#in the morning its dark i dont have lights :/

[gravegoer]

I hear your call [P3] ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ

i actually got A LOT of asks saying i should do something with siren reader having legs ?!?! did u guys band together to make me do this... summary: sevika takes you out places you've never been and shows her gentleness also a bit of a song at the end (its so fun pls)

masterlist , 2.3k , kind of suggestive? , part 2

Eventually, you did fall asleep in Sevikas tub (really the inn's). I mean, how could you not? She somehow managed to fill it with the perfect temperature and dimmed the lights just for you, making sure you settled in perfectly.

You awoke to her flicking on the big light in the early morning, hissing at the intrusion. But your motions were halted when you looked up to see her form clad in tight shorts and an almost-all-the-way unbuttoned white shirt, the sleeves rolled up past her forearms.

It was rare to see her without her intricate straps, hat, and weapons strapped to her waist, so you definitely took in this sight while you still could.

"I need to get you back to the water. Can't stay in this tub forever," She spoke, settling her hands on her hips.

"Mmm, says who?" You closed your eyes and sank deeper into the water.

"Says my dabloons, can't afford to be stayin' another night."

You suddenly remember your previous kidnapping and Sevika's heroic work (that resulted in a lot of money being spent). You shot her an apologetic look before she laughed a hearty laugh and leaned on the sink.

"I'm joking. Just dont want you out of the sea longer than you need be. Heard it makes mer-people sick," She mumbled the last part.

"Where'd you hear that?" You cocked an eyebrow at her, who was now fixing her dark hair in the mirror.

"I read it—"

"Read it? Pirates can read?" Now it was your turn to laugh.

She got flustered and blubbered out a, "Supposing you even know what a book is."

You laughed at her statement and said, "Well, did you read I need not be in water at all?"

She shook her head, still groggy from her sleep, "Hell are you talking about?"

You tilted your head to your tail— or where it should have been.

What. The. Fuck.

Her eyes widened, and she stepped over to the tub, eyeing your knees sticking out of the water. "Where— where did it go."

You laughed before explaining how, after a while of being in regular water without salt, you were able to develop human legs. This only lasted until you made long‐term contact with salt water again.

To Sevika's shock, you stood up confidently and stumbled at the slipperiness of the tub, water making it hard to maneuver. She reached out to grab you as you yelped, grunting as she held you up, helping you out of the tub. Water dripped onto the floor, and she looked down to realize that it wasn't just legs that you had.

She grunted and looked away over your head, attempting to clear her thoughts. Her thick hand rested on your now non-scaled hip, and her metal one was placed carefully on her arm, trying to keep you as far as she could without dropping you.

"I haven't stood on legs in a while, sorry."

She nodded, "Yeah. I noticed," She commented sarcastically, "Need to get you clothed."

You felt little to no embarrassment about your unclothed state and hummed at her words, starting to walk to the door of the bathroom.

She sighed at your eagerness and kept a hand on your back as you walked, tightening her grip whenever you stumbled. Sitting you down on the bed, she pointed a finger at you as if ordering you to stay.

You obeyed and watched her shuffle through her previously worn clothes, assuming she had no other clothes. (What she is wearing right now is definitely her under clothes..) She grimaced and held up quite a large white poet shirt in your direction.

You shrugged, "That works."

She tossed it to you, and the scent of cigars and salt wafted from the shirt. You threw it on haphazardly, and it covered enough to look like a short dress. "I don't have any pants or shoes—"

She stopped mid sentence when she turned to look at you and cleared her throat, "We'll go to the markets."

You nodded, assuming the market was somewhere you could get clothes. She stepped over to you, multiple straps and belts in hand, "I'll make it look as put together as possible," she mumbled.

Her hands skillfully strapped belts around your torso, making the shirt appear as though it fit properly. She made sure it still hung low on your hips, covering the fact you lacked undergarments.

You weren't so open to the idea of going out into public when you were previously almost sold off. You feared the peoples faces and evil eyes, staring you down. The memories of the cold cage were resurfacing in your mind, but you were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by Sevika.

She now stood at the door to the hall, tilting her head questioningly. She had already gotten dressed and motioned for you to follow her, "C'mon, you can take ten steps."

You rolled your eyes and walked over to her, although like a newborn deer, you still managed. She had a hand on your lower back, supporting you down the hall and just about carrying you as you walked down the stairs.

She sensed your discomfort at the fact that you had no shoes, and the hard wood of the floor wasn't helping your inability to walk. She bent over and snatched up a pair of boots from beside a random man and tossed them into your arms.

"Hey, what the fuck?"

She turned back to glare at him, "Maybe put them on your fucking feet next time."

Her voice was horse and intimidating in the face of any man, lacking the gentleness she previously had with you.

He gritted his teeth and got up to spew his complaints to the keeper. You watched in disbelief before Sevika elbowed you gently in your back, "Lets go."

Before you could say anything else, she was pushing you out the door, boots still in your arms. "Put them on before we go further."

You eyed the rough concrete stairs that were your only option to sit on. Looking up at her, you smiled crookedly. She ran her hand down her face, realizing you didn't want your legs to make contact with the roughness. But without another word, she got on one knee, other thigh level with your knees so you could sit.

Her sword sheathe scraped the ground as she kneeled, leather boot thudding on the ground behind her. Not letting you protest she pulled you by the shirt down onto her leg, taking the boots out of your hands.

Your hands stayed in your lap as she pulled your legs out to cover your feet with the boots. Although she struggled a bit to put shoes on another person she still did so as soft as possible, feeling as if your legs were frail.

You kept your eyes on her face as she did so, eyeing the scar on her face and lip before she spoke, "It has to do for now. I'll get you out of them soon."

..

Although it was a struggle, you both made it to the market. Even though you had gotten more used to legs heavy boots, weighing down your feet and tiredness made your legs sore. But upon seeing the bright colors of the market, smelling the scent of fresh pastries and fruit, and hearing pleasing music you almost immediately perked up.

Sevika noticed your change in demeanor and smirked, "Never been here, huh?"

You nodded rapidly and almost ran to a stand that had bright and scarves with intricate patterns. The shop owner immediately started to talk you up. "This color would be so beautiful with your hair, miss." She wrapped a blue scarf around your shoulders.

Sevika walked up behind you as you looked at your reflection in the small mirror, turning this way and that. You hummed in satisfaction before starting to waltz away. Sevika grabbed you by the back of the scarf, "Nope, you gotta pay."

"Ummm.." You looked up at her with confusion.

"No money, no scarf," She took it from your shoulders and set it back on the stand, grinning.

You huffed and crossed your arms, looking around at other stalls. She grabbed your shoulder with one hand and moved your face with the other, pointing it into the direction of a far away stand. "Only the necessities."

She started in the direction, and you quickly grabbed onto her arm to trail after her. Approaching the stand with shelves that held shoes, Sevika held up a pair, as if asking if they were to your liking.

You grimaced at the style and started to look for yourself. Grabbing delicacy styled shoes, you showed them to Sevika. She smiled softly and shook her head at your choice but put down a few coins for the owner anyway.

She reluctantly would let you drag her to every stall you wanted to look at, putting up with your curiosity. She knew she wouldn't have patience like this for anyone else.

When you put on something pretty and looked to her for approval, she would give you a satisfied look. But still refused to buy you anything unnecessary.

Sevika eventually got you a long skirt that was flowy and hung almost to the ground. It almost mimicked your tail in its motions as you walked, she smiles at the reminder.

When you asked questions about the odd trinkets, she would pick them up and show you how it worked. A music box looked small and delicate in her hold, and the soft melody coming from within made you smile brightly.

You swayed a bit to the music, holding her hands up to your ear so you could hear it better. She couldn't do much but stare wide-eyed at the sight of you blissfully giggling at the music.

As you started off to another stall, she quickly dropped a few coins in front of the seller and shoved the music box in her pocket.

When it neared noon, she took you to eat at a food stand, handing you a few kabobs of different meats and veggies. You munched on them happily, sharp teeth tearing into the meat easily. (Noted.)

She definitely took you to try her favorites because all you eat is probably fish. She takes in the sight of you sighing at the flavors and shoving more into your mouth.

You guys bond over food..

It was now nearing night, the sun set far in to the west. The small amount of darkness was illuminated by candles and lanterns scattered around the area. You could see women gossiping together over some tea and bread, men slinging one another around in joke, kids chasing each other with small creatures. This was one of which a sight you'd never seen.

You gawked, never having viewed humanity in this way, only seeing people that inhabited the seas you could have never guessed how average civilians behaved. The night now no longer seemed so fierce, holding no malice like the previous night.

Sevika approached you to put a hand on your shoulder. She was proud to show you things you had never experienced. She would show you as much of the land as you wanted if you just asked.

Pulling you away from the crowd, she led you to a cliff that overlooked the ocean. Your position closely mimicking the day you met her, Sevika sat on a rock with you beside her. Her metal hand rested on your hip comfortably. You talked about your adventures of the day, the things you liked, and the people you met.

"Thank you for this, I never thought I'd be happy to reside on land."

She grunted in response and pulled a small box from her pocket, a music box. You gasped and took it from between her fingers, shocked she had really gotten it for you.

You winded the small handle before releasing it to hear the familiar melody, bringing back your memories of the day. Looking up to see Sevika, her expression was so loving and gentle, a face you've never seen on her before. Her eyes were illuminated by the dim sunset, emphasizing her contentment.

You smiled before you parted your lips, and betwixt came a song,

link to it (i highly reccomend, it sets the mood)

"Upon one summer's morning, I carefully did stray

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a young lass who seem'd to be in pain

Saying, "William, when you go, I fear you'll ne'er return again"

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold"

She listened blissfully, taking in the fact that your songs had no effect on her. Your beautiful voice hummed in her ears, and she looked into the sea, engraving this memory into her mind.

She could see her ship from where you sat, the wind blowing into the sail softly, yanking on the rope that tied it to the dock. Yes, she was going to take you anywhere you wanted to go. This much was set in stone.

After this, she dragged you to the ship with her crew and invited you to join her, obviously you said yes.

She's very happy to have someone to accompany her on her journeys. She isnt so bitter and lonely now thats for sure

And yes, you still get to swim in the water. A lot of the crew doesn't know your siren side, so Sevika tosses you into the water at night, letting the glimmer of your scales lead her ship.

During the day, you will follow alongside the ship, making sure none of the crew can see you, but Sevika does.

Sometimes, she gets distracted by you and goes off route a bit.

I like to think she can't really swim, so you try to teach her whenever you get a chance, and she always ends up clinging to you as you tease her.

She shows you mountains, forests, architecture, (bars), etc. And you love every moment of it.

Also, she replaced the mermaid on the front of her ship with a mermaid carved to look like you. And no, she didn't pay for it to be done. She did it herself.

Whilst she stood on a ladder she watched you frolic in the waves, making sure to carve every curve and detail she found beautiful.

Although, there wasn't one part of you she didn't find beautiful.

the end felt a bit rushed but im bad at endings, i might do some other side fics for this but thank you for the support on this fic! also i thought it was funny how @lovinglywriting sent me an ask about something sooo similar to what i was writing while i was mid fic lol and @slut4sevika send in a sweet ask tysm <33

taglist: @thequeenreaders @hangezoes-wife @thesecondhandwoman @lez-zuha @haboinga

[4pfsukuna]

She want a big dawg

Inspo: that trend on tiktok and yall know the one. Somebody made a edit to him to this and i seen the vision. Plus the girlies been saying they tired of smutt so

warning: its purely fluff; 865 word

Being ex military Terry always felt like he was on guard— being a light sleeper, always scoping the scenery out, early morning 6 mile bike rides but there was just something about you that put him at ease.

You were so soft, gentle, always finding the humor in something even if you did have a bit of a dark sense of humor. The scent of coconut always lingered on your smooth skin and your lips stayed pink and glossy no matter how much you licked them. 

The way you thought you could command him to do something even being nearly half his size when all he had to do was give you complete eye contact and you would fold like a lawn chair. All you had to do was bat those pretty brown eyes up at him and that man would build you a house anything to keep that smile on your face.

And in the evenings he loves sitting on the porch with you more specifically he’ll come find you wherever you are in the house, wrap his large arms around you and carry you listening to you rant about your day, or whatever book you were reading or whatever you see on social media.

“She dont want no puppy she want a big dog” you sing for the fourth time since he picked you up holding you with just one arm as if you weighed nothing and he just chuckles at you when you place a bunch of kisses on his face.

“You better chill before you start something mama” he leaves a peck on your lips watching the way you look at him with so much love and admiration like he hung the sun moon and stars in the sky just for you.

Ignoring him you squeeze him tighter in a hug loving the way he kisses the top of your head pulling you closer inhaling his scent feeling the humidity kiss your skin the minute he walks to the porch swing. down south was always warm but nothing could beat the warmth of your embrace.

“Babe, you know how much I love you?” You smile up at him tightening your legs around his waist and he holds your face in both of his large palms pecking your forehead, then nose and finally lips.

“What silly little tic tac trend you trying to trick me into now?” He asks, reading you like an open book watching the way your jaw drops. He knew when you were sweet talking him and what for too— you had been singing that song that one specific part for the past two days. 

“Its tik tok! And what you think you know me or something?” You playfully scrunch your face up pushing your long dark curls that fell from your bun out your face. He chuckles, angling his head down to you watching you squirm instantly. No matter how long yall was together it was certain things he did that still gave you butterflies and made you nervous.

“Baby girl don't insult me, of course i know you” and he pulls you back to him tightly closing his eyes enjoying the sound of nature as day turns into evening. “And i know if you keep pulling away from me imma have to really pin you down”

Terrys love language actually was physical touch, loved having you in his arms, carrying you, waking up in the morning to you still cuddled up to him or when he’s making breakfast and your little arms wrap around his waist grumbling about him leaving you and the bed being cold without him. Or when it’s your turn to cook dinner and he steals kisses knowing you don’t like to be bothered when you cook, always successfully fishing when you swat at him for trying to steal food from the pot. So who were you to deny this time as if your love language isn't spending time together.

You finally settle in his arms, head on his chest yet halfway on his upper arm and he sinks further into the swing slowly rocking it back and forth, left arm running up and down your back unaware of your antics until something catches his ear.

“She dont want no puppy” the music plays and you try to sit up as if he made empty threats tightening his biceps around your shoulders, he definitely was not against pinning you down. “She want a big dawg”

Opening his eyes he looks down at you watching how contempt you look with him squeezing tightly around you not even bothered in the slightest only looking up when you see him looking at you through the camera.

“Ok ok im done go ahead put your old man music on” you giggle happily. you got your video and his muscles were wrapped tightly around you, even placing a kiss on his bare chest before laying back down. Ignoring your slick comment he puts on redbone by childish gambino and like clockwork your hands start running over his back and arms slowly and softly turning him into putty, unraveling his muscles slowly putting him at ease like you always do. 

