#if no one is watching it or thinking about it at a certain point in time‚ then at that point in time this story is incomplete

[submissivegayfrenchboy2]

11 / 11 / 2024

PERSONAL FICTIVE STORY

- GREG'S POOPS -

Handsome high school student Greg had a weak stomach, which was his only weakness. This tall, blond athlete was the king of the school, quite simply because he was the most muscular. Everyone was afraid of him. Well, the nerds and the losers, yes, because the other sporty guys were his friends. In addition to a loser who did his homework in all subjects (each of Greg's friends had a homework slave per subject), Greg also had bag carriers who had to wait for him at his yard with his stuff ready. What is certain is that the nerds live under the dictatorship of Greg, the sadistic bully.

Yes, every day, after lunch, a loser is "fed". He gives Greg his share of meals to help him gain extra strength, and in exchange Greg feeds the losers by forcing them to eat his shit. Each month, a calendar, prepared by a loser gifted in organization, is sent to each loser in high school so that they know what day and what time they will have to go eat Greg's shit. While Greg eats with his friends in the high school cafeteria, surrounded by losers who serve them, a nerd has to wait for his "meal".

Today it was Mark's turn, a typical nerd with glasses. He did not go to the cafeteria but waited in a bathroom stall.

Two friends of Greg, the king of high school, were waiting for him. They led him into the bathroom stall where Greg would come to shit later. He was forced to kneel in front of the bowl, waiting before eating.

Several minutes later, Greg came in to shit. His two friends were able to go to the cafeteria to eat, while two other friends guarded the bathroom doors, preventing anyone from coming to piss or shit while Greg was there. He paid little attention to the loser who was waiting headlong. Greg pulled down his pants, farted several times in the loser's face, which made him laugh, and sat down before starting to push to make his poop fall out.

At one point Greg was having so much trouble pushing to get his shit down that he leaned on the face of the nerd in front of him. The nerd tried not to think about the fact that Greg had just scratched his balls and ass, and that his face and hair would retain that smell: being touched by Greg was considered an honor for nerds, it was forbidden for them to clean their face if Greg had spit, burped or farted in their face. All of these victims lived in constant fear that this large, muscular, violent straight white male would strike them.

The toilet faggot would sometimes hold Greg's phone so he could watch a video while shitting or masturbating a little. Sometimes the loser had to read to Greg to distract him, sing a song to relax him (a song glorifying his praises), and if the faggot was cute, suck Greg's cock while he shit.

When Greg was done shitting, he turned his big, round, muscular ass towards Mark's face: the asshole was still shitty, and in any case Mark had to clean Greg's asshole with his tongue. Mark prayed that the same thing wouldn't happen to Stan two weeks ago.

Stan had been "fed" too, but had probably gotten shit in his face when Greg turned his ass towards him, and farted in his face. Stan then spent the rest of the day with shit in his face, provoking ridicule from his comrades. Not allowed to wash himself if he wanted to avoid being hit by Greg and/or his friends, Stan had chosen to smear the shit on his face and in his hair, making the teachers believe that he had received dirt in the face.

Since Stan, nerds have been dreading Greg's ass licking moment. Mark licked around the anus quickly to avoid an impatient Greg from pushing his face into his big shitty ass to wipe himself on it, which would have resulted in Mark's face being covered in shit. The speed of Mark's licking was interpreted by Greg as a sign of enthusiasm, while Mark only wanted to be quick to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Then, on his bully's command, Mark stuck his tongue into Greg's anus to make sure his stinky hole was clean. Once Greg's ass crack was cleaned, Mark was forced to thank Greg for "his meal." Mark looked at his "meal", and turned to Greg smiling and said "Hmmm Your poops are so huge, Mr. Greg! I've never seen them this big! That's a real man's shit ! They look delicious, the color is brighting ! The smell is appetizing! Thank you very much for this good, nourishing meal, mister Greg !”. Mark didn't think a word of it, but the more cheating a faggot, the less violent Greg was.

Greg dropped drops of piss on Mark's hair and a little in his mouth. So he went out and his friends stayed to watch the toilets. They would leave when they had proof that Mark had eaten everything. Indeed, Greg shit in a paper plate placed just above the water in the bowl, so that the nerds would eat "pure" droppings, that is to say those which were not mixed with the bowl's water.

The plate, once the droppings had been swallowed, had to be completely white at the end of the “meal”. One of Greg's two friends was guarding the bathroom door and another was watching the faggot. Added to the disgust at the smell and taste of Greg's enormous droppings was the pressure of speed, because Greg's friends were merciless. They shouted insults at the fags, kicked them in the butt to see them suffer or gave them the number of minutes they had left.

"I don't just have to watch over a faggot's lunch! Eat your lunch faster, fag ! Come on, this delicious shit doesn't have to be so difficult to eat! Why are you crying? Your god Greg gave fed you, he is generous and could have let your starve!” : these are the kind of sentences the fags heard while they swallowed the long, thick stinking turds of the king of high school.

In short, eating Greg's huge droppings was far from being a moment of joy for losers. None of them wanted to eat all day, the droppings were so long and thick.

In short, eating Greg's huge droppings was far from being a moment of joy for losers. None of them wanted to eat all day, the droppings were so long and thick. It felt like I had eaten an entire chocolate cake, but it tasted terrible. If some fags experienced these moments as torture and cried, others understood that Greg and his friends would stop humiliating them if they pretended to feel pleasure from eating his shit. Indeed, Greg did not want to feed them his droppings for their pleasure.

Thus, we saw fags begging Greg on their knees, alone or in groups, to be able to eat his shit. This made Greg and his friends laugh, but they ignored the fags, who at least avoided being hit by this already very muscular man for his young age, or by him and his friends at the same time. All the other queers prayed they wouldn't end up at the same university as Greg and his friends.

END OF STORY

.................................................................................

HISTOIRE FICTIVE PERSONNELLE

- LES CROTTES DE GREG -

Le beau lycéen Greg avait un estomac fragile, ce qui était son seul défaut. Ce grand sportif blond était le roi de l'école, tout simplement car il était le plus musclé. Tout le monde avait peur de lui. Enfin, les intellos et les losers, oui, car les autres mecs sportifs étaient ses amis. Ce qui est sûr, c'est que les intellos vivent sous la dictature de Greg, qui fait partie d'eux.

Oui, chaque jour, après le déjeuner, un loser est "nourri". Il donne sa part de repas à Greg afin de lui permettre de prendre des forces supplémentaires, et en échange Greg nourrit les losers en les obligeant à manger sa merde. Chaque mois, un calendrier, préparé par un loser doué en organisation, est transmis à chaque loser du lycée pour qu'il sache à quel jour et quelle heure il devra aller manger la merde de Greg. Pendant que Greg mange avec ses amis à la cafétéria du lycée, entouré de losers qui les servent, un intello doit attendre son "repas".

Aujourd'hui, c'était le tour de Mark, un intello à lunettes. Il ne s'est pas rendu à la cafétéria mais a été attendre dans une cabine de toilettes. Deux amis de Greg, le roi du lycée, l'attendaient. Ils l'ont conduit dans la cabine de toilettes où Greg viendrait chier tout à l'heure. Il a été obligé de s'agenouiller face à la cuvette, patientant avant de manger. Plusieurs minutes plus tard, Greg est arrivé pour chier. Ses deux amis ont pu aller à la cafétéria pour manger, tandis que deux autres amis gardaient les portes des toilettes, empêchant quiconque de venir pisser ou chier tant que Greg y était. Celui-ci n'accorda que peu d'attention au loser qui attandait tête baissée.

Greg a baissé son pantalon, a pété plusieurs fois de suite sur le visage du loser, ce qui le fit rire, et s'est assis avant commencer à pousser pour faire tomber ses crottes. À un moment, il avait tellement de mal à pousser pour faire tomber sa merde qu'il s'est appuyé sur le visage du nerd en face de lui. Le nerd essaya de ne pas penser au fait que Greg venait de se gratter les couilles et le cul, et que son visage et ses cheveux allaient conserver cette odeur : être touché par Greg était considéré comme un honneur pour les nerds, il leur était interdit de se nettoyer le visage si Greg leur avait craché, roter ou péter au visage.

Toutes ces victimes vivaient dans la peur constante que ce grand mâle blanc hétérosexuel musclé et violent ne les frappe. En plus d'un loser qui faisait ses devoirs dans toutes les matières (chacun des amis de Greg disposait d'un esclave de devoirs par matière), Greg avait aussi des porteurs de sacs qui devaient l'attendre à son cour avec ses affaires prêtes.

Le pédé des toilettes pouvait parfois tenir le téléphone de Greg pour qu'il regarde une vidéo tout en chiant ou en se masturbant un peu. Parfois le loser devait faire la lecture à Greg pour le distraire, chanter une chanson pour le détendre (une chanson glorifiant ses louanges), et si le pédé était mignon, sucer la bite de Greg pendant qu'il chiait. Quand Greg eut fini de chier, il tourna son gros cul rond et musclé vers le visage de Mark : le trou du cul était encore merdeux, et dans tous les cas Mark devait nettoyer le trou du cul de Greg avec sa langue. Mark priait pour qu'il n'arrive pas la même chose qu'à Stan il y a deux semaines.

Stan avait été "nourri" lui aussi, mais avait vraisemblablement reçu de la merde au visage au moment où Greg avait tourné son cul vers lui, et lui avait pété au visage. Stan avait alors passé le reste de la journée avec de la merde au visage, provoquant les moqueries de ces camarades. N'ayant pas le droit de se laver s'il voulait éviter d'être frappé par Greg et/ou ses amis, Stan avait choisi d'étaler la merde sur son visage et dans ses cheveux, faisant croire aux professeurs qu'il avait reçu de la terre en plein visage. Depuis Stan, les nerds redoutaient le moment du léchage de cul de Greg.

Mark a léché le contour de l'anus rapidement afin d'éviter que Greg, impatient, n'enfonce son visage dans son gros cul merdeux pour s'essuyer dessus, ce qui aurait eu pour conséquence de recouvrir le visage de Mark de merde. La rapidité du léchage de Mark fut interprété par Greg comme une marque d'enthousiasme, alors que Mark voulait être rapide pour en finir au plus vite. Puis, sur ordre de Greg, il mit sa langue dans l'anus de Greg afin de s'assurer que son trou puant soit propre.

Une fois la raie du cul de Greg nettoyée, Mark a été obligé de remercier Greg pour "son repas". Mark a regarde son "repas", et s'est retourné vers Greg en souriant et dit "Hummm Vos crottes sont tellement énormes, monsieur Greg ! Je n'en ai jamais vu des aussi grosses ! Ce sont celles d'un vrai homme, c'est sûr ! Elles ont l'air délicieuses, leur odeur est appétissante et leur couleur est brillante ! Merci beaucoup pour ce bon repas nourrissant, monsieur Greg !".

Mark n'en pensait pas un mot mais plus un pédé était faltteur et moins Greg était violent. Greg a laissé tomber des gouttes de pisse sur les cheveux de Mark et un peu dans sa bouche. Alors, Greg est sorti et ses amis sont restés surveiller les toilettes. Ils partiraient quand ils auraient la preuve que Mark avait tout mangé. En effet, Greg chiait dans une assiette en carton placé juste au-dessus de l'eau de la cuvette, afin que les nerds mangent des crottes "pures", c'est-à-dire qui ne soient pas mélangées à l'eau de la cuvette. L'assiette, une fois les crottes avalées, devait être entièrement blanche à la fin du "repas".

Un des deux amis de Greg gardait la porte des toilettes et un autre surveillait le pédé. Au dégoût suscité par l'odeur et le goût des énormes crottes de Greg s'ajoutait la pression de la rapidité, car les amis de Greg étaient impitoyables. Ils criaient aux pédés des insultes, leur donner des coups de pieds dans les fesses pour les voir souffrir ou alors leur donner le nombre de minutes qu'il leur restait. "Je n'ai pas que ça à faire de surveiller le repas d'un pédé ! Mange ton déjeuner plus vite ! Allez, cette bonne merde ne soit pas être si difficile à manger ! Pourquoi tu pleures ? Ton dieu Greg t'a donné à manger, il est généreux !" : voici le genre de phrases que les pédés entendaient pendant qu'ils avalaient les longues et épaisses crottes puantes du roi du lycée.

