#if you have liking dudes disease this book is for you

[allgirlsareprincesses]

I don't go here and I realize I'm in the minority with this opinion, but it looks to me like GRRM is just trying to distract from the fact that he's never going to finish his f*cking story. I hardly think he's in any position to criticize someone who may have created a flawed product but at least GOT IT TO THE AUDIENCE. Also he's a misogynistic, entitled hack and I will die on that hill.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 5

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4

Eddie’s just dropped his response in the requested copy of Romeo and Juliet. He’d looked furtively around the library, trying to see if anyone was paying him an abnormal level of attention.

No one even looks up.

There’s a mousy girl in the corner reading a comic book, some band girl muttering to herself as she frantically pulls books off the shelf, and Nancy Wheeler writing, fast enough that Eddie’s surprised the lead of her pencil doesn’t snap clean off.

Could it be her?

Eddie squints at her, trying to look past her frizzy hair and prissy face to what must be hidden underneath. Before he finds any clarity, she looks up from the page in front of her, already scowling before she meets Eddie’s gaze.

Eddie startles, damn-near sprinting out of the library, his smoker’s lungs wheezing hard enough to damn-near expel themselves from his lungs.

No way in hell is it Wheeler—she’s way too scary, and besides, no one’s ever accused her of being an athlete. That band girl, maybe? She looked feisty enough to kick ass at organized sports-ball.

The secret’s burning a hole through his heart and he wants, no, needs, to tell someone.

Eddie feels deranged with it, almost manic as he rushes to find someone, anyone, he can talk to. Hell, right now he’d take Hagan if he didn’t think the dude would punch him in the face.

Luckily, he smacks into Gareth before anything gets that dire. The kid’s obviously rushing through the parking lot to catch the bus before it leaves without him, stranding him at the school before the weekend can truly start.

“Dude—”  he stutters out as Eddie latches onto both of his shoulders and begins shaking him about. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Gareth smacks him off, and Eddie stumbles back, almost buzzing with the frenetic energy built up from weeks of getting love letters in his locker and not being able to tell a soul. Eddie grabs onto him again and just keeps shaking, lest his soul quiver right out of his body. “I can’t keep it in anymore, man,” Eddie says, and he can tell from the bug-eyed look on the other boy’s face that he’s not picking up what Eddie’s putting down. “I’ve gotten four letters, Gare-Bear, four!”

He enunciates the last word with an even harder shake until Eddie can hear his teeth clack together. Gareth makes an unholy noise, like a cat submerged in bathwater, and damn-near claws Eddie’s face off in his attempts to get away. Eddie ends up standing in the parking lot, still holding the shoulders of Gareth’s flannel up despite there no longer being a body in it.

“And each one is sweeter than the last!” Eddie cries, maliciously dropping the flannel into a puddle.

Gareth squawks, bending down to scoop his outerwear up from the ground and twist it until some of the water sops out of it and back to the pavement from whence it came. He’s not looking at Eddie at all. God, he knew he should have picked Doug.

“So, why are you telling me about it?” Gareth gripes.

Left unspoken, but patently obvious between them, is that Jeff, Eddie’s usual secret keeper, is entirely absent. Eddie twirls one of his own curls, bringing it up to shield the blush that’s no doubt blooming on his face as he admits, “Jeff would make fun of me.”

Besides, Jeff’s been weird all day, eyes darting away from Eddie’s like he’s got some sort of disease that might be catching.

He doesn’t want to talk to Jeff right now.

Giving it up as a bad job, Gareth slings his sopping flannel over one shoulder with the beleaguered sigh of a single mother and finally meets Eddie’s eyes.

“Dude,” he says, voice that of someone delivering a deadly blow. “I’m going to make fun of you.”

Eddie can feel himself pouting, does absolutely nothing to try to stop it as he mutters, “knew I should’ve confided in Hagan,” too quietly for Gareth to hear.

“Now, where are these stupid letters?”

Eddie throws his hands up and takes two showily large steps back as he declares, “well, I’m not going to show you now!”

“Oh, Jeff,” Gareth calls, all sing-songy and sly.

Eddie lunges forward to slam his palm over Gareth’s mouth even though Jeff had disappeared from the school long ago. With his hands so close already, he’s hard-pressed to stop himself from wringing Gareth’s scrawny neck.

Before he knows it, Eddie finds himself settled in his room, the letters strewn about Eddie’s unmade bed.

Gareth reads them all; he laughs at all the parts that are sweetest, and despite being born an only child, Eddie can feel himself developing one hell of a Cain instinct. Maybe Cain was actually a cool guy, and Abel drove him to it with his incessant wheedling.

Eddie wouldn’t know; he’s never read the bible.

“Dude, she’s a jock?” Gareth asks, peering down at the letter with a level of glee Eddie’s never seen on the other boy’s face.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Eddie asks, taking sadistic enjoyment in the way Gareth’s nose wrinkles with disgust. He rips—gently!—the letter out of Gareth’s hands and gathers them all back together, intent to hide them from any more prying eyes.

“I was reading that!”

“Girls can do sports,” Eddie replies snootily, tucking the letters away beneath his pillow. “And besides, there’s always cheerleaders.”

All that does is make Gareth start laughing again. “You think you can bag a cheerleader?”

He raises his hand threateningly, one wrong word from smacking that look off his face, the way Eddie’s dad had always threatened. “Do you want to walk home?” Eddie demands.

Eddie’s doubtful it was the threat that got Gareth to stop laughing—they both know they’ll spend the rest of the evening eating stale cereal and watching whatever’s on TV before falling asleep in Eddie’s small bed—but the silence is still welcome.

It lasts a solid three seconds before Gareth asks, “you’re not afraid it’s all a joke?”

Eddie’s going to kill him.

***

The day’s been long despite Steve, Chrissy, and Jeff all skipping first period. Still, nothing could stop him from taking precious time out of his weekend to pick up any notes Eddie might have written.

It’s becoming normal now, to skulk behind Chrissy through the library as she picks up notes. What’s that saying about the third time being a pattern? And there, tucked reverently into a copy of Romeo and Juliet—Chrissy’s idea, not his—is an envelope with Secret Admirer written across it in bold, cursive font. Like Eddie’d gone out and gotten a quill and ink pot just for the occasion.

The ink’s so black, it still looks wet, but when Steve caresses the letters, they don’t even smudge. They both stare down at it where it’s still clutched between Chrissy’s fingers. Chrissy, ever the good friend, waits for his next move.

“Want to come over?” he asks, tired of impersonal whispers in quiet libraries. He wants a girl’s night, the way he and Carol used to before she’d started dating Tommy and everything had gotten so stilted. “I can paint your nails.”

Chrissy doesn’t even hesitate. She’s beaming as she puts the envelope carefully into her book bag, grabs his arm, and drags him out of the room.

She doggedly follows his car all the way home to his big empty house, her headlights beaming light and warmth straight into his heart.

The porch light’s on in front of his house, a beacon leading him home from his rapidly darkening driveway. He always leaves it on, something about its cheerful light making his dark house seem more welcoming, even more so now that he’s got a friend parking her car right behind his.

He’s glad not to get run out of town, but more than that, he’s grateful that it was all just a mistake, that he doesn’t need to let another friendship fizzle out into nothing.

“Are your parents home?” she asks as she bounces out of her car and up to his side.

“Almost never,” Steve replies, not turning back to her, unwilling to see the expression on her face as he leads her to the front door and ushers her inside once it’s unlocked. 

He slides his shoes off, and she copies his movements before following him up the stairs. They settle onto his bed, and he’s tempted to make a wise-crack about what boyfriends and girlfriends usually do in beds, but he’s a little afraid she might slap him, so all he says is, “did you bring it?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “of course I brought it.”

She’s already made herself comfortable laying on her stomach, but she dutifully reaches toward the ground to rifle through her bag and pull the envelope that’s been burning a hole in it free. Steve descends on it like a drowning man on land.

He lays on his stomach beside her, tempted to kick his feet and twirl his hair as he slots his finger into the envelope and opens it with the precision born from years of practice opening his parents’ mail.

It’s only as he pulls the tab open that he notices it’s not an envelope at all. Eddie had cleverly folded the note he’d written into the shape of an envelope, tucking the tab into it to keep it closed. He smooths the creases out and devours the words.

       Secret Admirer,

       I want to learn everything about you– the color of your eyes, how your lips curve when you smile, how soft your hands are, the sound of your laughter. But more than that, I want to know what you love, along with all of your deepest wants and needs. You’ve piqued my curiosity with your scant answers. I can’t help but want more.

       Unfortunately, there’s not enough room on the page for the unrelenting number of questions flooding my mind. I know the point of being a secret admirer is that it’s a secret, but I hope that if you really do like me, you won’t stay secret for long.

       I came up with a game I think could be fun! I’ve filled mine out already, for you to keep. Recopy it onto a separate sheet and return it with your next note. That way I get to keep your answers and you can have mine. I also wrote little notes on the back for some of them. I couldn’t help myself.

       Yours,

       Eddie

And there, tucked behind the envelope is a notecard, Eddie’s usual sloppy handwriting covering it with that same, black ink. But he’s circled his answers in red, and added little numbers next to some of them.

       ||Rock or Pop 1 || Board Games or Sports Games 2 || Early Bird or Night Owl || Reading Or TV || Big Spoon or Little Spoon 3 || Outer Space or The Ocean 4 || Art or History || Alcohol or Weed 5 || Cats or Dogs || Holding Hands or First Kiss 6 || Winter or Summer || Grease or Star Wars || Gold or Silver || Halloween or New Year’s Eve || Vampires or Werewolves 7 || Drive-In or Movie Theater || Back Seat or Under the Bleachers 8 || Cuddling or Dancing || Slides or Swings 9 ||

Steve flips it over and finds more little numbers in red, each with a corresponding blurb.

       1. Pop is fun if you’re into that, but nothing beats a good guitar riff.

       2. I know you’re into sports, sweetheart, but come on, board games are the obvious winner.

       3. If you prefer being the big spoon, I’m willing to compromise <3

       4. If you pick the ocean, then you’re braver than me! That’s a body of water you can’t even see the bottom of! How are you cool with that?

       5. If you know me, and it really seems like you do, then my answer here is obvious.

       6. I bet you’ve got really nice hands, sweetheart. Would love to feel them in mine someday.

       7. Werewolves are cool, too, but come on, vampires fit my aesthetic way better.

       8. Under the bleachers would probably be cool, too, but my van’s a lot warmer (does that count as a backseat?)

       9. I was always that kid who would go down the slide and pretend there was a dragon chasing me, what about you?

Steve smiles down at the card and all the secrets it holds.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Chrissy says.

Steve, for the first time, gets the inexplicable urge to hide Eddie’s words behind his hands. He doesn’t because that would be insane, and also she’s already seen it. So, all he says is, “help me respond?”

She does.

       Eddie —

       I don’t love like you do, not so easily and with my whole heart. But I love my best friend, and I like a whole lot more—hopefully that’s enough.

       I’m just as greedy for answers as you are. I want to write all your answers down on flash cards, study them like you might test me on them. If you do, I’m determined to get an A+.

       I hope my own answers satisfy, even if they don’t include my face, my smile, or my name. But my eyes? They’re brown, but nowhere near as pretty as yours. I could fall into your eyes and die happy.

       Yours, Always,

       Your Secret Admirer

       P.S. This time, put your reply in The Anatomy and Physiology textbook, right next to the diagram of the human heart.

Chrissy tears up at the bit about his best friend, but luckily doesn’t comment, just keeps spinning his yarn into gold. She dutifully re-writes the answer card as well, letting Steve circle his own answers with her pretty pink pen as she peers over her shoulder.

“It’s kind of funny how many of your answers are opposites,” Chrissy says, once they’re done.

Steve frowns, staring between both cards. She’s right; between all the questions, they’ve got three in common: they both chose holding hands over first kisses, drive-ins over movie theaters, and cuddling over dancing.

It’s not much to build a relationship on.

“Yeah, funny,” Steve replies, trying for chill but his voice comes out all wrong.

“Steve?” Chrissy asks, sounding hesitant herself now. “None of that matters, you know that right?”

Steve doesn’t respond; he’s too busy looking between each filled-out card, debating whether changing some of his answers might be for the best.

As if she can sense his thoughts, Chrissy snatches them both from his hands.

“Hey!”

