searched around the cafeteria for his black mullet, not being able to find him. And here you thought today would be the day you finally spoke to him. You were about to sit at the nearest empty table when you found him. Even sitting down he stood out. You smiled to yourself, your heart pounding in your chest with anticipation. You looked around for guards, none were paying particular attention to you so you did it.Â
He lifted his head slightly to glance at you, a quick second before his eyes were back on his plate. You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. You smiled to yourself.
âI like your ink.â Were the first words out of your mouth. You said them in one breath, afraid he would get up and leave. His eyes lifted from his hands to meet yours, his eyes then fell to your own hands, one of them covered in distinct patterns and colors from your wrist up to your fingers. He wondered what else you were hiding under your sweater, like him.
âHm.â He gave you a small nod, his plush lips pulled between his teeth in a way that had you clenching your thighs. âI like yours.âÂ
You smiled, the first genuine one since youâve gotten here.
âI have more.â You whispered, leaning close to him, like it was some secret only for his ears to hear. His eyes flickered with amusement and he gave you another hum, his eyes now looking everywhere they could in hope of finding said secrets.Â
âMe too.â His lips curved up the slightest bit as he lifted one of his sleeves up enough to reveal more tattoos going up his arm. Your eyes lit up as you excitedly leaned down closer with the excuse of getting a closer look. Your proximity was certainly way too close for this facility.
Leaning impossibly close to him without actually touching him, you looked up at him and with a playful smile you pulled down the collar of your sweatshirt to reveal more designs along your collarbone, the rest of the design hidden by your sweater as the colors continued down your shoulder.Â
âBut donât tell anyone.â You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hide your smile. He gave you what sounded like a chuckle and he shrugged.
âWho would I tell?â Though his face remained expressionless, his eyes had a glint that mimicked your eagerness, he welcomed your proximity. âHere he comes.â
You were confused by his words and you opened your mouth to question him as he sat back, his head lifting in the direction behind your head.Â
âMales and females canât sit together!â One of the guards, one you had noticed had a particular thing with Eric shouted, roughly grabbing the back of his chair to force him up on his feet.
âHuh? Wait, why are you taking him?â You talked back to the guard. âHey, he didnât do anything! I was the one that sat here. IâIâll move. Donât be such an asshole! Leave him alone!â You tried to help, even going as far as standing up but the guard was already taking the new owner of all of your attention away. Your heart sank as you watched the guard shout at him as he dragged him away.
He had managed to turn his head back for a second, and when your eyes met, he half smiled at you. He was almost proud of the fact that you tried to stand up for him. âIâm Eric!â
You smiled.Â
~~~~~~
âFound you.â You skipped into Ericâs room, finally seeing his door open.
You hadnât seen him since you got him in trouble at their cafeteria the day before. You got in some trouble too. You had a one on one meeting with a counselor about your choice of words and your âtemperâ but it was nothing more than just a slap on the wrist. Truly, you felt worse about getting Eric in trouble more than anything. You didnât mean to, you just wanted to talk to him. He must have gotten punished because you didnât see him during gym hour. You leaned against the doorframe as he turned around to find you. Curiosity filled his otherwise empty eyes, and a glint of amusement replaced the usual apathy in his gaze.
âI never left.â He answered with a shrug as he shuffled through the mess that was made of his artwork. Sketch papers were scattered all over his room, torn off the walls. Perhaps after getting in trouble during lunch they used that as an excuse to go through his room.Â
âIâm sorry for getting you in trouble.â You expressed with genuine regret, shooting back a glance to the hallway before inviting yourself into his room. Much to the protest of the rational voice in your mind. You looked at the floor as you almost stepped on a piece of paper, you happily picked it up, admiring the black charcoal coating the page before you set it on his bed.
âIs that why youâre here? To apologize?â Eric asked almost cynically as he glanced over at you, not moving from where he stood.
âWell yeah. I didnât mean to get you in trouble.â You said sheepishly, a bit intimidated under his intense gaze. There was always a look of defiance in his green eyes, determination even. He gave you a sarcastic hum, which made you roll your eyes.
âWhy did you yell at the guard? You got in trouble too, didnât you?â He asked lowly, his head slightly tilted as he searched for that little thing you did around him, when you clenched your hands at your sides, or your thighs on your seat. His eyes irked with amusement when your fingers twitched at your sides and your lips parted open.
ââCause⊠You didnât do anything wrong. You never do anything, or say anything. And everyone around here always pushes you around. Itâs fucked up.â You answered quietly, daring to meet his eyes. He pulled his lips into a small pout and nodded slowly. His silence was always so nerve wracking to you.
âYeah, so?â
You scrunched up your face, sighing heavily at his questioning. What did he what you to say? You didnât know why you cared. You shrugged, picking up another piece of paper by your feet. You half glanced at it as you spoke.
âI dunno.. I just.. Oh myââ You cut yourself off as you gave the drawing in your hand a proper look. You narrowed your eyes, giving the drawing a closer look, and your jaw fell open. It looked like you, your hair falling over your face, dark scribbles covering your body symbolizing the unknown designs on your body, the only intelligible one being the patterns on your collarbone, the same one you had shown Eric. But what truly caught your eye was that you were in fact, completely nude. Truly, his imagination surprised you, he had imagined every curve of your body well, despite not having seen any part of it.
Based on your flustered expression, Eric could only assume which drawing you had picked up. He swallowed, his cheeks flushing pink being caught red handed. But he didnât look apologetic, at all.
âThis what you do in your spare time? Draw naked girls?â You asked with big eyes, the still working rational part of your mind screaming alarms, but a part of you also filled with excitement at his perverted mind. Almost as if you were on his mind as much as he was on yours.