Bref, manger les immenses crottes de Greg était loin d'être un moment de joie pour les losers. Aucun d'eux n'avaient plus envie de manger de toute la journée, tellement les crottes étaient longues et épaisses. Cela donnait l'impression d'avoir mangé un gâteau au chocolat entier, mais avec un goût immonde. Si certains pédés vivaient ces moments comme de la torture et pleuraient, d'autres avaient compris que Greg et ses amis arrêteraient de les humilier s'ils faisaient semblant d'éprouver du plaisir à manger sa merde. En effet, Greg ne voulait pas les nourrir de ses crottes pour leur plaisir.

Ainsi, l'on vit des pédés suppliaient Greg à genoux, seul ou à plusieurs, de pouvoir manger sa merde. Cela faisait rire Greg et ses amis, mais ils ignoraient les pédés, qui au moins éviter d'être frappés par ces jeunes hommes déjà très musclés pour leur âge. Tous les autres pédés priaient pour ne pas se retrouver dans la même université que Greg et ses amis.

FIN DE L'HISTOIRE

[your-local-simp-writers]

Puppy Love

Word Count: 1552

Warnings: None

Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader ︶꒦��♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

It was a typical day after school, one of those rare moments when Damian Wayne wasn’t caught up in some sort of mission or training. The clock ticked loudly in the classroom as you stared at your class partner. Damian was sitting at his desk, meticulously packing up his things, his movements precise, as always. He had a habit of folding his papers just so, making sure everything was in perfect order before leaving. It was almost funny how much effort he put into something so mundane.

You tapped your pen on the desk, your mind bouncing with energy, as it always did. You had an idea, a crazy, spontaneous idea. The kind of idea you always had, but this time, you had to share it with him.

"Damian," you said brightly, leaning across the desk just enough to catch his attention. He glanced up, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if preparing himself for whatever your next move was. You grinned, already knowing what he was thinking. “Do you want to go to the fair?”

His brow furrowed. “The fair?” he repeated, clearly skeptical. “I’m not sure how that could be beneficial to anything.”

You waved a hand, dismissing his doubts. “It’s just a bit of fun. You know, something different. Besides, you can’t always be training or brooding, right?”

Damian looked at you for a long moment, then sighed dramatically, an exaggerated gesture you’d gotten used to. “I don’t see the point in such... frivolity,” he said, though there was an edge of curiosity beneath the words.

You didn’t give him time to think about it. You knew he would overanalyze it otherwise. “Come on, just for a little while. You could use some downtime, and it’s not like Gotham doesn’t need a break from your endless seriousness. You’re my class partner, right? It’s just a few hours of normal fun. You’ve done worse, I promise.”

You could see the inner conflict playing out in his eyes—the part of him that was trained to be a warrior, never wasting a moment, battling with the part that was slowly learning to open up to new experiences. Finally, after a long pause, he nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I will accompany you to this... ‘fair,’” he said, his voice still laced with skepticism.

...

The fair was a short drive outside of Gotham, tucked away just beyond the noise and chaos of the city. You could tell the difference immediately, as soon as the car tires left the paved roads and hit the dirt paths leading to the fairgrounds. There was a certain charm to the place, something rustic and simple, so different from the bustling streets of Gotham or the towering Wayne mansion.

The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the rows of booths, food carts, and brightly colored rides. The scent of hot dogs, popcorn, and cotton candy filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and music echoed around the fairground. It was the kind of place where people went to escape from the grind of daily life, to enjoy the fleeting moments of joy that came with a simple carnival game or a ride on the Ferris wheel.

You could see Damian’s unease as you both walked toward the entrance. His eyes darted around, taking in the overwhelming sights, sounds, and people. It wasn’t quite the same as the controlled environment he was used to. But you didn’t give him time to overthink it. You grabbed his arm, pulling him toward one of the booths.

“You’re going to love the ring toss,” you said with a grin, all too eager to get him involved.

“Ring toss?” he repeated, the skepticism still clear in his voice. “What purpose does this serve?”

“It’s fun,” you insisted, though you knew he wasn’t convinced. Still, you managed to drag him over to the booth. The game was simple enough—throw rings over bottles. It was a childish game, but you loved it, and you hoped Damian would catch on to the idea of letting go, even if just for a moment.

He stood with his arms crossed, watching you carefully. "You really think I can waste my time on this?"

You gave him a sidelong glance and a teasing smile. "Well, it’s not about wasting time. It’s about... I don’t know, enjoying the moment."

He didn’t look at you, but he did take a few rings and line them up, aiming carefully. You grinned to yourself. Even when he was trying to act all serious, his precision couldn’t be denied.

With a flick of his wrist, one of the rings flew through the air, landing perfectly on a bottle. You raised your eyebrows, impressed.

“Nice,” you said. “You’re better at this than you let on.”

Damian didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as he picked up another ring. “I don’t do things halfheartedly,” he muttered, almost to himself. “If I’m going to do something, I do it properly.”

You watched him, a strange warmth spreading in your chest. The boy was so driven, so serious, yet you couldn’t help but admire his determination. It was rare for him to let his guard down, and even rarer for him to admit that something could be fun.

Soon enough, you had won a small stuffed bear, and Damian had reluctantly agreed to take it from you. You held it to your chest, practically skipping to the next attraction.

“What now?” he asked, clearly still unsure.

"Let’s ride the Ferris wheel," you said, already making your way toward the line.

He didn’t protest, which surprised you. Damian was a creature of habit and control. He liked to know what was coming next, not to be thrown into something unfamiliar. But here he was, following you as you led him toward the towering wheel. It was slow-moving and simple, but you could tell the height of the ride was making him a little uneasy.

Once you were both in your seat, the Ferris wheel creaked to life. The world below you began to shrink, the lights of the fair twinkling in the distance, and the sky above grew dark as the stars started to emerge, one by one. You glanced over at Damian, who was staring out at the lights, his face unreadable.

“You know, it’s nice up here,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “Don’t you ever just sit outside and stare at the stars? It’s so peaceful.”

Damian turned his head toward you, his expression stiff. “I prefer to watch... other things,” he said, his tone flat, almost as though he hadn’t really considered the question. “While I’m at it, I watch the bumper-to-bumper traffic and listen to the sounds of car horns and sirens.���

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his dry sarcasm. “That is exactly why I like to be in the middle of nowhere. No traffic, no sirens, no deadlines. Just peace.”

Damian looked at you, the barest hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Peace,” he echoed, then gave a short huff. “I don’t know that I would describe Gotham as anything remotely peaceful.”

“Well, I’ll take peaceful over chaotic any day,” you said, your eyes drifting back to the sky, the colors of the fireworks beginning to light up the air. You handed him a stick of cotton candy, offering it with a teasing grin. “Besides, I think you could use a little fun, Damian. Maybe the world won’t end if you just enjoy the moment.”

He hesitated, eyeing the fluffy treat in your hand before taking a cautious bite. His eyes flickered back to you, his voice quieter this time. “Fun. I’m not sure I remember what that feels like.”

You blinked, surprised at the admission. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You were so used to seeing Damian with his walls up, his rigid control always in place, that hearing him admit something so vulnerable took you off guard.

“Well, maybe now’s a good time to start remembering,” you said, your voice soft. “There’s a lot more to life than training and working.”

Damian didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he continued to chew his cotton candy in silence, staring out at the fireworks. You could tell, even without the words, that he was beginning to relax, if only for a moment.

The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence, the fireworks exploding around you in bursts of color. It was a strange thing, this peacefulness, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Damian begin to melt into the experience. For once, he wasn’t the brooding, serious heir to Wayne Enterprises. For once, he was just a boy—your class partner, Damian—enjoying the simple joy of a fair.

As the ride finally came to a stop and you both made your way back to solid ground, you felt a strange warmth between you both, something unspoken but real. You hadn’t just taken him to a fair—you’d taken him to a moment where he could simply be Damian, and for the first time, he seemed to appreciate it.

“Not so bad, huh?” you teased as you walked side by side.

Damian glanced at you, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perhaps... just this once.”

[spermeboy]

Rafe Cameron

Rafe is the epitome of a rich boy with severe anger issues, yet when you start dating, that part of him almost fully slips away. He is utterly obsessed with you, and it's obvious to everyone but him 'cause he thinks he's hiding it. Some guy called him a faggot because of how protective he was over you and that didn't end well for that guy, Rafe saw red and the guy was like a deer in headlights. It was quite entertaining seeing Rafe beat a homophobe up.

Rafe likes to spend at least half the day between your asscheeks, eating your hole up till it's all sloppy. He loves watching you wiggle and squirm just from his tongue, the way your body pushes your ass closer to his face to get more action from that tongue of his. He learnt this new trick that if he flicks his tongue at a certain point in your ass you just immediately cum, hands free, which he loves doing cause it makes you scream.

Rafe absolutely loves it when you send him pictures unannounced. You do it so frequently that he makes sure to never open anything you send him just in case someone is near, he loves it when you wear something sexy for him; a jockstrap picture, a kinky-dress up picture or just a plain simple ass picture. He never complains cause he knows a lot of guys aren't as lucky as he is, he makes sure to save them all and put them in his own personal spank bank.

One of the things he absolutely adores about you is that when he comes over you just immediately pounce on him, he knows its coming and he just loves when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him closer when he's on top of you. His utmost favourite sex position is 'the shell' Rafe enjoys how close it makes him feel to you. It also helps him reach all the right spots as he pounds away at your hole.

Rafe has snapped at you once, you never saw him look at you with such rage before. You were both at a party and you were getting drunk and EXTREMELY horny, you were practically climbing him like a tree, you were all over him in front of everyone. Rafe grab you by the wrist tightly and dragged you all the way home until he got you into his bedroom and screamed at you for being so clingy. He stopped mid-scream though to realise he was treating you how he treats the pogues.

He then immediately smothered your body in kisses, trailing them across your exposed tummy all the way up to your jawline that cause you to let out sweet drunken moans. He knew he couldn't fuck you though considering how drunk you were but once you sobered up the next day he treated you like a real slut, which is what you wanted the night before.

[aismoker]

"I used to be an accountant. It paid the bills, but it was so fucking boring, you know? Every day the same, it was like Groundhog Day. The only highlight of my day was the evening, when I could sit down and enjoy myself with pics and vids of bikers on Tumblr. I fucking loved to see those rugged, masculine men. They were everything I was not. It was so hot.

As time passed, however, a yearning came over me. The more I watched those men, the more I wanted to become like them. At a certain point, I just had to act. So I started hitting the gym, shaved my head and got my biker's license. Slowly but steadily, I saw myself change. Slowly becoming like the men I admired so much. People around me thought that my changes were odd, but I didn't care. You only live once, right? And I was done living someone else's life.

On one of my biking trips, I met David, over there. We hit it off right away. He had been a biker for a decade and he introduced me to his gang. He also convinced me to start getting tattoos and to try out a cigar of his. I just couldn't say no to him. He was the guy I always dreamt off and I was his. We have been living together for 5 years now. It is perfect.

I don't really think a lot about my old life. I got fired when my boss saw my tatts. The fucker told me it didn't fit in the company's image. To be honest, I didn't care. My hubby suggested to work for the gang. It is great fun, but I can't tell you a lot about it, if you get what I mean. Haha."

[fanboyoff1]

Landoscar College Fic (2.4k words)

Inspired by this post. It was supposed to be a little drabble but it spiraled

@complementaryhalves Hope I did it justice. It’s not really a meet-cute since they both know of each other (or maybe that counts, idk how meet-cutes work) but I tried my best lol

Oscar really needs to set a second alarm.

He’s several months into college, so you’d think he’d have figured out a good sleep schedule by then. Unfortunately, that has not happened, and Oscar wakes up to sun on his face.

“Ughhh,” he groans, rolling over and pulling his sheets up over his head. It takes him a few seconds to realize there’s no annoying beeping that usually greets him in the morning.

“Shit.” He grabs his phone from the bedside table and jolts up when he reads 8:25 on his lockscreen. “Shitshitshit.” 

He tosses his sheets to the side, the old mattress creaking loudly as he stands, rushing because his bus is literally about to leave. Why did he sign up for early classes? Why, why, why? Even his professor Mr. Webber told him it was a bad idea once he’d heard about it, but he’d insisted that it would be fine.

Right now, it’s definitely not fine though. He brushes his teeth at lightning-speed in the communal bathroom, and throws on a navy blue sweatshirt and pants, nearly forgetting his watch. He’ll get a bagel or something for breakfast at school.