He goes to snatch them back, but she’s pushed them behind her, glare fierce enough to give him pause. “None of that matters,” she says, voice firm. “You really think whether you like gold or silver better is a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

She’s right, that’s not what’s doomed this whole thing before it’s even started—it’s Steve. Steve, who’s a boy, and a jock, and not very bright.

He’s always the problem.

“You hear me, Steve?” Chrissy asks. She’s leaning toward him now, eyes blazing with a conviction he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re perfect just the way you are, okay?”

His throat’s all clogged up so he just nods, looking down at her hands where they’re clutching tightly enough to his comforter that the beds of her nails turn pink, and her knuckles bleach white.

She’s got thin, pretty fingers, and jagged nails. These are the hands that can write letters Eddie will want to read; it’s got nothing to do with silver, or gold, or any of that shit.

It’s Steve.

“Did you really want to paint my nails?” Chrissy asks, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes.

Steve’s up off the bed in an instant, ready for the distraction she’s handed him. He rifles around in the bathroom and comes back with a crate of nail polish which he immediately shoves into her chest with enough gusto that she makes a little oof! noise.

“Pick your poison,” Steve says, watching as her eyes grow wider with every new color she picks up.

“You have so many,” she breathes, touching the small glass bottles almost reverently before picking up a pale pink color that suits her. “What about this one?”

She looks so unsure, like his opinion on her choice of nail polish is the most important thing in the world. Steve’s heart squeezes beneath his ribcage. “‘course, Chris.”

He settles onto the bed, legs criss-crossed. He waits for Chrissy to match his pose before grabbing her hand. She curls her fingers into a fist, a breath shuddering out of her before she forces her hand back open.

Steve doesn’t comment on the ragged state her nails are in. He just grabs a nail file from the crate and smooths them down as best he can. He buffs her nails out before finally grabbing her chosen color and gives the bottle a shake.

The first coat goes on quick, Chrissy watching each flick of the brush like it’s fascinating.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, sounding shocked.

Steve presses her hands down on the bed to keep them still as the first coat dries. “Thanks,” he replies, still not looking up at her. “I used to do Carol’s like every week.”

There’s a silence in the room now that feels one step to the left of stilted. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he picks up her hand and blows on the nails like that will speed anything up at all.

“Can I do yours next?”

At that, Steve finally looks up from Chrissy’s nails to meet her eyes. She’s biting her lip, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks.

No one’s ever painted his nails before, not even Carol. But in the face of Chrissy’s earnest, nervous expression, he can’t say no.

That’s how he finds himself at school on Monday with bright yellow nail polish painted on each of his fingers, the edges already chipped from where he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it.

No one says a thing.

PART 6

[themultifanshipper]

hi babes

can i request some angsty/fluffy fic with oscar and pregnant reader, where she's feeling a little down and overwhelmed with how changed is her body (like with her size or stretch marks, idk) and oscar recomforts her, saying that she's beautiful and she's doing so well..

thankyou, i love your works sm<33

Warnings: light angst, Oscar being a lil clumsy but sweet, fluff that quickly goes into smutty territory :3 (no actual smut scene though)

Also quick psa, it's very common to get depression during and after pregnancy. It's a very real disease that millions of women battle with. If you feel like you have symptoms of any description, don't keep them to yourself, talk to someone you trust about it and seek help, stay safe out there my dudes <3

This weekend had been rough for you.

Apart from all the obvious pregnancy symptoms like morning sickness, which had been really kicking your ass for the past few weeks, it was the other things that were starting to get you down.

Your body had changed, and it felt alien to you. Like it wasn't even your own anymore.

You'd spent hours staring at the stretch marks that covered your stomach, wondering if they would ever fade.

The weight you'd put on made your thighs look massive, and you could already see the signs of your breasts almost doubling in size.

You felt huge, to put it simply.

And your self confidence was in the gutter.

You'd been ignoring Oscar's worried calls and messages while he was away at the Grand Prix, choosing to turn your phone off altogether and wallow in self deprecation.

Oscar was supposed to be getting a jet back on monday night, but he was so worried about you he bought a last minute flight right after the race, to get home to you as fast as he could.

He opened the door to your shared apartment, keys jingling as his hand trembled in his hold.

“Sweetheart?” He called out, once he was finally inside.

There was no answer.

He noticed a faint light coming from the corridor, and he followed it only to realise you had left a lamp on in the bedroom and fallen asleep with the latest book you were reading still in your hand.

He melted at the sight, putting the book on the nightstand (after putting a bookmark in it, he's not a savage) and turned the lamp off before stripping and getting into bed with you, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

He wrapped his arms around you and held you like that, his breathing synchronised with yours until he fell asleep, exhausted from his long day of racing and travelling.

What he didn't know, was that you had been pretending to sleep. You weren't ready to talk to him about what was troubling you because you knew it was stupid and he probably wouldn't take you seriously…

The next morning Oscar woke with a start. The other side of the bed was empty which was odd, you never usually woke up this early and you always cuddled up to him in the morning, putting your perpetually cold feet against his skin to warm them up.

He listened for any activity in the apartment, the coffee machine, the tv… but not a single noise could be heard.

He slid out of bed and went looking for you.

It didn't take long to find you, curled up on the sofa, blanketless and shivering in your sleep.

Oscar whined quietly to himself, what on earth was up with you?

He put a gentle hand on your shoulder and rocked you awake.

“Baby it's 5 in the morning what are you doing on the couch? Come back to bed with me”

You just curled up tighter and hid your face from him. “No it's okay Osc I'm fine here”

He put an arm around you, trying to get you to sit up.

“You're obviously not babe, you're shaking with the cold, let's go cuddle up in bed under the-”

“Oscar I said I'm fine just leave me here!” You protested, wriggling out of his grasp.

“Don't be ridiculous you're freezing out here come on”

“Fuck off! I said I'm fine!” you snapped, and Oscar would have believed you if it weren’t for the way you're voice cracked and a tear rolled down your cheek.

He was so shocked at your outburst he froze, not quite knowing what to say as he noticed how pale you looked and how red rimmed your eyes were.

“Baby…” he put a comforting hand on your hip but you flinched away “Babe what-”

“It's nothing” you said, slightly softer, wiping your tears with the obviously already very damp sleeves of your pyjamas. “It's just the morning sickness and stuff has been really bad and I didn't want to wake you”

Oscar was entirely unconvinced but he didn't push.

“Alright, come to bed with me then, we need to get you warmed up”

You nodded, indeed feeling very cold at the moment and you let him steer you back to your bedroom.

Once you were back in bed with him, he snuggled up behind you and pulled you across the distance you had tried to put between the two of you.

“I love you” he whispered, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin.

You didn't reply, and your body was so tense it was a miracle you hadn't pulled a muscle.

After a few seconds a quiet sob wracked your frame and Oscar tightened his hold on you.

“Baby please, tell me what's wrong.” Oscar pleaded.

You sniffled and tried to get your breathing straightened out before answering.

“I just… I don't like how my body’s just- what if it doesn't- I don't want-” your breaths were coming in short as you started getting choked up again.

“Baby slow down. Deep breaths now”

You took a deep breath in.

“I’m scared”

Oscar blinked at the back of your head.

“Of what?”

You sighed.

“That my body is ruined, and that it will never be how it was before… and that you won't like it anymore”

Now that you were saying it out loud, it sounded stupid even to you, but the fear and insecurity was clawing at your insides harder than ever.

“Baby your body is changing for the better, trust me. You're making a baby inside you, that's bound to make some changes. But I love you even more because of them. I love that inside your belly there's a little human that is the result of how much I fucking love you. And I'm going to be with you every step of the way.”

You heaved in a breath “I just- I didn't know it would be this hard…”

He kissed your cheek and stroked your belly under the blanket. “I’m so sorry if I've done anything to make you think I wouldn't love your body no matter what. Your body isn't ruined, baby. You have no idea how much it drives me insane to think of you waddling around our apartment, belly full with my kid”

You turned around to face him with fresh tears in your eyes.

“I want you.” He smiled softly “I want you so fucking much you have no idea.” He kissed your forehead sweetly before pulling you into his arms, adding “I’ll always want you baby, nothing will ever change that”.

You breathed in his comforting scent as you melted into his arms.

“And if you don't believe me…”

He pressed closer to you and you felt him, half hard against your hip.

“… let me prove it to you”

One of his hands trailed down to where your ass filled out your shorts a bit more than it used to.

“This body…”

He kissed your neck, then lowered himself down to your where your nipples were visible through the material of your thin sleep shirt.

“... is a masterpiece…”

He kissed lower and lower until he got to the waistband of your shorts

“ and it's all. Fucking. Mine.”

He growled as he dipped his hand under the material and felt the wetness already gathering.

“Jesus fuck” he groaned “you're so perfect, so good for me”

You raised your hips so he could slide them off you and spread your legs, licking his lips at the sight of you in front of him, full hips and thick thighs on display for him.

Not to mention your growing belly peeking out from under your shirt.

His eyes went from brown to black at an alarming pace as he slowly lowered himself and looked up at you with a devilish smirk.

“You ready?” he purred, voice deepened by arousal.

You were on the verge of crying again, feeling so overwhelmed by the attention Oscar was giving you, but you swallowed the feeling down in favour of sliding a hand through his hair.

You tightened your grip, pulling at the roots slightly and he shivered, his eyes closing in pleasure. He let out the tiniest whimper when you did it again.

When his eyes met yours again after a few moments of him composing himself, you smiled down at him.

“Get to work”

[mentiswarden]

Charles Xavier X wife reader- Headcanons!

- He can’t stand a day without touching you

This dude is so in love with your body it’s actually scary but really cute, he won’t hesitate to hug you from behind if your working on something, cooking dinner or just doing any basic thing. He love to keep a hand around your waist or to have your head on his chest when you are in bed with him. (also he can’t sleep without hugging you)

- He loves to listens to your dream

He know you have a very imaginative mind, your dreams getting weirder every night, he finds it hilarious. Sometimes when he comes to your shared room late at night after a big day of work, when he can’t fall asleep because of all the caffeine he drank, he just hug you, putting his head on yours and dreaming with you. You know he does this and y’all often talk about your dreams in the morning.

- He hates seing you suffering

If you suffer from any disease you can be sure that he will know any hacks to make your day less painful. If you don’t suffer from any disease, if your on your periods, he will always have a little chocolate hidden in the drawer for you, bringing you a plaid and your favorites drink so you guys can lay and watch a movie or something. If your sick he will remind you after every meal to take your medicines.

- Offer you a gift every month

That’s a little habit you had since you guys started dating. He offers you a gift and you do the same for him every month. When you talk to him about something you like he’ll always buy it for you at the end of the month, it can be a book, a perfume, a piece of clothing, anything for his baby. (Also he randomly bring you flowers)

- Obsessed with your smell

When you steal him his sweat and wear it for a whole day or night, he always wear it right after you give it back just to have your smell around him all day. Sometimes if your out of town for some days or weeks, he takes one of the shirts you stole from him and put on the pillow next to him, he feels safer with your smell.

________________________________________

I hoped you enjoyed reading this! I’d like to remind you that english is not my first language and that i’m new here so i don’t really know how to make this good looking, but i’ll try and learn! I already have ideas for charles xavier and his pregnant wife reader so tell me if you think it’s interesting !! 💗

[steddieas-shegoes]

98. “if we weren’t in public right now i’d have my head between your legs” 👀

READICUS. Okay. Alright. I've caught the context disease from you though.

Rated M | tags: language, flirting, dirty talk, so much discussion about sex they might as well be having it, getting together, FWB to lovers

😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉

It was just grocery shopping.

They were in a grocery store.

Eddie should not be getting hard watching Steve pick out the ripest bananas.

Like, genuinely, even he knew this was as ridiculous as it could get.

It's just that they'd been casually fucking for the last few weeks, letting off steam, just dudes helping dudes through their synchronous dry spells, and watching Steve pay so much attention to a fucking banana was a lot for Eddie to wrap his mind around.

Casually fucking might not even be the right term.

It was more like...fucking like rabbits.

Eddie spent more time at Steve's house than he spent at his own, and most of that time was spent either naked or trying to be.

He spent the night last night, and only agreed to come shopping with Steve after a very convincing blowjob against the kitchen counter.

It was working for them.

Except for how much Eddie loved Steve. Not like a friend, or a brother, or the way he loved his Hellfire minions. He loved Steve in the "would marry you in Vegas and have tons of babies with you if you wanted" way.