He shook his head. âJust one.â He answered with a shrug, a challenging look in his eyes.Â
Either you walked out right then and there, and that would be that, or you would go all in. He was trying to figure out which one it would be.
âYou are very talented, this isââ You dragged your tongue over your lip as you walked closer to him, catching glances at his other artwork. Your heart pounded in your chest as you approached him, his gaze making you shudder. He said nothing as you stooped in front of him, now having to tilt his head down to meet your gaze. God this man was so goddamn tall. âYou could totally sell this for some money.â
âBut,â you continued, swallowing hard as you looked up at him, and the way his green eyes looked at you made your mind all fuzzy. God, you haven't felt this euphoric since you got here. This rush of adrenaline made you dizzy, but you pushed through it. âI see one flaw in your creativity.â
âOh?â He bit down on his plush lip, head tilted with curiosity. You hummed and nodded, daring to bring your fingers up his chest. His breath hitched in his chest, but he said nothing.
âI fear you donât have the full picture. My tattoos are more than just a scribble of ink.â You stated matter of factly, making him breathe out a small laugh.
âSorry. I work with what I have.â He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the feeling of your hands itching up his chest.
âMaybe I should give you more to work with?â Your hands found the back of his neck and you instinctively stood on the ends of your toes, itching to get closer to him.
Eric glanced down at you, his eyes lingering on your own for a split second before glancing at your parted lips, soft breaths escaping you as you anxiously waited. He didnât have to think about it, he didnât want to. His mouth was on yours so hard you whined. His large hand found your hair, tilting your head back to meet your lips better.Â
You werenât sure when you ended up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped around Ericâs slim waist as he held you up. You were right, he could hold you up like you were nothing. Truly, the oversized clothes you were forced to wear didnât do him any justice. You wondered what he was hiding under his sweatshirt.
His lips were messy on yours, his heavy breaths joining your soft whimpers. You were so caught up in the delicious feeling of his mouth claiming yours and his hands touching everywhere he could, you didnât hear the loud voices of guards calling your name and patient number. Reality dawned on you when you heard shouting down the hall for everyone to get out of their rooms. You patted Ericâs shoulder, forcing your lips away from his.Â
âEricâEric.â You said his name with urgency, making him look at you, eyes filled with greed as he chased your lips. âI have to go. I donât want to get you in trouble again.âÂ
He nodded after a second, setting you down on your feet after pressing one last kiss to your lips. You had a stupid smile on your face as you successfully sneaked out his room, the guards being distracted as they probably ransacked some poor bastard's room like they had done Ericâs. You glanced behind you as you hurried down the hall, catching a glimpse of Eric peeking his head through his door. He smiled. And it made your heart race.
You could not wait to see him again.
~~~~~~
âEric!ââ You slapped your hand over your mouth, attempting to quiet the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. But the way his tongue lapped at your sensitive clit and his long fingers rubbed against that one spot within your walls that had you squirming.
You didnât mean to end up in this position, ass naked on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry room, with Eric on his knees and his face between your thighs. Truly you didnât, you knew you would be in a lot of fucking trouble if you got caught. But the way his lips claimed yours, his tongue lacing with yours, his large hands grabbing at every part of your body like he didnât know which one he craved to touch more. He just wanted you so fucking bad, your kisses and little rubbing here and there for the past few days wasnât enough for him, or for you.
âI wanted to taste you so fucking bad.â He muttered against your clit, a groan rumbling in his throat when you pulled at the hairs on the back of his head, inadvertently holding his face closer against you. Not that he minded, he would stay here, with his fingers scissoring you open until you dripped on the surface underneath you.Â
âPleaseâfuck. That feels so good.â You didnât remember the last time someone made you feel this good. Not that you had much experience in this area, but this sure felt right.
Eric wrapped his free hand under your thigh, pulling you to the edge, closer to his mouth. He lapped at your pussy like he needed it, like it was the air in his lungs. The sounds leaving his mouth as your juices seeped around his fingers were almost as filthy as yours.Â
You felt like such a slut, chasing his mouth with your hips, heaving like a bitch in heat, and quietly begging him to grant you your release, as quiet as you could be with his fingers so deep and his tongue drawing delicious circles around your clit.Â
âJust like that baby⊠Just like that.â Eric mumbled, his fingers slipping and crooking against that perfect spot.Â
Your release was so sudden, and it hit you so hard you were shaking, sobbing violently into your hand. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of your head. Eric dug his fingers into your thigh, his tongue slipping into your hole when his fingers left you.Â
âShitâEricââ You gasped, your thighs shaking as you weakly reached to grab his face.Â
With a grunt he peeled himself from the warmth of your thighs, he stood to his full height before leaning down to capture your lips. The taste of yourself lingering on his tongue made you moan. Disoriented, you reached down to rub where his cock was straining against his sweatpants. He groaned into your mouth, his large hand flew to catch your wrist.
âItâs okay.â He gave your lips a soft kiss as he pulled your hand away. You gave him an adorable frown, your mind still spinning from your orgasm.Â
âBut youââ He pressed another kiss to your lips, shutting you up. He moved his lips to your neck, latching on to that one spot that had you whining. Neither of you cared if everyone saw the mark he left.Â
âWeâll have time for that.â He mumbled against your skin. The way he slurred the words made your breath hitch. âRight?â
He pulled back to meet your eyes, blinking slowly as he waited for your response. You licked your lips softly, breath soft as you thought, how could he still question it. You were past the lusting. This was something else. You needed more of him, and it wasn't just sex you were craving. You wanted every part of him, even the parts of himself he didnât want.
âOf course.. This isnât.. Canât you tell? What you do to me. Iâve never..â You couldnât even form the right words, your mind still fuzzy with all these feelings you had no name for. You didnât need to explain. Whatever it was, Eric felt the same. And he smiled, he genuinely smiled. And what a pretty sight that was.