Thankfully, he likes to pack his backpack the day before, so all he has to do is put it over his shoulders, rushing down the stairs and out the door into the parking lot to see… His bus rolling away down the road without him.

Oscar drops his hands down from his backpack straps to his side in defeat. He curses the ground and his stupid clock under his breath, kicking at a loose rock. What is he gonna do now?

Well, he could call Logan, ask if he can give him a ride. Or maybe Charles drove today? He glances across the parking lot, but there are around three other cars that look just like Charles’, so that won’t be very helpful.

He’s about to pull his phone out when he hears a car pull out of the lot, wheels making a grainy sound against the asphalt. Oscar quickly backs away from the middle of the road and goes back to his quiet crisis.

“Hey, you need a ride?”

Oscar looks up to see the car that had been leaving stopped in front of him. The person behind the voice is a handsome guy with dark curly hair and tan skin, sitting behind the wheel with one hand dangling out the window. There’s a small flicker of recognition in Oscar’s brain, he must have seen the boy around campus before.

The driver seems to have taken Oscar’s silence as hesitancy, starting to talk again. “I-um, I saw your bus fuck off into the distance, and I figured you could use some help. I live right over there.” He points vaguely to another one of the student campus buildings behind them.

Oscar opens his mouth to politely decline immediately, but stops himself. Does he really for certain have another way to get to school? He remembers how he knows this guy now, he’s friends with Charles. Anyone who’s friends with Charles gets an automatic thumbs up from him, but being in a car with them…

“Yeah, I could use a ride,” he finds himself saying, not totally sure the words are coming from his mouth. The curly haired guy seems equally surprised, but masks it quickly. “O-okay. Just come over to the passenger seat.”

Oscar walks out in front of the car, and opens the door. Any move to sit down is paused by the fact that there’s a football in the seat. The boy turns when Oscar opens the door, looking through his eyelashes at him, and his eyes are really blue from up close. A bit of green too- okay, stop analyzing his eyes, he tells himself.

The driver- Oscar decides to coin him Car Guy- notices Oscar’s predicament and grabs the football, promptly chucking it into the backseat and patting the now empty seat for Oscar, who sits.

He twists his body to face the back of the car. “Do you think you damaged anything with that throw?” he asks, trying to find the football amongst the clutter of the car. There’s a few random clothes, a cardboard box on the right.

“Eh, it’s fine,” Car Guy says with a wave of his hand. Oscar turns back to the front, buckling up. Car Guy notices what he’s doing and buckles up himself with a guilty smile. Oh God, Oscar’s totally going to die.

“Just college campus, I assume?” Car Guy asks, adjusting his rear-view mirror that has a car freshener and a necklace hanging from it. The necklace has a big 4 hanging by the end. 

“Yeah,” Oscar sets his backpack down between his legs, and braces when Car Guy starts to drive away. However, he actually seems like an okay driver, despite that seatbelt incident that may haunt Oscar’s nightmares. 

After a few streets, he chills out enough to get a proper look at who’s driving him. He has a Texas Bulls shirt on, a hoodie under it, and to top it all off, a green letterman jacket with the number 4 on it. Huh. 4 again. Maybe the number 4 has some kind of significance to him. 

He’s really pretty as well, especially up close. His long lashes, his freckles, his hair that looks like it's attempting to be a mullet. 

Don’t you dare fall for a jock Oscar, he tells himself. Because that’s what he has to be, right? He has a Bulls shirt, a sporty jacket, and a freaking football in the passenger seat. There’s nothing else he could be.

And he’s still terrified about a stranger driving him somewhere, pretty or not. He takes out his phone and pulls up his messages, finding his last conversation with Dad 2.0 (an inside joke the two of them have.) He frantically texts Charles, asking, ‘Is curly haired boy a serial killer??’

A moment later, he gets a response back, a lot of question marks. Oscar sighs, running his hand through his hair and trying not to let his thoughts spiral into how he may or may not be getting kidnapped.

# # #

Lando’s trying to be cool. He really is. But Oscar’s in his car. He wants to squeal and kick his feet and giggle.

He’s had a crush on the Australian-born boy for a while now, ever since he’d seen him actually. They’d just been passing by each other while walking across campus, but it felt like a world-changing event for Lando (okay, he may be overreacting just a little, but have you seen the man?!)

Once he learned that Oscar was friends with Charles, he came out to his friend as bi and proceeded to spend his entire time with Charles ranting about how pretty Oscar was, or what Oscar was wearing today, or could he get some pictures of Oscar pretty-please?

Needless to say, the Monegasque was tired of his pining fairly quickly. “I don’t understand why you do not just talk to him,” he’d said one day during their lunch break.

“I can’t just talk to him, Charles.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s weird!”

“How? It’s just talking,” Charles had retorted, biting into his protein bar. “You can say it’s because you are both friends with me or something. There are ways.”

“Well, it- it’s complicated.” Charles raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a good argument for that Charles, but just know that you’re wrong.”

So Lando had just watched Oscar from a distance (not in a creepy way or anything, just in an adoration way.) Until this morning, when he saw Oscar miss the bus, which was admittedly a little funny, he’d gotten the courage to ask if he wanted a ride. He hadn’t been expecting him to say yes, but he was ecstatic that he had.

Now they’re in the car together, and Lando’s tongue feels like lead whenever he attempts to make small talk. Oscar’s aggressively texting someone, and Lando has had to stop himself multiple times from looking at Oscar instead of the road.

Oscar sighs, running his hand through his swoopy hair. Now’s his chance. “Everything okay?” he asks, drumming a finger against the steering wheel as he waits behind a stop sign.

“Hmm?” Oscar looks up, raising his eyebrows, and Lando might die on the spot. “Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just texting a friend. You know Charles, right?”

“Leclerc?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, letting out a breathy laugh. “I was gonna ask him to drive back and pick me up but… Well I don’t know if you know this, but Charles likes to jog to school sometimes. I wasn’t sure if he had today or not.”

Lando barely processes what he’s said, which feels extremely rude even in his head. But Oscar’s smiling and it looks so cute, and the way his voice changes as he’s trying to stifle a laugh is addicting. “Oh, I think I’ve heard him talk about jogging to class sometimes. One time he texted me at like 6 am, I was so confused when he told me he was at school already.”

Oscar laughs again, and Lando tries to stop the butterflies growing in his stomach. “Ha, yeah, he’s like that. I think he just likes to be early.”

“I know, but 6 am??” 

“I’m not defending him!” Oscar says, throwing his hands in the air, the two of them laughing together. Lando feels joy spread through his chest, because Oscar seems more comfortable, he’s smiling and laughing and blushing and he looks so cute.

“Oh my gosh, I have this selfie of Charles he sent to me when he was on a run,” Oscar turns on his phone and started to scroll through his photos, eyebrows furrowed in determination. His hair droops down on his face, and Lando fights the urge to reach out and push it back.

After a minute or so, Oscar bursts out laughing. “Did you find it?” Lando asks. Oscar nods, shoulders shaking, and holds his phone out for Lando to see. It's perfect timing, they're stopped at a red light, so Lando turns his head to inspect the picture.

Charles has a headband and glasses on with no shirt. He must have been running when he took the picture, everything’s blurry and the background is just a mass of green and gray. The most noticeable thing is his face. He’s trying to wink, but it’s more like a squint, and his eyebrows are high up on his forehead. He looks partially like he ate something sour, and like he’s getting chased by a wild animal.

Lando snorts, and Oscar pulls the phone back. “I know right? Apparently, he took the photo and sent it to me without checking what it looked like, so now I have this treasure saved in my phone forever.”

# # #

They spend the rest of the car ride in silence, and Oscar regrets thinking Car Guy was someone scary or a jerk. He seems really sweet and funny. And he’s attractive. But that’s besides the point.

Charles had been blowing up Oscar’s phone ever since his vague text about Car Guy, most of it consisting of ‘who the hell are you with’ and ‘answer your phone, you’re freaking me out.’ Oscar replies to his flurry of messages with nvm. It's fine. I’ll explain later

“Is this a good place to drop you off?” Car Guy asks him, and Oscar’s head jolts up. He parked just a few minutes away from his first class.

“Oh yeah, this is perfect,” Oscar grabs his backpack and opens the car door. “Thanks for this,” he says, turning back.

“No problem,” Car Guy says with a smile. He’s got a little gap between his front teeth. “See you around?”

Oscar gives him a thumbs-up and steps out, walking down the winding sidewalk to Mr. Webber’s class in room 222.

Epilogue

Oscar still needed another alarm. He just kept forgetting. And now he was running late again, this time far too late to even try to catch the bus.

He sits on the parking lot curb, about to call Charles (he’d taken his car today,) when a familiar voice calls out to him.

“Dude, you really need to wake up earlier.”

Oscar gives Car Guy a withering glare. He leans back in his car in response, a look of barely concealed fear in his eyes. “Well, do you want a ride or not?” 

Oscar sighs and stands, getting in the passenger seat. “No football this time,” Car Guy says with a grin. Oscar can’t help but smile back.

This car ride is a lot less talkative than the last one, a playlist of Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus from Car Guy’s phone playing loudly. Oscar puts on an excellent act of pretending his ears aren’t bleeding from the music.

“Thanks again,” he says once they arrive at his stop. He gets his backpack and is about to leave when Car Guy speaks up.

“Hey um, I was wondering if maybe you could repay me by going on a date? With me?”

Oscar blinks once, twice. Car Guy obviously takes this the wrong way, his face reddening. “Never mind. Just… forget I said anything.”

“No,” Oscar says. “I don’t want to forget that. I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” Car Guy says, his eyes lighting up. “Okay, here’s my number.” He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out a folded Sticky-Note, pressing it into Oscar’s hand. Oscar wonders if he feels the electricity when their fingers touch too.

“Uh, this is gonna sound weird,” Oscar says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But can I get your name?”

“Oh. OH. My name’s Lando.”

“Lando,” Oscar says, testing the word on his tongue. “I’m Oscar.”

“I kinda already knew that,” Lando giggles, and now it’s Oscar turn to blush. “You look cute when you blush.” His face gets a thousand times more red.

“OkIgottagoI’lltextyoubye,” he says, almost stumbling out of the car. Once Lando’s car drives away though, he allows himself a bit of a victory dance, before walking to class with a skip in his step and only one word in his mind. Lando, Lando, Lando. 

Okay I kinda hate it 😭 But I don’t really wanna work on it more, so *tosses fanfic at the Tumblr gods and runs*

[dazzlerwriting]

call me & i’ll come

robert ‘bob’ floyd x singer!reader

Pictures are not mine, credit to pinterest!

3.5k words

summary: inspired by “Watermelon” by Jane + John Q Public. after bob joins a D&D campaign to make friends in San Diego, he gets talked into also joining the band that is formed within the group. Over time he and the lead singer slowly get closer and closer. What happens when they kiss, but don’t talk about what the kiss meant to them?

warnings: slight miscommunication! fluff fluff fluff. a bit angsty at one point. the end gets a bit heated so 18+ MDNI!!!! Reader uses she/her pronouns, but theres no other descriptors! petname “darlin” is used twice. use of y/n (i tried so hard not to lol) flashback is bold and italicized

authors note: first off, thank you @lewmagoo for posting about drummer rhett, which in turn helped inspire this story! & everyone posting their Atta Boy stuff was also a huge inspiration to this!! only my second fic and i wrote so much. i just kept going and didnt stop until it was finished! im so sorry lmao. but i hope you enjoy!! this is mostly from bob’s pov!

Bob Floyd has a secret. Well, two. The first one is that he plays in a band in his free time, specifically, he plays the drums. Anyone who may watch how Bob acts when he thinks no one is paying attention, they would see him drumming on his lap, on the desk, or on any free surface. But the Dagger Squad isn’t that astute when it comes to their fellow workers lives. Natasha knows but, there’s a certain trust to be had between a pilot & their WSO. So Bob told her, and while she was taken a bit aback that the quiet Bob Floyd played the drums in an actual band, she was supportive.