So embarrassing.

Especially taking into consideration that there was no way Steve saw their arrangement as anything more than convenient.

He watched as Steve finally settled on the perfect bunch of bananas and shuffled back to the cart that Eddie was leaning on.

Eddie leaned forward as Steve leaned over the cart, his lips brushing against his ear.

"If we weren't in public right now, I'd have my head between your legs," he whispered.

Which was bold of him considering the grocery store was packed with weekend shoppers.

Steve tensed, his body freezing completely as Eddie backed away, smiling and waving at an old lady glaring at him.

"What the fuck, Eds."

Steve's cheeks were fire engine red, his hands gripping the edge of the cart like it was the only thing holding him up.

"What? I just thought you should know how bad I want you," Eddie shrugged.

They flirted with each other all the time, that's what led to their situation in the first place: the flirting went a bit too far and Steve ended up on his lap, rocking his hips back and forth until he came in his jeans.

No big deal.

Just another day.

But never in public, barely even around someone they trusted.

"Here? Now?" Steve squeaked out, eyes widening comically.

"Why not? You're hot," Eddie's hand grazed his lower back, just enough of a touch to tease, not enough to really be noticed by anyone else.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Steve hissed. "You want people to see?"

"No, 'course not," Eddie smirked. "I just want you to feel."

Watching Steve struggle to find words, struggle to flirt, was possibly the biggest win in Eddie's book. If he could pat himself on the back for it, he would.

"We're in public."

"Stevie, I hate to say it, but being in public doesn't really stop me from wanting to get on my knees and suck your dick."

Steve's face got impossibly darker, only spurring Eddie on more.

"If I wasn't so worried about being walked in on, I'd drag you to the bathroom right now. Maybe fuck you in a stall. You'd probably like that, huh? You liked when I fucked you against the shower wall the other day," Eddie let his fingers trace along Steve's arm, subtle, easy to pull away if someone got too close to them.

"Eddie-"

"Or maybe you'd wanna fuck me. I know how much you like throwing me around and showing off sometimes. Think that would work for you?"

Eddie watched as Steve shivered, biting his lip and doing his best to hold back a whine.

"But we won't do that, right? Because only I get to see you like that. The way you fuck me, the way I fuck you, that's just for us, isn't it?"

Steve nodded.

Eddie looked around, confirmed no one was close enough to see, and settled a hand on the front of Steve's jeans.

"This is just for me."

"Yeah, just for you," Steve choked out, his hand grasping at Eddie's wrist to either pull it away or hold it in place. "Eds-"

"I know, Stevie. But we gotta shop. That's what you said when you were on your knees in the kitchen this morning."

"I can shop later," Steve gasped as Eddie's hand squeezed once before pulling away.

They were in public and there was only so much Eddie was willing to try to get away with, but Steve's reaction was everything.

He looked away, focusing on the apples in front of him as if he cared at all about apples when Steve Harrington was hard right next to him.

He froze.

He thought about everything he'd just said, how possessive he'd sounded, how he'd never quite crossed that line before.

How into it Steve was.

He looked back at Steve, who was still staring at him, face almost back to a normal shade, but lips bitten red and eyes glassy.

"Steve?"

"Hm?"

"Do you want that to be just for me?" Eddie should not be having this discussion in the grocery store.

"Do I what?"

"Do you want to be mine? Like, more than just...fucking?" Eddie should not be having this discussion in the grocery store.

"Is that...an option?" Steve was letting him have this discussion in the grocery store.

"If you want it to be."

Every once in a while, Eddie saw this look in Steve's eye, only ever when he was looking at Eddie doing something stupid or funny or when he was messing around with the kids.

He never let himself think that it was anything more than just Steve getting distracted while looking at him.

He could see it now, though, and he couldn't ignore what that look actually was.

"I want it. I want you."

Eddie was fucked. In more ways than one, it seemed.

"You do?"

"Why is that so hard to believe? You've practically been living with me for weeks, dude."

Eddie's lips curled down, disgusted.

"Don't call me dude, oh my God."

Steve laughed.

"I'll make it up to you when we get home," he winked, turning around and pretending that he didn't just make Eddie's brain short circuit.

"I- what-" Eddie sputtered.

"What? Can't handle my mouth? You handle it fine earlier."

God, Eddie loved this man.

"Stevie, how fast can you finish shopping?" Eddie started pushing the cart away, not even sure if he was going in the right direction.

"If you stop distracting me, ten minutes."

"I'll be in the car, then."

[mytheoristavenue]

DS Incel!Gyutaro Shabana x Reader x Chad!Tengen Uzui + Wives- Treat You Better

Summary: Nothing makes your best friend, Gyutaro angrier than your crush on Tengen Uzui.

Warnings: rivalry, incel mindset, misogyny, fem!reader, bisexual!reader, bisxeual!hina/makio/suma, polyamory

Most everyone knew of your terrible crush on your friend Tengen. You'd gone to middle school and high school together, so imagine your delight when he told you over the summer after senior year that he'd been accepted onto the football team of your first choice university.

Naturally, you both drifted a bit after beginning the first semester, but you weren't bothered by that. He was busy, you were busy, it was fine. You'd always heard a rumor that he was a player, which kept you from persuing him. That's why when you began to see him with different girls around campus, you didn't bat an eye.

After all, you had your own friends and busy schedule, you didn't have time to get torn up about what your old friend was doing behind closed doors. That didn't keep you from wishing you were one of those things, though. Two such people you'd crown close were the Shabana siblings, who had their own reputations, so they couldn't really judge you for looking past Tengen's. At least that's how you felt. In reaility, they had a lot to say about it, especiallyreality the older brother.

"You know that guy's a total man whore, right?" He groaned, opening his laptop for class to start. "Fuckin' him would guarantee you a disease."

"That's fine, have you seen him?" You dismissed with a dreamy sigh. "Catching something from him would be a blessing."

Gyutaro couldn't believe what you were saying, it was so gross. "Oh yeah, I'm sure those pretty pink eyes of his are a small price to pay for a lifetime of having your shit burn when you pee."

"Oh, shut up!" You snapped, punching his arm. "You're just jealous that he pulls and you don't!"

"I could totally pull if I wanted!" He retorted bitterly. "Just got better shit to do. And besides, you know he has a fuckin' harem, right?"

"Oh, he does not." You rolled your eyes, taking out your books and computer.

"He so does," Gyutaro insisted. "Ume told me."

"And how would she know?" You snickered, brushing your hair behind your ear, making him pause for a moment. He hated it when you did that, it always made him crash like an old desktop.

"Mukago told her." He stated simply, believing his baby sister like a professional textbook as a reliable source. "Nakime told Mukago, Douma told Nakime, Mitsuri told Douma, and Suma told her. Suma's one of his girlfriends."

"Wow, I guess word travels fast, huh?" Your smile fades a bit. You did know who Suma was, you'd met her a few times through Tengen.

"Oh, God, don't look now..." Gyutaro groaned, interrupting your thoughts, tilting his head toward the set of stairs that divided the sides of the lecture hall. There was the man of the hour, striding up to you with a confident and serene smile.

"(N/N)," Tengen titled his head, crouching beside you. "How's my favorite girl today?" Even though you knew his words were disingenuous, that didn't keep them from giving you butterflies. His eyes flickered over to your friend who adamantly ignored him. "Shit, my bad, I didn't realize you were in a conversation." He raised a fist to Gyutaro as a greeting, who begrudgingly bumped it with his own. "Hey, dude, good to see ya, keepin' my little buddy company I see."

He simply scoffed, turning away, signaling that your crush could have a word with you. With a smirk, Tengen shifted closer, whispering to you. "So listen, sweets, I'm havin' this party Friday and I was hopin' I might see you there."

Gyutaro could already guess your answer, mouthing sarcastically as you spoke. "Oh my gosh, I'd love to! Thank you!" What he didn't anticipate, however, was for the 'jock' to then turn to him.

"Hey, man, you should come too!" He chirped enthusiastically. In reality, as much as he hated to admit it, he knew Tengen was a good guy. Other than hearing that he got around, he'd never heard a rumor about him that didn't solidify him as a cool guy.

"Whatever, maybe."

-----

Gyutaro didn't like this at all. Walking you and Ume into a frat party like some sort of bodyguard felt terrible and powerful at the same time. You'd dragged him along because he refused to let either of you go without him. Now here he was, dressed in an outfit you'd picked for him, hair styled by his sister in a much nicer half up-half down than his usual one. The two of you had even held him down to paint his nails and apply makeup to his face. The only thing that made it worth it was the way you looked at him, red-faced like you'd never truly seen him before.

"(N/N), you came!" Chirped a deep voice from deep within the house. Through the crowd emerged Tengen, followed by a small posse of women. "I'm so happy you're here," He smiled before turning to your guests. "And you brought the Shabanas, oh hell yeah!" He extended hands for them both to shake and Ume graciously accepted, gushing internally. Gyutaro on the other hand cocked a brow at his hand before reluctantly shaking it.

"Well, listen," Tengen smirked, raising a hand towards a nearby doorway. "Drinks and snacks are in the kitchen, we got plenty so don't be shy!" His attention shifted back to you. "As for my little buddy here, I was hoping to have a bit of a talk with you..." He smiled softly, leaning close to your ear. Gyutaro didn't miss the way the women Tengen was with snickered behind him and it raised his guard that much more. "One on four..."

You swallowed dryly, not caring what his last words could have meant. Your long-term crush wanted to talk to you away from the bustle of the party, this was huge! "S-Sure, let's go," You nodded, much to your friends' chagarin.

"Don't worry," The jock smirked, straightening his back again, taking your hand in his. "I'll bring her back in one piece, promise." With that, he turned away, leading you down the hall, followed by those three beautiful women.

Ume tugged on her brother's jacket sleeve, begging him to go with her to get a drink as he watched you disappear into a bedroom with someone he hated. Some party this was.

-----

"Make yourself comfortable..." A chipper, soft voice called when you entered an empty bedroom. Suma, the girl you'd met before placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you towards the bed. She sat behind you, laying her head against your back, seemingly already very comfortable with you.

"Easy up, baby," Tengen's cool voice called as he sat on an armchair at the foot of the bed with one of the women in his lap and another sitting on the floor, her head on his thigh. "We don't know if she'll say yes or not."

"Y-Yes to what?" You asked, swallowing a hard lump of nerves, feeling Suma's silky hair leave your shoulder.

"First off, I'd like to clear up a few rumors," He said calmly, lounging with his magenta gaze trained on you. "I'm not a whore, and I don't have an STD." Your face caught fire and your jaw fell slack. Had he heard what you and Gyutaro had said in class? He must've. Before you could apologize, he continued. "And this isn't a harem. The four of us are..."

"Polyamorous." The woman in his lap said, her soft lilac eyes running over you as if she wanted to see more of it.

"That's right, pretty." Tengen praised, pressing his lips to her scalp. "Forgot the word." The woman on the floor pouted up to him, nudging his thigh with her chin. "Oh, my bad, where are my manners?" His hand came down to her head, raking a blonde money piece into the rest of her inky hair. "(N/N), these are my girls, Hina, Makio, and you've already met Suma." He formally introduced. "Girls, this is (Y/N), a very special friend of mine."

"So..." You stammer, feeling like a mouse in a trap. "That means...you're in multiple relationships or..."

"No, just one," Suma clarified into your ear with an affectionate nuzzle. "We all love each other a lot..." Your face reddened with the implications of her statement.

"W-What does all this have to do with me, though...?" You manage to ask, trembling against the cuddly girl, eyes pleading up to Tengen for a straight explanation.

"I'll cut to the point," He smiled sweetly, leaning forward to place a hand on top of yours, followed by Makio, Hina, and then Suma. You felt microscopic under their gaze, wrapped in a mysterious comfort. "We like you," He admitted with a charming smirk. "We all do, a lot."

"O-Oh, uhm..." You flustered, breaking eye contact, trying to slip your hand away but his fingers were already closing around it, pulling you closer. "T-That's very sweet of you but, I-I'm not sure I'm interested..."

"Oh, don't say that, give us a chance!" Suma whined into your ear, snuggling closer, arms snaking around your middle. "You're so pretty and sweet..."

"Suma, chill," Makio warned, flashing her a stern look from over the edge of the bed. "You can't just beg her until she says yes, that's not how love works."