âWe should go.â He pressed his lips to the side of your head, smoothing down your hair and fixing your sweater. âCan you stand?â
You half nodded, gasping when he set you down on your feet and you instantly leaned on him for support. The sly smile on his face made you want to slap him. But deep down, you wanted to smile too.
~~~~~
The next time you saw Eric, he was walking down the hallway, his tall frame towering over the majority of people he walked past. He wasnât hard to find. You bit your lip, unable to contain your excitement as you hurried after him. Your fingers brushed his, and almost as if he knew your touch by heart, he wasnât startled, he didnât flinch either. When he turned his head, his eyes grew big at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curving into a tiny smile. You flashed him a whole smile, unapologetic about how happy it made you to see him. Your obsession with him over the past two weeks wasnât something you could explain, you knew it probably wasnât healthy. But when were you ever known for having healthy coping mechanisms? You found something that filled you and you clung to it.
âWhere are you going?â You asked him quietly as you walked beside him. He walked slower, but didnât look at you much, as not to bring unwanted attention to yourselves.
âLaundry room.â He said quietly, his eyes dropping to meet yours. And you shared that knowing and malicious look. You couldnât hide the smile on your lips. This time of day usually meant you could sneak off for a little while since most patients were having their once a week visitor, or phone call, which meant less guards were in every corner.
âIâm supposed to be out in two weeks.â You told Eric in between kisses, his lips trailed your jaw as his hands grabbed at your ass.Â
âIâm out in four.â He answered as he pressed you against the nearest wall. He grabbed your face between his large hands, pulling you to meet his eager mouth. You whined, fists clenched around the front of his sweatshirt. You couldnât go two weeks without seeing him, you would go fucking mad.
âI donât want to wait a month to be with you.â You breathed out, your chest heavy as the words left your mouth. âIâm supposed to go back to my parents when I get out. They agreed to take me in to follow my treatment, but I donât want to go. Theyâre the ones that put me here.âÂ
âI donât have anywhere to go.â You barely heard him as he spoke, almost as if the words pained him, broke something deep inside him. It broke something in you, too.
âYou can come with me. I have a little place and some money saved. Itâs not much but.. If you want.. We could.. We could try something for real?â You trailed off, afraid he would reject you. It was one thing to mess around in here, where neither of you had anything else, anyone else to cling to, but this being anything other than a desperate bond by two lost souls was a different story. Outside of these walls, he could find anyone else, he didnât have to keep the broken girl he fingered in a shitty laundry room.
âI would like that. I would like something real, with you.â His words were soft, as were his hands holding your face as he pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed out a laugh of relief. âFuck this place. Weâll do it tomorrow, during shift change. Thereâs a vent up here that leads to the yard.â
You pulled him down by his sweatshirt, your lips crashing against his. He laced his fingers in your hair as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You welcomed it, lips parting as you locked your arms around his neck.Â
âEric.â You said his name softly in a quiet plea. He opened his eyes to find your desperate gaze. He told himself he wanted to be better, he knew you deserved better, but when you said his name like that, when you looked at him like that. He was no better. âI donât think I can wait anymore. Please, I⊠I needâŠâ
âNeed what?â His words were coated with arousal, he knew fucking well what you meant. But he wanted to hear you say it.
âFuckââ You kissed his lips roughly, any sanity and restraint you mightâve once had, completely. You canât trust an addict to have good self-control, now could you? âTake me. Iâm yours, just take me.â
âFuck.â Now it was his turn to lose his sanity. He gave your lips one last kiss as he squeezed your cheeks between his fingers, licking your lips before he spun you around to face the wall. âYouâre a sweet girl, donât forget that. I swear I will fuck you properly on a bed, with flowers and shit.âÂ
His words were rough in your ear as he pressed his lips to your jaw, his hands making quick work of pulling down your sweatpants and panties. They pooled around your ankles as he kicked your legs open as far as they went.
âI like carnations.â You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. You heard him chuckle beside your ear.
âThose are pretty. Theyâre pretty like you.â He hummed as he brought two fingers up to your lips. You happily took them in your mouth. Eric almost moaned at the sight. One of these days he needed to have you sucking his cock. One of these days.Â
Eric pulled his fingers from your lips and with a kiss to the back of your head, he sunk his coated fingers into your hole. Your mouth fell open, your forehead falling against the wall. You were instantly chasing his fingers, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you happily rode them. You didnât know how he did it, how he could have you dripping around his fingers in a matter of a minute or two. You were clawing at the wall, silent moans spilling from you when he pulled his fingers from you. He watched almost proudly as your slick coated your thighs.Â
âCan I take this off?â He asked quietly, tugging at the hem of your sweater. You made a humming sound, as best as you could. As if he needed to ask. Eric was happy to rid you of your sweater, more happy to find more hidden tattoos going all over both of your arms. He craved to find every single one of your tattoos, and kiss every one. But he knew it would be best to be quick.
His own sweatshirt met the same fate, and with a kiss to your cheek, he grabbed one of your hips as he pulled down his sweats enough to free his cock. A groan left his lips as he dragged his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. You gasped, not being able to see him, but already knowing he was big.Â
âLet me know if it hurts, hm? Iâll take it easy, I promise.â He pressed his lips to your jaw, inhaling your sweet scent as he slowly sank himself into you. Only his tip was in and you could already feel the sting of his cock stretching you wide open.
âFuck. Fuck, oh my godââ You squeezed your eyes shut, fingers clenching around nothing as he slowly filled your further, inch by inch.
âItâs okay. You want me to stop?â He asked, shushing you softly as he sat still, allowing you to adjust to the burning feeling of his size. Fuck, you should have known someone as tall as him would be this big. Somehow, it didnât occur to you.