Now, the secret that not even Natasha knows, the one Bob would swear he would take to his grave, is that he has a crush on the lead singer in their band. It's not just a silly crush that would go away with time; no, this crush has stuck since he first met her at a community D&D meetup.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Flashback

He saw a sign that read “New Dungeons and Dragons campaign, starting Wednesday! All leveled players welcomed!” on the board at the grocery store a week after being stationed in San Diego. He decided he needed a creative outlet after work and maybe to make friends that weren’t pilots. So he went, and that’s when he saw her. She was their Game Master and she was wearing a renaissance faire-esque outfit. From that first sighting, he was a goner. He would look at her theatrical storytelling during their sessions with a fondness that rivaled the way Orpheus looked at Euridyce. Quickly he would look away before she caught him, but if he had kept looking, he would have noticed her looking at him the same way.

Somewhere along the way, another member of the party, named Blake, noticed Bob drumming on his thigh when the game would die down for a bit. They suggested Bob joined their band, seeing as they were in desperate need of a new drummer, the last one leaving to hit it big time. He went on a whole spill about everything having to do with the band and Bob was apprehensive at first, performing was way out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t like Rooster, he didn’t think he had the proper stage presence to perform for a crowd, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

But that’s when she walked over to the two, a smirk on her face as she looked at Blake and said “Blake… go easy on Bobby boy here. I’m sure he doesn’t need a whole infomercial on why he should join us.” She turned to Bob and put her hand on his arm, and for a second he was sure his brain short-circuited. Now with a soft smile on her face, she gently said “Bob we would love for you to join us, only if you’re comfortable. I know you could be called away at a second’s notice, but regardless it would be an honor to have you as our drummer.” He sat there for a second just taking her in, from the casual way she was dressed, to her kind demeanor. He realized at that moment he was royally fucked because he would do anything she asked. He looked her in the eyes and responded “I-I’ll do it,” stuttering a bit but getting through it. Her smile widened, her eyes lit up with what Bob thought could be adoration, and she jumped up a bit clapping, “Great! We rehearse every Saturday, usually, gigs are small just hangouts for friends or family! I’ll text you all the details.” He missed the warmth from her hand as soon as it was gone but her reaction was worth it. That night while Bob was getting ready to sleep, his phone lit up with a text.

Y/N: Thank you for agreeing to this Bob, it truly means a lot. I’m glad you decided to come to our session that first night :)

And after replying, he fell asleep with a grin on his face, not regretting his decision one bit.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Now after a few months, Bob and the rest of the members have gotten close. They hang out outside of rehearsal and game sessions, and they’ve even been to Bob’s apartment for dinner. That’s when he told Natasha that he was in a band, and introduced them to her. They had a great night and Bob felt like he had found his group of people. The thought of leaving them for a mission, where the outcome was unknown, was scary, but the idea of having them all there to come back to, outweighed the formidable thoughts. Especially when he thought about the kind, charming, and beautiful singer who made it her mission to text Bob every day to ensure he was having a good day. Over the few months they had learned a lot about each other, she made sure to ask him the same questions he would ask her. Including dreams, they had as kids, favorite movies, biggest music inspirations, etc. He opened up to her about the constant teasing from the Dagger Squad, including the “Baby on Board” joke. And he learned she was the biggest nerd outside of D&D, texting him updates on the latest comic she had read, the newest Doctor Who update, and random fun facts about his favorite movies. With every text he received, Bob fell deeper and deeper into Cupid’s chokehold.

It all kinda got turned upside down when he and Phoenix suffered from a Bird Strike during training, and they had to eject. Early morning, after leaving the hospital and getting home, he texted the band group chat to let them know he would be missing both D&D and band practice. He was bombarded with questions regarding his well-being, and texts lending out sympathy to him. But y/n had been quiet, that is until he heard a knock on his door. When he opened it, he saw her standing there with several bags full of groceries and a shy smile on her face. “Hi,” she said softly “I’m sorry for the intrusion but I just wanted to make sure your recovery was a stress-free time, and well, I just, I’m sorry I can drop all this off and go if you want me to. I should’ve texted beforehand and I..” she was rambling now and he thought he couldn’t find her any more endearing than he did right now. He adjusted his glasses and stepped out of the doorway, “N-no come on in, you are welcome here at any time, you know that.” At that, her shoulders dropped a bit in relief and he could see her let out a breath he doubted she knew she was holding in. He led her to the kitchen and watched her get to work doing whatever she was here to do.

“Okay so I have the stuff to make baked potato soup, Alfredo, and I also brought peanuts, chips, Gatorade, and a bunch of other snacks for you.” She quickly got everything out of the bags, putting things in the right place, and Bob was hit with a daydream of this being a normal occurrence. A domestic life with her, both of them dancing around each other in the kitchen, making dinner while dancing to songs like “I’ll Be Seeing You” by Billie Holiday. He was so caught up with his daydream, he didn’t even realize she was talking to him. “I’m sorry what did you say?” He asked with a bashful smile. She shook her head with a gentle laugh, and said “I was just saying you should go get comfortable, I’ll be in here for a while.” He looked at her and gave a soft nod, immediately going to lie down on the couch and continue his daydreaming. For a while, he could hear her gentle hums coming from the kitchen, and he let that lull him into a peaceful sleep where he dreamed of a future where they were together.

A few hours later he was woken up by someone gently shaking his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes, put his glasses on, and when he looked to see who it was, he swore he was still dreaming. She looked almost angelic standing above him with a caring smile and a bowl of something in her hands. “Sorry to wake you, it just hit 4, so I thought you might be hungry,” she gave a soft shrug and looked a bit nervous to see what his reaction might be. He took the bowl from her hands and gave a soft thank you with a smile he hoped was kind, and not some kind of grimace from still being a bit tired. He realized it was baked potato soup and he had to admit it was the best soup he had ever had, “This is amazing, thank you so much.” She gave another shrug and replied “It’s the least I can do, need our best sorcerer and drummer to get better soon! I put the rest in the fridge along with the Alfredo. The snacks are still on your island, but I should get out of your hair now. If you need anything please know I am a call away.” He really didn’t want her to leave just yet so he did something that even shocked him, “Do you want to stay, I’m sure you’re hungry as well and we could watch a movie or something?” Her eyes widened and a bright smile appeared on her face, “I would love to if you really don’t mind.” Of course, he didn’t mind, was she crazy?? If he could he would spend all of his time with her. “I don’t, please you’ve done so much for me today so please stay.” He didn’t mean to sound so needy, but it didn’t seem to deter her. In fact, her smile got brighter and she nodded her head.

They decided on watching Wall-E, it seemed like a good idea at the moment, but now they are both sniffling on the couch. “God who knew a cute robot could turn two adults into an emotional mess?” she said while turning to him, wiping the tears from under her eyes. He looked at her and she was gorgeous he thought. They sat looking in each other’s eyes for a moment and in a flash, their lips were on each other. He doesn’t know who leaned in first, all he knew was her lips were soft and he could feel her breath from her nose. As soon as it started, it was over and he chased her lips when she pulled away. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so- I’m gonna go. Thank you Bob.” she rushed out, quickly grabbed her stuff, and practically ran from his apartment. He sat there dumbfounded, had he messed it up so quickly? Did she not like him in the same way he did her? He didn’t know, he kept wondering what happened while putting things away, and he fell asleep asking himself what happened.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few weeks have passed, and things have gone semi-back to normal. There’s an awkward tension between them every session, every band practice, and the texts from her have stopped outside of letting him know of any changes to the schedule. Natasha could tell something was going on with her backseater, but he wouldn’t budge. He just told her it was nothing and that he was fine. But anyone with any common sense could see he wasn’t fine, he was distracted at work, he didn’t have the band members over for dinner, and he just seemed lost in thoughts every time someone talked to him at Hard Deck. But Natasha wasn’t having it, so she contacted Y/N, she told her Bob was acting strange. Y/N let her know what happened, and that she felt as if the kiss had only happened because Bob was emotional. She also let it slip to Nat that she had been harboring a crush on Bob since they first met, and despite trying to ignore it, it continued to grow. Nat told her the band should perform at the Hard Deck that weekend, and Y/N agreed only if Bob was okay with it. She texted Bob and he decided it was time to overcome the fear of the Dagger Squad knowing he was in a band. If he couldn’t overcome the fear of telling her how he felt, and how the kiss made him feel, then he could at least do this. And so it was set, the group would be performing at the Hard Deck, and Bob let that distract him from whatever else he was feeling at the time.

Saturday finally came, and Bob was a ball of nerves. He was sure the squad wouldn’t be too harsh towards him, but when it came to Hangman, he could never tell. When he arrived at the bar to do sound checks, he saw her again and a bit of his nerves calmed. She looked at him with a gentle but nervous smile “Hey Bob, glad you made it. We’re just gonna run through a few songs, and then we’ll get going with the show. I also brought a new song, it’s not too much but it will be the last song for the night.” He nodded his head, a bit lost in her eyes. He pushed his glasses up a bit and got his drums set up. After sound check, people started filling in the bar. Nat came up to him with a bit of a smirk, “I know about your kiss with Miss Gorgeous Singer up there.” She then lightly punched his arm, “Why wouldn’t you tell me, Bob? This is important information and I thought we were best friends.” She had a faux pout on her lips now and he shrugged, “I don’t know what happened Nat, it was going so well and then she just ran out.” He looked down, twirling his drumsticks, and she realized he was quite upset. She’s guessing the two idiots haven’t even talked about it. “I’m sorry Bob, but hey maybe things will work out after tonight,” she said with a comforting smile. It was at that moment, Jake, Javy, Bradley, and Mickey realized it was their own “Baby on Board” on the drums for tonight.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Jake said with his usual smirk on his face. “Cut it bagman.” Natasha quickly replied, she realized it was time for the band to start so she gave Bob a final comforting smile, then quickly pushed Jake and the rest of the guys back.

You got on stage and introduced the band. The show started and everything was going well. Bob was keeping up, concentrating hard and using the quick time between songs to push his glasses up his nose. Finally it was time for the new song, and he was a bit nervous, seeing as they hadn’t rehearsed it yet. He heard you clear your throat as you said “Hey y’all, this last song is a new one I wrote about a week ago. Sometimes you just meet someone and realize you will always be there for them no matter what.” With that, you looked back to the group and nodded to let them know it was time to start.

I’m the watermelon slammed into your driveway

Crack me open so I feel the air inside me

Bob stared at her while playing and realized that in someway, she had cracked his introverted shell. She helped him become more comfortable. She even was a huge reason he had a group of people who cared about him, outside of the dagger squad. He quickly looked at Natasha in the crowd, just to see her smirking right at him.

Music boyfriend I’m your yum yum

Call me and I’ll come

Y/N’s words from weeks prior echoed in his head as she sang, “If you need anything please know I am a call away.” And it hit him in this moment that maybe just maybe, she did feel the same way about him.

Am I dreaming or did you just kiss me

You don’t know it but you already miss me

He looked back at her and realized she was looking at him. Singing this song to him. She had a bashful smile on her face, and he could tell she was a nervous.

Fuck the rest of them

Fuck em all

Fuck em all but us

In this moment, everyone else in the bar seemed to fade away. It was just them, and he made the decision to admit what he was feeling after the show. She was breathtaking, and he thinks he may not make it if he doesn’t tell her tonight. She finally turned away in time to sing the last line to the crowd.

Fuck em all but us.

When the song ended, the bar was full of applause, even the squad looked impressed by the show. Bob watched her walk off stage after saying her thank yous, and head for the back deck. He got up to follow but was immediately stopped by the Dagger Squad, they were all patting him on the back and smiling at him. “Didn’t think you had it in you Bob, but that was truly amazing. And it seems as if the singer thinks so too.” Jake said to him with a genuine smile on his face. Natasha pushed Jake out of the way and gave Bob a hug, pulling away she said “Go get her, we’ll all still be here when you get back.” With that Bob gave a quick thank you and rushed toward the back door.

He saw y/n standing there, arms crossed over the railing and head up to the sky. When she heard the door open, she turned her head and she had a sheepish smile on her face. He thought she looked so beautiful, a bit sweaty from the show, the moon as backlighting. Her beauty rivaled that of the ocean. She was gorgeous in every sense of the word.