[freshxsturniolo]

no label - chris sturniolo x femreader!

requested by anon - could you do a fluff of chris an y/n being really clingy with each other and like kissing and cuddling and holding hands but there just friends. so basically a relationship but not too far if u get what i mean

HI BBY i hope this is okay and the vibe you were going for, im so sorry if not!!! its super fluffy and cute and i got a little carried away but i hope you enjoy <3

_______

a yawn escaped your lips as you walked out of your best friend nicks bedroom, his snores still heard softly behind you as you quietly shut the door not to wake him. despite your yawing and tired eyes, it was 4am and your brain could not shut off. you'd drifted to sleep whilst watching a movie at around midnight, but had woken up once nick got into bed for the night.

"what a pleasure to have your company for once" nick had joked when he climbed into bed.

"hmm?" you had half grumbled, and nick had laughed whilst you dozed back off. but after a while, you were awake, alert. faint noises of LA traffic in the background, faint noises from downstairs of matts computer. you had exhausted scrolling on your phone and decided finally to get yourself up. there was only one place you had grown comfortable sleeping. nicks words ringing in your head before he went to sleep.

your feet touched the stairs and you quietly made your way down them, not wanting to wake anyone up in the quiet house, the small light from the window illuminating the way before you reached the kitchen, but your feet carried you on, down towards the stairs that led you to the bottom of the house.

there was no noise, no light shining through his door, but your instincts had you opening the door handle anyway. this is the room you had slept in more times than not over the last few months. you could make out his shape on top of the bed and after your eyes adjusted to the dark, you let out a smile. his phone on his chest with his fingers lightly touching it, clearly having fallen asleep whilst likely scrolling through his social media. his bed lay completely made as he was sprawled over the top of it, fully clothed.

"chris" you whisper.

he stirred immediately, with a startle, and you let out another smile as you closed his door.

"y/n?" his sleepy voice called.

"its me" you said, but you were already at his bed. already crawling your way over. it took seconds for your head to hit his chest, your arms to wrap around his waist, your leg to hook over his hips. and it took him even less time to lean his cheek atop your head, his arms to engulf you, his legs to wrap around you. he smelled like comfort and joy.

"my baby.” he whispers. his soft and gentle breathe came just seconds after, and you felt his grip on you soften as he drifted back off into a peaceful sleep, you were only a few minutes behind him.

a few hours later the bright morning LA sunrise woke you up, shining in through the windows and hitting your face perfectly. you winced, hiding your face deeper into chris' chest before letting out a small moan.

"morning" his croaky voice came, and you nuzzled into his chest deeper for a second, before bracing yourself to sit up. one hand covering your eyes, one hand on chris' chest, you looked down and his face.

"what time is it?" you ask.

"7" he responds.

you groan, falling backwards and laying on your back, picking up the pillow at the side of you and throwing it over your face. "i've had three hours sleep" you moan.

theres silence, and you're drifting back off to sleep when the pillow is removed, replaced by chris' face. his curls pushing forward, covering some of his features, but his piercing eyes being as bright as ever

"what time did you sneak in here?" he asks.

"4ish" you grumble. "dont you remember?"

he smiles, bending down to give you a soft kiss. "i remember. but come on."

"what?" you ask, watching as chris removes himself from the bed and walks over to your side. he grabs your wrist, giving you a slightly tug. "chris" you whine, but he ignores you tired plea.

"come onnnnnn" he says with a laugh, tugging on your wrist more.

"for what" you moan, allowing him to pull you to the edge of the bed before you pull your hand away, sitting yourself up. you rub your eyes, willing them to open properly before running your fingers through your hair. you know you looked a tired, sleep deprived mess right now but whenever you were with chris you didn't care.

"lets drive to the beach" he says.

you look up at him, his face a beautiful ray of blue eyes and stubble and his perfect upturned nose, and you couldn't say no. a smile escaped you as you stood up. "can i have that hoodie?" you ask, and he frowns.

"just get one from my wardrobe." he points in the direction, but you shake your head.

"they're clean. i want this one.” you reach forward and tug at the hem. “it’ll smell like you" you say. he rolls his eyes, but the hoodie is whipped off his head within seconds.

"you're insane" he whispers.

you only laugh throwing it over your body, basking in its comfort as chris goes to retrieve a fresh one.

you make your way to his car, still feeling so proud of him for having got his license and still not used to being HIS passenger princess, and you spend the short drive in laughter. as you always did. life was so easy when chris was by your side. your sadness never appeared. he was the sun in every single day.

when he parks in the parking spot and you both get out of the car, he's at your side with his hand in yours, pulling you down onto the sand. the sun is rising perfectly and theres a few other people sat with blankets, looking out into the ocean. you can't help the warm feeling inside of your chest.

chris stops after a few minutes, his hand removes from yours and he sits down, knees up to his chest, arms resting on his knees before he looks up at you, the sun shining off his face perfectly. you smile, sitting yourself down at his side. your legs crossed, you lean backwards and put your hands out behind you. but you don't find yourself watching the sunset, you find your eyes travelling to the couple not to far in front of you. they're running around in the sea, running backwards and forwards as the shore comes in and goes out again, and a smile spreads across your face as you watch them. but when the guy pulls the girl backwards by the waist, and spins her round and crashes his lips to hers, her giggle echoing up towards you both, your smile stops for a second and your eyes divert to chris. you can see the back of his head perfectly from your leant back position, but you know he's watching them too.

"chris" you whisper, watching his curls blow in the breeze.

"hmm?" he says. his eyes stayed fixed on the couple.

"what do you tell people? when they ask about me and you?" you ask.

eyes still forward, he speaks with no hesitation. "i tell them you're my favourite person in the world."

your heart sores. that was all the confirmation you needed.

"what do you tell people? about me and you?" he asks.

"i just say you're my chris." you shrug. because he was. he was chris. loving, caring, erotic chris. but he was yours.

he turns to look at you now, a soft smile on his lips. “your chris." he repeats.

"you've always been my chris."

he chuckles, running his hand through his hair before he lays backwards, grabbing your wrist on his way down so you're pulled backwards with him. you let out a short squeal as you stumble into the sand, your head landing perfectly next to his. moving his hand from your wrist, he entwines your hands together as you both turn to face each other at the same time.

"that settles it then." he says.

"settles what?" you ask, but you know exactly what he's implying. he chuckles, sitting his head up slightly, his free hand resting on the side of your neck and pressing his lips to yours. strong, passionate, and with a thousand unspoken words.

"everything" he says.

you smile as you pull his hand closer to you, his body forced closer to yours as you embrace him once again, because you knew. you both knew. you didn't need the words. didn't need the label. he was your chris. now and forever.

[paiges-1vur]

hi guys! sorry for not posting that much recently, heres a little bit to make up for it!

paige x reader

You opened your eyes slowly, the light hurting at first. You are suddenly aware of the fact that your lying down on the bathroom floor- but wait. not your bathroom floor. you suddenly get the urge to throw up and you hurl your body towards the toilet. The door opens as your bent over the toilet and you feel big hands grabbing your hair, and holding it back as you throw up. “there you go, your okay, its okay” she says because your visibly shaking. you fight to lie back down on the floor and pass out but are guided back to the toilet by the girl behind you. “There you go, good girl. you’ll be okay just let it out..” you feel a hand caress your back slowly as you start to gag again. Next thing you know your sitting on a bathroom counter in the dark, as someone else brushes your teeth. “wait, i cant even see- what? whos here?” you ask, mouth full of toothpaste. The voice lets out a low laugh, “its paige, remember azzis friend you met tonight? azzi um… she went to bed early tonight so im here to help take care of you” you nod your head slowly but aggressively earning another laugh from the girl. once your done brushing your teeth you get lifted off of the counter and onto the floor. “paige- wait can i call you paigey?” you ramble “paigey my feet hurt i dont wanna walk- and if i have to go home its so far.” suddenly paige picks you up bridal style and carries you into her bedroom “oh dont worry sweetheart azzi said you can just stay with me tonight- and i dont mind, i know your dorm is far” she places you in her bed, peeling the covers back for you to climb into. shes standing above the bed just looking at you. “what” you say, “oh nothing, your just so cute like this” she says smirking. you climb to the top of her bed so that you can crawl into the sheets before you speak out. “no.. nuh-uh cant sleep.” you say, visibly upset and uncomfortable. paige comes to sit next to you on the bed “whats wrong?” she asks, wondering whats making you upset. “i dont feel good… not good” paiges face flashes a hint of concern and sympathy. “okay- how sick?” she says concerned. “not a ten for sure.. maybe a 7. it hurts bad” paige nods, listening to what you have to say. “do you feel nauseous or do you feel like you have a tummy ache” you squirm around on the bed for a moment trying to get comfy, “i have a tummy ache” you say with a hint of a whine in your voice. paige brings her hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “is there anything i can do or get for you to help ma?” you close your eyes, suddenly consumed with tiredness from partying so hard all night. you nod your head and start to sloppily try to change out of your going out clothes. “need help?” paige asks smiling as she watches you try to get undressed. “ill get you some new clothes, you will be nice and warm” she adds as she notices you have goosebumps all over your body from the chilly uconn autumn. she helps you get into an oversized uconn tshirt that goes all the way to your knees. as her hands roam your body momentarily you cant help but think to yourself “mm, its so cold- your hands are so warm.. feels good” she crawls into the bed next to you, letting out a small chuckle as she smiles down at you. she opens her arm, “ill keep you nice and warm” she says as she wraps her arm around you, her hand resting underneath your shirt on your waist. the last thing you remember is your head on her chest, your legs intertwined, and her scent as she planted a soft and gentle kiss on your head. “goodnight y/n” she whispers quietly as you fall asleep in her arms.

(sorry if this is completely ass i haven’t edited it, and i wrote it while severely hungover this morning because i have felt bad for not posting lately)

[elodieunderglass]

Re: your tags on the fungus and petrochemicals:

Excuse me, bramble wine? That sounds absolutely divine, how lucky you are! I hope you enjoyed it (and that I get to make/taste this one day)

(In reference to this post: https://www.tumblr.com/elodieunderglass/757191605386084352/oh-heavens-im-sorry-i-dont-remember-this-at I had to apologise for not being especially coherent in my response to an extraordinarily kind and friendly person as I was several days into a group camping, and had touched too much grass to be coherent, setting aside the bramble wine.)

The camping expedition consisted of seven+ families with children who all know each other extremely well and are growing up in a feral pack together that averages about 30 members. The pack forms at the conjunction of any five children, and therefore often exists in multiple places at once; a mini version can be assembled from as few as two of the core families, but when you have seven of the core, the pack becomes its own entity. For example, exhibiting a fascinating reflection of the hunting behavior of ancestral humans, ten of them together once managed to stalk, hunt and bring down a dragon costume performer at a local festival and sit on it in a few seconds when the adults weren’t looking. They had the light of the hunt in their eyes and they were GOING to have that dragon. Anyway this is not conducive to clear and accurate science communication at the best of times, especially since the usual reason that the pack manages to slip the leash is because the grownups are ordering pints.

For this camping expedition there was one family I didn’t know, but they live on a boat and we could vibe. They were the ones who brought the bramble wine. They were the people who sometimes evolve into Whiskey Hamishes. The bramble wine was made from foraged blackberries, and had been stored in a box on the roof of the boat (so essentially: outside) since 2019. The bottles were covered in rotten leaves and spiderwebs. This is not how you usually treat wine. Even home-brew. Even hedgerow. This is a recipe for converting free materials into as much alcohol as possible without interference.

The wine itself was similar to dark port, very heavy and thick, headachy around the edges. The alcohol percentage was estimated in the double digits. It is hard to explain but the dark black-purple color had no red in it. It was like ink.

Then, after coming into your campsite and kicking most of the party around lightly, it kissed you on the mouth one last time with a mouthful of blackberries and wandered off.

I’ve never had a hangover (hobbit liver) but I didn’t spend much time in dalliance with it. a lot of dads were pretty flat the next morning, but, to be completely fair to them, they DID rouse themselves to take the kids swimming in the river, where they (the dads) laid around recovering like beautiful crocodiles. Thus, all they had to do was lie in the cool mud while children rolled over them like puppies.

Bramble wine!

[allfearstofallto]

hii! can i make a request?

I've been thinking about angsty things a bit. say if, reader got pregnant, would she hate it? how would scara/childe react? in my opinion, id like to think that scara thinks of this as a way to tie her down to him more, plus its canon he likes kids!! and as for childe i think he'd be very very happy since he has soooo many siblings, (maybe he wants a lot of kids too??)

and..what if reader miscarried? i have this thought of where scara would still be cold to her but give her breaks and more space than usual, but what if reader completely locks herself in and then when he confronts her about it they get into a huge argument, how would scara tackle that, would he resort to abusive tactics and would it increase readers hatred & distance more?

just a brainrot, you dont have to write about it if you're not comfy^_^

This took me so so so long!! I'm so sorry if you were waiting for it!!

I don't typically write for things like pregnancy because it makes me uncomfortable, but I'd be lying if I said I do not absolutely fucking adore angst and hopelessness.

Parasite

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: 18+ MDNI, Dark Content, Forced marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Mentions of Dub/Non-Con

A week late turned into two. Two turned into a month. A month turned into three. And three turned into unusual cravings for foods that didn't go together. Sickness and vomiting clouded the hours of your mornings. Dread filled your body the second you realized what this was. Stress makes your cycles late, you told yourself, stress makes your entire body change, and this was a stressful situation, but stress wasn't causing this, was it?

Scaramouche could tell the changes in you immediately. As someone who constantly kept tabs on your life, it was only fair to assume that he'd noticed your slight fluctuation in weight and lack of asking for your monthly cloths. When you were called into his office, you felt a hot flash all over your body, you assumed it was fear, but it could've also been nausea.

His office was a place filled with dread. The air in the room was too thick and worst of all, he was there. The room made you feel small, the only good thing about it was that he was usually too focused on his mile high stacks of paperwork. Except today. Today his razor sharp gaze was focused on your trembling form as you bowed to him, his eyes following down, then back up.

“Answer me honestly,” he began, hands planted on the wood in front of him, “Are you with child?”

If you could throw up again, you would. Of course, you knew all this time, but you never wanted to say it. You hoped, just hoped and prayed that maybe if you never acknowledged it, it would all go away. It would all be a bad dream. But it was true. There was something disgusting living inside you. And it was his.

“I believe so, my lord,” the words couldn't even completely fall from your lips before you were a blubbering, sobbing mess of anguish and fear. Despite the fact that you were completely breaking down before him, he had a small smile on his face, like he was proud of what he'd done to you.

“That's good,” he said calmly, wiping away your tears and planting a forced kiss upon your face. His touch felt cold as ice, but his hands against you made you want to melt your skin away.

The reaction to the “good news” was immediate, whether that was good or bad was up in the air, but everything changed. The tight obi of all the kimono you owned would put too much pressure on your budding stomach, new one's were ordered to be ready as you grew more in size. Your diet was changed completely, less of the Inazuma raw delicacies and more lean meat and vegetables. Daily classes of calligraphy and tea ceremonies were switched to resting with your feet up or light stretching, everything to keep you happy and healthy during your pregnancy.