âNo. âm okay. Keep going.â You reached behind you to touch him, your fingers gracing over the side of his face. He nodded into your neck, one of his hands sneaking to the front of you to play with your clit to ease you as he sank into you until his hips rutted against your ass. He sat still, speaking filthy words into your ear until you were whimpering, needing to feel more. âEric, please.â
You didnât need to tell him twice. His pace was slow at first, slow strokes that allowed you to revel in the feeling of his cock in and out of your walls. But as you both began to grow desperate, pathetic sounds leaving your lips and groans of pleasure leaving him, his pace picked up. It was grueling, how he fucked you against that wall. You braced yourself with one hand, the other holding his face behind you as he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.
âFuck, I have been dreaming about this since I saw you. You always looked so pretty when you looked at me.â He whispered in your ear, his hand wrapping around your hair as he forced your head back, exposing your neck. You cried out, his roughness making you clench around him. He cursed, covering your mouth with his large hand. âI need you to keep it down for me, baby. You donât want us to get caught, do you?âÂ
You shook your head, doing your best to contain the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand slowly left your mouth, trusting you could keep your sounds to a minimum. You bit down on your lip, eyes squeezed shut as his cock split you open. You swore you had never been this utterly fucked out, so cock drunk before. You had never needed anyone so badly. You had never felt so strongly about anyone. You had always found something to cling to, pain, tattoos, in your more miserable and recent yearsâdrugs, and now him. But him? This feeling he gave you, it was like nothing you had ever felt before. You wanted to hold on to him until your final breath of air left your lungs.
âI wanted thisâyouâso fucking bad. I needed to have you.â Eric grunted, lips latching on to that spot on your neck where the previous hickey he had left was starting to fade. âIâm so crazy about you, no amount of rehab could fix me.âÂ
You moaned at his words, letting them sink in. He was down so bad for you, probably as much as you were. Two addicts, seeking refuge in each other, craving this adrenaline, it was a kick you had never felt before. It was a kick only lust and passion could bring. And he ignited that deep within your soul.Â
âMe too.â You panted, lips parting in ecstasy as one of his tattooed hands loosely wrapped around your throat. Fuck, the way his whole hand covered your entire neck made you gush all over his cock. âIâve never wanted anyone this bad. Youâah!âI need you all the fucking time.â
âThen you can have me,â His fingers squeezed your throat tighter, his thick cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your fucking cervix. âAll the fucking time. Forever.âÂ
Tears filled your ears as you could feel your release near, your thighs shuddering as you felt your legs start to give out. Eric was quick to press you further against the wall, his back flush against your chest, sweaty forehead pressed against your cheek as his cock rutted against you, over and over, until you were chanting a string of uh-uh-uhâs, your mind too overcome with the pleasure he was giving you to even speak.Â
âI want you to come on my cock so fucking bad. I need it.â Groans fell freely from his chest as he once again slipped a hand to your swollen clit. The pressure of his rough fingers made you gasp, your throat closing under his grip. Your release hit you so hard you were sobbing, though mostly muffled by his tight grip. Tears fell down your cheek as your orgasm left you a shaking mess. You had never felt this way beforeâso overcome with pleasure you cried.
âShh, itâs okay baby. Good girl.â The hand on your throat left to wipe at your tears, soothing you as you came crashing down.Â
Eric fucked you through your release, frantically chasing his own. His name left your lips with praise, sobs of your remnant pleasure as he pushed you to the point of overstimulation. But it wasnât until he felt his own release near that he pulled out of you. Without saying a word, he grabbed one of your hands and wrapped it around his thick cock, his own hand guiding yours up and down his slick length, sweet praises leaving his lips until he was spilling himself.Â
Heavy breaths and pants of exhaustion filled the small laundry room, the air smelled like sex, and the remnants of your forbidden times were left as evidence. Eric eventually spun you around to face him, a soft smile on his lips. You had only ever seen it once, after he ate you out days ago. It was rare to see Eric smile, but you made it a vow to yourself that you would always make him smile like this.
âHow fucked up are we? Finding comfort in each other like this. Did it ever cross your mind?â You said softly as Eric helped you dress. He was bending down to grab your sweater and he stood up to his full height, towering over you, and his eyes were laced with an indescribable feeling.
âWhen I first saw you, I didnât know what it was, but I was so drawn to you, I looked for you everyday, and I thought I would go mad if I didnât have you. And right now, I can tell you itâs not just lust. Iâm entranced by you, I need you all the time. And if thereâs one thing I learned from this fucking place is that you have to latch on to something, otherwise youâll drown.âÂ
You were speechless, nothing but your soft breaths could be heard. A smile fell on your lips and you leaned into his chest. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest, heâd be damn if he ever let you go anywhere but here.
âAddicts will be addicts, no matter how much they try to fix us. But itâs not always to drugs weâre addicted to.â You sighed softly, closing your eyes as you sank into the feeling of his arms. âThis feeling? I never want it to stop.â
âIt doesnât have to.â He mumbled into your hair, in his head reminding himself of your limited time, but he refused to let you go just yet. âForever, right?â
âYeah, forever.â
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
bigger than the whole sky | max verstappen
when i heard emmaâs stone speech LET ME TELL YOU I GRABBED MY PHONE ASAP AND STARTED WRITING REMINDER FACECLAIM DOESNT HAVE TO BE EMMA STONE I JUST WANTED TO USE THE PIC LOL
INSTAGRAM
liked by f1, martingarrix and 635,788 others
maxverstappen1 ophelia was very happy to see her mother win an oscar and have a mention in her speech. congratulations, yourusername youâre incredible as always. we love you!!