“You did good tonight Bobby. Thank you for letting us come play here.” She said softly as he made his way over to her. He felt warmth crawl up his neck at the use of his nickname, and he put his hand on his neck as he told her “You were gorgeous tonight.” She gave a soft laugh and bashfully turned her head. Before she could respond he continued talking, “Thank you. For everything. You invited me to this band, not even knowing if I was a good drummer. You texted me daily just to make sure I was doing okay. You made me possibly the best food I’ve had in forever. Don’t tell my ma I said that, she would never let me live it down.” He chuckled while saying that, he took a deep breath in and continued, “You have changed me as a person, so thank you.” She looked back at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. She had tears lining the bottom of her eyes, as she rushed over to hug him. “I’m so sorry I ran out of your apartment that night. I was nervous you were only kissing me because of the emotions from the movie and the tiredness. But that kiss meant everything to me. I haven’t stopped thinking about it or you since it happened.” Her speech was a bit muffled from the way she was pressed to Bob. Now it was his turn to look a bit shocked, he hadn’t even thought about how she might have thought it was all her fault. He held her and said“Darlin’ I think we’ve both been a bit idiotic. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I met you, and after that night I thought I messed everything up. I truly like you, I think I might even be falling in love with you if I’m honest.” She pulled back a bit and looked him in the eyes for the slightest sign that he could be lying, when she couldn’t find one she put her hand on his neck and pulled his lips to hers. This kiss was different. This kiss held all of the unspoken feelings they’ve both kept bottled up for months. He grabbed her hips and pushed her back against the railing, she opened her mouth to gasp, allowing his tongue to slip inside.

She tugged at his hair and he let out a quiet groan. Just as he was making way to pick her up, the loud noise of several nosey aviators cheering burst their bubble. She pulled back and leant her forehead on his chest, shying away a bit. He turned back to see the group smiling, clapping, whooping, and hollering. He turned back towards her and lifted her face up to his, “I’m sorry about them. Also I’m sorry I feel like I’m doing this a bit backwards, but would you like to go out for dinner soon?” He felt a bit nervous asking the question but she just looked at him like he hung all the moon and stars. “Sure, how about we go talk to your friends for a bit, then go pick up some food, and maybe finish what we start at your place?” She asked with a flirty smirk on her face. Yeah she was going to be the death of him.

[thatsmybook]

A criticism I've seen about Heartstopper is that these teenagers are too emotionally intelligent and don't always speak the way that teenagers would. They don't have dialogue where adult phrasing is coming out their mouths or in their texts, but there are times when they use teenage phrasing to demonstrate quite mature understanding.

Heartstopper acts as a PSA a little to help young people and occasionally parents with difficult conversations. Often, conversations between characters will be idealised to give an example of the best way to communicate. The show is realistic in most ways, but also shows the world the way we wish it would be as an example to set of good emotional intelligence, relationship building, and understanding of other people's experiences. As well as showing experiences that viewers can relate to.

It's why many adults watching this show say they wish they had watched this as a young teenager. They would have had the tools they needed to understand their world and how to approach certain conversations and dynamics as you go through being a teenager at school.

It also makes me think of those times that I've looked back at a conversation and re-imagined a witty come-back or having articulated myself better. Heartstopper doesn’t sound realistic for how actual teenagers speak all the time because I think that's the point. Having the graphic novel elements depicted in the show are also telling us that though this is not exactly a fantasy show (SA in the first episode already tells us this show will have dark moments), it is a positive and hopeful one. It is holding your hand through moments in these characters' lives, and you can trust that even when a difficult subject is broached, everything will be OK for those involved.

It's also why Alice Oseman has always been clear that Nick and Charlie are endgame. Because often lgbtqia+ media shows that queer relationships don't last or end with tragedy, they have been clear that this will not happen to this couple passed high school. Their dramas are not in their relationship but in what life throws at them and how they navigate it.

[quinloki]

Cone of Shame

Commission for @kazieai

Marco x fem!reader

Summary: Marco never loses his cool. Ever. It's infuriating how he can maintain calm ALL THE TIME. Not your best idea, but you decide to try and change that.

CW: edging, forced orgasms, bondage, dom/sub play, misuse of Zoan fruits, humiliation, knotting, begging, cream pie, praise, mdni

He never reacts.

It drives you insane. He’s a wonderful partner, and a great pirate, but that constant cool appearance. Those hooded eyes. The chill way he deals with everything and everyone, is immensely frustrating.

The fact that Marco can be railing the soul from you and still look so completely in control is getting to you. You love it, in your own way, but also you want to see him flustered just once.

Maybe twice.

You’ve tried flirting with him in front of the crew, but he turns it on you every time. You’ve tried slipping in lewd one-liners during semi-appropriate moments, and he just rolls with it. You’ve set up little surprises for him in what you do, are or aren’t wearing, and while his appreciation is apparent, there’s never anything more.

Now, here you are, watching him as he stands on the high deck, handing out orders and answering questions for the commanders for the day. Haruta’s helping him pass things out, and there’s minimal questions - no surprise, the boys have been doing this for years, everyone knows their role. The ritual is just habit at this point, and when everyone meanders away, Marco will stay there and enjoy his coffee.

He’ll take in details about the weather, make some notes for the navigation folks that they probably won’t need, but that will be appreciated. Navigation can never have too much data, but there are some who think Atmos controls the weather on the grandline, his predictions are just that accurate.

You decide to take a walk around the upper decks and cool your irritation before you greet Marco for the day. It’s not his fault that you’re struggling with what you’re struggling with, and there’s nothing he can do anyway. If you tell him it’ll just put him on his guard, for starters, and if it doesn’t then he’ll be humoring you, and you aren’t sure which would be worse.

Instead of cooling, however, you realize your irritation is just growing with each step. Just once, just once, just ONCE - you want to catch him off guard just once. Make his eyes go wide with shock, cause him to suck in a breath between clenched teeth, or even just see the blood flush into his face.

Just once.

By the time you come back around to the front of the deck you don’t even care what causes the reaction. The only thing you want to avoid is anything that would truly harm him, or you. Even if he can heal anything you could do to him, it seemed wrong to risk life and limb for your frustrations. It was mischief that compelled you, not cruelty or anger.

Mischief.

He was leaning against the railing, looking out over the deck. Nothing about his appearance gave any indication that he’d noticed you coming up behind him. The coffee was safely on the rail. His shirt was crumpled up enough that there was nothing except those thin shorts covering that perfect ass of his.

If you bit him there, he’d at least jerk, right?

Stepping closer you imagine the look of surprise on his face, but even as you draw near you’re certain it’ll never work. He’ll turn around, or say your name in some warning tone - his observation haki was strong enough that catching him off guard was nearly impossible. That’s why you didn’t want to talk about things - there’d be no satisfaction if he knew.

No mischief.

You were too close to be stopped now, even if he was aware. You grab his sides and bite down on the meat of his ass in one movement. Whether you managed to tickle him, or just startle him, he was sure to make some sort of sound.

Oh boy, and does he ever make “some sort of sound”.

Marco makes the most undignified, impressively loud, and slightly avian, sound you have ever heard.

The dead silence on the ship is unsettling, and as you straighten up, you can clearly hear someone snort before the entire deck breaks into laughter. Looking up at Marco in disbelief, you feel the bravado drain from you when he turns toward you.

He looks pissed.

Not the kind of throw you over board, and make you clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush for a month kind of pissed, but more like exactly how you’d expect the second in command on an Emperor’s ship to look if you’d successfully managed to goose him in front of god and man. Never, in all the years you knew him, and certainly in none of the years you’d been with him, have you seen him so look scary while he was looking at you.

What you were feeling in the pit of your stomach was the heaviest lead ball of regret you could possibly imagine.

“She got you good brother!” Thatch yells, laughter in his voice. You really want to just cut his pompadour off at the moment, but he is also not wrong.

“I really thought you were gonna stop me.” You manage to say the words, but over the sounds of the crew you weren’t sure he even heard you.

“Hahahaha! A bird! He sounded like a bird!” Ace is gasping for air between bouts of laughter, and it would help your cause immensely if he’d just pass out.

“You’ve been irritated lately.” Marco says evenly. Quietly. For you only. “I was giving you privacy until you were ready to talk.”

… well, shit.

“A moment of silence,” Izou says, calming down the others. He puts his hands up to his mouth and speaks up even more. “Hang in there little flower, we’re all rooting for you!”

The round of laughter that follows is raunchier than earlier. You only hoped that whatever Marco decided for you, punishment wise, it was at least half as sexy as the crew figured it would be. Especially since, as he turns and grabs the scruff of your shirt, you’re pretty sure you might just be cleaning the bathrooms with a toothbrush for the next month.

He takes you back to his room, what is quickly becoming your room as well, opening the door and nearly tossing you in. There’s just enough restraint in his actions that you didn’t go tumbling onto the floor or anything else.

Closing the door, Marco crosses his arms and leans against it. Straightening your clothes a bit you clear your throat and turn the desk chair around before sitting down. There’s a moment’s silence between you, neither of you apparently really sure where to start.

“Sorry,” you say after another moment.

Breathing in, he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I know, yoi.” He admits. His irritation softens, the usual neutral look back on his face again. “What’s been on your mind lately, pretty bird?”

It’s your turn to make an awkward sound, the truth of it is so stupid in hindsight you really don’t want to say, but considering what happened, clarity is the very least Marco deserves.

“I was irritated… because you’re always so effortlessly in control.” You sigh, putting a hand up to keep him from speaking, so you can continue. “You never fluster, you never yelp, you never seem to lose your cool. Ever… And I’ve been stewing, like an idiot, for the last few days because I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Putting your face in your hands you groan. “I tried to cool off, but when I came up behind you and you didn’t notice me, I just… gave in.”

A moment’s silence causes you to look up from your hands and Marco is red halfway down his neck. He’s got a hand over his face, and is trying to compose himself, but it doesn’t look like anger - he wouldn’t be avoiding looking at you like that if he was angry.

“Marco?” You’re hesitant, but he flinches before peeking over his hand at you. He wasn’t angry, he was embarrassed, more from what you’d said than the sound he made earlier. Though maybe that was only because he was so angry earlier.

“It’s… it takes a lot to control myself around you, yoi.” He admits after a moment. “Like flying in the eye of a storm, knowing if I slip too much I’ll get sucked in and lose control.”

Flames roll off his shoulders as he steps toward you. He looms over you, until you’re pinned between the chair and his body, leaning back until the chair tips and rests against the desk. Teal and gold flames are coiled around his arms, engulfing your vision in a swirl of colors. Though the dance of sparks in his irises are so mesmerizing you’re barely aware of the rest of his display.

“Every sweet word,” his husky voice drips against your skin. “Every mote of laughter,” his teeth nip the curve of your ear, lips pressing into your skin and pulling a shivered gasp from your lips. “Every time you bat your pretty little eyes at me,” you can hear the rush of flames billow through the room, his gaze holding onto yours.

“If I gave in, I’d want you either screaming in ecstasy, or recovering from it,” Marco presses a soft kiss against your forehead, “exhausted and babbling thanks as you fall asleep on me.” He explains, before tugging your hair with just enough force to part your lips so he could kiss you deeply.

The tug was hardly rough, and the thirsty kiss has you squirming in the chair, heat and need wriggling through you at the confession. You knew Marco loved you, the two of you had admitted your feelings a long time ago. But you always thought it was a quiet, almost sedated kind of passion - because nothing riled him up.

And since you were pretty sure Marco’s legendary stamina could easily lead to your unfortunate demise if he wasn’t careful, you had a deeper appreciation for his restraint all this time.

Breaking the kiss he leans back and you gasp for air. You’d simply forgotten to breathe once he grabbed your hair, and the rush of pleasure had scrambled your senses.

“Suh-Sorry,” you gasp, the deeper understanding making you regret deciding not to talk to him about it before you goosed him like that.

“Mm…” He looks down at you for a moment before turning away. He’s quiet for another minute before he speaks up again. His usual tone has returned, and you can see the shiver of flames slowly dying down as well.

“Get back to work for now, love.” He says evenly. “I’ll need a day or two to carve out enough time to properly punish you, yoi.” He turns toward you as he says this, his composure back on his face, save for a smile that promises a punishment equally feared and anticipated.

It took a couple days for Marco to carve out the time he wanted, and the wait just made it worse. Or better, you weren’t really sure. The crew ribbed you for your impending doom, and a few even brought you gifts - no one had heard Marco make a sound like that before.

You ended up with some extra bandages, salve for bruises and welts, and a set of healing and relaxing bath oils from Tate. Izou gifted you a bundle of toothbrushes, and told you to hang in there, but you were pretty sure you weren’t going to need them. If Marco only wanted you to scrub the bathrooms, you would’ve started on that already.

Every interaction with him was tense, at least for you. Marco was his same, calm, smooth, seemingly unflappable self. Almost as if he was proving a point.