The biggest change was Scaramouche himself. A man filled with so much hatred and disgust, was suddenly being kinder. Or trying to at least. You watch him open his mouth to make a comment, only to shut it again in favor of saying something still rude, but less insulting.

The Scaramouche that believed that he could take your body whenever he pleased was long gone, even though that was what got you in this predicament in the first place. He'd taken to leaving you in the middle of the night and going to the bathroom to sate his urges. He'd come back with cold damp hands and lay next to you, a protective hand over your stomach as he kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you.

The day you saw blood between your legs and felt an aching pain in your stomach was a joyous one indeed. A part of you wanted to scream out in glee, but you didn't want to wake your already on edge husband. The blood that coated your fingers could only mean one thing. One good thing. It was gone. You were free of it. Almost immediately, the dark air that seemed to linger over your body vanished and you let out a sigh of relief.

Scaramouche was informed shortly before breakfast that same morning. You relayed the information to a maid, who then told him, whispering the words in his ear so quietly, it sounded like she was speaking gibberish. His face, his expression, changed to one shock, then horror, then pain. You didn't even know he could make such a face, yet there he was with tears in his eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” There was that tone again. The one you were used to. The anger and distaste for you in his voice. He slammed his fist down on the desk, turning his head away from you as his voice became high and breathy, so desperate for answers, “What did I do wrong?”

You stood in his office awkwardly, even this display from a person you hated, this display of agony was hurting you as well. You thought it would be funny. Seeing the man who pulled you from your home and forced you into marriage in pain was supposed to make you happy, but you felt your own chest clenching, felt your hands tremble.

“I-i suppose…I was stressed, my lord,” you muttered, his already labored breaths hitching at those words. The few months you were carrying that thing inside your body, was when he asked for less from you. He expected you to laze around all day and relax. For your body to fall into a daze like trance of naps and delicious food. He wanted happiness for both you and his child that you carried, yet you were still the most stressed you'd ever been in your entire life, knowing that he had something inside you. Something that would continue to fester and grow, until it eventually ate you alive.

He sat back in his office chair dejected, hurt, and empty. Scaramouche's normally sharp, glaring eyes were wide as he stared at the ceiling, body limp as he bit his lip, “Leave me,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. Had it not been for the quietness of the room, you wouldn't have heard him.

Leave him you did, closing the door as silently as possible and not lingering behind. You felt yourself finally stop tensing, telling yourself that all your woes were over, for now. The thing was gone. You were happy. For once, even if unintentionally, you'd won over your captor.

[pup-pee]

MOSNTER ENERGY DRINK oh they both SUCK SOOOOO MUHCCCCC

spacechemist is cuteeee

i was thinking speedraw((speeddraw?)) idk asjkfhsdj

Kyle x Wally alternative ship name

SpaceChemist

Green electrical tape

And monster energy drink™

[delulujuls]

birds of a feather | joost klein

hi, its me again. i know its been a hot minute since i posted here but literally i have no idea when the past month left.

anyway, im alive and i finally got a chance to write something, so here it is. its nothing that i used to post here i guess, but i it means a lot to me. while writing this i remembered all of those dark days that i managed to survive. and i guess, joost himself did too.

please, if you struggle with mental health or you just dont feel good at that moment, i do not recommend to read this. feel free to text me if you need to talk to someone.

remember that you are not alone. you can get trough everything as long as you have you.

je bent sterker dan je denkt

summary: joost is struggling with his mental health, but so do reader. but together its a bit easier to go through storm and its even better to look at the rainbow with someone dear by your side.

warnings: struggling with depression, ed, parents loss

pairing: fem!bff!reader x joost klein

Snow fell throughout the night, so the next morning, all of Leeuwarden woke up under a heavy, white blanket.

However, some didn’t get the chance to wake up because they hadn’t managed to close their eyes at all. One of those people was a girl laying down with open eyes in her dark room.

Despite having no desire, motivation, or strength, after a while she sat up in bed more than an hour before her alarm was set to go off. She wrapped herself in the blanket and closed her aching eyes. It felt as if someone had poured two bags of sand under her eyelids.

Her room was in complete darkness, with only the warm, yellow light from a streetlamp filtering in through the uncovered window. The whole house was silent, and nothing outside suggested that anyone else existed in the world but her. She could hear her tear-stuck eyelashes pulling apart with each blink.

She sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hands before finally getting out of bed. She couldn’t afford to skip class; she had already accumulated too many absences recently. The last thing she wanted was to deal with her teacher, who kept repeating the same thing over and over— that she should talk to her parents, that she would call in a psychologist. Just let me live, woman, she thought. Or better yet, let me die.

With a soft groan of displeasure, the girl pulled off her warm sweats and quickly put on an uncomfortably cold shirt and hoodie. The jeans she put on were also unpleasantly cold and stiff. The chill around her cut to the bone.

When she went to the bathroom and turned on the light, she squinted with a grimace. She shuffled over to the mirror and looked at her reflection. Nothing surprising stared back at her. Puffy, red eyes from crying, chapped lips, and skin irritated from a runny nose. She sighed and looked down, tying up her hair and turning on the tap, trying to make herself somewhat presentable.

When she finished, she didn’t look much better. The last thing she felt like doing was putting on makeup. A shower from the previous evening was the best she could manage. Before going downstairs, she grabbed her backpack and phone, glancing at the screen. Beside the clock, it was empty. Worried that maybe WhatsApp had failed, she opened the app and clicked on her last conversation. Joost hadn’t replied to her messages since the night before. She sighed and shoved the phone into her pocket. She knew she wouldn’t go straight home after class.

Not feeling like eating breakfast, she simply put on her shoes, jacket, and left the house. It was even colder outside, so she pulled her hood over her head and wrapped herself in a scarf. She couldn’t wear gloves—how else would she change songs, she thought, putting her tangled earphones in.

Even more snow had fallen than it seemed when looking out the window. It was still early, so the streets were covered in snow. The walk to the bus stop was exhausting. When she finally reached it, she realized she still had plenty of time to spare. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, and took a drag. She pulled out her phone from the other pocket, changed the song, and opened her conversation with Joost again. Nothing had changed.

you could at least read my messages. that way, id know if you were alive 06:50

She typed with frozen fingers, holding the cigarette between her lips. The girl exhaled the smoke and sent the message, glancing at the cracked screen of her phone with faint hope. Nothing.

The phone that received the message vibrated on the bed. Its owner, however, wasn���t there but on the floor. Joost lay on the ground, staring at the ceiling. He tried to focus on breathing. Only on breathing. Only on surviving.

He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been lying there. Had he made it through the night, or was it still yesterday, or maybe already tomorrow? On both sides of his head were small, wet spots from the tears that had spilled from his heavy eyelids. He was like a defeated, fallen Gulliver, his tears carving out lakes.

He didn’t feel the cold, didn’t feel the pain in his back. He didn’t feel how badly his head hurt from crying or the emptiness in his stomach. He couldn’t remember when he last ate something warm, despite his sister and brother's urging, when he last took a shower, or held his phone. When was the last time he actually spoke to someone? A few hours ago? Or last month?

If looks could drill holes, there would already be a small but precise one in his ceiling. Only when he heard a knock on the door did he snap out of it. It was morning, and his room was filled with light. He had survived the night.

“I’m heading to work, want a ride to school?” his sister’s voice came from behind the door.

It took him about five seconds to remember how his vocal cords worked.

“No, I’ll manage.”

“Are you planning to stay home?”

Silence. On both sides of the door.

“I don’t want to have your school on my back, okay? You’ll go back to class after the weekend.”

Joost sighed in relief, closing his eyes.

“Thanks, really.”

“There’s breakfast on the table,” he heard her footsteps fade away. “Eat something!”

At that moment, he regained consciousness. With great effort, he managed to sit up and lean his back against the bed. He rubbed his face with his hands and clenched his fists in his hair. After a moment, he sighed and looked ahead. The clock on the bedside table showed a few minutes before eight. He hadn’t even heard whether his brother had returned from the night shift. It was as if he’d been in a trance all night, focused only on the passing seconds, taking minute by minute, hour by hour.

When he managed to climb back into bed, he pressed his cheek against the cold pillow and instinctively reached for the phone lying nearby. In the flood of notifications, he noticed more than ten messages from his friend. He felt a pang of guilt.

He swiped and entered their conversation.

you know we can always talk. you dont have to deal with this all on your own 00:21

i know. thanks 00:46

That was the last message he had replied to.

apparently you dont know, because youre doing it again 00:54

you always shut yourself off and dont let anyone in. why cant you understand that you matter to someone? 00:55

you act like youre deliberately torturing yourself, like you purposely want to take on all the fucking pain and show that only you are suffering. surprise, youre not the only one 01:00

im sorry. i didnt mean it like that. its just been hard for me too lately, and im worried about you. i didnt want to say that. im sorry.. 01:12

i want to help you, but i dont know how. how am i supposed to do that if you wont let me? 01:18

i cant imagine losing you, do you understand? 01:19

for fucks sake, theyd bury us together. i couldnt make it without you 01:20

let me help you, please. or at least dont shut me out 04:29

im worried, joost. please reply 13:54

Missed calls x7

you could at least read my messages. as it is, i dont even know if youre alive 06:50

im alive. im sorry 08:01

He replied, staring at the screen. He read her messages several times. He knew he could rely on her, that he mattered to her. But on the other hand, he couldn’t accept it. Him? Someone cared about him? Hey, wasn’t he just the funny, slightly chubby kid who always told silly jokes and made everyone laugh? That he had problems? What kind of problems could a teenager like him have?

She, however, knew that Joost had been through a lot. Losing his parents year after year can break anyone, let alone someone like him. Since she had met him in high school, Joost had always seemed like an extrovert, the center of attention, telling the funniest jokes with his booming voice. But beneath the surface, which he had built himself, lay an incredibly sensitive boy with a big heart. He was the kind of person children smiled at, and dogs ran up to for a pet.

Joost was like a gentle giant. He could pretend that nothing bothered him, that dumb jokes or words thrown around in laughter didn’t hurt. But every one of those words or situations lodged itself tightly in his mind like a pack of rats that couldn’t be driven out for anything. It was as if his body lacked the receptors for anger or aggression. He wished everyone he knew well, but the feeling wasn’t always mutual.

When he was younger, not long after his parents died, he was often mocked for being an orphan. The mean comments and jabs were so hurtful that he stopped attending classes. When someone pointed out that he seemed to have put on a bit of weight recently, he went a week eating nothing but apples, drinking water and smoking cigarettes.

Now, even though some time had passed since then, and he had been through several rounds of therapy, he still had periods like this. When all he wanted was to be alone and let the cold embrace of sadness surround him. To rest his head on the bony shoulder of depression and weep bitterly.

But it wasn’t to be, as he suddenly flinched, hearing something hit his bedroom window. He realized he had lost touch with reality again and had been staring at his phone’s dark screen for who knows how long.

Thinking he had misheard, he settled more comfortably on his pillow.

The girl squeezed the snow harder in her hands, forming a snowball. She took aim and threw it at his window again. When Joost replied to her message, she knew she had to seize the moment. She had skipped the last two classes and immediately went to her friend’s house. She wasn’t leaving until she talked to him.

She took aim again and threw another snowball at the window. This time with success, as moments later, she saw Joost looking out.

He wasn’t sure whether to believe his eyes, but his friend tapped her finger on her wrist, signaling that she had been waiting long enough. The corner of Joost’s mouth involuntarily twitched upwards, and he quickly went to open the door. He knew that if he didn’t, this psycho would keep throwing snowballs until the window broke, and she’d climb in through the tree. He preferred to avoid that.

He unlocked and opened the door, but before he could say anything, she threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. She was cold, and her hair smelled like frost, but she was so alive, so different from the bony arms of depression.

“Don’t do that again,” she mumbled, holding him close.

Joost felt all the air trapped in his lungs release as he closed his eyes. He wrapped his arms around his friend, resting his cheek on her head.

"You're letting the cold in," he said after a moment, trying to lighten the mood as the wind blew snowflakes inside. "Come on, get inside."

A few moments later, the two friends were in Joost's room. It was clear that cleaning up was the last thing on his mind. The girl glanced around and silently began picking up the scattered clothes from the floor.

"Please, leave it," Joost groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "I'll do it later."

"If you're not going to help, then go take a shower," she replied, putting the relatively clean clothes back into the closet and setting the dirty ones aside near the door.

"I'll do that later too," he mumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. Only now did he start to feel how utterly exhausted he really was.

"We both know how that will go," she said pointedly, casting a glance his way. He sighed, feeling her gaze on him.

"I'm too tired. I just can't."

The girl hung up his coat and sat next to him. Joost looked at her face. Only now did he notice her puffy, swollen eyes, sunken cheeks despite the rosy flush from the cold, and chapped lips. He recognized the look.

He immediately recalled one of the messages she had sent him. You're not the only one suffering.

"What happened?"

He furrowed his brows and sat up, studying her face carefully. She knew exactly what he meant. Joost saw the same exhaustion in her that she often saw in him.

She sighed and lowered her gaze.

"I haven't been feeling great these past few days. But you probably know what I mean."

This time, it was his turn to lower his gaze. He didn't know what to say.

He didn't need to say anything.

She moved closer and hugged him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Joost desperately hugged her back, holding her in a bear-like grip.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a while, still holding her. His voice trembled. "I should be supporting you, but instead, I'm just a burden. It's the only thing I'm good at."

"You're not a burden, Joost," she protested, pulling back slightly to look at him, emphasizing her words. "We should be supporting each other. No one else will understand us better than we understand each other. We're in this together."

At some point during her words, two large tears rolled down Joost's cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said, burying his face in his hands, knowing that those two tears were just the beginning. On top of feeling miserable, guilt now added to the weight. It's not that he was unaware of his friend's struggles with mental health—he knew, just as she knew what he was going through. On most days, both of them were cheerful and lively, the life of the party. But sometimes, for a few days, a week, or even two, their light would go out. Depression was a grim lighthouse keeper.

She hugged him again, holding him tightly. Joost clung to her as if she were a lifeline.

"Everything will be okay," she whispered, stroking his hair.

"Everything will be okay," he echoed. "We'll get through this."

They sat there in silence for an undefined amount of time, wrapped in each other's arms.

"I'm not joking about that shower," she said after a while. "I guarantee you'll feel better."

Joost sighed and pulled away from her, nodding. He stood up and went to his closet, grabbing some clean clothes.

"You don't have to clean up, really," he said, glancing at her one last time before reaching for the door handle.

"And wash your hair too," she replied, standing up and continuing to organize his clothes. She looked at him and gave him a small smile, nodding her head to tell him to go and not to worry about the rest.

"Thank you," he returned her smile and went to take a shower.

When he came back, he looked much better. He also felt better. His room no longer resembled a battlefield. Clothes and trash no longer littered the floor, dirty dishes were gone, and the bed was made. But his friend was nowhere to be seen.

Joost peeked out of the door and, hearing movement in the kitchen, went downstairs. His friend was putting dishes into the dishwasher.