danielricciardo hello opheliaâs dad. can she come to the next race?
maxverstappen1 i have to ask opheliaâs mom
martingarrix little miss phee đ€
liked by author
redbullracing mini verstappen is always welcomed!
yourusername the loves of my life!!
maxverstappen1 â€ïž
view all 3,165 comments
Australian Grand Prix 2024
âlook, phee! thatâs daniel. can you say hi daniel?â max pointed to the australian man who was entering the red bull motorhome. it was opheliaâs first time attending a race so max wanted to make sure she was okay at all times. that meant that ever since the verstappen family entered the paddock, max had ophelia in his arms, even when he had interviews.
daniel approached the family of three with a giant smile plastered on his face. âhi, little miss phee.â he waved at the three year old girl. âare you having fun?â
ophelia was a shy kid. when you and max would get invited to one of your friends kidsâ birthday party, ophelia would always stay with you or max. she wasnât interested in playing with the other kids.
âitâs okay, phee, daniel is a friend.â max encouraged the girl.
âyouâre daddyâs friend.â ophelia said in a low voice that daniel could barely hear.
âyeah, your dad has loads of friends here. you want to meet them?â he asked.
âtell mommy we are going to meet daddyâs friends. weâll be right back.â max gave ophelia a kiss on the cheek.
âwe are . . meeting daddyâs friends!â ophelia told you with a giggle. if there was anyone who could get ophelia to open up, daniel was the man.
âokay, but come back soon. mommy is going to miss you so much.â you stood up from your chair and gave ophelia a kiss. you looked at max, who was too excited for ophelia to meet the rest of the drivers. âhave fun.â you kissed maxâs lips, but ophelia playfully moved maxâs face away from yours.
âthatâs my mommy.â ophelia told max.
âwhat? no way! sheâs mine!â max played along as him and daniel walked out of the motorhome in search of their friends. you watched as your boyfriend and daughter laughed making some people passing by see that max enjoyed being a dad so much.
#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen#mv33#mv1#actress!reader#f1 smau#max verstappen smau#dad!max verstappen
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Harpercollins wants authors to sign away AI training rights
If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/18/rights-without-power/#careful-what-you-wish-for
Rights don't give you power. People with power can claim rights. Giving a "right" to someone powerless just transfers it to someone more powerful than them. Nowhere is this more visible than in copyright fights, where creative workers are given new rights that are immediately hoovered up by their bosses.
It's not clear whether copyright gives anyone the right to control whether their work is used to train an AI model. It's very common for people (including high ranking officials in entertainment companies, and practicing lawyers who don't practice IP law) to overestimate their understanding of copyright in general, and their knowledge of fair use in particular.
Here's a hint: any time someone says "X can never be fair use," they are wrong and don't know what they're talking about (same goes for "X is always fair use"). Likewise, anyone who says, "Fair use is assessed solely by considering the 'four factors.'" That is your iron-clad sign that the speaker does not understand fair use:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/27/nuke-first/#ask-questions-never
But let's say for the sake of argument that training a model on someone's work is a copyright violation, and so training is a licensable activity, and AI companies must get permission from rightsholders before they use their copyrighted works to train a model.
Even if that's not how copyright works today, it's how things could work. No one came down off a mountain with two stone tablets bearing the text of 17 USC chiseled in very, very tiny writing. We totally overhauled copyright in 1976, and again in 1998. There've been several smaller alterations since.
We could easily write a new law that requires licensing for AI training, and it's not hard to imagine that happening, given the current confluence of interests among creative workers (who are worried about AI pitchmen's proclaimed intention to destroy their livelihoods) and entertainment companies (who are suing many AI companies).
Creative workers are an essential element of that coalition. Without those workers as moral standard-bearers, it's hard to imagine the cause getting much traction. No one seriously believes that entertainment execs like Warner CEO David Zaslav actually cares about creative works â this is a guy who happily deletes every copy of an unreleased major film that had superb early notices because it would be worth infinitesimally more as a tax-break than as a work of art:
https://collider.com/coyote-vs-acme-david-zaslav-never-seen/
The activists in this coalition commonly call it "anti AI." But is it? Does David Zaslav â or any of the entertainment execs who are suing AI companies â want to prevent gen AI models from being used in the production of their products? No way â these guys love AI. Zaslav and his fellow movie execs held out against screenwriters demanding control over AI in the writers' room for 148 days, and locked out their actors for another 118 days over the use of AI to replace actors. Studio execs forfeited at least $5 billion in a bid to insist on their right to use AI against workers:
https://sites.lsa.umich.edu/mje/2023/12/06/a-deep-dive-into-the-economic-ripples-of-the-hollywood-strike/
Entertainment businesses love the idea of replacing their workers with AI. Now, that doesn't mean that AI can replace workers: just because your boss can be sold an AI to do your job, it doesn't mean that the AI he buys can actually do your job:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/25/accountability-sinks/#work-harder-not-smarter
So if we get the right to refuse to allow our work to be used to train a model, the "anti AI" coalition will fracture. Workers will (broadly) want to exercise that right to prevent AI models from being trained at all, while our bosses will want to exercise that right to be sure that they're paid for AI training, and that they can steer production of the resulting model to maximize the number of workers than can fire after it's done.
Hypothetically, creative workers could simply say to our bosses, "We will not sell you this right to authorize or refuse AI training that Congress just gave us." But our bosses will then say, "Fine, you're fired. We won't hire you for this movie, or record your album, or publish your book."
Given that there are only five major publishers, four major studios, three major labels, two ad-tech companies and one company that controls the whole ebook and audiobook market, a refusal to deal on the part of a small handful of firms effectively dooms you to obscurity.