You couldn't help but feel dizzy, suffocating on her Japanese cherry blossom perfume, mixed with the way your tummy would turn at her touch. "W-What is it that you want me to say yes to...?"

"We want you to be our girlfriend, sweetheart." Hina piped up, her stare still gentle and needy as it was earlier.

"Couldn't have said it better myself, baby." Tengen finally spoke again, shifting beneath her. "Look, I know you've had a crush on me for a while, but I didn't wanna act on it because I didn't think you, ya know." He paused to smirk, his shaved brows bouncing with mischievous intent. "Swung that way."

"W-What way?" You swallowed dryly, shuddering when you felt Suma's lips press into your trapezius.

"I didn't think you liked boys and girls," He answered with a knowing grin. You weren't sure how he found out, you were only out to a few very close friends. Not even Ume and Gyutaro knew. "I also didn't think you'd be cool with this," He laughed sheepishly, still somehow remaining. "Sharing, that is."

"If I said yes," You muttered, peering at Hina and Makio shyly before your eyes flickered back over to Tengen. "I would be dating all of you? I'd be all of yours?"

"And we'd be all yours," Makio smirked, playfully batting her lashes at you as she scooted closer to the end of the bed, abandoning her boyfriend's lap for yours. "'Course we'd all also belong to each other."

"You can share us, can't you, cutie?" Suma spoke up again, peppering kisses on your back."

You felt a depression in the mattress to your left, followed by a weight on your shoulder. From the corner of your eye, you could see Hina's long onyx hair spilling over your shoulder, covering your torso, and pooling on your lap. "Don't feel pressure, love, this isn't for everyone." She sighed, snuggling into your arm. "But we have so much love for you between the four of us, you'd never get lonely."

Finally, Tengen stood, looming over you with a saccharine smile. He leaned down and you felt a pair of hands tilt your chin up to him. Slowly, his lips met yours in an innocent yet loving kiss, not a hint of sinful motive behind it. You couldn't help but melt like butter in a pan when his lips brushed yours, especially feeling ghostly kisses pepper your thigh, nape, and shoulder.

"C-Could I have some time to think about it?" You asked, breathless and entranced as he pulled away, just a hair from you.

"'Course you can, pretty girl." He cooed, shifting away further, motioning for his girlfriends to do the same. "Girls, give her some space." You felt like you might pass out, dizzy from the sudden overwhelm. "We'll let you go, I bet your friends are startin' to worry. Go enjoy the party, baby."

With that, Hina helped you stand they all walked you out of the room and down the hall to the main room. "Just come find one of us if you wanna talk, okay?"

You nod, still blushing with your hair messed up. The polycule disappeared into the crowd, giving you much-needed space, just in time for another set of feminine arms to catch around your neck from behind. "(Y/N)! Where have you been, we were worried sick!" The sensation of her presence made your skin buzz, reminding you of the way Suma had doted on you for the past hour.

"I wasn't worr-" Gyutaro huffed before noticing how rigid you were, placing a hand on your shoulder, and turning you around. God, were you flustered. Your cheeks were pink and your hair was tangled, the thought of what could have you in such a state made his blood boil. "What the hell did that asshole do to you?" He snarled, grabbing you by the shoulders sternly. "Did he take advantage of you? You didn't drink anything he gave you, right?"

Suddenly, a dopey grin cracked across your face. "H-He..." you swallowed, correcting yourself. "They...asked me out."

[asktheritochampion]

please teach me about Rito anatomy dude I’m so lost what the freak are your finger feather-wing things

Ugh. Do I look like a bioligy teacher to you? Why don't you pick up a book for once in your pathetic life?

Fine. I shall explain this exactly once - and only because clearly I am the only Rito many of you fools seem to know, and it is important that you understand in which the ways we differ to Hylians -considering the fact we shall likely be fighting side by side in future battles. You should understand the workings of your allies and the way they move and fight.

This is the anatomical structure of a Rito skeliton.

As you may see, it is not drastically different to your own. Yes, we have very long wings and fingers compared to Hylians. We also have a pelvic bone called a synsacrum, a much narrower ribcage, and our knees bend in the opposite direction to yours.

Our upper maxilla is technically not part of our skelital structure, but rather a keratin structure similar to Hylians having teeth and nails, however we still include it within structual sketches.

Rito bones are hollow, not containing the marrow that Hylian bones do. They are very brittle, however very quick to heal.

Next we have the Rito muscle and organ structure. This is where we really vary from Hylian anatomy.

Rito have large, flat wing and back muscles for flight, we also have incredbly thick muscles around our thighs. While an at-ease Hylian may be standing straight, the Rito leg muscles are elasticated at tensition and are at ease when crouching. This is to cushion landings.

We also have cresting muscles at the base of our skulls and tails, which can lift the crest or tail for intimidation or mating purposes.

Rito eyes are different to Hylian eyes. Hylian eyes vibrate very slightly so that they can constantly percive depth in their surroudings. However, Rito eyes are stationary, thus we will often bob our heads silently while watching prey or enemies to enable ourselves to correctly detect where they are. Motionless, Rito have a hard time observing things which aren't moving. However, we are able to perceive a great deal more colours than Hylians can - including ultraviolet and infrared. Rito feathers contain a huge amount more patterning than Hylians are able to see.

Our internal organs are far smaller than most races in Hyrule for the purpose of keeping us as light as possible for flight, however this does make us susceptable to a variety of diseases and illnesses.

Rito have three 'stomachs'. A gizzard, which acts similarly to a Hylian mouth, grinding up the food we swallow into a digestable paste. Often we consume small amounts of gravel with our diets to provide roughage for this organ. A regurgitation pouch, for collecting and spitting up undigestable matter like bones and fur, and for feeding infants post egg-laying. And a regular stomach for digesting the paste-food and distributing nutrients to the rest of the body.

We have one intestinal tract instead of Hylian's two - for efficiency, of course. If it's all waste anyway, why do you need to seperate it?

Rito also function similar to Zora, with a cloaca instead of external genetalia. A female Rito will have a uterus which can expand up to fifty times its size to accomidate a growing egg, while a male Rito will have internal testis which produce a mucus-sac containing semen which can be deposited from the body during reproduction. Rito are incapable of knowing whether they're male or female until adolescence when they either begin laying eggs every three or so months, or do not.

Then we get onto the Rito feathers - which is a similarly important part of our anatomy.

Rito are covered in four different types of feather. Our primaries and secondaries, needed for flight, and our base and resistance, needed for sustaining body heat and the elements.

Chicks are born with little to no feathers, then typically grow an entire body-coating of base feathers within their first week or so of life. These are incredibly thick, downy feathers that trap warmth to keep our internal structure safe from the low tempretures.

As a fledgling grows, they will start to gain their primary feathers first. A thicker, sturdier kind of feather which cover our wings and make up our tail. Fledglings can start learning to fly as soon as they have all of their primaries grown in - however they are incapable of flying more than a short distance until their secondaries start to grow, as their wings are not thick enough to hold their weight.

Tail and cresting feathers begin to grow during adolecence, as do resistance feathers, which slowly begin to replace the base feathers of your upper body with each moult. These are a sleek, waterproof feather, much sharper and thicker than a base feather, and they act as a protective, waterproof layer for weathering the elements.

Throughout our lives, Rito do not tend to grow resistance feathers in their lower regions, which remain downy and soft. While Rito can be suprisingly strong swimmers, too long in a body of water will soak these feathers and cause them to become extremely heavy, and they'll take several days to dry out.

Rito also have plumes which grow at the back of our heads - a different kind of feather all together which Hylians often mistake for hair. While these are not included within anatomical structure illustrations, our plumes play an important part in our cultural practises. We never cut them and they never moult, but rather we grow them our entire lives, and longer plumes are considered a sign of wisdom and power. Warriors often wear them braided for efficiency on the battle field, however traditionally Rito captains will style them high above their heads to display their length to intimidate opponants.

Thus ends my explanation. I hope this offered you some valuable insight so that you may better understand the biological workings of your Rito counterparts.

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 1

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson (The Space Between Worlds series)

Multiverse travel is finally possible, but there’s just one catch: No one can visit a world where their counterpart is still alive. Enter Cara, whose parallel selves happen to be exceptionally good at dying—from disease, turf wars, or vendettas they couldn’t outrun. Cara’s life has been cut short on 372 worlds in total.

On this Earth, however, Cara has survived. Identified as an outlier and therefore a perfect candidate for multiverse travel, Cara is plucked from the dirt of the wastelands. Now she has a nice apartment on the lower levels of the wealthy and walled-off Wiley City. She works—and shamelessly flirts—with her enticing yet aloof handler, Dell, as the two women collect off-world data for the Eldridge Institute. She even occasionally leaves the city to visit her family in the wastes, though she struggles to feel at home in either place. So long as she can keep her head down and avoid trouble, Cara is on a sure path to citizenship and security.

But trouble finds Cara when one of her eight remaining doppelgängers dies under mysterious circumstances, plunging her into a new world with an old secret. What she discovers will connect her past and her future in ways she could have never imagined—and reveal her own role in a plot that endangers not just her world, but the entire multiverse.

Science fiction, multiverse, politics, mystery, series, adult

The Adventure Zone Graphic Novels series (Vol 1: Here There Be Gerblins, Vol 2: Murder on the Rockport Limited!, Vol 3: Petals to the Metal, Vol 4: The Crystal Kingdom, Vol 5: The Eleventh Hour, Vol 6: The Suffering Game) by Clint McElroy, Griffin McElroy, Justin McElroy, Travis McElroy (Illustrated by Carey Pietsch)

Endorsement from submitter: "One of main characters is in gay relationship with Death"

Welcome to the Adventure Zone!

SEE! The illustrated exploits of three lovable dummies set loose in a classic fantasy adventure!

READ! Their journey from small-time bodyguards to world-class artifact hunters!

MARVEL! At the sheer metafictional chutzpah of a graphic novel based on a story created in a podcast where three dudes and their dad play a tabletop role playing game in real time!

Join Taako the elf wizard, Merle the dwarf cleric, and Magnus the human warrior for an adventure they are poorly equipped to handle AT BEST, guided ("guided") by their snarky DM, in a graphic novel that, like the smash-hit podcast it's based on, will tickle your funny bone, tug your heartstrings, and probably pants you if you give it half a chance.

With endearingly off-kilter storytelling from master goofballs Clint McElroy and the McElroy brothers, and vivid, adorable art by Carey Pietsch, The Adventure Zone: Here There be Gerblins is the comics equivalent of role-playing in your friend's basement at 2am, eating Cheetos and laughing your ass off as she rolls critical failure after critical failure.