"This is probably for you," she said, pointing to some sandwiches wrapped up on the counter.

"I doubt I can eat anything," he replied, glancing apologetically at her. After a moment, he wondered if she had eaten. She also had trouble with eating sometimes. "But I'll eat if you eat with me."

"That won't be enough for us."

"I know, but we can make pancakes."

The girl smiled at his suggestion and nodded.

A few moments later, the kitchen filled with the smell of frying pancakes and the sound of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that, after a storm, offers a glimpse of normalcy. Joost flipped the pancakes while his friend sliced fruit they had found in the fridge. The warm atmosphere began to chase away the heavy clouds.

They weren’t alone. Even when they craved solitude, they weren't isolated. They had each other.

The girl unintentionally glanced at her friend, and noticing his damp bangs falling into his eyes, she pushed them back from his forehead with a gentle hand. Joost smiled at her gesture, unable to help it. She smiled too.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone Can't change the weather, might not be forever But if it's forever, it's even better

Neither of them said it aloud that afternoon, but in the quiet corners of their minds, they both thought how grateful they were to have each other.

[kissesfordaryl]

Hey there ^_^ This idea has been eating away my brain for a good while now and you're the only male writer I know, UGH I LOVE YOU

May I please have your headcanons on how Daryl would be like with a metalhead bf who's really intimidating and looks like he came straight outta hell but is actually super sensitive and sweet? Such as first impressions, how Daryl feels about his kindness, etc.

Thank you!! Xx

daryl & his metalhead.

note: honestly had to do a lil research beforehand bc i dont wanna do any metalheads wrong😭 AND HOPEFULLY I DIDNT!! 😕 lmk (n ilyt)

daryl sees you and automatically assumes youre the quiet type- a lone wolf even. you dressed in dark colors and occasionally band tees(which he had no clue of), towered over almost everyone, wore your dark hair long, and didnt warm up to many people. he doesnt go out of his way to talk to you, until youve come up to him.

"y'wanna go on a run with me?" hes staring up at you in disbelief, turning his head left and right in search of backup. youve practically cornered him on the streets of alexandria, big pleading eyes staring at him.

"yeah!" youre nodding a bit too enthusiastically for his liking, "its just... im looking for some parts. my guitars broken, so. but i wont be in the way, i promise!"

he scoffs, and doesnt believe you for a second. but the next morning, hes taken you and one car.

he realizes that every assumption hes made about you is 100% wrong. hes always categorized you as emo in his head, but you were quick to inform him the differences between being emo and being a metalhead. hes quiet for most of the ride, but surprisingly asks you a few questions here and there. his second assumption is that you were quiet. jesus, you could talk his ear off. but in a good way he thinks.

the run is unsuccessful, but daryl gifts you a little pin with a guitar on it. youre enveloping him in a hug, and hes reluctant to return it.

back at home, he pays more attention to you. he gets defensive whenever someone makes a judgmental remark about you, claiming that you're different than what everyone thinks. carol teases him about it: "didnt realize you knew him so well." and yeah. maybe he did. maybe he wanted to. "so what?"

he finds himself coming around to your house more often, letting you teach him how to make dinner and listen to you play(he found your missing part on a run with rick). he enjoys it more than he thought he would, and you joke around and say hes halfway to being a metalhead like you.

"youve already got the hair down." hes sat down at the couch, and youre coming around to sit next to him, a hand reaching out to feel his hair. "we're basically twins."

he huffs, turning away to hide his blush. "it aint like that. just grew out over time."

"well good. i like it."

hes grown attached to you, always spending his free time with you. that also means hes grown protective of you. he constantly lectures you on how you shouldnt just let people say whatever they wanted about you- and that if you wouldnt step up, he will.

you take in a stray cat, and daryl practically has a heart attack seeing how gentle you are with it, pampering it and laying it against daryls chest.

he lets you do stupid shit to him all the time, like dress him up in your clothes or do some light makeup on him. to show your appreciation, you gave him a kiss on the cheek. he freaks the fuck out and has to get carols advice.

your first kiss is all thanks to your lighter: its just you two outside the walls, and hes forgotten his own. youre leaning in close, the fire right underneath the cigarette. your hand is quick to steal it from his mouth, fingers brushing against his mouth. before you can blow the smoke out, hes on his tippy toes and leaning in. the way the smoke blows into his own mouth is the hottest thing youve ever seen.

hopefully didnt butcher this🤞🤞 btw this is such a cute idea im in love

[sillyandquiteawkward]

Quite often I think about how the crew would have realistically looked after 5 months of being stranded. How each character would have altered their uniform for comfort or practicality, outgrown and uncombed hair, beards and stubble, Daisuke’s roots growing out, everyone looking overall sickly, things like that. You put a lot of thought into how you design the characters, so I was curious about what you thought

hmmmm thats fun! here are some notes i think id make on the crew and their deterioration. whether or not they are realistic...well i havent done any research, this is all vibes based.

curly: well hes been degloved so thats one thing to note. ive been tossing and turning what exactly happened to curly. ive been just kinda going along with the consensus of hes badly burnt and just being vague. but i wonder if the foam also came into play, especially with his amputations and such. its strong enough to seal off the vacuum of space so? i do think he has Some skin left on the left side of his torso from his coveralls, but still not in good shape. other notes i could make would be i do think his other eye has been removed due to damage/infection by anya. and i like to note that his more severe wounds are on his right side. i think curly bit his tongue off or partially off during the crash. hes also opioid dependent and when he gets shifted to the back up meds his body suffers seriously due to withdrawal and pain from existing and he can hardly keep food down, losing even more weight.

anya: i think anya has hair on the finer side, so itd be stringy as hell when greasy. i dont think shed keep up the charade of keeping up appearances at all after the crash, shes incredibly busy and stressed, her hair is unstyled, but hand combed to avoid tangles. however she already has dark eyes and dark circles so not much changes there for me, altho shes stopped wearing any makeup due to no access to her things. i think sometimes she takes her coverall top off to be in her sweater, and sometimes in the lounge, removes her sandals to be just in her socks. at night shes always fully clothed no matter how sweaty she gets. i think anyas appetite is all sorts of fucked, and shes prone to getting morning sickness, so i think shes had the most amount of weight loss (excluding curly). she just looks hollow and tired. i think her fingernails are Gone. chewed to the bed. and it stresses her out she doing something unsanitary but pica be pica-ing. she also chews and swallows the ends of her hair. no one comments on this development.

swansea: swanseas the only guy you can actually See get worse for wear after months and its always harrowing seeing his ruddy face and stained shirt. you can see how far off the deep end hes jumped. swansea strikes me as the guy who cant grow solid facial hair so any hairs on his face are gray/light and patchy. he always looks damp, hes sweating a lot, and later on hes covered in his own sweat, vomit, and mouthwash. i think daisuke tries to corral him and get his shirt clean when it gets bad, but its a toss up if hes in an agreeable enough mood to allow daisuke to help him, in which case hes chilling shirtless until daisuke comes running back with his now slightly clean, but wet shirt. i think hes the only person whos gained weight during the crash, altho that is in no way a good thing and is more of a tell tale sign hes killing himself from the mouthwash. i think he has sleep apnea and has a cpap, so without it, hes incredibly sleep deprived, but hes used to it from pony express sleep shifts.

daisuke: as hes the guy with the freshest id card photo, taken likely right before they left, you can see his roots already growing out. a lot of the blond has grown and been cut off, and a lot of whats left is faded due to time and hair washing. after the crash, he still brushes his hair with his hands and washes it the best he can with sink water occasionally, even cutting it. i think hes also got some stubble going, but shaves it when it starts bugging him with assistance from the others. but hes got a lot of energy, he spends a lot taking care of his appearance, and he looks the best out of everyone, especially at the start, and then later after sobering. i think daisuke, being in charge of the food, feels a bit of a burden for eating a lot and cuts back. he looses some weight, mostly in his muscle and some of his chubbiness, but retains a softness about him, especially with swansea telling him to properly eat his share of rations. he takes care of his clothes. if he feels sweaty, hell take his nice shirt off, and if thats too much still, hell take his pony express shirt off as well to make sure it doesnt get stinky (as fast).

jimmy: hes self centered i think hes been focusing on keeping up appearances and has managed to shave a few times. i think daisuke made a comment on how thick his beard was growing in like his id card and he stole a scalpel to spend the next chunk of time shaving (and bleeding). he has lots of gray hairs coming in lately, and hes let his hair grow out. hes went from lean to thin but looks about the same due to his already baggy clothing choices, and i think hes upset hes sweaty and stinky and that his hair is greasy and messy. his white undershirt looks like shit due to sweat and being white, so he doesnt take his coverall top off. in fact, i dont think hes ever disrobed since the crash, to keep up appearances that hes unshakable.

[mao22716]

bonus comic ( wooo clap clap clap)

no overlay ver:

can u even see the difference....

commenting on my drawing u can ignore (pls do)

omg all my comments r gone bc i accidentally posted and i deleted it out of panic 😭😭😭😭😭

overall im very happy with this its around 80% of what i originally had in mind

in my imaginagtion i wanted the picture to look more blue bc its morning and its bright but if i put a lot of overlay the colours wont look interesting anymore i am conflicted

so ill post both with some blue overlay and without it

im gonna wait until the day after i make this draft to post so that i can see if theres anything i can improve on it has been a few hrs since i first made the draft and i made some changes to the drawing

i actually changed a few things already like the hair ribbon (it was blue previously) and the umbrella handle (it was a dark brown like the bag)

i also put some pink in the umbrella bc i thought it was too plain i hope it looks good to everyone else who might be seeing it

i want kurikos face to be the focus but i find it hard to do that bc the umbrella is also a light colour so i tried to put more shadow & hopefully theres more contrast

the bag is easier to focus on.... this is sad

the ribbons on the bag r also sad but they look like ribbons so thats good

im not good at perspective so the bottom of the skirt might look out of place but i did my best to fix it by rendering

it looks messy but its supposed to be like that pls believe me

the hair was so fun to paint theres so many colours that go well tgt and looks pleasing

mao cafe hahhha im so funny lolol

i think i could have painted the nose better but idk how to make it look better

aaaa i wanna go back and change it & put bigger dust and sparkles around the character i looked at it too long and its boring

i should redo the mouth too maybe

also i have an idea that saiki was made to wear lolita dress as kuriko bc yumehara and aiura bribed him with expensive coffee jelly

i want to make small comic i dont have confidence but ill do my best

^^^ i did it..... i hope u will like it its very messy but i think it shows what is happening clearly

[irishmammonagenda]

Boop!- Obey Me x Reader

Summary: You go on a mission to boop, as per usual chaos ensues. Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Female Reader (implied), i dont really think there's anything else but if you can see something lmk and i'll add a warning

very obviously inspired by tumblr's boop event

dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Hello Michael!" You greet, signature foxy grin on your face. Michael looks up from where he's playing Connect Four with a man in robes and waves at you.

"Hiya MC!" He puts the palms of his hands on the soft cloud ground and leans back on them, he's bare chested in the heat, though he's adorned himself with waist beads and arm bands, firm muscles on display. His long curly blond hair is in intricate braids, small ornaments threaded through it. He grins up at you, bright red eyes shining under the light of the Celestial sun. "What's brought ya up to the Celestial Realm today?"

"I am evil. I am very evil Michael." You say seriously.

The other man laughs, though not unkindly. His tanned skin shimmers ethereally under the light, dark brown eyes stare up at you, rich like soil after the morning due. Dark waves and soft curls frame his face, some soft stubble one his jawline, barely noticeable. "I'm sure you're not evil." He says kindly.

You stare at him, before smiling as well, touched. "Aww thanks! And you are?"

The man smiles, reaching his hand up, Michael takes that time to sneakily move one of the coins the man had put down a slot over. "I'm Jesus, it's nice to meet you MC."

You cough. "You're Jesus?"

"Yes." He nods, "A lot of people are shocked when they first meet me...something about expecting me to look like Da Vinci's gay lover."

You nod, dumbfounded.

Michael, sensing your inner turmoil, and also needing to keep Jesus' attention elsewhere so he could continue cheating- winning creatively in Connect 4, clears his throat, "So what's brought you to the Celestial Realm and made you claim that you're evil?"

This makes you grin, "Well, my dearest Michael....have you heard of boops?"

Michael straightens up a little bit, Jesus watches him intently, before fixing the board to its original state whilst the Archangel is distracted.

"No I have not...Why, what are they?" Michael asks, signature mischievous grin on his face. "They sound fun."

"Well I'm glad you asked Michael!" You grin, before leaning in and whispering into his ear. The added proximity made you realise he smelt of pine cone and fresh rain.

Michael giggles evilly, turning over to Jesus, before reaching a dark, jewel adorned hand and booping his nose. "Boop!"

Jesus just smiles, Crucifixion was worse. "It's your go, Michael."

"Oh of course! MC wait for this game to be over! I have...uh..business to attend to in the Devildom!"

You and Jesus share a look.

Michael looks over at you two, "You coming Jesus?"

The man smiles gently, "No thanks, I'm still traumatised from that one time when Satan tormented me in the desert."

"Oh okay...." Michael deflates the tiniest smidge before looking back at the board, spluttering. "Hey you moved the pieces!"

Jesus snorts, "Yeah, I moved the pieces back from where you tried to cheat."

"Lying's a sin." Michael huffs.

Jesus laughs, "Was that an admition of guilt?"

Michael falls onto his back dramatically, dark skin shining in the Celestial Realm's blessed light. "Ugh! Woe is me! This is worse than the time that one Irish kid got me confused with Michael Collins!"

Jesus pats his shoulder in pity. "Easter's a hard time for all of us."

Michael blinks at the scars on Jesus' palms from the nails and bites back a very bad Cross joke. "You could say that again."

After the game of Connect 4 ended, (Michael lost) you and the Archangel said your goodbyes to Jesus and began your journey down to the Devildom. Michael walks beside you, a good bit taller than you. Michael having swapped out his less than covering attire for a flowy white flare sleeved top that you'd imagine a pirate or a Victorian would wear, the lace buttons are undone for the most part, as per usual. You'd come to learn that the Archangel hated top buttons with a burning passion.

"I call Lucikins." Michael says with about as much seriousness as a 10 year old calling shotgun on the front seat of the car. So very serious.

"Fine. I call Mammon." You reply, looking up at him, as if daring him to try and boop your first man before you could. He pouts, but relents.

"I call Satan then." Michael blinks back at you with crimson eyes.

"No why?" You sulk.

Michael shrugs. "He's my nephew. I get to boop his nose it's the law."

"No it's not."

"Yeah it is!"

"Prove it then." You huff.

Michael turns around and you hear fidgeting before he hands you a paper napkin with writing on it. You notice the fountain pen he sneakily snuck back into his trouser pocket and glare at him, before reading the napkin.

The Eleventh Commandment: Thou shall let Michael boop his nephew's nose.

You hum, "Something's telling me this is fake."

Michael gasps incredulously, as if offended by the very notion, he places a hand over his breast, where his heart is. "How dareth thou! Truly, 'tis a crime against nature to speak such filth about the Holy Word. A crime against God I daresay!"