Then one morning, as you woke tangled in his arms, the payback began.

He held you close in bed, nuzzled into your neck and pressing kisses into your skin. His hands wandered, carefully at first until you were awake and murmuring your good morning to him, and then more pointedly. Warm fingers slipped under your night clothes, moving you with ease, pulling soft sounds of pleasure from you.

His middle finger was rolling against your clit as his other fingers pinched and teased your nipple. Caught in the hold you wiggle against him, hand against the back of his head as the earlier soft kisses turned into heavier licks and nips against your neck.

“Mm, good morning, pretty bird.” He hums into your skin and you nod, putting your leg over his and opening your legs for him. “Greedy little thing,” his voice sinks into you as he pushes his fingers into your pussy, the heel of his hand still teasing your clit.

“Hnnngh, you’re gonna,” you gasp, as he twists your nipple a little more harshly. “Make me cum, please, please Marco.” Your hands are over his, your body shivering, hips rolling in his grasp. “Close, so c-close.”

“Listen to you,” he murmurs, continuing to drive you closer to the edge.

“Please, please, Marco, please!” You whine. Your heart’s starting to pound and you can feel how wet you are with every thrust of his fingers. “I’m gonna- gonna-!”

Marco pulls his hands away, pulling your pants down and lifting your shirt up. The action forces your arms up over your head, the night shirt muffling the whimper as he denies your orgasm.

“Such sweet sounds, pretty bird.” He says, the words sending a nervous thrill down your back as he pulls the shirt off entirely. He moves you onto your stomach, folding your arms behind your back and putting his weight on you to keep you pinned. “I think it’s only fair if the whole ship gets to hear you.”

“That’s…” Horrifically embarrassing, but you’re not as against it as you thought you’d be.

“Only fair, yeah?” He husks, the stiff bulge of his pants pressing into your wet slit. “Just your sounds, yoi. No one else will see you.” The soft kisses he puts on your shoulders and back are reassuring that he wouldn’t force you to do it. “Or we could stay in here, and I’ll just edge my lovely little bird,” he shifts his hips, forcing your legs wide as he presses against you heavily, “All. Day. Long.”

Heat rushing through you, you nod. “I… want to cum, please. E-even if everyone hears.”

A few minutes later you’re on your back, feet in the air, legs held open by rope. Marco’s secured your arms so that your hands are near your ears, but you can’t reach or cover anything. Your hips are tilted up enough he has access to everything - the position is embarrassing even if the only person who can see you is him.

After opening the nearby window, he pulls something from the closet. It takes you a moment to sort out what it is, but it’s a large cone with just enough curve to it that it can be near your mouth and pointed out the window at the same time.

“Took a couple days for Fossa to make this.” He explains with a grin. “Don’t turn away from it, pretty bird, I don’t want to have to secure your head like that.”

You nod, afraid to make a sound with the mouthpiece near you. Your whole body is flush with embarrassment, need, nerves, and desire. Marco’s hands on your legs pulls your attention back to him, the look on his face is promising that you won’t be able to stay quiet once he gets started.

Rubbing your legs, he presses careful kisses into your skin, starting at your ankles and working his way up your legs. It’s warm, sending the softest of pleasures into you. You try to focus on your breathing, not wanting to help Marco work you up, but there’s a shivering sigh that escapes you when his thumbs spread your labia.

The small sound is amplified by the cone, but it’s far too soft to be heard by anybody outside the room.

Marco’s tongue drags above your slit, millimeters away from actually touching you, but your eyes are glue to the act and your own mouth opens in response, tongue out, desperate for him to just devour you. Desperate for him to soak you in so much pleasure you aren’t able to worry about the cone by your mouth.

He presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, leaning down slowly until his thumbs stop spreading your labia now that his lips are keeping your clit where he wants it.

You can’t stop your cunt from throbbing, even as you fight to keep your body still. It doesn’t matter that he isn’t moving, the position, the pressure, the anticipation is going to ruin you before anything else. You already know you can’t win against this punishment. He’s entirely too skilled, and you’re entirely too willing.

There’s a split second of understanding before you nearly scream into the cone.

The initial shriek of surprise devolves into laughter as Marco has begun tickling you relentlessly. You’re tied down so well that no amount of thrashing is going to make him move his face away from your cunt. No movement you can make will move you far enough away from the cone to stop your uncontrolled laughter from blaring out onto the morning deck.

“Nnaaaaaaaagh! No! No-o-o-o-ahhhahahahahaha! Marco! MARCO! Hahahahaha!” Your laughter-filled begging has a few breaks as he lets you catch your breath before continuing. The screeching laughter isn’t helped by the knowledge that the entire fucking ship can hear you, but after a moment you realize it’s only half the problem.

You’re riding Marco’s face.

Your thrashing and struggling is letting him tease your clit without him even moving. The zings of pleasure are starting to cut their way through the tickling, and the first soft whimper from you is all he was waiting for.

Still tickling you, Marco begins to lick and suck your clit himself.

“Fuck, no, wait, guh-hahahahahaha! AH-HAHAHA! No! No! Marco! Hahahahahaha—hnnnnngh ♥!!” You thrash and moan and beg and shriek, but there’s no mercy given.

The most mercy you get is when he pushes two fingers into your vagina, leaving him only one hand to tickle you with.

Deep, husky, lascivious sounds are ripped from your throat, broken up only briefly by whined laughs, the tickling temporarily breaking your climb to an orgasm. Clipped laughs, and strained swears fall from your lips as pleasure begins to outpace the tickling.

“Please, please,” you gasp, body shivering on the edges of orgasm.

Marco leans over you, speaking near enough into the cone.

“Let them hear the sounds I make you make, yoi.” He growls as you nod.

“Yeah, yeah, please, please, Marco, please -!” Marco’s hand is against your throat, thumb by your lip, keeping your mouth pointed at the cone, as he hilts inside you in one smooth thrust.

The action stutters the breath in your lungs. The stretch, the fullness, the pleasure. You hadn’t realized how on edge everything had you until he started to move and spots danced in your vision. Teasing your breasts with his free hand, grinding his body into your clit almost constantly even as he thrust into you. The way he set your body on fire was unfair, and you came unraveled beneath him in seconds.

The desperate, lusty moan bubbles up your throat and out into the cone as your entire body tenses from pleasure. The ropes groan as your body thrashes for a completely different reason from earlier. He pulls every moan, plea, babble, and apology from your lips as he fucks you through the first orgasm.

A burst of flames and a shift from Macro, and his talons are against your throat as he’s turned a bit. You don’t see the other part of him that’s transformed, but you can feel it.

“Not-the-tongue!” You cry out as the bristle-tipped end of his long phoenix tongue flicks against your clit. “Fffff-uck!” You swear, the intense pleasure ripping into your muscles as he continues to ride you, forcing the first orgasm into a second one. “Please, please, gods, fuck, please, hnnnnnngh-ahhhh ♥!!” The pleasure rushes through you, and you sink into it.

It doesn’t matter who hears, it feels good, so good. Everything Marco does feels good, but the intensity this time has scrambled your senses. You know enough to know he shifts again, hands on your breasts, feet on the ground, the steady thrust of his cock building pleasure inside you.

“Look at me, pretty bird.” Marco commands, and even if your haze you look over at the sound of his voice, the clarity of his eyes holding onto your meager attention.

“Good girl.”

Fuck.

“Keep your eyes on me. There you go… now breathe in, nice and deep for me.” He directs you, taking in an exaggerated breath along with you.

Once your lungs are full he pushes the knot into your dripping pussy and the intense stretch, the deep place he hits inside you, are enough to hurl you off the edge again. The deep guttural sound echoing down the cone shook it almost as much as it shook you, but the orgasm was too bone deep to be accompanied by a sound as sweet and gentle as a cry. A pleasure so intense, it almost makes you feel sick with exhaustion.

Marco fills you up, the terse grunt from between his teeth lost in the primal sounds he’s forced from you. It might be petty of him to think so, but no one’s going to remember the noise he made on deck after this. You don’t need to know how he’ll keep you from getting teased too much, not that you’re worried about such things right now.

Moving the cone aside, he leans over you, barely moving his still-throbbing knotted cock. It’s enough to make you gasp, sucking in a shaky and exhausted breath from the sensation. Brushing sweaty hair away from your face he kisses your cheek tenderly.

“What’s your color, baby bird?” He questions softly.

“Yuh… yellow,” you gasp. “Need… need a minute…”

“Can I pull out, or?” You shake your head as vigorously as you can manage at the question and he chuckles softly. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay as still as I can. Take your time, love. You did a good job.”

“That was intense,” you sigh, a smile scrawled across your lips as he caresses your face.

“I was surprised I didn’t get a word of protest out of you, yoi.” He admits.

“You gave me a choice,” you remind him. “Besides, I really do feel bad.” Pressing your lips together you can feel your face heating up as he gives you a look. “I really didn’t expect that.”

“Mm. It’s never gonna happen again.” He asserts and you just bite your lower lip. “Pretty bird.”

You look away guiltily. “At least not in front of anyone else.”

“I’ll punish you every time.” He grumbles.

“That’s… not exactly the deterrent you want it to be.” You say honestly.

“Oh?” Marco’s eyes go wide for a second before he grins, leaning over you and slowly pushing himself in deeper. You whine a little, looking at him with a pleading expression. “Are you saying you want me to pin you down and fuck you senseless whenever,” he kisses your lips softly. “And however I want?”

His kisses slide down onto your neck. “Is my pretty bird saying she wants to be a sweet little obedient sub for me?”

“I dunno about all-ah-that.” You murmur, the words shivering out of you as he leaves heavier kisses against your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin. He’d never spoken to you so roughly before, but neither your ears, nor your thighs, seemed to mind.

His hips roll, shoving his hardening cock in deeper. The cold squelch of spend leaks out and slips down to your ass, making you gasp.

“You want to be a brat for me to tame then, hm?” He presses your face to the side, slowly beginning to move inside you, teeth sharper against your skin. “Maybe we could try training you, yoi.”

“Tra-training?” You squirm, toes flexing, fingers in need of something to hold onto.

“It would be sweet if a single word, whispered in your ear, brought you to your knees for me, yeah? Shivering and ready to sing just for me.”

You whimper, a trembling need rolling through your body. “I don’t know that, that, you’d nee-eeeeee-need that muh-much!” You cry out as Marco’s teeth sink into your skin, the sharp pain and dull pleasure buffeted by soothing flames.

He licks the bite mark on your skin, tongue trailing up the side of your neck until he’s nibbling on your ear, leaving you to pant and squirm beneath him. He gives your cheek a kiss and pulls out carefully, watching every twitch on your face until you’re empty.

“What was all that?” You question as he begins to slowly untie you.

“Hm?”

“We’ve… we’ve gotten all ropes and commands before, but you’re talking like… hardcore bdsm stuff.” You feel the heat rush to your face as you say it. You don’t know why it’s embarrassing to put it like that.

“Anything you’re curious about, pretty bird, and I’ll do what I can.” He kisses the inside of your thigh as he starts to undo your legs. “Full-on lifestyle’s a bit hard to do on the ship, especially with Pops as the captain, but if there’s anything you’re curious about, let me know.”

Undoing the last of your binds he massages your legs, making sure nothing was discolored or tingling.

“You don’t have to be a brat to get me to do this and more,” he clarifies, sliding up and snuggling with you on the bed.

“I’m just trying to sort out how you know so much about it.” You say, snuggling into him and letting him wrap his arms and legs around you. “Your experience seems… I don’t know, more than just something from saucy stories shared between crew mates.”

“Mm…” He clears his throat, running his hand through your hair. “We’ll say I’ve known a king or two in my life. Maybe one day I’ll even admit to one of them that they weren’t wrong, yoi.”

“About what, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Few things are better than having a sweet young thing falling apart beneath you.”

[mamaclownhunter]

Ngl- while this has a few specific fics in mind- the biggest influence that planted this seed was “Little wolf” from Epic.

It is so SY and Binghe Coded.

Which I think is what I am also kinda basing the power system Shen Yuan can access.

Like for balance Binghe has most of the power and freewill (like a pokemon Shen Yuan won’t say), he is the only one who can accept quests (SY won’t know they are quests until they are “accepted” by Binghe) and Shen Yuan doesn’t get information unless he figures it out or Binghe interacts with it.