Graphic novel, fantasy, humor, adventure, series, adult

[ohmyamor]

Witch!Yeosang

let’s start off by saying that you and Yeosang were not supposed to meet

like

at all 

it all started when one day your friend frantically called you talking about some magic guy she needed to visit asap 

to which you very exasperatedly and bluntly said no 

you loved your friend 

you really did 

but she had recently become obsessed with this guy at work who you can’t even remember the name of

and look 

your friend had this habit of falling in love with people incredibly fast 

like, you’re pretty sure that falling in love after talking to someone for 0.5 seconds has to be some kind of record or something 

and you were somewhat used it at this point 

she would fall in love quickly and move on quickly so no one ever got hurt 

but this guy 

you don’t know how he did it, but she was obsessed 

absolutely, horrendously, atrociously down bad

she had tried multiple times to get his attention but every one of her efforts always seemed to backfire on her

and while at first you were genuinely saddened for her being, the empathetic person you are 

it got kind of annoying after her 10th call crying about how standing next to him not talking just standing didn’t seem to do the trick 

so when she called saying she found this ‘magic guy’ or whatever that she needed to buy a love potion from 

you all but snorted over the line and gave her a solid “no” before hanging up 

only for her to anticipate this answer as not even five minutes later she was knocking at your door 

did she call you from the parking lot? you thought, surprised and a little impressed 

so now you were being dragged by her to some shady part of town with nothing on you except your phone and keys 

just so she could get her supposed love potion

what a way to go

you sat in the passenger seat, looking nervously at the abandoned building the two of you were parked in front of 

you’re pretty sure the only thing you’ll be walking out of here with is some kind of disease 

“I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t be here” you tell her hoping she’ll come to her senses 

“No I heard from Mark’s brother’s girlfriend’s uncle that the place was right here” she replied, getting off the car and heading straight into the building

oh she’s serious 

sighing, you open the door and follow after her

“dude, wait up” you yell, seeing that she’s already disappeared through the front door 

you push open the door and walk through only to halt in your tracks when you make it inside 

what. the. fuck. 

inside is not a filthy abandoned building like you were expecting 

you stand inside what looks like a witch’s cottage that came straight out of a children’s book 

the entire store is small, much smaller than the building you walked into 

every corner of the room is filled with knick knacks and trinkets, some of which you have no clue what they even are 

you think you even see a crystal ball on one of the shelves

artifacts from almost every single religion you’ve ever heard of line the walls, some of which look very very old 

there’s also plants galore, hanging off of every shelf, standing in planters that cover the floors and hanging off the ceiling 

you look over to the center of the room where a small counter takes up the space with what you think are eyeballs in a jar resting on top of it

but it’s not the eyeballs that shock you

it’s the giant cauldron resting in front of it with a smoky blue essence pouring out of it 

you blink, having absolutely no fucking clue what’s going on

while you stare around the room in wonder, your friend has already made her way to the counter, slamming harshly on the little bell that rests in the center of the countertop 

it kind of reminds you of the bell at the doctor’s office

but this is most definitely not a doctor’s office

your friend continuously presses the bell, reminding you of a small but annoying child 

you move next to her 

“dude I think you should stop pressing that, it’s getting annoying-”

you cut yourself off with a loud shriek when a man literally materializes in front of your eyes 

he’s stands at a good height, with long dark hair cascading down his neck and coming to end at his shoulders 

his bangs rest nicely over his eyes

and he has the most beautiful birthmark next to his left eye 

this is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your life 

you miss the way his lips twitch upwards ever so slightly 

“How can I be of help today?”

oh god his voice

it’s so deep and velvety that if you weren’t so confused as to what was going on, you’re pretty sure you would’ve tripped over your own feet 

“I need a love potion” your friend demands

the man quirks an eyebrow and an amused look falls over his face 

you shoot your friend a look at her rudeness 

“Please. We need a love potion, please,” you say

if this man really is a witch, which you now have no reason to doubt, then who knows what he does to rude customers 

and you’re not about to get turned into a frog just because your friend is obsessed with some mediocre man  

the man behind the counter nods

“Love potions do take me a few days to brew and they cost a little more than any of my other potions,” the man starts

“Is that okay with you?”

you realize the man is staring directly into your eyes as he talks 

“Oh, it’s not for me,” you blurt

the man hums 

“So, how much will it cost and when will it be ready by?” your friend crosses her arms 

you turn to her, furrowing your eyebrows

she’s never acted like this, what the fuck is her problem today?

“I can have it ready in about a week, and as for the cost, I’ll let you know when you come pick it up. It depends on how many of the ingredients I have and how many I will need.”

your friend rolls her eyes 

“You’re a witch but you don’t even have everything you need to make a simple love potion?”

you pinch her side harshly 

“shut up”

she stares at you wide-eyed, but you ignore her to turn to face the beautiful man 

“What she means to say is thank you, we’ll be back in a week to pick it up,” you send him a small smile, trying to express how sorry you are about your friend’s attitude

the man smiles and nods and before your friend can say anything else, you’re grabbing her by the arm and dragging her out of the store, ignoring the butterflies that have made their home in your stomach

one week later 

I’m really going to murder her you think, angrily sitting in your car in front of the familiar building

after dragging you to the pretty witch’s shop and embarrassing you in front of him

she now has the audacity to call you and tell you that something important came up and she can’t go pick up the potion 

but because she absolutely needs it, she needs you to pick it up for her 

“I don’t even know how much it’s going to cost, what if I don’t even have enough money for it?” you had argued over the phone 

“Oh please, he was practically eye fucking you as soon as he popped up, he’ll probably lower the price for you anyways”

she then proceeded to hang up, leaving you a spluttering red mess 

so now here you are, sitting in front of the abandoned building once again where you attempt to muster up the courage to face the pretty witch again 

I’m making her pay for my therapy you think angrily as you open your door and start walking into the building 

the shop hasn’t changed much since you were here last week 

the only differences you notice are few new knick knacks lining the wall, and the cauldron is missing 

walking up to the counter, you press the bell once before taking a step back and admiring the room 

I wonder if any of these plants are for sale  

the feeling of something soft against your leg startles you

you look down to see a black cat rubbing itself against you 

letting out a small “aw”, you crouch down and begin to pet it 

unlike other cats that you’ve met, this one seems very cuddly 

you scratch behind its ears, noticing how it seems to have a little cluster of white hairs right under one of its eyes, almost making it look like the cat has a mole 

you giggle slightly to yourself at the thought 

the sound of someone clearing their throat has you jumping up 

there stands the pretty witch, watching as you stand up quickly and push your hair behind your ears awkwardly 

“is, um, is this your cat?” you motion to the cat that’s lying on the floor with its belly exposed

the man rolls his eyes 

“sort of. he’s my familiar, but he needs to stop bothering customers when he wants attention,” the last sentence is directed at something behind you 

familiar? 

“Whatever, you’re always too busy with your potions. Plus, I’m good for business,” a male’s voice sounds out behind you 

you let out a small scream, jumping away from the voice 

behind you stands a slightly shorter male

he has dark hair as well and his eyes certainly do remind you of a cat’s 

you also notice that he has a small mole on the top of his cheek, under his eye 

just like the cat you realize 

the man smiles brightly at you before engulfing you in a hug

“Sorry I scared you! My name’s Wooyoung, and the grumpy man behind the counter is Yeosang,” Wooyoung tells you

you let out a small laugh, very confused but oddly endeared 

“Wooyoung let go of them”, the pretty witch, Yeosang, demands 

Wooyoung complies, letting go of you with small grumble 

laughing slightly, you turn back to face Yeosang 

“This is not how I was expecting my day to go,” you admit 

“But it’s a nice surprise nonetheless”

Yeosang smiles slightly, staring at you with a look you can’t decipher

“I’m glad we could make your day”

it’s quiet for a moment before you clear your throat

“So, um, I’m here to pick up the love potion?”

Yeosang nods and he moves to grab something from behind him 

a confused noise comes from Wooyoung 

“Love potion? Yeosangie, I thought you said she was your ma-”

Yeosang lets out a loud cough, slamming down the pink bottle he holds in his hand onto the counter and sending a tight smile to the man next to you

“Sorry, Wooyoung must’ve confused you with someone else,” the glare in his eyes makes you feel bad for the dark haired man

“Anyways,” he clears his throat. “Here it is. Tell your friend that it’s very important she doesn’t use the whole thing on the person she’s interested in.” 

Yeosang stares you directly in your eyes, his voice taking on a serious tone

You nod, unsure of to say 

he continues 

“If she does, it will have the opposite effect intended.” 

you make a small o with your mouth 

“I didn’t know that was possible” 

Yeosang nods and Wooyoung makes a noise of confirmation

“You’re looking at the best potions maker in the whole country,” Wooyoung starts. “He’s amazing at what he does, but it also means you need to use his stuff in moderation.”

you glance from the bottle to Yeosang, watching in mild amusement as his neck slowly turns red 

Nodding, you move to grab your wallet from your bag

“Okay, thank you for the heads up. How much will it be?”

“2,000″

you whip your head up, staring at Yeosang with wide eyes

“I’m sorry, did you say two thousand?”

he has the nerve to nod his head hesitantly 

you stare at the little bottle that sits on the counter

“I’m sorry, but I can’t afford that”

you bite the inside of your cheek nervously 

“Let me call my friend and let her know how much it is, maybe she can send me the money or something.”

you step back, moving to grab your phone from your pocket

“You know what,” Yeosang’s voice calls out

“It’s fine, just take it.”

you furrow your eyebrows

“like, for free?”

Yeosang nods his head 

“No, I can’t do that,” you shake your head vehemently 

“You worked hard to make it, I’m not going to let you give it to my friend for free when she gave you such a hard time about it,” you frown

“Then go on a date with him!” 

you and Yeosang snap your heads toward Wooyoung who smiles cheekily 

“What?” you asked, stunned, at the same time that Yeosang hisses out “Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung rolls his eyes

“C’mon, you’re both obviously attracted to each other. Just go on one date and you can get the potion for your friend,” he argues 

Your eyes dart between the two men 

“No, I’m sorry I don’t know what his problem is today. You don’t have to do that if you’re uncomfortable-”

you cut Yeosang off

“I’m fine with it.”

he blinks, momentarily stunned 

“What?”

“I’m fine with going on a date if you are,” you reiterate 

Yeosang begins to stutter, redness creeping up his neck and onto his face 

how cute 

“He’s more than fine with it,” Wooyoung answers

“How does next Friday at 6 sound? That new Italian restaurant downtown.”

You snort, finding it quite amusing how you’re going on a date with Yeosang but Wooyoung is the one making all the plans 

“Sounds perfect,” you agree 

Grabbing the small bottle off the counter, you send a small wink towards Yeosang, who still looks frozen in place 

“I’ll see you next week, pretty witch” you call, walking out of the store 

as soon as the door closes behind you, Wooyoung takes the opportunity to nod approvingly 

“Next time you threaten to send me with Seonghwa, remember all the things I do for you.”

a loud smack is heard, followed by Wooyoung’s high-pitched whine

despite the slight annoyance he feels towards his familiar, there’s only one thing Yeosang can focus on 

you called him pretty 

bonus cut:

it’s halfway through your amazing dinner with Yeosang when your phone begins to buzz from where it sits in your purse 

apologizing profusely, you let Yeosang know that it’s your friend, the one who serves as the whole reason the two of you met in the first place 

you move to ignore her call, only for your date to encourage you to answer, suggesting that it might be an emergency 

hesitantly, you answer the call, only for you to grow incredibly concerned when all you can hear is your friend sobbing heavily over the speaker 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You glance at Yeosang, who stares at you concerned 

“He hates me!” you friend wails through the phone 

moving your phone away from your ear a bit, you are incredibly confused and very annoyed that she interrupted your date

“What? Who hates you?”

you don’t notice the way Yeosang grimaces

“THE LOVE OF MY LIFE”

you’re able to piece together what, or rather, who she’s talking about 

you shut your eyes, bringing your other hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose

“How much did you use?” you question 

“What?” she hiccups 

“the potion. how much did you use?”

your friend sniffs

“all of it”

you roll your eyes so hard you feel like they might get stuck in the back of your head

“you’re a fucking idiot,” you tell her bluntly 

“I’m heartbroken and you’re calling me an idiot?” she exclaims 

“Yes!” you practically yell 

“I literally told you not to use all of it.”

“It’s a love potion, why wouldn’t I use all of it?” she defends herself 

“it was probably that stupid witch, he probably didn’t even make it right.” 

you scoff

“and this is why you’re single” you say, ending the call and angrily shoving your phone back in your purse

“She used all of it?” Yeosang questions, looking concerned but also slightly amused 

You sigh and nod your head

“And she tried blaming you for it not working, saying you didn’t know how to make it right.” 

Yeosang lets out a small laugh before fixing you with a gaze that makes you blush 

“Well at least we can thank her for allowing us to meet.”  

“Perhaps it was fate.” 

You can’t help but agree

                                        ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[patrophthia]

Tom Riddle x reader with this?

“I think I might need to be hospitalised for possible heart abnormalities, or possibly cardiac arrest.” “What, why? Are you okay? You look okay—” “No, because my heart keeps beating the fuck out of my chest when I’m around you and I don’t know what kind of disease I’ve come down with and frankly, I’m really scared.” 

It seems like something he would say😭

omg it so would!!! i actually had so much fun writing this and it was such a breeze to write hehe

new jeans, do you see? | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x reader

genre: fluff, OOC!tom (sorry not sorry), tom’s a big softie here, tom isn’t a maniac here he’s just a normal dude, writing powered by me listening to new jeans by new jeans for 15 mins straight

is a small bonus chapter for a series of mine

There's something off about you, Tom didn't notice it at first but he does now. Something about you is different and it's irritating him in every way, like an itch you know you can't scratch. 

He hates it, he notes. He seems to be noting a lot of things down lately. Like for one, he's noted down how you've been more radiant, more attentive towards him than to others, more beautiful, more —what's the word? enchanting? Yeah, that's the word. 

And for two, he's noted down that whenever he sees you, hears your voice, (he's going to sound weird here) smells your scent, he feels his heart picking up a few too many paces and it truly was concerning if he thought about it. 