"Okayy...drama king."

Michael gasps again. "Alas! Thou speaketh such filth! Such blasphemy to thee! Thy words...such horrors! Cursed are thou amongst humankind!"

You deadpan. "I'm taking away your Shakespeare rights."

"Try it I dare you." Michael challenges, red eyes gleaming with something predatory. "You can boop Simeon."

You grin. "Yay!"

"I call Luke."

Your grin drops. "What the frickety flip that's my son."

Michael's brows furrow. "He's my son too what the flip."

You gasp, bringing your hands to your mouth. "Did we?..."

Michael's eyes widen, he pulls his top up and counts his ribs, losing count several times because you keep adding random numbers in. He looks up at you.

"Did we have a child out of Wedlock?!"

You and Michael look at each other in object horror. Both conveniently ignoring the fact that Luke technically came into existence millennias before you.

"I think we did...." You place your hand over your brow like a Victorian woman seeing the ankles of her secret lesbian lover for the first time.

Michael follows suit.

"Michael....I fear we might be sinners...."

"Well you know what they say in the human world MC...." Michael sniffles, looking away from you dramatically. "Sinner sinner chicken dinner...."

You pause, breaking character. "Is it not Winner winner chicken dinner?"

Michael shrugs. "Not like I care."

You parrot his movement, shrugging your shoulders back as well, before the horror creeps back onto your expression. "But...Simeon and Barbatos also see Luke as their son...."

Michael looks at you wide eyed, grabbing you by the shoulders, "MC! We have to count their ribs!"

You put your head in your hands, "Two angels, a demon and a human with angel blood that's somehow an angel....our son is a hybrid!"

Michael gasps. "Hybrid princess?"

You do a double take. "Why do you know what gacha is." You breath out, looking at Michael in genuine fear.

"I wasn't a gacha kid don't worry! Levi was though! He'd show me his little Gacha stories that he made...." Michael looks nostalgic. "Such an adorable little weirdo....he gets it from Lucifer y'know."

"If I described Lucifer as an adorable little weirdo I think he'd skin me alive."

"That sounds like a you problem." Michael grins.

You and Michael continue your journey down to the Devildom, only this time he's giving you a piggy back ride because you annoyed him until he agreed. Strong hands hold your thighs to keep you from falling, as your arms are wrapped around his neck.

You had been 'calling' people to boop.

"I call Diavolo."

"Deal." Michael nods, trying and failing to twist his head around to face you because you're on his back and he's not an owl. "I don't want to accidentally start another Celestial War by booping the Prince and acting King of the Devildom's nose."

"That's surprisingly a good reason."

"Fuck you mean surprisingly?" Michael scoffs, though there's no real bite to it. "I'm always having good reasons."

"Yeah and I'm the spawn of Satan." You say sarcastically, human world side winning over for a second, until you remember that Satan is in fact a real person and that you are in fact now in the Devildom.

Michael laughs, "You know who Satan's the spawn of? Lucifer."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

"What's he gonna do? Bully me while I'm in a desert? Jokes on him, I hate sand and don't go anywhere near it."

"I don't feel safe anymore, we're gonna get jumped."

Michael laughs.

"I call Levi, I need to return an anime to him anyway." Michael breaks the silence.

"You borrow animes from Levi?"

"Yeah sometimes, me and Saint Peter watch animes at the gates of Heaven when it's a slow day and not a lot of souls are being guided into it."

"Nah imagine dying and waking up in heaven to see the people at the gates watching anime."

Michael sticks out his tongue, though stops when he remembers you're on his back and can't see it.

"I call Barbatos."

Michael sighs in relief, carrying you through the streets of the Devildom. "Thank God, you can have him. Good luck with that."

"Go fuck yourself Michael. I call Thirteen."

Michael gasps excitedly. "Tell her I say hi!"

"Tell her yourself."

Michael huffs. "You're so mean to me MC."

You bite his neck, really embodying your inner feral street cat. He yelps. "Don't try to steal my wife, next time I'll bite your jugular pretty boy."

Michael laughs, "I am quite pretty..." He flips his hair, the intricate golden braids and curls hit you in the face, seeing as you're still on his back. You let out a sound similar to a feral street cat coughing up a hairball, he laughs again. "Also I'm pretty sure Thirteen is a lesbian."

You perk up. "Oh yay! You should be the priest at our wedding Michael. You don't have a choice."

"Fine." The archangel huffs, his plump lips pouty. "But only if Luke's the flower boy."

"I was gonna make him the ring boy giver person." You reply, playing with one of the ornaments braided into Michael's hair.

"Even better!"

Moments of comfortable silence last before you decide to break it because you're evil and have no moral code whatsoever.

"Michael you can have Solomon."

Said Archangel halts. Dropping you off of his back before turning to look at you, now strewn out on the ground. He puts his hand over his brow like a Victorian man who just saw the ankles of his gay lover. (Probably Solomon: You'd decided.)

"No! How couldeth thou?" He sighs dramatically before it just turns exhasperated. "Those rumours just died down...."

You jump up off of the ground, wiping the soil from your clothes, "They have?! Dammit!"

Michael deadpans at you, pulling at a golden coil of hair and letting it be stretched straight before letting go and watching it bounce back up into a curl again. "I hate you."

"That's harsh."

After having separated from Michael, you sneak into your First Man's room. He sits lazily, lounging on his bed and scrolling mindlessly through his DDD. So enraptured he doesn't even notice your presence just yet until you press your finger to his nose.

"Boop!"

"ARGHH-" he screeches, jumping atleast five feet in the air before realising it was you and scoffing. "Oh...It's you...o-of course ye'd wanna boop the Great Mammon's nose! That'll cost ya!" He huffs, trying to avoid the initial embarassment of you seeing him so uncool!

"Boop!" You boop him again, he grins stupidly like an idiot inlove, before snapping out of it and putting his 'too cool for this' persona back on.

"T-that'll cost ye! MC!" He stutters, trying to cover his blush.

"Oh will it now?" You raise a brow before bringing your lips to his nose and pecking it there, pulling away again in less than a second. "Boop."

He pulls you in for a hug before you can pull away completely. You grin, having reduced the Avatar of Greed to a blushy pile of mush in your arms.

Take that Alpha Male podcasters who think women want dominant mean men who suck and hate them. Everyone knows all women want a Mammon.

You and Michael meet back up again. Michael having a scratch on his leg.

"Satan did not like the fact that I booped him at first...until I gave him an emergency kitten that I put in a cage nearby like 5 minutes before." Michael says, noticing that you noticed the scratch. "He almost bit me! He's definitely Lucikin's son!"

You point and laugh at him. He pouts, before interlocking your arms. "Purgatory hall?"

"Purgatory hall." You nod.

Michael knocks on the door. Luke answers it before gasping like a child on christmas. "Michael! Hi!" He hugs the Archangel who laughs and picks him up.

The blond boy notices you at that point, he smiles brightly. "Oh MC! Hi!"

"Hiya Luke!" You smile at him, booping his nose. "Boop!"

"Michael follows suit. "Boop!"

Luke blinks before grumbling. "I'm not a child..." He then turns his head back towards Michael who's still holding him. "Boop!"

Michael laughs. "Do MC now!" With that he quickly moves closer to you, Luke still in his arms, and the young angel boops your nose too. You all grin, laughing. Luke just ecstatic that Michael was able to visit. And he brought you too!

You end up watching a movie together, all three of you. Simeon comes home halfway through it. Having had to visit a publishers. Michael hides behind the door and when Simeon opens it, the dark skinned angel pops out, booping the poor man. "Boop!"

Simeon blinks at him. Michael smirks lightheartedly "Get booped Loserboy."

Simeon smiles, his gaze turning toward you." MC would you lie any help with your Solomon x Michael fanfiction? I heard from Satan that you two were on hiatus."

Michael groans. "Traitors!"

You laugh. "Get fanficked Loserboy."

Michael grins, putting on faux dramatics. "You both suck I'm going back into Luke! At least he's actually cool."

After a lovely movie with Luke, Simeon and Michael, you run away to a cave because why not?

After entering Thirteen's very lovely abode, and avoiding all of the traps laid out for Solomon, you finally catch a glimpse of her vibrant ombre hair.

"Hiya Tee!" You grin, pouncing on her and pulling her into a hug. The reaper, who's clearly batshit insane doesn't even flinch, she just laughs, hugging you back even tighter.

"MC! To what do I owe the pleasure babes?"

You giggle michieviously before bringing your hand up and, "Boop!"

She grins wider, bloodied emerald eyes staring back at you so lovingly, hints of playful devilry in her expression.

"Oh let me try! Boop!" She says before pulling you in for a kiss that makes your knees feel weak.

When you both pull away to catch a breath, you breathe out breathlessly. "That was a super boop....an evil boop even..." You say, face burning red, you know she feels the red hotness of your cheeks.

She just laughs. Tilting her head, some strands of hair falling into her face. "You want another one?"

You've never nodded quicker in your life.

"How in Diavolo's name did you get in here?" Lucifer asks, looking up from the work on his desk. He quickly closes over the confidential files and paperwork, turning his head to Michael once more. Blood red eyes narrowed at their counterpart's.

Michael approaches the Demon at a speed that could rival Mammon's. In an instant he's beside the raven-haired man. "Awww Lucikins don´t worry about it! Boop!"

Lucifer swallows thickly, and flicks his gaze to Michael. Despite having the glare of a thousand suns on him, Michael continues grinning. "Did you...did you just boop my nose?..." The Avatar of Pride asks in a low voice.

"I'm not too sure if I did..." Michael puts his fingers to his chin in mock thought, before grinning, pointer finger in the air. "I'll have to do it again to make sure!" The Archangel exclaims before booping his younger brother on the nose. "Boop!"

Lucifer growls. "Michael-"

"Yes, Lucikins?"

"Michael I am going to kill you."

The elder only laughed, "Awww classic Lucikins! Still in his teenage angst phase!"

"I did not have a teenage angst phase." Lucifer glares, huffing embarassedly, turning away and picking up his quill in an attempt to turn away from this god awful conversation.

Michael gives him a knowing look. "Don't make me pull out the photos."

His head snaps back to his elder brother. "What photos?"

"The photos of you with the wolf cut, the ones with you and the eyeliner, the ones where you're all dressed up in your little emo costumes..." Michael wipes a tear from his eye. "Oh...you were so adorable! Always threatening to murder me...! Glad to see that my wittle baby brother hasn't changed!" The Archangel exclaims, pinching his younger brother's cheeks and making them squish up, Lucifer felt his face flush with embarrassment. Michael laughed, he looked like a chipmunk!

"...'m no' a 'ittle ba'y bro'er! you'r tw' minu'es ol'er than 'ee!" Lucifer tries to shout, but with Michael pushing his cheeks together, it comes out muffled and distorted.

"All I heard is that you said I'm the best big brother in the three realms and you love me very much!"

Lucifer glares at him. A glare that doesn't hold any weight seeing as Michael is still squishing his cheeks together and he still looks like a chipmunk.

With enough squirming and fighting, Lucifer finally manages to get out of his brother's grip, he rubs his cheeks, staring daggers at the angel. "I would never say that. I'm not your baby brother. I'm not Lucikins. You're two minutes older than me yet two centuries more immature." He says venomously.

Too bad Michael's poison proof.

The Archangel laughs, "You're not my baby brother? Huh? Who's bed did you climb in when you were scared of the thunder back in the Celestial Realm?"

Lucifer bristles, swallowing thickly, "That's irrelevant."

"Sureee." Michael grins, though it's softer around the edges, Lucifer feels it too.

Lightning flashes in the Celestial realm. Long before Mammon had even been born. Thunder roars, a small whimper sounds. Lucifer sits in his bed, covers over his head, gripping a pillow tightly. Barely even a cherub, he takes the slight break in the storm to gather the courage to waddle over to his twin's bed.

"Mikey?" Lucifer whispers in the darkness, gripping onto the poles of the bed with his tiny pale hands. "Mikey...you awake?" He says through gapped teeth, a slight lisp in his voice. The gap between his two front teeth would close with time.

The sheets rustle, a young Michael groans, also barely a cherub his voice is as high pitched and childlike as his brother's. "Luci...go to sleep..." The slightly older cherub says, eyes still closed.

"Can't Mikey...'s too loud.." Lucifer whispers, black hair sticking to his forehead in a slight sheen of sweat. As if to prove his point, thunder roars again, lightning flashes. Lucifer whimpers, gripping the pole tighter.

Michael sits up sleepily, short curly hair tied in the tiniest protective braids possible, some small blond coils escaping their confines at the edges of his head. The older cherub wipes a small, chubby hand over his eyes and yawns before opening his duvet up just enough so that Lucifer could climb in.

"Make sure...go to sleep Lucikins..." Michael whispers tiredly, covering his yawning mouth before abandoning his teddy bear and putting his arm around his little brother instead.

Thunder sounds again. Lucifer stiffens and lets out a small sound. "Mikey...'m scared..." He grips onto his twins matching pajamas tightly with his tiny little hands.

Michael grins sleepily, red eyes staring into his twins same coloured ones. "Don't worry Lucikins! 'm always gonna p'tect you! That's wha' big brothers are for!"

The thunder still sounds, Lucifer still stiffens slightly,but surrounded by the warmth and comfort of his twin, he manages to sleep soundly.

After all the madness and badness. (Devil face emoji) You and Michael meet up in a Devildom café.

"That was productive!" The Archangel grins.

"Indeed it was Michael....indeed it was...." You say, a blissed out look on your face.

Michael arches a brow, "Is that one of Thirteen's leather jackets?"

"Maybe..." You say dreamily, playing with the sleeves.

Michael just laughs at you. "Get it, I guess! Anyway wanna watch Gilmore Girls with me? I need to catch up with Raphael...he's a few episodes ahead of me."

"Of course I do."

Michael brings his hands together in an imitation of a fly on a wall doing the hand thing. "Excellent."

.

.

.

"Do you think Luke's going to grow up to open a coffee shop?"

"Nah, he'd open a bakery."

this is utter bullshit and utter dogshit idek

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (viii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : the triplets' birthday party is a perfect place for flirting, tension, and... well, matt and y/n's forte.

warnings : use of alcohol, weed and smut ( just a lil flithy icl ), beware that the word count on this ho is crazy - meaning i did not proofread!

mickey speaks : this took a MINUTE to get out im sawrryyyy. i tried to fit everything into one part and ended up rewriting almost the entire part last minute (which is most of the reason why this is very delayed), sooo hope you love??? bc i dont lmfao also the triplets r a couple yrs older in this (turning 23)

THIS IS PART EIGHT GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

"JESUS, matt. can you take this seriously, please?" chris scoffs, taking the dry-erase marker cap from its awkward spot between his teeth.

matt's not one to continue adding his opinion knowing it won't be listened to. he prefers to leave the impossible-to-get-a-word-in debating to nick and chris who have no problem yelling over each other to the point that they don't even know what the issue ever was.

so he's found comfort in sitting at the dining room table with his eyes firmly closed and arms used as a pillow for his head, leaving nothing but a dollop of his hair to be shown, or as he told chris "attempting to find peace for myself while living with you chaotic fucks."