As Rebecca Giblin and I write in our 2022 book Chokepoint Capitalism, giving more rights to a creative worker who has no bargaining power is like giving your bullied schoolkid more lunch money. No matter how much lunch money you give that kid, the bullies will take it and your kid will remain hungry. To get your kid lunch, you have to clear the bullies away from the gate. You need to make a structural change:
https://chokepointcapitalism.com/
Or, put another way: people with power can claim rights. But giving powerless people more rights doesn't make them powerful â it just transfers those rights to the people they bargain against.
Or, put a third way: "just because you're on their side, it doesn't follow that they're on your side" (h/t Teresa Nielsen Hayden):
https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/19/gander-sauce/#just-because-youre-on-their-side-it-doesnt-mean-theyre-on-your-side
Last month, Penguin Random House, the largest publisher in the history of human civilization, started including a copyright notice in its books advising all comers that they would not permit AI training with the material between the covers:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/19/gander-sauce/#just-because-youre-on-their-side-it-doesnt-mean-theyre-on-your-side
At the time, people who don't like AI were very excited about this, even though it was â at the utmost â a purely theatrical gesture. After all, if AI training isn't fair use, then you don't need a notice to turn it into a copyright infringement. If AI training is fair use, it remains fair use even if you add some text to the copyright notice.
But far more important was the fact that the less that Penguin Random House pays its authors, the more it can pay its shareholders and executives. PRH didn't say it wouldn't sell the right to train a model to an AI company â they only said that an AI company that wanted to train a model on its books would have to pay PRH first. In other words, just because you're on their side, it doesn't follow that they're on your side.
When I wrote about PRH and its AI warning, I mentioned that I had personally seen one of the big five publishers hold up a book because a creator demanded a clause in their contract saying their work wouldn't be used to train an AI.
There's a good reason you'd want this in your contract; the standard contracting language contains bizarrely overreaching language seeking "rights in all media now know and yet to be devised throughout the universe":
https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/19/reasonable-agreement/
But the publisher flat-out refused, and the creator fought and fought, and in the end, it became clear that this was a take-it-or-leave-it situation: the publisher would not include a "no AI training" clause in the contract.
One of the big five publishers is Rupert Murdoch's Harpercollins. Murdoch is famously of the opinion that any kind of indexing or archiving of the work he publishes must require a license. He even demanded to be paid to have his newspapers indexed by search engines:
https://www.inquisitr.com/46786/epic-win-news-corp-likely-to-remove-content-from-google
No surprise, then, that Murdoch sued an AI company over training on Newscorp content:
https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2024/oct/25/unjust-threat-murdoch-and-artists-align-in-fight-over-ai-content-scraping
But Rupert Murdoch doesn't oppose the material he publishes from being used in AI training, nor is he opposed to the creation and use of models. Murdoch's Harpercollins is now pressuring its authors to sign away their rights to have their works used to train an AI model:
https://bsky.app/profile/kibblesmith.com/post/3laz4ryav3k2w
The deal is not negotiable, and the email demanding that authors opt into it warns that AI might make writers obsolete (remember, even if AI can't do your job, an AI salesman can convince Rupert Murdoch â who is insatiably horny for not paying writers â that an AI is capable of doing your job):
https://www.avclub.com/harpercollins-selling-books-to-ai-language-training
And it's not hard to see why an AI company might want this; after all, if they can lock in an exclusive deal to train a model on Harpercollins' back catalog, their products will exclusively enjoy whatever advantage is to be had in that corpus.
In just a month, we've gone from "publishers won't promise not to train a model on your work" to "publishers are letting an AI company train a model on your work, but will pay you a nonnegotiable pittance for your work." The next step is likely to be, "publishers require you to sign away the right to train a model on your work."
The right to decide who can train a model on your work does you no good unless it comes with the power to exercise that right.
Rather than campaigning for the right to decide who can train a model on our work, we should be campaigning for the power to decide what terms we contract under. The Writers Guild spent 148 days on the picket line, a remarkable show of solidarity.
But the Guild's real achievement was in securing the right to unionize at all â to create a sectoral bargaining unit that could represent all the writers, writing for all the studios. The achievements of our labor forebears, in the teeth of ruthless armed resistance, resulted in the legalization and formalization of unions. Never forget that the unions that exist today were criminal enterprises once upon a time, and the only reason they exist is because people risked prison, violence and murder to organize when doing so was a crime:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/11/rip-jane-mcalevey/#organize
The fights were worth fighting. The screenwriters comprehensively won the right to control AI in the writers' room, because they had power:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/01/how-the-writers-guild-sunk-ais-ship/
Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg
CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en
--
Eva Rinaldi (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Rupert_Murdoch_-_Flickr_-_Eva_Rinaldi_Celebrity_and_Live_Music_Photographer.jpg
CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en
#pluralistic#harpercollins#newscorp#rupert murdoch#chokepoint capitalism#publishing#books#big publishing#ai#copyright#copyfight
420 notes
·
View notes
Text
Better Than Me?
ౚৠWarnings: cursing, drinking, Y/N being a bit of a player (I've never wrote Y/N doing that so lmao), sexual themes, degrading, smut, Rafe being an ass but, when is he not lol 18+ MDNI.
ౚৠPairings: Rafe Cameron x Female Kook Reader.
ౚৠSummary: When Y/N is at a party, she messes with Rafe, pretending like she's tired of him and going to go to Topper for her new sex buddy but, Rafe makes sure she learns her lesson.
ౚৠWord Count: 900+ words.
ౚৠAuthor's Note: this was originally supposed to be a re-write of one of my old Topper fics but, it turned into a Rafe fic lmao. I'll post the old Topper fic soon.
©coco-cinnamon 2024, please do not steal, copy, modify, repost, or translate my work.