For the most part Shen Yuan can “attack” and “move” Binghe - as well as monitor his health, skills and Qi levels. He can spend “experience” on higher health, attacks, speed, stamina, new skills and access certain items with points as well as have some knowledge or idea of things around with a map. While there is an Automode time moves a bit slower for Shen yuan before attacks. So he is able to react much faster than Binghe. So he is able to almost force Binghe to move or attack.

For the most part because of consent and respecting boundaries he is more or less playing a turn base game and calling out attacks and moves.

As well only in special instances he can be the protagonist’s halo. Like if he is unconscious or like the skinner incident tied up with immortal binding cables. He can protect Binghe by causing a mishap. Downside is it takes a lot out of him. The more he uses it the less access he has until he can rest.

He also is constantly regulating Binghe’s energy levels “stabilizing” him. He has some influences or acts as a warning system for potential Qi deviations.

He also has access to some like- dialogue options but he only looks at those if Binghe is stuck. He is otherwise happy to just hear what Binghe has to say.

He spends his “fade to black” time working through points, inventory, lore and his own side quests he needs to flesh out the world for more points.

His own goal: give Binghe a happy ending

But to do that they need to get out of the Abyss.

SY can only give him so much and is unsure what is going to happen once Binghe gets Xin Mo.

So he is fluffing up and powering up Binghe so he is ready for Xin Mo and the next half of his adventure.

Que- thank you ace- dungeon run esque abyss adventure! With merchants! Artifacts! Lore! Monsters!- there are women but SY is not around for it. Which is small Victories for Binghe at first then they start to bother him when his little green companion isn’t around.

Maybe like in off there are or is some demons that can see or are able to address SY. Meng Mo probably can and they have a strange back and forth regarding Binghe’s health and training.

Unlike Meng Mo- bc of the skills Shen Yuan has access to spiritual cultivation and able to teach and train Binghe in ways that help him. As well as an ability to watch both his Qi.

Maybe there is a trickster type or merchant who also can address and talk to SY- SY is like needing out and telling Binghe this is an important person (the meta characters have the best info and loot or can be the most dangerous) and Binghe is just seething with jealousy.

Sadly for him, SQH can also see SY if I decide to let SY leave the abyss with Binghe.

Shen Yuan also having access to information even if he can’t immediately share it with Binghe is much like when you play a game and know you have to trust a character you know is going to betray you. You have to play the advents.

The first few times Shen Yuan couldn’t warn Binghe enough for LBH to recognize SY knew it was going to happen it was,,, messy. But once SY had his round about way of explaining it wasn’t intentional and he doesn’t have control on what he is and isn’t allowed- they find little ways around it. Binghe- smart and too analytical- will start to notice when SY takes a particular focus on certain people. They have little signs to keep SY safe but to at least get Binghe’s attention. SY will wander around certain people, he will be silent when people talk, make little comments.

It is part of what makes Binghe so OP. He seems to know things others don’t, he is a prodigy, he has artifacts to spare, information he shouldn’t have- then all him is all personality. (He will never admit he loves hearing SY mumble about how ‘of course they are going to love Binghe’)

He isn’t alone either. He has Meng Mo and SY bickering about his health and training. He has Meng Mo who does have a weird demonic soft spot for him- and Shen Yuan.

Strange, strange Shen Yuan in his strange bottoms that show off his legs and a single layer over his torso. (I like to think at some point SY realizes he can change his appearance and absolutely decks himself out in Wuxia gear/Hanfus and makes himself look like a cultivator- he looks uncomfortably like SQQ at first. Then he turns and beams at LBH arms wide asking how he looks and Binghe can’t stop the sincere “you look nice” which SY gets all proud and floats off. No one can see him but the canonically most beautiful man in the world complimented him and so he is having fun)

I read a few but I am kinda soft for the idea of System!SY but like a player in a Video game.

Specifically I am thinking of the game Off! Where the player is their own entity the character it kinda aware of.

So SY dies and wakes up when Binghe lands in the abyss. He is given the objective to help Binghe out of the Abyss and steer him towards the best ending!!!

SY is excited because he!!! Gets to help Binghe!!

Binghe is pissed his seal came off and now he is being ordered around by some green spirit. His powers are still sealed and slowly being released by said kinda annoying ghost.

The worst part other then the Ghost being overly excited to be in Hell and seemed to be too elated about one of the worst fucking moments of his life-

The Ghost is actually fucking helpful. ‘Shen Yuan’ (what a fucking joke to give him a ‘Shen’ as a guide) knows more about monsters and their weaknesses, has an idea on what is edible what isn’t, he knows what plants to avoid, what areas are safe- and he also seems to genuinely want to keep him safe.

SY has a the video game advantage of either knowing when attacks are coming or knowing how heavy an attack will be. He also knows what Binghe can do at anytime/is controlling the attacks to some extent- either pokemon style or like the game OFF! Where is auto attacks or manual where Binghe can’t attack unless SY! Chooses.

For the first little bit Binghe resists or does the opposite where SY directs him only to- shockingly- get hit.

So I feel like for the longest time they were just at odds and bickering before SY puts it on auto and just plays it like a turn based game. Like for him sometimes time is slower except for Binghe, so he has faster reactions and honestly is more in canon with the “protagonist halo”. Where he can spend points and has his own little influence if things are dire otherwise he is more or less following his favorite protagonist through the story.

And Being such a big Binghe fan he is more than happy to just Let Binghe have the power only taking control when things look dire. He is the biggest hype man, offering information and support, offering insight or knowledge only him as a strange green figment that only Binghe can see.

He vanishes when Binghe flirts with women though. He goes off and explores or watches monsters, he hated this aspect of the book and if Binghe wants then he should- he only gets protective and sticks around if he feels like Binghe is getting taken advantage of- (though the first few times Binghe snapped at him and told him to scram- so he did in his own pissy fit) they go right back to Bickering but fuck SY still cares and he kinda likes how he can see this part of Binghe’s story.

They can’t go far from each other (I am thinking about as far as camera can scroll out) but SY can turn off audio and stuff on his side.

Though eventually Binghe just starts to trust SY. If SY says right he is moving right, if SY says between the eyes his sword is inbetween their eyes, if SY says run and hide he vanishes from the field. Because for all the bitching, raging and ranting- Binghe does notice a lot is on his sake.

And you know…. In the Abyss he isn’t alone. He isn’t figuring this shit out by himself he has someone who floats next to him asking what he wants to improve. Attack? Speed? Health? He has someone that he can mentally connect with and they just both viciously attack low IQ villian and plots where only they can hear.

The angst that the only person to interact with SY is Binghe. Who he can’t hold when Binghe has nightmares, who he can only heal if he has the resources and to produce medicine/fast heal, but is also the only person who sees and hears SY. So if he is ignoring SY- SY is alone- and I think deep down he is a social person. Binghe is subjected to a flood of questions SY wants to ask.

And Binghe has one person who cares about him and is always at his side (even forced SY never implies he feels forced in fact he seems always excited to be next to Binghe)- and Binghe can’t touch him, can’t feed him (‘I would love to try your food- but I can’t.’), can’t cherish him.

SY who is nice, who is considerate, compassionate, he cursed like he lives in a brothel and rages like a demon- but he also scolds Binghe for ignoring people, he snaps when Binghe doesn’t actually help- just takes what he wants and leaves, he believes Binghe is so much better for the world if he only got over himself and stopped thinking with his rage and anger. He thinks Binghe is smart, he thinks Binghe is strong, he thinks even half demon- Binghe is meant to be good.

What a kick in the stomach.

They can’t touch but Shen Yuan is trying his fucking best to get Binghe through hell. He apologizes for bad calls, he gets better himself, he takes his hands off the reigns but I think there are times he can’t help it. They fight, they talk, they are together.

Shen Yuan always loves Binghe and maybe he still ends up a little blackened but Binghe is quietly determined to make SY corporal. Pull him from that control panel and somewhere Binghe can hold him close. Maybe tuck him away in a nice little cottage where there is a little farm and greenhouse with all the plants SY can tend to, bookshelves filled to the brim with books and stories, in a place where SY can see all sorts of creatures to his hearts content.

The “Video Game” character being protective of their “player”

SY being a rage gamer also is so funny to me, Binghe is the only one he hears the absolute filth and insults SY throws at their enemies and frankly he either repeats it or relents that he isn’t as creative.

Binghe maybe not aware of his protagonist halo but aware of the little green ghost who can just barely manipulate the world if Binghe is in enough trouble. Shen Yuan being the only one who gets quests and updates of things Binghe needs to do and being limited on what he can tell Binghe.

The soft apologies when SY can’t control where they go or what happens can only help Binghe respond.

This is long and I am still pulling thoughts but I am slowly getting brain rot

[herefortheships]

What do you think of the Bj and Lydia controversy due to age?

You know, the short answer I have for this is that I do not think it should be an issue that's even brought up anymore. Lydia is now an adult woman in her 50s; plenty of people end up with a partner who is 10+ years older than them, meaning that they would have been a full adult if they would have come across their partner at sixteen. And that's just speaking about the real world; let's not forget Beetlejuice and the characters in that world are all a work of fiction. I don't think the fact that they met when she was a teenager all those years ago should even be an issue to ship it or not. As a matter of fact, people can ship whatever they want. They can even ship it in the first film and it's not an issue... Shipping in itself is inherently innocent. These characters and the situations around them don't even exist, and therefore, whatever you imagine with them, has no effect in the real world. Shipping is no different from a kid grabbing a couple of dolls and making them kiss. It's all in good fun.

Let me tell you, I had written a long freaking essay under this question 😅, but I decided to leave all of that for a separate post. But a few notable points from that essay which I think would be good to include here are the following.

Back in the 90s and early 2000s we had ships with pretty big age gaps on network TV and nobody batted an eye about the age gap (as far as I'm concerned). I'm talking about Buffy the Vampire Slayer specifically in this post. This was before social media, but as far as magazines and fandom spaces go, I'm sure the discussions around Buffy's love interests in BTVS centered around which hot vampire was better for Buffy, Angel or Spike. (Even nowadays we see this kind of article, exhibit A). And you don't see these articles starting with disclaimers and trigger warnings, either.

For those who haven't watched BTVS, Angel was around 240-something when he slept with 17 year old Buffy. He slept with her the night she turned 17, by the way; they were already together while she was 16. At the time he was turned into a vampire, Angel was around 26 years old. Angel met Buffy when she was 16, but he was stalking watching Buffy since she was 15:

Now about Spike. Spike met Buffy when she was 16, but he didn't actually become obsessed with her until she was around 20. Still, they got together and it wasn't ever an issue that he met her when she was a teenager. In Spike's case, he did stick around and interacted with Buffy multiple times before they started dating. In Betelgeuse's case, we know that while he watched Lydia from afar, he never actually managed to interact or even be seen by her during the years they were apart.

A lot of antis throw around the word "grooming" around Beetlebabes; I don't think they understand the meaning of that word. To put it simple, to groom someone is to condition them and emotionally manipulate them for years into a certain behavior, in this context, into falling in love or becoming sexually involved with the groomer. This term, therefore, cannot and will not ever apply to Betelgeuse and Lydia's relationship (it also does not apply to Spuffy, while we're at it). How can it? When they only had a few interactions over 30+ years ago and only met now after all that time.

And about those interactions in the first movie, the fact that Betelgeuse attempted to marry Lydia is attached to an idea of sexual inappropriateness only when that particular idea is projected onto what actually happened in that scene. Objectively, for Betelgeuse, marrying Lydia was a means to an end; there was no sexual or romantic implications in their marriage in that movie.

I believe in the case of Betelgeuse x Lydia versus ships like Buffy x Angel or Buffy x Spike, people are quick to see an issue in one where they never notice an issue in the other for the following reason: While Angel and Spike are hot, young-looking vampires, Betelgeuse is gross and does look like a dead guy. That is literally the difference. Spike and Angel are good-looking hotties; Betelgeuse... I love him lots and he is hot for me, but he is not conventionally attractive. I bet you if Betelgeuse looked like Michael Keaton did playing Bruce Wayne... People wouldn't have an issue that he's lusting after 50-something year old Winona Ryder, (also a hottie herself btw).