It started two weeks ago, he thinks —he seems to be thinking a lot too lately. You've gotten back from Hogsmeade with a new hair do, new crisp jeans and tee shirt; and had asked him if he liked it. “It's a snake," you tell him, pointing at a small green embroidery on your t-shirt, "do you see?"

Tom nods, looking more than uninterested in this conversation as he tries —in every way, to go back to his book. But you add, "it reminded me of you. 'S why I bought it." 

His stomach does an uncomfortable flip. You bought something because it reminded you of him? He wants to say something but someone else speaks up before he gets the chance to. 

"Did you really turn Rosier down?" Your friend, someone who's name he can't recall, asks. 

You whip your head towards them. "Where'd you hear that?" 

Your friend gasps dramatically. "So you did turn him down," they say, "are you crazy? Rosier's hot as hell why would you turn him down?" 

Your eyes unconsciously drift to Tom then back to his friend. He doesn't overthink why you'd look in his direction before saying: "Because, I have my eyes on someone else." 

There were a few more instances since then, he doesn't know why he remembers every single one of them like the back of his hand but he doesn't let it get to him. This weird feeling of —knowing, and yet so confused all the same on why you've been so different, frustrated Tom to no extent. 

It almost feels like a game now, to go on and on again for something so strange yet familiar. 

When you take your seat next to him —like you would every other time you two shared a class, Tom decides that he has had enough. He feels— no, hears, the soft pitter patter of his heart when you greet him good morning with a soft smile and he hates it.

Something was shining you in a different light and he's more than sure that someone must've slipped a potion or two into his breakfast (as if this hasn't been happening for the past week). 

He says your name first, tone stern. And when you turn to him. "Yes Tom?" You ask, face full of concern; he can feel his heart swelling. "I think I might need to be hospitalised for possible heart abnormalities, or possibly cardiac arrest." 

It takes you a second to process his words. Blinking at him, before you it clicks in you that Tom might be sick. "What, why? Are you okay? You look okay—"

"Heart palpitations aren't diagnosable from mere looks," he says sharply, and you frown at him. "Something must be really wrong with me because my heart keeps beating the fuck out of my chest when l'm around you and I don't know what kind of disease I've come down with and frankly, I'm really scared."

You look at him, really look at him, and try not to smack his stupid stupid face. "Tom," you sigh softly, "Tom darling, do you hear yourself?" 

You use the pet name in a patronising way, that's another thing he notes. "Yes." He says. 

"And you do realise that people's heartbeats quicken when they're nervous, right?" 

Tom nods first. Then he adds, "are you suggesting that I'm nervous when I'm around you?" 

"Not really." You eye him carefully. "I'm suggesting that you get nervous around people you like—" and when Tom's brows furrow at the word, you specify. "—fancy, around people you fancy." 

"You think I fancy you?" Tom's response is so bafflingly loud that he startles himself upon hearing it. 

"I don't know," you shrug slyly. "I fancy you and my heart beats the fuck out of my chest whenever I see you too." 

Tom considers you for a second and doesn't let his eyes wander to your lips, he doesn't let himself think about it, not even a bit. Basorexia isn't going to get him today. "Was I the one you . . . ?" 

"Had eyes on?" You finish for him. Tom nods. "How could I have my eyes on someone else when I was looking at you, genius?" 

You're smiling at him, eyes adoring as you look at him. He knows what's off about you now: two weeks ago, your hair was different, your jeans were different, your shirt was different, and Tom was different. He didn't realise just how into you he was then. 

But he does now, and since he figured it out, he thinks he deserves a reward for it. And if basorexia did win, so what? At least he gets to kiss you, that's a win in his book, he notes.

[matthewmoorwood]

The cycle of abuse that all the Farseers go though oh I'm ILL.

horrific of Robin Hobb to make me suffer through the agony of Fitz's childhood of trauma and pain and then show me Fitz trying to help Dutiful navigate HIS trauma and pain. Fucking fuck.

Both of them had their first Wit bond be one of the worst things to ever happen to them.

Nothing breaks my heart like how much the cat earnestly loves Dutiful like she just wants to hunt and get her fur brushed :C

It's so sick how ultimately Nighteyes and the cat are so similar because Fitz and Duitiful are so similar, both of them want equally to be beasts and also be loved yet because of who they're bonded to they are forced into a life in which that can never be possible.

I'm so sick and ill and dying and suffering over these characters MAAAN.

Fitz is going THROUGH it watching Duitiful be abused for the singlular crime of being uneducated. If anyone actually cared about the fucking Farseer children beyond what they can do for the Six Duchies then they would've stoppped pretending like the entire bloodline isn't drenched in Skill and Wit like GUYS.

Time and time again we're shown that neglecting these truths leads to so much harm and yet everyone is like "haha what if it continued anyway"

Regal, Chade, and Verity you will ANSWER for your fucking crimes >:C

RAAH.

It's not even Fitz's fault that he wasn't a 'good dad' because my guy was literally sexually assaulted into having a son. Like fuck dude. I wouldn't want to live my life in Buckkeep trauma town either! Even if I wasn't fake killed!

Also horrible that Beloved who thinks he's to blame for everything that Fitz has ever been through is so content to die for the small reason that it MIGHT make Nighteyes live a little longer and thus mean he hurts Fitz a little less is SICK AND TWISTED.

Fuck you Peladine all my homies fucking hate Peladine.

OH YOU FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKING FUCK

I KNEW I KNEW I KNEW THAT THE DOMESTIC FUCKING FITZ AND NIGHTEYES FUCKING MOTHER FUCKING SCENES WERE BECAUSE OF THIS SHIT HAVE THEY NOT BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH????

HAVE THEY NOT SUFFERED ENOUGH??? BROTHER!!!!!!

Also. Bro. Starling. I thought u were chill. Like not chill to lie to Fitz that was fucked but now. Ugh. I'm so exhausted I just. Ugh. I literally need to have a big sleep and probably a cry to process this fucking book.

I swear to god I'm gonna rip all my hair out. Like Fitz CANT tell my guy Duitiful who he is, but at the same time its gonna be shitshow when he finds out.

I'm actually so fucking diseased.

Though I will say it is a balm for the soul watching Duitiful try to interact with Fitz his weird fake magic dad and Fitz's equally weird nobleman husband. He's probably like Dang, two father figures for the price of one.

I don't even. What I do. I just need a a sleep.

[pc36thorn]

after graduating medical school and having finally been hired as a surgeon and having worked for a while i end up doing a surgery by myself for the first time and i open the man on the table up and there’s waldo. i found him. i look around but no one is there. it’s just me and him, and the man on the operating table. i stand there for a bit, blankly staring. then i speak up: “hey, uh, you there. yeah, you, on the small intestine. are you. waldo? like from the books? where’s waldo?” he responds. “waldo’s right here, buddy. you found me. now you gotta eat me.” “what?” “you heard me. you found me, now you gotta eat me. them’s the rules.” “dude, i’m not eating you. you’re like, in a guy’s guts, you got liquid on your pants and shit. i’m gonna catch some sort of disease. like what the fuck.” “then wash me off in that sink over there. it’s not that hard.” i consider objecting to the cannibalism. do i think it will actually do anything? … i pick up waldo with my forceps and put him in the sink. i look around again. no one is here. i hesitate for a brief moment. “come on, you don’t have all day. put that baby on full blast already.” i turn on the faucet. waldo starts gargling, gagging, drowning, making unholy noises muffled by the water meant to clean me. i stare, transfixed, horrified. i turn off the water. waldo is half-conscious. i pick him up with both my hands, cradling him gently. i stare for what feels like forever. i stare. i take in every detail, his red and white hat, his red and white shirt, his blue stained pants, the fabric i can make out as cotton and the pants predictably denim. i find him, i find every part of him, of his soul, he means nothing except to be seen- i lower my mask and bite. he fits in my mouth whole. i chew. whatever the taste is, it is ignored - i only taste feelings, i only feel cotton, denim, confusion. i swallow. i stand. i gaze. i remember i am a surgeon and immediately wash my hands. i don’t remember the surgery. i did whatever it was i was meant to do. i sewed his abdomen back up while on autopilot - nothing went wrong. i drove home that night on autopilot. nothing went wrong. my body felt less and less mine by the minute. i ignored it, hoping i’d feel better in the morning, telling myself this must have been a dream. why did i become a surgeon? to help others? to satisfy my parents? why a surgeon? why? why must i pry into others’ insides for a living, only for no one to know mine? i dream red and white. no one is there, only silhouettes without eyes. they talk at me. they do not talk to me. they do not say my name. i am “doctor”, i am “son”, i am “him”, i am “you”. never “me”. what is my name? what is my name? WHAT IS MY NAME??? i wake up. my skin is cotton.

[annoying--moth]

No matter how many times it is explained to me or I talk about it with someone, I can't fully grasp what exactly is going on with art in the arc of a scythe universe. Because like,

It's stated multiple times that post-mortal art is "bland" and "uninspired" and "redone to death," and while I can certainly understand SOME art being like that, surely not all art is like that?? And I understand this in the sense that like, everyone's constantly remaking/repainting/making their own versions of famous paintings and such, but also there still has to be people who don't do that, right??? Like maybe I just have zero reading comprehension and somehow missed the bigger picture, but I feel like all this talk about art being redone to death implies that no one is making original art anymore? Which just. doesn't seem feasible to me?? Because as an artist myself, I can't see immortality taking away my ability to draw or come up with cool ideas. I don't draw because I'm going to die one day, I draw because I like it, and it's a form of creative expression. You can always come up with something new to draw- whether it's a cool oc, or someone you know, or just something random and abstract. The possibilities never end!

Of course, I suppose there is the argument then that people just aren't creative anymore, but I also find that hard to believe. I couldn't imagine ever truly running out of ideas. Like I mentioned above, OCs people??? I highly doubt there's no one in the post-mortal era still making weird, whacky, badass, or just cute OCs. Heck, I'd expect scythe ocs to be really popular! I wonder if it's like a thing for every kid to have a scythe oc phase..? Or at least kids in certain communities/fandoms (like scythe card trading- maybe they make their own cards for their scythe ocs!)

And also, it's confirmed that fiction is still very much a thing in the post-mortal era (I know zombies are referenced in one Gleanings story) so it's not like people can only connect to non-fiction. That's another thing that's discussed more in terms of theatre and writing- people not being able to connect to the themes because they're so far removed from it in reality. But my thing is, I've never experienced war or death (until very recently at least) and I still don't find myself unable to sympathize with people losing their loved ones to death or war or disease, although I suppose this could also have to do with the nanites. Plus the fact that death and war still exist in society as an actual thing that happens, but idk.

Also by the way- I feel like that one Gleanings story The Mortal Canvas has a subtle diss on digital art? And I have nothing against traditional art- heck I probably draw traditionally more often since I'm always doodling/sketching, but I feel like just because art is digital doesn't mean it's "uninspired" or whatever people were saying in the books. In fact, I've found myself moved emotionally by more digital pieces than traditional ones (although I don't see a lot of traditional paintings compared to digital ones tbf)

Also also I want to say- I don't exactly know how well this relates to my point but that one dude in The Mortal Canvas who made the others' artstyles into filters was a huge douchebag. AI art type shit, I was ready to strangle him reading that.

I remember the bit in The Toll about Ezra the artist, and how he said he was just "decent" or "moderately good" or something along those lines when we first met him, and I was going to make an argument about that part too but to be honest it's been a little while since I've read The Toll so I'll have to come back to that one once I reread it. But I think it also had to do with the emotional/creative aspect of art, which again, I refuse to believe immortality has such an influence on creativity that no art is original or interesting anymore. Sure it might make certain things harder, or make motivation worse, but I feel like if someone is truly creative it doesn't matter? Though then again, I'm not immortal so what do I know.

I briefly mentioned nanites earlier, and that is one thing that I do think probably has an impact, and I specifically mean emo-nanites. Since post-mortals can't feel as strong emotions as us mortal humans, perhaps that's also why their art seems more uninspired or whatever, because they can't put as much emotion into it. However, an excess amount of emotion isn't exactly needed to make art either. Like as I was writing this I was looking through my own art and realised that for some pieces I wasn't putting any emotional thought whatsoever into the pieces, yet there's still a clear emotion there when you look at them. Joy, wonder, whatever.