Sipping your beer from a red solo cup, you surveyed the lively party. The pulsing music reverberated in your chest, as Rafe Cameron's parties always went all out. When one of your friends caught your eye and waved you over to the dance floor, you smiled back, ready to join her. But before you could make your way through the crowd, a hand suddenly gripped your arm.
Attempting to pull your arm away, you snap, "What the fuck?!" But it's no use - their grip is like iron around your arm. You whip yourself around to see who had grabbed you. Looking up, you're met with ocean blue eyes staring down into yours, hazy with lust. "What the fuck do you want, Rafe?" you ask, finally managing to yank your arm out of his grip. He just smirks at you, his eyes a mix of amusement and lust. "That isn't any way to greet the host, is it?"
You crossed your arms, your gaze piercing up at him. "Again, what the hell do you want?" you asked.
He smirked. "Well, I figured since you came to my party, we could head up to my bedroom. I'm sure we could do way more interesting things up there than you would be able to do over there with your friends."
You cocked a brow, considering his words. He watched you, his impatience growing evident on his face. With a sarcastic smile, you said, "Thanks, but no thanks," and began to turn away. Before you could fully turn around and walk off, he yanked you back to face him again. Rolling your eyes, you groaned, "what now?"
"I thought we had something good going on here." he said, tilting his head quizzically. "We did, at first." you replied with a small shrug. His jaw clenched slightly as he growled, "What do you mean 'at first'?" Maintaining a calm demeanor and a small smirk, you replied, "Exactly what I said. At first, we had a pretty sweet thing, but then I got bored. Plain and simple." You crossed your arms as you continued, "You care more about your own pleasure than mine, so I'm no longer interested."
Rafe scoffed bitterly. "No longer interested? That's bullshit, Y/N, and you know it. You and I both know there's no one here who can make you feel as good as I do. No one knows your body like I do. Do you really think any of these idiots could make you cum the way I can?" He growled, tightening his grip on your shoulders.
You smirked up at him. "Maybe, maybe not. But it's worth a shot to see if anyone can do better. As of right now, I've got my eye on him." You gestured towards Topper Thornton, who was across the room drinking and chatting with Kelce. Rafe let out a mocking laugh, as if the very notion was absurd. "Really?! Topper Thornton is who you're interested in?" he scoffed. "That's got to be a joke, Y/N. You'd actually lower your standards that much?"
"I think I already lowered my standards when I started sleeping with you," you retorted with a smirk, knowing you were getting under his skin. You begin to speak once again, "I mean, Topper is very attractive. Or if you'd rather, I could go and sleep with Maybank. I know for a fact that he'd know how toâ"
But you get cut off as Rafe's hand suddenly wraps around your throat. He yanks you forward, his nose only inches from yours. The height difference causes you to rise up on your tiptoes. "Cut it out Y/N or I swear to god I will take you up those fucking stairs right now and fuck your ass so hard that you won't be able to walk the next day." He said, his voice lethally soft. You look up at him, remaining defiant as a a smirk playing on your lips before you speak "I think I'd rather Topper over there to fuck me."
"You want Topper to fuck you?! Fine!" He snaps, his grip around your throat tightening slightly as he continues, "but just know that I will make you beg on your fucking hands and knees when you crawl back to me, begging me for my cock because Topper couldn't fuck you properly." With that, he roughly drops you. You glance over to where Topper stands with Kelce, then shift your gaze back to Rafe. He smirks down at you, tilting his head. "Well? What are you waiting for? I thought you wanted to whore yourself out to Topper." His grin widens as he sees your face twist with annoyance. "Or are you having second thoughts?"
You glared at him before turning around and starting to make your way towards Topper. But before you could reach him, Rafe came over and grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder. He then smacked your ass roughly, eliciting a squeak from you.
"I- what the hell, Rafe?!" you yelled as he carried you towards the stairs. "Did you really think I was going to let you fuck him? You're mine, Y/N, and by the end of the night the only name that will be able to leave your lips is mine," he growled.
ౚৠAuthor's Note: tysm for reading, babes! part two coming soon!
#obx#outer banks#outer banks smut#obx smut#outerbanks#rafe cameron#smut#⥠â§âË â
ౚৠâ§â .á đŹđžđŹđž-đŹđČđ·đ·đȘđ¶đžđ·#⥠â§âË â
ౚৠâ§â .á đ»đȘđŻđź đŹđȘđ¶đźđ»đžđ· đŻđČđŹđŒ#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x f!reader#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x kook reader#rafe cameron x female kook reader#rafe cameron x kook!reader#coco cinnamon#drew starkey#drew starkey smut#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey x female reader#obx cast#outer banks cast#obx fanfiction#rafecameron
520 notes
·
View notes
Text
iâm still your boy | a.s.w
anakin skywalker x fem!pregnant!reader
summary: after obi-wan tells you of your lovers betrayal, anakin seeks your forgiveness.
warnings: lots of crying, no happy ending, overall angst
w/c: 1.2k
a/n: hi guys ! i decided to test the waters with this fic. i know itâs short but i just wanted to see if i anyone would be interested in me writing for star wars. let me know! also, ive been working hard on the san francisco book, go check it out if you havenât !
requests open
not proofread
Copyright © 2024 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.
â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â” â”
you stand overlooking the city but you canât make out anything from the tears blurring your vision. your hand gently caresses your stomach, unable to fathom what obi-wan had just told you.
killing younglings? turning to the dark side? no. itâs impossible. how could your anakin, the chosen one, the one you had given everything up for? he couldnât possibly do that to you.
you heart began swelling with an unfathomable amount of pain, your robes felt suffocating, and the room felt as if it was closing in on you. Suffocating your senses and making it difficult to breathe.
your heart races and your palms begin to feel sweaty, a sense of mounting anxiety washing over you as the words of obi-wan repeat in your mind.
the once cozy and familiar space now feels claustrophobic and oppressive, mirroring the turmoil within your mind and heart.
your hand clenches your chest, continuing to stare out the window as you hear footsteps approaching.
knowing it was anakin you didnât look back to face him, you couldnât possibly.
instead, you stood there, making out his stature in the reflection of the window.