"what could you possibly want from me?" matt asks without moving from his face down position, voice muffled and strained.

"i want you to fight for your opinion! don't you care about what we do for our birthday?!" chris stresses while nick rolls his eyes and falls into a bored stance, leaning against the dark marble counter.

matt finally raises his head causing his face to scrunch up and eyes to squint due to the sudden and bright change in lighting, "no? i actually don't give a shit, chris."

chris first feels the instigator within him sighing in defeat only for his pride to take center. he figures if nick has practically given up and matt cares so little, that gives him all of the creative action for birthday plans. exactly what he wanted.

his lips form a tight line to hide his satisfaction as he shakes his head slowly, unevenly wiping his hand across the magnetic white board (that he used to write the many ideas thrown around in his head, mistakenly thinking a visual would narrow things down for him and nick). “‘kay. then i’m getting nate to help plan us a house party and it'll be fucking perfect. because i care.”

౨ৎ

you've never been so grateful of your front door's placement this close to the kitchen. but carrying three cake boxes and a tote bag the size of your torso, desperately needing to put them down after traveling up three flights of stairs, will surely be the task that brings that gratitude out of you.

though when you arrive, your scrunched eyebrows and pouted lips are an apparent contrast to the enthusiastic vibe of your kitchen- with andrea moving her hips to the lines of spanish dancing in the air, waiting patiently for the sizzling indication of her fried egg's tenderness, and the use of pink lemonade-colored towels or handles on utensils (that made you and andrea way too happy during one of your first target runs as roommates) scattered around.

drea finally notices you when your metal keychain clanks against the countertop, "y/n!" her excitement slightly dulls with her widened eyes when she gets a better view of your face, turning the stove off and coming closer to hug you. "hi, good morning-ish. are you feeling okay? ...or, like, sad?" you silently accept her gesture and tuck your head in her neck while she caresses your hair with a sigh, "or both at the same time...?"

your response is a breathy sigh and pause before the words tumble out, "m'fine, i think. just overestimated myself a little with staying up so late." you remove your head from her neck and move backwards to lean against the countertop, fanning your hands to create a much needed breeze, "and i'm so hot, it's making me feel gross."

andrea peers into the clear plastic cutout on top of one of the boxes, "at least the cakes look nice."

a week ago you set your mind on gifting the triplets their own cakes for their birthday (thinking that sharing a day was already enough, no way would you want them to have to share and agree on only one cake). you easily gathered their cake preferences by sneaking it into any random conversations you'd have with each of them.

and after a week of planning and preparing, was it so bad if you wanted a fun night in with your roomie? andrea warned you several times to go to bed considering you'd be up at 5:30 the next morning, but you insisted that you'd be fine and asked her to help you clear the rest of the box-wine in the fridge.

you could tell matt was a little irritated that you chose rewatching episodes of a sitcom and "cheap ass box-wine" over sex with him (of course throwing the fact that his birthday would be arriving in only a few hours right in your face) but you pioneered and assured him that you'll make time for him the next day, while also sweetly reminding him that you too have a life outside of this exchange.

at midnight you sent the triplets a group message to congratulate. and a few minutes later you left andrea on the couch for your room, sending matt a birthday text of his own (because you did feel the tiniest bit guilty for rejecting him earlier) paired with a picture with your shirt lifted, hem tucked behind your teeth, and your boobs sat in a sheer bra with decorative white trimming and a bow in the center.

he didn't respond for almost an hour and you tried to not feel embarrassed or overthink his reaction at all.

you couldn't stand the giddiness that came over you (you'd blame it on being the slightest bit tipsy) when you finally got into bed to find his response gentle, in his own matt-kind-of-way, with your image loved and a grayed bubble text reading: "Very pretty, thank you"

"thanks, drea. they were a bitch to make." water drowns out your voice as you start to wash your hands in the deep sink. you run your soapy fingers over a small cut you got when dealing with an irritating cardboard box earlier, finding the stinging of the hot water a wonderful kind of bitter that further plays into your foul mood.

"mmm... i'm sure. but it's not like you can even tell. they almost look store-bought," she attempts to flatter you, turning her head from the packaged desserts to offer a smile.

when you're sweet you're the most ripe, juicy peach, eveyone knows this. but god, when you're feeling down you really are the most cranky, green apple that could force a pucker onto even the most undaunted. your face is dragged of any aloofness or sunshine with your dry response as she turns to resume her breakfast, "uh huh. you don't have to coddle me. i'll get over myself soon, i promise." you dry your hands.

andrea would argue she's not coddling only looking out for your well being- because she wants to and knows if she were neglecting her needs you'd be right on her ass as well, "okay...and did you eat?"

"just like, a bagel before i left," you open the fridge and let the door hang open as you walk across the kitchen to grab the cake boxes and set them inside. you make sure to mind your feet, noticing figaro nosily has his furry face lifted to sniff into the side door.

she strings some sarcasm into her sentiment, "oh yum." she pauses, letting the sizzle of the egg and (now faint) music linger in the air before she speaks again, "how about you go take a shower or do something that'll make you feel a little better?"

"you know i would but being around my favorite roommate is already making me feel sooo much better!" you deliver the dry joke with a smile and pick up figaro when you shut the fridge door with an accidental slam.

she turns to look at you over her shoulder as she grabs two glass plates for the both of you, scolding you like a mother (as she tended to transform into at times like this due to her essentially parenting her younger siblings) "y/n, you're only fighting yourself, go ahead now."

౨ৎ

matt can hear chris' voice only grow louder and pound against the hallway walls but assumes he is heading anywhere but the space that matt's in, deciding to continue brushing his teeth instead.

he'd only be so lucky on his birthday.

"but yeah-" chris interrupts himself to knock and barely wait for an answer before he walks into matt's sleek bathroom. "matt's here!" his phone is carelessly thrown in front of matt's face (with a frothing mouth and irritated eyes) before he has truly registered anything that has happened.

he truly wants to roll his eyes infinitely but when he sees his mother is the one on the phone, his grumpy front is quickly wilted and a glimmer kisses his spirit in a way only she could produce.

it's clear she hadn't expected matt to be in the middle of something as personal as brushing his teeth when she first sees him, "oh, hi matt!" she understands him well enough to know he absolutely hates this (this being chris unnecessarily close to him as he hunches over to keep matt's face in the camera) so she attempts to amuse him, "wow, you're really showing your age now, aren't you? just looking so put together and nice." she laughs to herself as matt tries to not smile whilst brushing, holding his index finger up to indicate that he would address her with words in only a moment.

"chris, honey, why'd you bring me to your brother when he's busy, anyway?! now we're just watchin' him brush his teeth and the angles you're givin' me are so awkward," she emphasizes her sentence as it goes on.

chris turns the phone back to himself, "because you told me to show him?!"

"no, i said 'where's matt?'" she corrects him in jest.

"okay, so am i incorrect in saying that there was an implication-?"

matt dries his face with a towel and grabs the phone scolding chris, "hey we get it, smartass-" he turns to look at her again with a smile, "sorry mom."

"mhm," she dismisses, "when's this party of yours starting?"

"soon i think," matt moves around chris to exit the bathroom, leaving chris (literally) in the dark.

"okay and how's your birthday been so far?" he smiles knowing how excited she's always been about these things.

"good, i don't feel any different. just doin' the same stuff, except today there's way more people sending me texts and pretending the care about me." matt places the phone against a bowl full of chips in the kitchen, waving when he notices chris followed him.

"get down here nick, mom's on the phone!" chris yells, coming into frame and leaning on the counter. "jeez, matt's masochism can't give any of us a break even on days literally made for our happiness. you hearin' this kid ma?"

matt shakes his head, pointing to chris with his handful of chips, "spell masochism."

chris' eyes pinch and before their mother or chris himself reply, nick is running over to them with a smile and yell of "im heree!!"

she's has the much-expected motherly urge to cry seeing her three sons (whom she rarely sees anymore) all in the same frame, "aw, hi nicky! just look at you boys...so sweet."

it only takes another second before she's crumbling in tears. their smiles drop as chris grabs his phone. they all begin spilling out the most comforting phrases they know to cheer her up.

౨ৎ

"okay people! cake is coming through! everyone move. move, move...precious cargo right here and your ass is in the way!" asha yells and shines her phone's flashlight into the faces in the crowded living room as she ushers the girls to the kitchen.

she earns a few glares that she happily dishes back and a few mumbles of "bitch" once she's walked past that has remi "accidentally" stepping on a certain people's shoes while following asha's lead.

the modern open kitchen hosts plenty of drinks and snacks as well as a worried nathan, who's shirt is barely on his torso from the amount of buttons he's undone since stepping foot in the wild space. "oh thank god the cake's are here," he sighs with a throw of his head before frantically moving a platter of chips and guac (that someone was actively eating from) and a few six packs from the island to the opposite counter, encouraging the girls to place them down with an awkward nod of his head and harsh blink of his eyes.

asha holds back a laugh at nate's odd vibe as she moves next to him, nudging his shoulder, "what's wrong with you?"

"nothing," his head whips to look at her, "well, i mean, think 'm just nervous." he starts slow but it seems he needed someone to finally prompt him to share such a frustrated rant, "like- chris comes to me and asks me to throw him the best party. yet he doesn't give me shit to work with besides his home to host it in-" he breathes, "and 'm feelin' all the pressure of planning a party right now but, you know, i just need things to go smooth and then i'll be fine..." he runs a hand through his hair, "you ladies don't worry about me." he fakes a smile and gives a small wave of his wrist to show just how "fine" he is.

coinciding with nate's rant, you've began to pour a hefty amount of vodka and lemon juice (you absolutely scoured the fridge for) into a large glass. you hand it off to andrea with a pleading "mix" as you lick the remaining lemon juice from your thumb and open cabinets to search for shot glasses.

you line up a multitude of shot glasses with various cities labeled on them as andrea pours the mixture in carefully. you immediately bring one up to nathan, "lemon drop?"

"yes, please. no way your a fucking bartender and baker?" nate's eyes widen as he receives the small glass.

"no, definitely not. just live with a girl whois always making her own drinks at home," you smile and grab your own glass as the rest of the girls follow suit.

"i need this right now," remi starts, "let's cheers to drea's DIY shit and nathan making it through the rest of the night!" she woops and the group all let out various chuckles.

"a-fuckin'-men!" nate leans to clink the small glasses softly before taking the shot quickly. he barely recovers from the shot before he's pouring more vodka into his glass and taking a second.

you get the best view of chris turning the corner and seeing you all (his reaction is more specifically for andrea) have arrived. his jaw hangs dramatically as he walks over but quickly turns to a big smile when the group all start to sing happy birthday to him. "stop it! stop it!" he jokes and begins to give out hugs and thank each of you for coming. he stops and squeezes you extra tight, bringing up the cakes sat nearby, "i know that bakery anywhere. thank you for my cake."

"of course, i had to," you smile.

"no seriously, you're fuckin' awesome, girl." you can tell he's already a little buzzed from the look in his eyes but you also know he's almost more truthful than ever when drunk.

you notice that when he leaves you to finally greet your roommate, it's very clear he's purposely left andrea last to ensure there would be no rush on his interaction.

the rest of the group leave them to their own world for a moment; as the two hug chris gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering "hi, mi cariña (my darling)" an inside joke between the two of them as chris' struggle with speaking spanish never fails to make andrea laugh.

౨ৎ

"okay, okay, i'll do it," matt finally gives in, lifting himself off of the black couch with people piled on top of it. he hands his drink over to elijah smoothly and begins to playfully rub his hands together.

"'hold my beer' headass," elijah jokes placing the cup off on a side table next to him. matt stops any movement, turning his torso to look back at the boy and start to laugh while holding both middle fingers up.

"matt," erin taps him with the side of her arm twice to get his attention again, handing him the second wii remote in her hands. the screen appears extra bright in contrast to the dimness of the room which causes matt to wonder how the fuck anyone has managed to play just dance in this space without getting a sudden head rush or worse.

"okay, let's do timber because it's classic," she suggests.

"let's not," matt opposes, his hand covering his mouth to hide a grin before running his cursor over the other choices.

erin looks over to him with a blank expression, "i mean i don't care that much you can-"

"'m joking, we'll do timber," matt looks from her to the colorful screen to find the song once more.

when he notices she's stiil looking over at him with an unreadable expression, matt smiles big attempting to not laugh, causing his already-slim eyes to pinch a little extra as he turns to her, "hey e, the screen's right up there, you won't be getting much direction from starin' at me-" he breaks into obnoxious laughter mid-way through his sentence which earns him a small smack on the arm.

erin laughs a little now, "would you stop it? just click 'a' on your fucking remote."

he does as she says and looks to her as the screen loads, "thereee we go, you can cool down now, sweetheart."

as the two dance both matt and his friends make one-off comments and jokes about the many times matt almost fell (and would make sure to blame it on the rug or his shoes). they seem to be having such a great time that you don't know if you only being there for the final few lines of the song, watching erin ride matt's back as they spin in circles laughing, is fortunate or unfortunate.

the claps and whistles are wild when the two finish with a bow, the crowd around them only getting louder when matt teases that he's so hot he might have to take off his shirt, lifting it slightly then putting it back down and calling them pervs. you only shake your head and bite back a smile, hating how fucking charming he is when he allows himself to be completely lost in a good time.

matt would say you snuck onto the sectional couch- because a minute ago you weren't there and now here you are talking elijah's ear off and taking repeated hits of his blunt.

but you wouldn't say you snuck into his area, rather walked in a manner in which you'd be out of his and erin's way- of course not taking away from the birthday boy and his...good friend. so you're a bit surprised he slumps on the couch next to you and not in his original spot on the opposite side of eli, "sunnnyy," he huffs and leans his head back against the couch, "when'd you get here, huh?"

you turn to look at him and he smiles at you then looks up to the ceiling, "think an hour ago? maybe?" you hand him the blunt.

"cool, cool, cool..." matt repeats cutting himself off by placing it in his mouth. he's dressed so stylish and attractive you can't help but scan over him with your eyes; his jersey-style shirt showing off his armfuls of tattoos, baggy jeans, car keys hanging on a cheetah print clip attached to his belt loop, shoes that look straight out of the box, a matching hat that you honestly wish he'd take off, and his signature silver jewelry brightening his attributes in the otherwise dark room.

he makes the slightest "tsss" sound when breathing in the drug before speaking with smoke plummeting from his mouth, "you should dance next," he brings it back to his mouth for a final hit.

"mmm maybe...if lucas is up for it," you play with the metal can of a wine cooler that you hold on your bare knee as matt leans over you to hand an occupied eli his blunt back, his laugh trails smoke out of his mouth and into your face as he slouches back next to you.

"forgot you're fuckin, hilarious! holy shit." his hand makes its way up his own shirt to rest on his stomach as he giggles.

a smile grows on your face, "no seriously is he here?" you lift yourself up a little and pretend to look for the familiar face.