Anyway in conclusion, I think that it's unrealistic to say that all post-mortal art would be dull, uninspired, and meaningless, because I believe there will always be creative people who will make art not because they're gonna die one day, but because they want to and enjoy it, simple as that. Thanks to whoever stuck around long enough to read this far, I really hope it made sense. It's kinda late while I'm writing this and tbh I'm half-expecting there to be some huge detail/plot point that I missed that makes my whole argument totally invalid, whether that's me misinterpreting all the bits about post-mortal art or just being a complete dumbass with zero media literacy. Either way hope this was a fun read, I don't write long-form posts like these super often (note the lack of confidence in my media literacy skills) and if I made a really bad argument/missed something huge please be nice in the notes, I have a fragile ego :(

Uh yeah anyway I think I got everything as usual don't take my rambling *too* seriously, I just always found it confusing how post-mortal art is said to be so "uninspired" (I keep using that word cause I reread chapter 3 of Scythe today and Faraday uses it there) when I personally can't imagine not being able to be creative, though perhaps I'm just self-projecting. So uh, yeah.

[totallyradicalmucky]

I rewrote the entirety of ATHF Plantasm at midnight in my notes app and now my discord is making me post it. So here it is completely unedited.

Rewritten Plantasm

Same concept of split up team

Frylock and Shake talk a couple times. Shake is having nightmares about freyja and plants and Frylock assumes it’s about his fuck up with her again- Meatwad is missing.

Shake stumbles upon the plants displaying life signs earlier than the ginger does because he went to go harvest Meatwad (who was chewed up into little bits by dogs and then comically found in the plant food)

They both try and tell Frylock who isn’t having none of it.

Meatwad has Freyja’s faceplate or something inside him but is too congested to cough it up. Shake beats him to try and get it out but it doesn’t work

Carl has the rest of her and she’s creepy asl- he doesn’t mind and doesn’t even do anything explicit to her at the moment. The robot actually getting hacked and the red LED’s changing to a neon green color and saying something ominous before it cuts back to Frylock making some kind of power suit for the short Elon musk dude to wear and make himself taller.

They bicker going back and forth, Shake and Meatwad are seen banging on the windows in the background- the ginger laughing at him before Frylock eventually has a break to go outside and whisper yell at them. To which they forget why they were so adamant about getting him out. Meatwad mumbles something about plants, maybe dogs, robot ladies, the moon. Shake harps on about Freja- but Frylock stops him when he mentions the plants, the fries indeed noticing the bigass greenhouse he’d never been inside..somehow.

The ginger lets himself into the conversation and talks about it for a bit, nobody gives af. In fact they cut him off halfway and tell him that. The ginger tells them all to shut the fuck up as they go back inside, to which the little musk guy is dead and covered in roots. They all freak out. The ginger guy tries to talk to the plants but the plants proceed to go up inside him and turn him into the tree guy that isn’t outwardly sentient, unless it’s funny. The teens book it, but not before Shake’s greedy ass nabs the power suit.

They book it all the way to carls place because of course they do. Frylock yelling at Shake that the power suit isn’t even done yet. Carl telling them to go away- except he doesn’t even know what’s going on. They go in anyways. The mooninites have hacked into the old robot of freja (big lame reveal). Shake (now in the power suit that’s hardly working and much too small, but still kinda sexy) didn’t notice this immediately and had gone up to hug and or kiss the robotic woman- who responded in a duo of male voices. Shake didn’t care actually.

Carl laughed. Frylock was gay. Meatwad was meat.

They explained the plant thing and somehow came to the conclusion of just jackassing it would work. The mooninites were just going to prank Carl but halfway through they were like man this is pretty fun. Frylock does a “we’re going to need everyone we can get for this.” Moment and the only other person to show up is Willie Nelson who peeks out of the attic and slowly walks down.

Anyways they get their shit rocked by some trees and take the big weird spaceship with everything on it into space. The plutonians are there- they’re like seen. In fact Carl signs help me to them and those mfs blast off as soon as they see what’s going on in the ship. Shake has a badass moment.

Alien reference. One emotional moment where they get back together. Willie Nelson hard carries most likely. They kill the thing? No not really they just dump it in the Arctic Ocean after like 20 minutes of fighting and watch it freeze to death while flying above the water.

The ending is them going home in the ship and then in their house like nothing happened.

Shake gets diagnosed with some disease in the after credits scene due to the suit with Frylock being like “I fucking told you so” and Shake doesn’t bother to take it off even though he looks like a wrinkly ballsack

[carrionhearted]

Im gonna infodump about my ocs because I can’t stop thinking about them. This will be a book… One day. Read on with caution, this is a horror book with very dark subject matter and mild body horror.

There are two mcs, a closeted gay trans man (Eden), and a severely repressed cis gay man (Harlow). Both raised in a hyper-conservative hyper-religious Deep South town IN THE 80S.

Their story is about the deadly consequences of repression, the cycle of abuse, learned hatred and destructive coping mechanisms. Harlow grew up with an INCREDIBLY toxic father who drilled toxic masculinity into him (having feelings is shameful) as well as homophobia. He only ever demonstrated "solving" problems with violence. Harlow was never given the tools or space to unpack any of his feelings ever. So he grew up to become this repressed, horribly frustrated and confused adult who could not understand his attraction towards other men.

Being gay wasn't even a thought in his mind, it wasn't a possibility to him. His father constructed this impenetrable wall of “us” vs “them” in Harlow’s mind- and like a plant deprived of sunlight, he never grew tall enough to see over it.

All he knew was this gut-wrenching hunger, this insatiable craving for other men’s bodies which he couldn't place- something about the flesh, the warmth, he hungered for it in a way which became unbearable. This did not register to him as sexual, again, that wasn't even an option… but he didn’t know what it was. And when you don’t know how to process your own emotions, it all eventually turns into frustration/ rage. So he solved this problem in the only way he was ever taught how- with violence! He killed men, initially choosing those he deemed deserving of death, and he ate them. An attempt to satiate the hunger. This became a habitual thing and he just… kept doing it. Not because it brought him any real satisfaction, it just snowballed into an addiction and he needed his fix. His town caught on to the string of murders, but he was flying completely under everyone’s radar. We’re talking about a 6’ mullet-having yeehaw dude who’s generally reserved and works for his family’s farm, nobody was really looking at him here.

Important backstory tidbit: Harlow was taught how to hunt as a kid. His father took him on outings, which were maybe the only positive memories he had of that man- and they would hunt deer together. He was taught to always use the whole animal, never let anything go to waste- because everything is valuable.

Everything is a gift. “It’s only murder if you waste the animal” (this heavily influenced his later cannibal ways).

One day as a young teen, he found himself alone for a trip. That's when he was approached by this deer- it looked sickly, almost like it was rotting while alive (it had Chronic Wasting Disease). It was clearly suffering, made clear by its complete lack of survival instincts. It walked right up to his gun. It was in pain. He shot it to put it out of its misery, but he did not take the meat. What was he supposed to do? It was useless to him,, he couldn't eat the rotting meat, and despite that he still felt an immense guilt for leaving it behind. Killing, and just abandoning the body. It registered to him as murder. He carried that feeling of guilt with him for the rest of his life. He vowed to never discard a body again.

Eden is a trans man who knows he's trans, but is out to practically nobody during the story. He’s the youngest in his family, with four older brothers. His parents were NOT suited to be parents- they were self centred people who treated their children like accessories. The parents obsessively kept up this “picturesque good Christian family” facade to the world, but that became harder to maintain as they had more kids. They started having to cut corners financially, to the detriment of those kids. That said, every one of their children was planned. The reason they kept having kids despite their situation was because the mother wanted a daughter. Then, Eden was born, assigned female at birth. Since his birth Eden had been treated like a precious doll more so than a child- he was sheltered and only received direct attention from his parents when they needed to dress him up all pretty for Sunday service. There was an incredible amount of pressure on him to be what everyone wanted. He was also raised VERY religiously, all of which MAJORLY contributed to his inner-turmoil abt being trans. He didn’t even have a word for it, to be “trans”. Only this unmistakable discomfort, guilt and shame, feeling like something is wrong with him, feeling like god made a mistake with him. Again, conservative religious south, he has no space to explore these feelings safely. He's pushed it all down and let it fester inside until it started gnawing away at his very being.

A few years prior to the story, this began to manifest physically as a literal rot. This spot of decay on his chest that's been growing and sinking deeper into his body for years. Sloooowly eating away at him, on track to continue until there is nothing left to devour. By the start of the book it’s claimed most of the flesh on his chest- his ribcage is sparsely covered with any skin at all- and the organs beneath are made vulnerable by it. However, he is horrified to seek medical attention. He sees the rot as a marking of his sin, god has stamped his body with this ugly decay to let everyone else know he's defective.

He hides it beneath layers of clothing. Being on his chest, it’s in a place that only an intimate partner would ever see- considering he's perceived by the world as a "woman".

In a… complicated series of events involving ✨societal pressure and coercion✨, an "intimate partner" does end up seeing his chest (Eden is not clear minded when these events are taking place).

This partner reacts with repulsion and violence, to the extreme that Eden fears for his life. He kills the other man in self Defense. (This sequence alludes to the “trans panic” legal defense which is still permitted by many US courts. If you pursue someone intimately, don’t like what you see beneath their clothes, and you KILL THEM- you can claim “I panicked because I didn’t know they were trans” and get a lesser sentence. It’s bullshit and I’m gonna attempt to very delicately write this scene to highlight how bizarre and unwarranted the male partner’s violent response is. The rot in this instance is symbolic of the perceived defect).

In disposing of the body, he runs into Harlow. They find eachother in a (undecided) remote, secretive location.

You’ll never guess what Harlow is doing! Also disposing of remains (bones n guts), at the same place, face hidden while he does so. They have a mutual deer-in-headlights standoff. There IS an open case of serial murders in their small town… Harlow is responsible. Eden realizes this after a short exchange of stunned words, and totally breaks down. Heavy dialogue exchange, Eden feels completely defeated and destroyed by guilt, he just begs Harlow to kill him. Harlow responds by saying he only kills men (Eden is closeted and passes as a woman). This pushes Eden over the edge and he snaps, he shouts that he is a man, this is the first time he’s ever said it out loud. Harlow is… confused, but intrigued. He doesn��t want to kill Eden, but he’s not sure what he does want to do. He decides to knock Eden out… which he does very easily.

Eden wakes up in a different location. Some not so great smelling farmhouse of sorts. Harlow enters the room eventually and explains… “I disposed of that body for you, don’t worry about that right now. I bruised your head pretty bad when I knocked you out, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to use that much force. I made you some soup! It’ll help. The meat is pork. Don’t worry about it. Let’s talk. :3” They’re still both very unsure of each other but neither have much to lose (they also have mutual blackmail) so they start talking. AND BOOM

COMPLICATED SERIES OF EVENTS

ENSUES AND THEY BOND OVER SHARED EXPERIENCES, TEACH EACH OTHER TO UNLEARN THEIR TOXIC AND DESTRUCTIVE WAYS, HAVE A ROMANCE WHICH SERVES AS A VALIDATION ARC FOR EDEN AND A SELF-ACCEPTANCE ARC FOR HARLOW AND YADA YADA. They are both profoundly disturbed individuals who have done terrible things but the whole point is to hold a magnifying glass to their actions and point out HOW and WHY they fucked up. To condemn that path, the mindset behind it, and the people who carried on those abusive cycles before them. I want to thoroughly examine and chip away at the layers of external influence that lead these characters to their lowest life points- and reveal the truth beneath them. These were once children, full of love and openness as we all once were- the problem is larger than the individual, it’s a societal issue of passed down bigotry and stubborn refusal to progress. It’s a toxic cycle of violence with very real, very deadly consequences for all involved. The characters both do BAD things, that’s the POINT.

Important backstory tidbit: In Eden’s childhood, he found a baby bird fallen a long ways from its nest. It was hurt, and he brought it inside to a small cage. He figured the cage would serve as protection for the bird as it grew- it was so delicate, it needed the shelter. But that cage was tiny. He fed the bird, tried to take care of it and gave it all its base survival needs. The bird was offered food, water and a cage. But that is all. That’s all Eden was given in his home, he thought that meant it was enough. He watched it grow into a young dove, but as it aged it only got sicker. This bird was deteriorating before his eyes and he couldn't understand why- he feared it would die in that cage. As soon as it became old enough to fly, Eden made the decision to release the bird. It was sicker than ever, Eden knew it didn't have long. He knew releasing it would practically be a death sentence, but it was going to die soon either way. He did not want the bird to die in the cage.