âobi-wan has told meâŠhorrible things..â
thereâs a silence that feels the room, the tension growing by the millisecond. anakin looks at you through his eyebrows at the mention of his master, or; previous master.
though, anakin still looks at you with so much love and affection. a love so forbidden but anakin doesnât care. heâs so full of love for you heâd do anything for you, including joining the dark side to protect you and the child.
he devoted his life to you and the force, but the premonitions, the nightmares, it was all too much for the mighty jedi.
anakin knows what he did, but you didnât have to.
âdo you believe him?â
you turn on your heels finally deciding to face him. he had an unreadable expression on his face as his eyes examined you. eyes taking in your beauty before trailing down to your swollen stomach. his heart does backflips at the thought of having a child, but he knows it would do no good if your life was in constant danger.
anakin needed to protect you. at all costs.
âi donât know what to believe..â you mutter, eyes wavering with worry. cautiously, you take a few steps towards him. âdid you?â you ask.
âi have to protect you.â
you shut your eyes as he confirmed your worries. your hand guides your body to the sofa, unable to stand much longer. the pain in your chest growing by the second. you canât bring yourself to face him, not when heâs looking at you that.
âmy love..â he coos, falling to his knees in front of you. his gruff hands feeling the soft touch of your silk gown. âpleaseâŠthis is all for you..â he whimpers, the tears staining his cheeks, he has so much love for you itâs turned him into something unrecognizable. evil. dark.
âto protect you,â he repeated. he needed you to know that he would walk through fire for you.
anakin couldnât stand the thought of something happening to you. the visions, the premonitions he was having. every night it felt so real, he was losing you every time he closed his eyes. every day he could feel you slipping away.
âno..â you mutter, your bottom lip begins to quiver at the sound of his voice. you shut your eyes tight, turning your head to face him, letting out an exasperated sigh.
âani..if this is about your visions..â you begin looking into his eyes. the anakin you knew wasnât there. this was someone else. âtheyâre not real..iâm right here..â she frowns, taking his face in her hands and wiping away the tears staining his cheeks with her thumb.
âiâm real, ani. iâm right in front of you.â you beg him. your eyes searching in his beautiful blue eyes only to notice they were the same eyes you fell in love with.
anakin doesnât budge, he shakes his head. ân-no..i have to do this, i have to protect you..â his hands find yours on his face, his thumb caressing your knuckles. âi have to protect our little oneâ his hand moves down the sides of your body and rests on either side of your stomach. âi canât..i wonât lose you, y/n.â
the heat from his hands radiate through your silk gown, almost a burning sensation on your stomach, protecting your child from whomever anakin has become.
you shift away from his touch, protecting your unborn child from his touch. âno..â your bottom lip quivers, a stray tear escaping your eye. your hands wrap around his wrists removing them from your stomach.
anakin panics, heâs becoming frantic. heâd do anything for you to follow him, to be with him. he needs you. ây/n, we could have everything weâd possibly want. we could rule the galaxy together.â
your brows furrow as you look into his eyes. âaniâŠi have everything i could possibly want. i have you, our little one, i donât want to rule the galaxy.â you tell him, hoping heâd come to his senses.
âwe could leave this place, go to the lake. no one would know..we could be at peaceâ you plea with him, staring into his eyes searching for anything. anything at all that would tell you heâd let go and leave with you. anakin doesnât budge. he takes your hands in his again, hoping youâd see his reasoning. âyouâre going down a path i canât follow.â you whimper. your eyebrows knit together as you squeeze his hands. âyouâre not the man i married, ani.â you sniffle.
anakins eyes flicker between yours, his brows furrows and his lips part. âhe turned you against me..â
his voice was low but held so much anger and resentment to his master. holding anakin back, subsiding his powers, his voice. anakin would never become anything.
at least thatâs what he thought.
anger fuels his emotions, he stands up from the floor and removes his hands from your grasp. his hands ball into fists by his side, taking in a deep breath and holding it in. his face twists, looking down on you.
you didnât recognize him. this wasnât the same man you awoke to this morning. this man was consumed by his anger, aggression, and fear.
anakin eyes you, âno. i wonât have this.â he says and turns away from you towards the exit, his hand hovering over his lightsaber.
every step be took was fueled by a fierce sense of determination, tinged with an undercurrent of aggression. mixed with a cold, burning hatred that seemed to radiate from his very being. as he walked away, her every movement was a testament to a man on the brink, with a fire burning in his soul that threatened to consume anyone who stood in her path.
âanakin!â you yell as your stand from the sofa, wanting him to stop and come to his senses but he doesnât. instead, he flips the hood of his robes over his head and you watch his silhouette disappear.
you felt your stomach turn, thinking of the unimaginable. the stress of the situation was taking a toll on your body, and you felt a sharp pain in your stomach.
your hands instinctively went to your belly, a protective gesture as you tried to catch your breath.
your anakin, the chosen one, the one you loved with all your being was gone. the dark side had taken him from you and the child.
a broken sob escapes your throat as you fall back onto the sofa. you cover your mouth as you cry, unable to contain the sadness.
#bartxnhood writes#bartxnhood asks#anakin skywalker#star wars anakin#anakin x reader#anakin smut#anakin x you#anakin fanfiction#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker x female reader#star wars fanfic#star wars#anakin imagine#anakin fluff#anakin angst
504 notes
·
View notes