"stop that." matt chuckles and tugs your wrist gently. you almost get nervous this time when you look him in the eyes. when he's drunk, matt is so carefree and giggly in a way you rarely get to see. and now you’re starting to notice how the poor lighting makes his features appear arched and his face look carved into, yet the jagged becomes soft and fuzzy whenever the gumdrop-colored lights of the wii game hit his face with the beat of the song. he notices your staring and lets go of your wrist, "what's up?"

"nothing."

"excuse me everyone! i would like to give a speech! hello, i am giving a speechhh! everyone shut up, please!" nick projects his voice into the microphone- he stole from the karaoke machine -while standing on a dining room chair.

as people start to calm down nick speaks, "right, so, it's my fuckin' birthday!” he raises his arms and dances his fingers before pointing out matt, “and it's matt's fuckin' birthday, right over there! let's get some flashlights pointing over to my brother please!" matt’s face flushes as he covers his eyes from the sudden bright lights. you squint your own eyes from next to him and move closer to eli to avoid the flashes.

"and it's chris' fuckin' birthday..." nick looks around, "i couldn't tell you where exactly he is, just know that he is also here tonight!” the crowd roars, “anyway... i'm so- so happy to have you all with us tonight to celebrate. we turn twenty fucking three and... that feels so old saying it out loud. holy shit." nick cringes obnoxiously, slurring his next few words, "but i love my two best friends in the whole world: chris and matt, i wouldn’t wish to share a birthday with anyone else… and i love all of you thank you again. oh! and shout out nathan for holding this shit down! if you see nathan give him something... i don't know- money? a kiss? a drink? fuck if i know." as nick speaks cameron nudges him with a shot glass which he finally acknowledges, "and apparently this is a toast now so, you know, here's to getting older and having the most fun forever!" he raises the glass in the air and drinks it without further thought, inviting everyone to do the same while cheering and applauding him in excitement.

you raise your wine cooler and let out many cheers along with the rest, but of course matt ridicules you a little in jest, "really? you sit here and 'woo' while i'm going blind?!" he’s still wiping at his eyes, dealing with the aftermath of bright lights shining in his eyes; his vision tainted with faint blue and red splotches only for a second. you lean closer to him, attempting to see his eyes better while uncontrollably laughing.

"are you crying?!"

matt thinks you look really pretty even when you're quite literally pointing and laughing in his face. you move his hands away from his face and he widens his eyes dramatically, "look, no 'm not!” you shake your head in response, “does really it look like it?"

you notice his bottom eyelashes are slightly clumped and you move your hand closer, placing your thumb under his eye, "baby, that's damp!" you giggle and pull his hand close, using your thumb to draw a wet line across his tattooed wrist to prove your point.

he drags out his first word, "alrighttt. whatever! you got me, sweet girl. ‘cause god forbid i have the ability to cry?!” pulling away from you with a smile as he dries his eyes by rubbing them gently.

matt excuses himself with a quick "gonna go grab another drink or somethin'" before he does something irrational like kiss you in front of all these fucking people.

౨ৎ

you carefully open each of the packaged cakes, each revealing the boys' full names written in cursive with the uniquely styled and colored buttercream frosting you made that very morning. you used the same shades to make the puffed frosting border of the cakes, for an easy, soft garnish. remi follows behind you, lighting candles on the cakes as you go.

there's a chaos that comes with trying to gather this many (drunk) people in one area and capture their attention long enough to sing then cut cakes. it doesn’t help that the hosts are at their most unserious themselves; matt and nick both snickering and making jokes while holding onto each other while chris talks to one of his friends off to the side with his obnoxiously loud voice without regard for anyone around him.

“okay, people we’re singing!” nathan attempts to yell over the loudness of the crowded room. you and remi are then in the position of getting the attention of the birthday boys who can’t focus on the task at hand, leaving you both to snap your fingers and call them as if you were attempting to take photos of a stubborn baby.

you truly wish it didn’t irk you so terribly but you can’t help your annoyance when matt looks over to erin after she shouts from next to you, “matt, can you pay attention? your cake’s ready,” and he listens, moving nick off of him with a shoulder nudge and laugh as he approaches the row of cakes.

you recover quickly with a smile once both matt and nick’s eyes widen and mouths hang open in awe of your hard work, “s’perfect,” matt whispers to himself, now adjusting his hat to fit backwards.

“oh my god, the wax got in my cake! what the fuck,” nick whines and that cues drea to tug chris’ arm softly and urge him with a hushed, “chris ven aquí (come here)!”

and he's is down so terribly that he moves to where she wants him immediately.

chris is a known sap, especially when wasted, so he’s stood fighting the urge to cry when taking in the scene in front of him: his brothers and friends gathered together to celebrate their twenty three years of life together.

he tucks his lip into his mouth and looks down at the burning flame, slowly smiling when everyone around them begin to sing a rendition of happy birthday with all the charmingly bad high notes and run on “you”s but not forgetting to crunch all three names into a single line.

midway through the song, chris leans to hug matt in comfort while sneaking a reach into matt’s back pocket to grab the slim joint he just knew would be there. he grins to himself, “sweet! free j and free light,” placing it into his mouth as he leans over his cake to spark the joint hanging in his mouth with as much precision as possible. andrea shakes her head in confusion while filming on her phone beside to you.

“dude,” matt lets out a breathy laugh while waving his hand to clear the atmosphere of the potent smoke. sudden applause recognizing the end of the song and leading the three to blow out their candles.

matt gave up on birthday wishes a while into his teen years and nothing changes this year; he blows his candles out and claps along with the crowd before accepting his joint from chris for a few puffs of celebration.

you watch in amusement as nathan distracts the boys with shots to get them away from the cakes as andrea begins to cut. except no shot could beat the view of andrea bent over the counter like she is now, so chris is practically on top of drea with annoying whines of “i wanna see,” when she asks him to be careful and wait a second.

you, however, are actively searching for the spiked punch that elijah recommended when you run into erin and matt talking. they both look to you with different expressions as you squeeze yourself by them to get to the punch bowl.

you remind yourself that erin is your friend, not your enemy. nor your competition. meaning you also have to remind yourself that matt is some guy you fuck around with, not your boyfriend.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in while grabbing a plastic cup and using a small ladle to pour the peach colored liquid for yourself. instead of flat-out staring at the two, you take turns looking from them to your cup. you watch as they pose for a picture; erin taking his hat to place on her own head and matt smiling next to her. and another with her kissing his cheek as he laughs.

it’s upsetting- no, humiliating to you. and how especially humiliating that your first thought is whether he’ll dismiss you for erin when you ask him to fuck you later tonight? you blame the weed for getting you so worked up over minutiae interactions.

you’re brought out of your daze in the most humbling of ways: a sudden splash hits your bare foot and covers your black kitten heels in the sticky juice. “fuck,” you groan and place the ladle back into the punch bowl, taking a large sip of your overflowing drink as you look down at the puddle of pink you’re standing in.

you find a towel laying nearby and lower yourself to fumble and wipe your shoe.

“damn y/n, you like my punch that much?” a voice asks from next to you.

you look up and see lucas smiling down at you, “you made it?” you ask genuinely as he helps you rise to standing again.

“no,” he smiles and you roll your eyes, “but im wondering how you managed to spill any with this itty bitty fucking ladle?” he jokes, lifting the ladle and watching it pour the small bit of juice it managed to gather back into the bowl.

“i just wasn’t paying attention,” you laugh and sip your drink again.

“mhm…why’s that?” he squints his eyes down at you.

you tap two of your french tip fingernails against your skull, “so much is happening up here.”

“like what?”

“i don’t knowww,” you smirk and look away to take another sip of your drink.

“well, i know you look sexy as fuck in this dress right now. look at you,” he wets his lips and offers his hand to you with a grin, showing off a few of his shining tooth gems.

you try to maintain your composure and not smile too big but it’s a challenge when he playfully gets you to spin slowly for him and show off the tiny strapless dress you have on as he “oouu”s and whistles to hype you up.

“mm, you like that?” you look up at him, blinking slowly.

he nods and chuckles, “you know damn well-” looking off to the side then gaining your eye contact once more as he wipes over his mouth with his hand, glancing over your body, “‘course i do.”

"good. we should dance then," you guide him to the living room with his hand still in yours.

౨ৎ

you hate to be the bitch on her phone at a party but you can’t stop staring at it. you tap past the story then go back to look again. you even rewatch it in the perspective of someone who hadn’t been there to see the photo taken to see how it would be perceived. hurting your own feelings knowing they could very well assume matt to be erin’s boyfriend with how close they’re standing and her lips against his face.

it’s very dizzying and ruining your high quite a bit, especially paired with andrea who continues to look to you to celebrate after every ping pong ball she throws whether she makes it or not.

you go to rewatch the story once more, only this time a text from matt slides down on your screen to interrupt your sulking:

MATT

Hey come here

Y/N

where???

MATT

Outside youll see me

you let andrea know you’re going outside for air before walking over to a glass sliding door to let yourself out.

you see matt holding a stick while looking down at his phone, fire pit radiating next to him, a mass of people surrounding it.

your arms wrap and hold onto your shoulders as you walk closer, feeling the breeze rack through your body despite the internal heat from the many drinks you've had over the course of the night.

as you approach, asha gets up from her spot on nick's lap to give you a hug, "y/n! hiii." she pulls away and her hands remain on your shoulders, "your cake was so delicious, i tried a bite of each."

"oh good, 'm glad." you smile.

she feels your hands, "are you cold, babe? come sit." she guides you over to the group of people sat around the fire. "you can take my spot, i'll stand," she insists and nick agrees smiling kindly.

you interrupt matt's texting to figure out why he wanted you here, cupping your hands to shout, "matt!" across the lawn from your spot atop nick.

he looks over and quips his head while moving closer, "hey, was just wonderin' if you'd try my s'more? nick thinks he makes them best." he smiles but you can't help but feel that there's a catch to this.

"always gotta prove someone wrong. yeah, i'll do it." you agree as he moves to grab the snack he'd apparently already prepared.

nick mutters, "don't let him bully you into liking his, and don't forget who's acting as your chair currently!" from behind you as you giggle into the bite that matt gives you, holding the smore in his hand up to your mouth.

you chew slowly and matt watches, chatter and crinkles of the fire filling the heated space. you finally nod your head and matt smirks, "so good, right?" matt asks and brings his hand to hold your face and wipe around the corner of your mouth, looking to his right with a smile then back to you.

you feel awkwardly and unnaturally sensual, moving his hand away from your face and searching for what he's looked over to, catching the eye of lucas, standing with a group of guys lighting up near a fence. so that is the fucking catch.

you lick your lips of any remaining marshmallow and shake your head, annoyed, "i don't know, it tastes normal and graham cracker is fucking stale." you look up at him and his face is adorned with confusion on your change of heart.

you feel too fucking weird about this. you wish you couldn't believe that he'd use your feelings towards him for some weird shit like claiming you from lucas, but it's not surprising in the slightest; matt wants his cake yet he'll always want to eat it too.

"yeah, nick wins." you pat the side of nick's thigh to grab his attention and tell him the news, making him cheer and bring you into his chest for a small hug.

matt's lips form the smallest pucker as he watches you get up and walk towards the house without further conversation.

"bye, y/n!" asha yells.

౨ৎ

matt lays flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling to try and organize his many thoughts when his door creaks slightly, allowing a roar of party chatter into his space before it shuts again.

he lifts only his head up to see erin stood with a small smile before letting himself fall back into his plush comforter, "hey, i got your shit in the first drawer over there." he points to a tall dresser across the room.

he listens to her shuffle around before finding a large bag of weed, coming close to him and placing a few folded bills in his front pocket slowly. she then moves so that she hovers over his dazed face, "thank you, are you sure you don't need anything else from me? it is your birthday..." she grins and runs a hand over his chest. he mimics her smile (intended in more of a mocking way than she takes it) and laughs softly.

"no, i'm good on that, e. you enjoy your doobies and shit," he continues to softly laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides before she thanks him again and gives him a small peck.

"happy birthday, matty!" she sings before closing the door to his room and heading straight to his bathroom next door to pee.

matt would say it hasn't even been four minutes since erin left him when you're stumbling into his room. he repeats his look up, only to soften a bit when he sees you make effort to move some of his shoes out of the walkway so that you don't trip, "hi, baby" he waves you over with his fingers and welcomes you as if you'll be staying for long, "lock that door for me." he figures if you came to see him after storming away like that at the fire pit you're either gonna spit your thoughts in his face or sit on his face, there's no in between.

"i found you," you smile and twist the smaller knob to lock the door from the rowdiness. you then make your way over to sit at the end of his bed and begin to fiddle with the straps on your tiny heels, "my feet have been achin' so bad," you look at him as you complain.

"mm, i'm sure."

when your feet are finally free from your shoes you place them on the ground and adjust yourself on the bed. you silently grimace seeing matt with his shoes remaining on his feet despite being on his bed.

he giggles when you begin to unlace them, "feel like a fuckin' princess."

you roll your eyes and begin to pull them off, "with the way you act you might as well be one."

"ouch? it's my birthday," he holds his heart while looking to you playfully.

you tilt your head and drop his second shoe right on the floor as you stare back at him, "oh, i know."

"right. what's wrong now?"

you run your hands along his legs as you inch up his body and hover yourself over his crotch, "nothing. everything's fine, right?" you adjust your hair away from your face.

"sure, uh huh," matt looks up at you and bites his lower lip while moving his hands to hold and squeeze your full thighs. he silently admires the way you fill that tiny dress and look down at him from this angle.

you look away for a moment then decide to put your full weight onto matt, muffled groan leaving his mouth. your lips curve up as you pull his bottom lip from his mouth with your thumb to replace it with your mouth, sucking and kissing it. your tongue runs over his lips a few times before matt takes hold of your head and pulls you impossibly closer to capture your mouth messily with his own.

the kiss is a filthy, drunken sight: noses meshing and colliding, tongues playing and licking, and moans escaping and ringing into the air desperately.

you pull away with a wet smack and whisper into his lips, "i've got another present for you..."

"mmm?" his eyes widen and he squeezes your neck gently, kissing you once more, "for real? like, more than this?!" his hand feathers over your ass, insinuating the way you're sat on top of him right now could easily be his best gift tonight.