When released, the dove didn't even know how to flap its wings properly. The cage was too small to stretch them out, it had never even had the chance to learn how to fly. It didn't know how to find food. It didn’t know how to identify danger. And on the next morning, Eden found that bird on the ground outside of his house, dead. It was being picked away at by a vulture.

Eden felt relief.

The bird had died. It didn't make it. But it brought him peace to know it didn't die in that cage. That bird had never known the love of its mother, or siblings, it had never known what it was like to be wanted and cherished. That role was left to the vulture, who had never turned away from the unsightly or damaged. It had swooped in with the unconditional love of an angel, and carried the dove off into the sky above- its stomach, a chariot to heaven. It was gruesome watching the vulture feast- but it had such a tender appreciation in its eyes. It kept the circle of life in motion. In a way, Eden found this ending happy.

Eden’s symbolic bird is a dove, Harlow’s symbolic bird is a vulture.

They both die at the end of the story.

They'd become very close over the span of it though- they resolved their issues together, but in doing that they found themselves further ostracized from the world around them. They backed themselves further and further away from the world, until they finally hit a corner. Their past destructive actions were also catching up to them- the murders that is, they ended up on the run from police. It all came back to bite them.

The rot on Eden’s chest had spread throughout his entire body, and it was past the point of no return. No medical intervention would help at this point. One night, after a close encounter with police left them both wounded- Eden and Harlow both realized that these were Eden’s last few hours.

His body was decayed and rotted, he was sick, he was injured, he was visibly suffering. He would die soon, it was inevitable. Harlow decides to put him out of his misery. But he couldn’t stand the thought of discarding the body. He didn’t want him to die unloved.

Reaching into Eden's exposed ribcage, Harlow removed his heart from his chest. He knew this would be a death sentence, but he was going to die either way. He didn't want him to die in the cage.

He ate the heart, rotting and tainted as it was, he saw every part of his lover as a gift. Nothing goes to waste, for every rotting animal there is a grateful vulture. One which will see your defect and cherish you all the same.

Is now a good time to address the name Eden? I feel like most people are familiar with the gay love = forbidden fruit and/or cannibalism = forbidden fruit metaphor… yk, the embrace of supposed sin, being arbitrarily kept from the sweet, nutritious fruit of the garden. Passing through the gates of Eden (ribcage again) and eating the apple (his heart).

:3 anyways

Harlowstayed with the body until he also died (unrelated wounds from the chase). Decades later they would be found as skeletons in an unmistakable embrace, none of the flesh which made people scorn them during their lives. They were seen as lovers then, and were finally understood.

ALSO ALSO SO SYMBOLISM RIGHT. RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM??? REMEMBER HOW EDEN WAS RAISED AS HYPER-RELIGIOUS???

So cannibalism as a metaphor for QUEERNESS now. A craving for the forbidden flesh. To partake in another's body in the most intimate and fulfilling way. But living in a world that sees it as repulsive…

Right? You with me?

Ok and then the inherent divinity of transness. To partake in the act of creation alongside God, to resculpt yourself in divine image. Jesus was not simply born of genetic material (yk how transphobes love to say “blah blah blah you can’t change your chromosomes!!” Like… if we use that logic, Jesus is trans. He’d have XX chromosomes because... miraculous conception.

No sperm, which provides the Y chromosome, which creates a male body. BUT OBVIOUSLY THAT DOESNT FUCKING MATTER BECAUSE HES A MAN REGARDLESS!!!! JESUS WAS A DUDE!!!). He was created by WILL.

The will of god, a version of himself, to BE!!! Fully human, fully god, flesh and blood in an image he himself designed. Holy trinity being the same entity and all, Jesus’s body was his own design in a way.

YOU WITH ME???

OK

OKAY AND SO.

GAY CANNIBALISM… TRANS LOVER.

TO

TO PARTAKE IN THE BLOOD AND BODY OF CHRIST. THEOPHAGY.

THE ULTIMATE HOLY COMMUNION.

TO CONSUME YOUR LOVER AS AN ACT OF WORSHIP, CONVEYING YOUR LOVE FOR EVERY PART OF THE BODY THEY'VE GROWN TO DISPISE. TAKING A PHYSICAL PIECE OF THEIR LIFE INTO YOURS AND UNITING YOUR VERY BEINGS. UNCONDITIONAL AND ETERNAL LOVE, DESPITE ONE’S FLAWS.

TO THINK OF YOURSELF AS CARRION AND BE FOUND BY THE MOST GRATEFUL VULTURE.

A DEAD AND ROTTING GOD STILL BRINGS LIFE TO THE MAGGOTS WHICH FEED ON ITS CORPSE!!!

RAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m unwell I’m unwell I’m unwell I need to actually get to writing this NOW

[lowkeyrobin]

Hello I was wondering if you’d be able to write a Ranboo from the we bounced to the death video x Gender neutral reader? :) (only if you’d write for them Ofc, I’m not sure if so but if not then just disregard this)

-💠

ooo yeah sure!! ; also any like characters of charlie/ranboo/tommy in sorry videos I will do! even if it's the old ones with the man who we don't name, I'll just cut him out of it lmao. I'd love to write for sorry apocalypse! ranboo or tommy so feel free to request any sorry!character version requests haha ; thanks for requesting! hope you enjoy :)

SORRY! RANBOO ; urban jump

summary ; you and ranboo are both angsty teens working at urban jump when tumgo shows up to hang out with chounce and master zah

warnings ; language, ranboo pulls their mask down for a moment

word count ; 1.4k

masterlist

"I literally don't understand this shit"

"Me neither"

You and Ranboo share a quick glance, then look back down at Tungo and Chounce bouncing about the trampolines while Master Zah sits criss-cross on a center stand.

"Do they actually think they're built like sumo wrestlers, or is it supposed to like, impress people? What-what is the point here?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows as you squint at them.

"I have no idea. Every Tuesday they're in here, they rent the place out all day" Ranboo shrugs.

The two of you travel down, needing to clean up a bit and disinfect the areas they weren't currently using. Their camera man stops you two, explaining some things before flicking it on. You two stand next to each other, tired and confused.

"Wh-What is this for again?" Ranboo asks. "Documentary?"

You rub your eyes, looking back at the weirdos to keep an eye on them so they couldn't reak havoc while out of your peripheral vision.

"Yeah, so, they've been coming here for about, I don't even know how long. I've only started working on this shift a few weeks ago"

"A couple months, maybe." You shrug, "They didn't start renting the place out til then, at least"

"They come in, they rent the place out, and they uhm, they just kinda, bounce for a bit. Fight a lot. I'm just getting paid and it's less kids to work with. So, it's a win in my book"

You nod, "I'd take them over a bunch of disgusting feral children"

He nods before the camera is put down.

"I need to retreat into my Chounce Sanctum, Chounce Hole!"

You watch as Chounce becomes one with his fake sumo wrestler body, using it as some kind of shell like a snail or a turtle.

"Alright, alright everyone. What do we think of this?"

You and Ranboo share confused looks, watching from the sidelines. You sit next to each other on a hard ledge a few feet away, absolute confusion painting your expressions.

Ranboo looks back at the camera, "This has got to be a disease, right?"

"Maybe he's like... challenged"

"He's challenged in more ways than one"

Master Zah speaks up, seeing Chounce was using his body as a shell. "I don't see enough bouncing!"

"Don't come in. Dude, I'm jacking my hog"

You and Ranboo become even more confused and now concerned.

Ranboo speaks up, "Wait, you're what, man? What're you doing in there?"

"Dude? What? How many times do I have to tell you, dude? I'm yanking on my freaking porker, dude! Don't come here!"

"Ew, what the fuck?" You look at Ranboo, "Biohazard on aisle fifteen, pal"

They stand up, walking toward Chounce, "Dude, c'mon, you can't- you can't do that here"

Ranboo pulls Chounce's weird little helmet back, revealing his defeated face. He walks away to talk to the camera after a few seconds, which you watch.

He then runs back out, apparently destined to do a flip. He quickly falls up the stairs and then cries, though. So, maybe today wasn't the day.

After some more weird and delusional grown man antics and practically babysitting, you retreat downstairs to the little playground area. Ranboo apologizes to Master Zah, who's sitting in the middle of the Under 5 Soft Play pit, crying as he's hidden in his skin shell.

"Zah?" Tungo calls as he approaches.

"How did you find this place?"

"It's next to the slushee bar"

Ranboo continues with his apology while you sit at the slushee bar, making yourself a treat.

"It's, it's not my place to ruin anyone's fun here."

Tungo falls into the pit, probably breaking a tooth somehow with the fall.

"Hey, man, we're trying to have a moment"

Tungo doesn't respond, he rather climbs into the little playground.

"It's not my place to ruin anyone's fun here-"

Tungo rustles around the plastic balls in the playground pit, causing a loud and obnoxious noise to sprout.

You walk over to Ranboo, sharing your slushee with him after he'd given up on trying to tame Tungo and apologizing to Master Zah.

"Tungo, dude, I was wrong!" Chounce falls into the soft play pit after he lays his eyes on Tungo, hiding in the playground behind a little plastic window section.

He quickly stands up, then pounds on the plastic to get Tungo's attention. He falls back on the ground quite roughly, then breaks out into song about wanting life to be like trampolines?

You and Ranboo walk away, having had enough and now sweating in your hoodies. You warn the trio to behave as you walk away, heading toward the locker room to switch into your company t-shirts.

"I can not believe we're still babysitting these delusional weirdos," Ranboo comments, pulling out his lanyard of keys to open the staff only door.

"Me neither." You shrug, pulling out your own lanyard to open your locker as you enter the room. "I'm so serious when I say I'm grabbing my earbuds, I can't listen to their brainrot anymore"

"Good idea"

You unlock your locker, hang your lanyard on the hook inside the door, and switch your phone from your hoodie pocket to your pants pocket. You pull the hoodie off, shoving it into your locker while you pull out the t-shirt you left in there for emergencies. You unfold it and shake it a bit, wanting to get whatever pet fur that was on it off.

Your backs face each other, both now bare as you rush to put your shirts on. You pull your shirt over your head, adjusting it and slightly tucking it into your pants because it was just slightly too big on your torso. You turn around, wanting to ask if he had any deodorant, because you felt gross being around Chounce, even if he wasn't yoinking his shrimp.

"Oh, fuck, sorry!" You quickly cover your eyes and look down, not wanting to invade their privacy as they're half dressed. They'd been turned around as they slid their shirt on, meaning they saw you see them. "Uh, do you have any deodorant?"

"It's fine, uh," They reach into their locker, grabbing some deodorant out for you. "Have fun smelling like Old Spice White Water, whatever that's actually supposed to smell like," He lightly chuckles, tossing you the plastic bottle as you release the hand from your eyes.

"Thanks," you whisper as you catch it, popping the cap off to reveal the product.

You quickly apply a layer under your arms before tossing it back to him, and he places it back in the metal locker. You stuff your earbud case in your pocket for the moment, deciding to connect them after you left, not wanting to take a long time to get back to the man-children. You do the same with your lanyard, stuffing it into your back right pocket, making sure the goods were safe.

You notice Ranboo's muscles, exposed by the short sleeves. The more you look at them, the more you feel compelled to just explore hid lips with yours.

You quickly turn around, close your locker, and head towards the door, before you're stopped.

"Wait, can you help me with something?" They ask, "This tag is itching me, can you cut it off?" They hold up a little pair of scissors for you to use as well.

You nod, step onto the wooden bench behind him, to get some height that you need, and pull up the collar of his shirt. You place your thumb and index finger on the tag, your remaining fingers holding the shirt down. Your dominant hand holds the scissors, cutting into the plastic tag on the back of his company shirt. You cut it off and he turns around, thanking you.

You handed the scissors to him and the cut-off tag so he could throw it away. He looks up at you, and you look down at him, staring into each other's souls.

He places his hands on your cheeks after pulling his mask down to his chin, revealing the lower portion of his face. You quickly peck his lips, feeling your face heat up. His clearly does the same as he pulls the mask up, his cheeks visibly pink.

"Oh my God, dude!" Chounce shouts.

Your heads quickly snap toward the open door, revealing Chounce, Tungo, and Master Zah all standing in the doorway, watching you.

"They're having romance!" Tungo exclaims