Let's add here before I close off this post that both Angel and Spike did objectively horrible things to Buffy when they were soulless (Angel while Buffy was still a minor), and meanwhile Betelgeuse has never harmed Lydia (no, the insta-pregnancy didn't harm her; everything that happened in that scene was an illusion). He didn't even behave inappropriately toward her in the first film when he was wilder and hornier than he is now. And yet shipping Bangel or Spuffy (last I checked lol) isn't widely seen as problematic. I ship Spuffy to the moon and back, and used to ship Bangel as well at some point 🤷🏻‍♀️ and I haven't seen people attacking shippers nor have I seen discussions of these ships being inappropriate (though I'm sure there must be... it's 2024 and the purity culture fandom infection has spread widely), not in the way I see Beetlebabes fans being harassed.

Anyway, I wrote a separate post about this and will post it eventually. This wasn't meant to be this long, but here we are 😅.

[psychic-refugee]

I loved MOA, I’ve watched it twice and it’s definitely a great rewatch. Probably going into my list of comfort films to watch again and again.

It definitely deserves its #1 Spot on Amazon Video.

I’m going to wait to give a full on review so people have more time to watch it and it’s less spoilery.  

I do want to address one thing that I don’t think is a fair criticism, at all.

I’ve seen several posts where they’re unhappy that the main character isn’t a lesbian. Someone even went as far to call it “lesbian erasure” and others are calling Megan Park/the movie lesphobic.

On one hand, I understand that there aren’t enough good representation movies for lesbians or the LGBTQ+ community, and it can be frustrating when something looks promising or if you had certain hopes, but it turns out a different way.

On the other hand, come on, BFFR and fuck off.

No one ever said it was a lesbian rom com. It’s a rom com with a character who is very young and in her limited experience had thought she was a lesbian, and then finds someone who makes her question that specific title.

Chad has ALWAYS been part of the synopsis and cast list. He was always framed as the romantic interest.

Other people's sexuality is not dependent upon your hopes and wishes, both real and fictional.

I think people are so chronically online and obsessed with labels that they forget that no one has met everyone they’re ever going to meet, ESPECIALLY NOT AT 18. Elliott had only ever been attracted to women up until she meets Chad. She’s also from a very small town, is itching to live in the big city of Toronto, and is about to attend the University of Toronto.

There is a chance she still would have figured out she was also attracted to men when the dating pool got much larger for her.

Is it “heterosexual erasure” if the opposite happens and someone goes off to Uni to discover they are attracted to the same sex? Or is it just part of some people’s journey?

I, personally, think it’s a great message that you’re a) not stuck with a title or specific sexuality and b) it doesn’t have to be this traumatic, existential crisis. I loved how she talked it out with her friend, Ro, and it was like, “oh shit (surprised)…tell me more (intrigued and supportive).”

Please notice how Ro and Ruthie (Maddie Zeigler) don’t question Elliott’s sexuality or try to make her feel bad about it, they just accept her as friends should.

Again, personally, I’m glad to see a queer story that doesn’t have queer trauma.

I hope everyone’s sexual, or lack thereof, journey is as easy going.

I also feel like the people who are mad that she fell in love with a man when “the right one came along,” and are calling it lesbian erasure, completely stopped paying any real attention to the movie.

Elliott NEVER calls herself straight. She NEVER indicates she no longer is attracted to women because she found Chad.

Her attraction to Chad is in addition to her general attraction to women. It’s very clear through the dialogue that she is very much into women, and that never stops.

Spoiler but not relevant to furthering the plot and it’s towards the end of the movie:

…

Older Elliott references having a current girlfriend in the future. Timestamp: 1:13:30

She doesn’t mention any other male significant other.

It could very well be that Chad is a one off, but still very important, valid, and REAL love in Elliott's life.

At no point does Elliott’s attraction to Chad diminish her attraction to women.

Fine, be frustrated in the general lack of lesbian specific movies.

But don’t call Megan Park lesphobic for not making a character SHE CREATED lesbian when Elliott was never meant to be lesbian to begin with.

[ganondoodle]

another thing i feel has deepend my hatred for totk is... how quickly people jump to defending it, as soon as there is any criticism at all, no matter how little or legit, anyone that expresses disappointment, even in the most tamest way possible, the comments are filled with excuses for it like nintendo can do no wrong

(saw someone express disappointment about a concept art in the totk book that they would have liked more than what we got, and the comments were filled with people making excuses for it-)

often the process of cool concepts getting less cool over the development cycle, especially in this modern gaming industry, isnt bc it just wasnt 'possible' or not the best choice, but bc it gets filtered through many layers of corporate "mass appeal" ideals for greater profit, "mass appeal" i think is always going to give you something more generic, losing its edge, its spark, you cant make soemthing that literally appeals to everyone, thats not how it works, but they certainly try anyway bc it promises greater profit in theory

of course, that doesnt mean that has to be the reason for whatever they decide to go for in the end, but they can do wrong, very questionable, and very much bad things, they have done that and ARE doing that, and you should be able to express disappointment about that without getting swarmed by a weird nintendo defense squad, in fact, it SHOULD be criticised, sometimes that can even be fun, sometimes mroe frustrating, but it should be done regardless, does it sound fun to jsut fully accept everything they throw in front of you without question??? does that sound like you will only get better things???

i just realyl hate that weird cult following (exaggeration) the game has amassed where you either worship it or must unreasonably hate it, that you cant express any sort personal feelign towards it that isnt praise without being hit by the squad tm

its not just annoying, its weird, what are you defending them for?? why??? i had this problem a while too, but its died down sicne then, probably bc people realized im not the 'average' fandom guy but a very specific kind of fandom guy- whenever i view outside my little bubble though i see it still happen ... even for the most miniscule of criticism

(dont get me started on how i have MASSIVE gameplay and design frustrations about totk and dont really understand how so many people can say the gameplay is stellar and jsut the writing sucks .... bc its not ..)

[nyantry]

Dmitry looked up at the rain, suddenly yanked out of that dreamlike haze by the drops hitting his face so suddenly. He did not wake up, though. Not yet, not now. He was still in that realm with Death, in a space between, even if time had now resumed its usual course. Samael was powerful, but even Dmitry knew that Death had no say over time. Not really. Not beyond ordained moments, spelled out second by second in God's great design. He did not hold any hard feelings toward Samael over it, even if that space of timelessness was well-wanted.

He looked back to Sammy as the archangel continued speaking. He reached out instinctively to touch the scythe, not doing so only because he thought better of it when he saw his own hand in the air. He knew better than to intrude like that, curiosity-bitten as he always was.

He sat on the sandy ground below, taking in the words that Samael was saying to him. In the words of the great Marty McFly, this was heavy. There was Samael, echoing something Nico had pointed out forever ago. He wasn't close to death. He wasn't burdened by it, either. It was what drove his purpose. Nico had seen that, and though it had taken a long time, Dmitry had sort of grasped that Nico had meant this. Why did it keep escaping him, then? Why did he keep forgetting? Maybe that was it? Maybe that was the point? To keep his intentions pure, or something? He couldn't possibly pretend to fathom knowing the answer.

God's wrath, though? That, he could not understand. He didn't really think of himself as wrathful, let alone divinely so. He just had that insatiable drive to do something, to not sit and watch while people suffered, to not just be on the sidelines when he had the means to help. He couldn't just watch. He was angry, yes. But he could not comprehend being afforded divinity, and he understood even less the idea that his purpose revolved around it. He'd have to sit with that for a lot longer than this conversation could last.

But guardian, this he could accept. He thought of himself as Nico's guardian angel too. Every person has one, Nico included, and he hadn't seen any other angels near Nico. No, it was his own duty; he had to watch over Nico. He never talked about that to Nico; it didn't seem necessary. But Dmitry did, suddenly, remember that he had accepted this charge previously in Samael's presence. By its very nature, that conversation, and likely this one, and any number of other conversations between worlds, were not for him to remember. There could be nothing to obstruct, nothing to impede, nothing to hinder. What he didn't have to know, he wouldn't remember. It was a grace to be afforded that; it made things simpler, tumultuous as it was not knowing.

He took Samael's warning to heart, though. It was no light caution, not coming from that angel in particular. Dmitry lifted his gaze to meet Death's flames for eyes sitting in a skull devoid of flesh. "I know. I don't say this lightly: I feel it in my very soul, it's him. He needs me."

Aftr a moment of silence and more thought, he spoke once more. This time it was quiet, vulnerable. It was a topic he'd never really talked about with Samael himself, not since it had happened.

"The first time I died, were you there? Before, I mean. Were you watching? I remember it was cold. I don't think I could have chosen differently. I've never talked to Nico about it and... this time, I want to know what you think. I feel like I should, maybe I should tell him? He doesn't ask me certain things and I think it's because he knows I find it difficult to talk about, but this... I feel he deserves to know. Do you think I should tell him?"

"Your nose clouds vision."

"You forget your purpose."

He basically told Dmitry he couldn't see passed the end of his nose and the answer was just as plain as the nose on his face in Death-speak.

He turned the hourglass fast and hard back as it should be and in that one move rain poured in the gravity's shift back to normalcy like a wake up call.

"You never belong where you don't stand, or you'd be moved." He held up his scythe in reasonable explanation.

The little monologuer was over-thinking considering he was discussing this with such a neutral party. He wasn't the Angel of Forgiveness. He wasn't the Angel of Mercy. He was that of all things masculine and war and a psychopomp of death. Where he guided those souls were not his to judge.

But what did he mean by Dmitry was forgetting his purpose? Dmitry clearly thought he was on his own path. Still Samael knew angels and there were those of seraphim, the cherubs, the thrones, virtues, dominions, powers, principalities, archangels, guardian angels etc... Everyone had a place, a job, a space, something they rules over. Some had celestial jobs. Others fought evils. Some were closer to the human race than others.

Samael didn't have to be there with Dmitry and God the day they made their agreement to see what was happening. The great He gave Dmitry an earthly job. He was alive. He also fought evil.

"Have you ever considered you're not close to death? You idolize it. You've experienced it. You're not like me. Maybe close to dying sometimes. You're close to humanity at all times. You're alive. Every time. Every reincarnation you are blessed with a full life however you expend it. If you lost the deep connection with the humanity that drove you to death the first time you'd lose your drive for your purpose. You're blessed with unhealing to be human with mightier purposes. God's wrath."

Dmitry might disagree with him, but he'd not waiver. nor bicker. He also saw it all the time. People were so close to a situation they couldn't see beyond themselves. It was part of the human condition. Maybe Dmitry hadn't considered all that wrath wasn't all his own? Nor a human sin, but an angel's purpose as a conduit.

After Dmitry spoke of Nico, he repeated.

"God blessed you with the human condition for all your purposes. I have no doubt of that."

"If God assigned you one Niccolo to watch over as a guardian angel it's not your job to get him to Heaven. It's your job to protect him on whatever path he walks so he's never alone until the end of days. His free will is always his own."

The reason Nico began to believe Dmitry was his guardian angel wasn't just because it was a cute thing to say after hearing his avenging angel story. No. It was because of Aleister Crowley who wrote Magic Without Tears and who refers back to The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn mentions that holy guardian is an independent being, who may have been previously human. To Nico that meant Dmitry. He might not have been able to see it in the Bible, but he read it from occultists.

Then Samael had a fair warning because he himself already lived that life. He didn't care that Dmitry was given a human form. He himself had a human form. He was an angel. If he thought, he was human he was fooling himself. He was immortal. No human reincarnates without being reborn a baby again. He was an angel. He was deluded by his humanity so focused on his next death day it blurred his focus and that was okay. Samael believed Dmitry was probably supposed to be for the most part and would probably forget most of this or it would feel like a dream later anyway until the next time they met.

The fair warning was this. He thought of the woman he married. He remembered God ripping several of the wings right off his back as punishment for marrying a human. Other angels were mating, but Samael fell in love, had to give up his wife, repent, and welcomed back in Heaven. He was forgiven but given the job of being the keeper over the Grigori's Prison, the ones God did not forgive for breeding as an eternal punishment. So, as Death's jagged misshapen wings that hung from behind him drug along as they began to walk again, he said, "Because if he is not your assignment and you're off your path, He will catch up to you. I know."

Samael wasn't going to claim to know Dmitry's purpose other than it was clear to him he was an angel for humanity meant to feel deeply as them as kindred spirits. This is why he avenged.

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[youhavethewrong]

do you guys remember when Attack On Titan had a fucking Looney Tunes Babies style spin off where all the characters were in junior high and the titans were just bullies and eren was mad at them because they ate his hamburg steak and it was legitimately better than the original

[hauntingblue]

Oh now the villagers know..... and arlong burned the town to punish her..... for some reason