"yes," you breathe then begin to giggle, "you're gonna lose your shit, i think."

his mind can think of a lot of things you could do to make him lose his shit, "damn, okay. well, show me. you got my stomach dancin' and shit." he holds you so that you stay put as he lifts himself to rest on his elbows.

your smile bites over your bottom lip now as you raise yourself from his lap once more. your nail taps against your upper thigh as you look down at him, "kiss, please?"

he doesn't have to move much, as your leg is already so close to his face. he keeps heated eye contact with you when he kisses and marks the skin you'd point to, causing small mindless noises to fall from your mouth as you play with his soft hair (that you unfortunately hadn't seen much of tonight).

when he's finished he looks up to you with his red, puffy eyes and wet lips as you thank him, "now...pay attention." you gently demand as you slowly move your dress up your body.

matt studies your movement in awe, eventually catching your gift in his line of sight. he knows you must think you're so sneaky when you only show a glimmer of your lacy white panties, with a cursive red "M" embroidered near the waistband, before quickly pushing your dress back down with an uncontrollable laugh.

matt's face morphs to express a million different emotions and he doesn't realize how loud his voice is when he speaks, "what the fuck?!" he looks up at you- with your head thrown back laughing -then back to your covered lower half. "what was that? hold the fuck on," you body is so loose with laughter that he easily grabs you and flips you onto the bed so that you lay underneath him, still squirming in your own giggles (yelling a few "matt!"s or "matt wait i can't breathe!"s).

his face is full of amusement when he firmly lifts your dress to get a better look at what you've done for him. "oh my god, 'm gonna pass the fuck out. look at you, sunny!" he rubs his eyes dramatically and shakes his head. "no, you're so bad."

"you like it?" you ask, licking over your lips and reaching your hands up to trace the small hairs prickling on matt's jawline.

"course i do, the fuck type of question is that?!" he turns his face to kiss your inner palm before bending closer to kiss your lips once more.

"happy birthday, matt." you say in between kisses, "there's somethin' else if you look a little more."

"really?" he immediately splits from you and looks to your panties once more, running his hands over your lower stomach. the cherry red joint laying against your hip and tucked into your underwear catches him by surprise but the stoner in him nearly cums on the spot.

he removes it from it's place and kisses you mumbling a reminder that "you're so hot" and "the marijuana bug must've bit you real bad" before he gets up to store it in his bedside table, patting the closed drawer and joking, "for when i miss you."

he stands above you for an extra second to shake his head slowly with a tut, but when you whine "c'mereee," he's hushing you and removing his shirt before crawling back on top of you.

your hands run across every inch of his warm torso as you both sloppily kiss, and matt's own hands curiously make their way into your underwear for a proper feel of your wet core.

he allows you to desperately grind your hips against his hand until he eventually decides he needs to taste you. he lowers himself to face your clothed pussy, tracing the "M" with a finger as he places his tongue flat against you and places pressure on your most sensitive area.

his finger once tracing, now moves to pull the tiny piece of fabric off of you. he looks into your eyes as he easily stuffs the cloth in his back pocket, mumbling "mine now" while moving his fingers through your sticky folds.

you cry out when he dips two fingers into you teasingly, over and over again, and another series of moans leaves your mouth when he begins to lick over your clit eagerly.

matt continues his efforts, spitting on your clit a few times to watch it drip down to where his fingers harshly move inside of you; his movements quickening while he watches.

and just before you cum you dumbly warn him, which makes him stop entirely. "no, matt. stop, please come back. please."

"shhh. don't start that shit, you'll cum twice on your day..." he unbuttons his pants, "plus, you know it feels so much better when you wait and have to chase it a few times." he smirks and nudges your clit with his finger once more making you breathe out a moan and close your legs around his hand.

he pulls away from you to finish undressing before laying back dowm in his tight boxers, "come take care of me, sunny. i need you."

"hm...and i needed you too..." you lift yourself up and pout as you climb off the bed and get closer to where he lies, turning and moving your hair away for your back, "unzip me, please?"

he does just as you say and watches you finish removing your dress in only one movement. when you climb on top of him he now gets a view of your tits directly in his face that has him humming and immediately feeling you up.

he kisses and licks the skin while you scratch at his scalp in the most sensual way. you reach behind you to dip your hand into his boxers, immediately coming in contact with his sensitive and slightly sticky tip. he tilts his head back with a groan as soon as you begin to stroke him beneath the fabric making a sinical smile form on your face.

you push the boxers further down his thighs to fully expose him as you bring your lips down to him again. his moans flow into your mouth when you repeatedly rush your movements then slowly circle his head.

eventually matt's eyebrows pinch in terribly tight and he grabs your hand, sighing, "god damn, baby. chill or i'll be cummin' before i'm inside you."

you roll your eyes playfully, "okay?" as you adjust yourself to align over his length, before sinking down on top of him.

"mmm, fuck." he encourages when you lift yourself and slam back down on top of him. you move his hands to hold your hips then spread your hands over his chest as you continue.

matt can't help but slap your ass a few times after discovering the way your muscles flutter around him so perfectly each time. but one smack in particular aids you to practically fall onto his chest whining, "matt i can't, please just-."

he immediately lifts your face to give him a much needed kiss before reaching to realign himself and hold onto you as he thrusts rhythmically into you.

moans sneak from your mouth and interrupt you from kissing and holding onto matt's neck, which only encourage matt until he's completely flustered and drilling into you sloppily.

matt can tell you're cumming by your all too and familiar broken moans. and once you harshly kiss him and ask him to let go in return he finally stills inside of you and groans into your soft shoulder.

a silence coats the room, leaving the overpowering music and talking of the party to linger through the air in a cloudy murmur.

matt keeps his arms around you while you recover from your high, staring at the ceiling of his faintly lit room in questionable thought.

and he assumes you must be doing the same; only he mistakes the wetness of your tears for his own sweat as you turn your head away from him to dissolve your embarrassingly shaky breaths.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list is in the replies ily!!!!

[midnight--sadness]

i love the way that a dragon's coloring is sometimes connected to its rider's family.

meraxes had silver scales and was ridden by rhaenys. rhaenys' son aenys had a dragon named quicksilver, and though we don't know her coloring, given her name and her pale white fire, it is probably silver as well. aenys' daughter alysanne had silverwing, described as a silvery dragon.

three generations of rulers who had silver she-dragons.

jaehaerys i rode vermithor, the bronze fury, and his son baelon the brave rode vhagar, who was described as bronze.

aemon and alyssa, brother and sister, both rode red dragons, caraxes and meleys, respectively.

rhaenyra has the yellow-gold syrax, and her son lucerys who rides arrax, described as having yellow fire and gold eyes and crest.

(could even connect this to aegon ii's sunfyre, who is golden and has pink membranes, matching to rhaenys' meleys and rhaena's morning, who is fully pink.)

helaena and daeron, also brother and sister, rode dreamfyre and tessarion, both blue dragons (although in different shades).

although we dont know his coloring, stormcloud, based on his name, was probably (dark) grey, which would match with the (light) grey color of seasmoke, who belonged to laenor, aegon iii's stepfather.

and of course, there is the connection between the conquerors' dragons balerion, meraxes and vhagar with dany's children drogon, viserion and rhaegal.

[ghosts-cant-sleep]

you told me love is to pray (i'm sorry, i dont pray that way)

russell adler x male! reader warnings: average mlm soviet era situationship, a wittle sexual but not straight smut, age gap, toxic yaoi, not proof read lolz notes: posted in honor of bo6 coming out!!! i love the bo series sosososo much and cw was def a favorite. lowkey rlly hoping this years cod will have the same effects as mw22 because jesus christ the men in the black ops series r SO fine and it's criminal that they dont get the attention they deserve. give me bo requests rn. like rn.

fem dni

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, "DIE LANDEBAHN"

[Name][L.Name], CIA

52.6200 N. 13.4050 E. West Berlin

March 8th, 1981

The dank musk of the safehouse had long since grown stuffy and suffocating, a damp draft they could never quite figure out. The stench of tobacco was seldom better, but it was everywhere, clinging to the walls.

Adler sat at the edge of his thin, stiff matress. The sheets pulled from the corners and tangled around him, tugged over his lap in an attempt to preserve whatever dignity he thought he still had.

He keeps his elder on his knees and his eyes glued to the floor, concrete cold bent his bare feet. He tried to ignore the sleeping body behind him. A sleeping body who had no place with him, yet there he was all the same. He wasn't sure what to do with all this.

It was hardly four in the morning, but Adler had long since given up his fight for rest. His hands instead found his zippo, the weight in his hand, an old, comforting friend. He fiddles with the cap, calloused thumb rubbing against the cold metal surface, flicking the cap up, then shutting it with a 'click.'

Christ, how far he's fallen. Where did his resolve go, his self-control, his dignity? How had he made himself so easy to beckon into the hands of another man, nearly half his age, no less. He was better than this. He had to be.

He'd liked to believe his hands only ever yearned for [Name]'s skin when his brain was at its slowest, in the midst of a drunken stupor, but he'd be lying through his teeth. Even now, he fights to keep his gaze off of him, imagining how [Name]'s body looks stretched across the matress, sheets thrown askew over his bare body, the scars carved into his skin that seemed to age him decades.

With a tired sigh, Adler's hands find his coat, thrown haphazardly on the nightstand. He fiddles with the fabric, leather squeaking and rustling as his fingers search through pockets, plucking out a pack of cigarettes.

The cardboard box is wrinkled and hardly intact, falling apart in his hands. There's only a couple left, and the thought makes him nervous.

He slides one one out, and not a moment later, it's held between his lips, pack tossed aside, and his lighters flame igniting the end. The stench of smoke is quickly to fill the room, pungent. The immediate buzz brings a soothing lul to his mind, quieting his worries.

He knows the relief is temporary, it always is, but the moment he lets himself pretend he doesn't realize.

Behind him, [Name] stirs awake, mused up by the smell of tobacco. The matress shifts with his weight, the springs screach, the blankets pull.

Adler sneaks a glance over his shoulderx watching as the young man behind him turns to lay in his back inside, eyes still screwed shut. He stretches out like a cat, back arching against the matress, sheets bending within the dips of his legs as they bustle beneath the bedding. His skin is littered with evidence of Adler.

Who, in turn, is quick to avert his eyes back to the cigarette burning away in his fingers, pinched almost too tightly between his thumb and index. With a shakey hand, he lifts it back to his mouth, taking a greedy huff.

[Name]'s eyes blink in the darkness that still shrouds the room, pale moonlight filtering in through the dirtied windows, and the slight glow from Adler's cigarette.

His gaze finds purchase on Adler's back. Even in the fuzzy, dim light, he still feels like he can make out every detail. He traces up the length of his spine, brain filling in where every freckle, mole, and scar would lay. He doesn't miss how the muscles of his back roll under the weight of his eyes.

"It's rude to stare," Adler huffs out, voice abrupt and bearish as he cuts through the stillness. Smoke rolls off his tounge with every breath, disapating into the room.

"What's rude is not offering a hit," [Name] retorts, unbothered by the calloused tone of Adler's voice. He was always like this the morning after, the asshole. [Name] grown used to it quickly-- he always came back around.

The scratchy material of the matress bends under his weight as he moves to his knees, settling behind Adler. He leans in close, letting the warmth of Adler's back soothe the cold skin of his chest, pressing their bodies close.

Despite whatever naivety Adler saw in [Name], he wasn't some idiot kid. Adler was far from a good, nobel man, and anyone with half a functioning brain could see that clear as day. He saw that dark charm, that relentless ambitious, with what ease it took for his words to bend the minds of the people around him-- and maybe he's fooled himself into thinking he's ammune to it.

He wished Adler could make up his mind. There was a constant push and pull, hot and cold, soft and doting one second, then cold and dry the next. It was tiresome. He was sure Adler felt... troubled in regards to the situation they'd gotten themselves wrapped up in.

What he wasn't sure about was exactly how he fared in Adler's thoughts, what the man makes of him. Was he an asset, a tool, a teammate, a liability, a lover, something better, something worse?

There was a certainty in the back of his mind that he tried to ignore. If it came down to it, him or Adler, he doesn't think it'd take much for Adler to make that decision.

There wasn't a single word out of Adler's mouth he could trust wholeheartedly. Nonsense stories about whatever scar [Name] had proded at, every word of support, every promise, every notion of praise muttered against [Name]'s sweat soaked skin.

All the same, [Name] let's his chin rest against the junction of Adler's neck and shoulder, leaning his weight onto the older man. With a sluggish groan, his arms, still heavy with sleep, wrap around Adler's torso.

"You're a fiend," Adler huffs, sneaking a sidelong glance at the toung man drapped against him, only able to make out the blured lines of his hair from the corner of his eye. "I cut the checks around here-- I know you make enough to quit bumming off me."

All the same, he steals a quick breath before raising the cigarette up to [Name]'s lips. He feels the warmth of his breath and can imagine with ease the way his lips part just to wrap around the filter.

He takes a long, slow hit, the burning paper sizzling, burning brighter. He lets the toxicity fill his mouth, burn his throat, flood into his lungs, warm his blood. He can't help but smile around the butt.

He takes a moment to savor the flavor before letting the smoke drift from his lips, eyeing the ribbons, noting the shape it takes.

"They taste better from your packs."

"Bastard."

"Hm." He sounds far too pleased with himself.

A moment of affection breaches past Adler's will. His free hand finds a place on [Name]'s own, resting gently, pliant fingers wrapping loosely around him. His thumb finds the curve of his wrist, rubbing against the thin skin shrouding the bone.

The small gesture pulls a soft sigh from [Name]. He focuses on the feeling, letting it silent the rampant hum of his thoughts.

He leans his head against Adler's, eyelids relenting to the heft that pulled them close. He relaxes into whatever faux comfort Adler provides. It was a tricky little thing to resist, giving into this simple desire, the brief beats of calm. What was the harm in playing pretend a little while longer? They were both good at it.

"You're cold," Adler complains, despite how he leans back into [Name]'s skin, even if just slightly. Regardless, he makes half an effort to rid [Name] off his shoulders.

"It's not me, it's the room," [Name] rebuttals back with a defensive scoff, sinking deeper into the heat of Adler's body, feeling the scratch of his stubble against his cheek. He speaks low, "You're just really warm," he mutters, hot breath hitting Adler's skin.

His hands spread flat against Adler's skin, fingers sprawled, greedy for more purchase on his flesh. One hand follows the line between his abs up towards the dip in his chest, touch firm, and certain. The other is lighter, softer, teasing the nails of his fingers trace instable patterns between Adler's hipbones, brushing against the hem of the sheet.

Adler nearly allows himself to once again fall back into [Name]'s hands, giving into his touch. The smooth skin of the young man's hands gliding over the bumbs and ridges of scars carved into his skin.

But, just as he'd be trained to, he pushes through the temptation, the desire, the buzz [Name] brought to the pit in his lower stomach.

His hold on [Name]'s wrist turns firm and almost cruel, pulling a slight hiss from the youger man, hand stilling against Adler's body.

He pulls out of Adler's constraint, leaning back away from him, the air around them suddenly feeling much too frigid.

Adler finally spares a glance over his shoulder, staring straight on into [Name], breath mingling, noses brushing together.

Adler looks older than he is. The crows feet at the outer corners of his eyes are deep and only seem wose at this early of an hour. A scowl personality ghosts his features, lips pursed, a perpetual frown even when all seems good. His eyes are a hollow blue as they bore back into [Name]. They narrow just a twitch-- observing, scrutinizing.

The gaze Adler meets is like a cruel parody of his own. His gaze is tight and narrowed, but still too soft. Boyish. All that ages him are his eyes-- the dark bags heavy beneath them, and although his wide-eyed look may be green and childish, that idleness is unmistakably one in the same with his own.

Turning away, Adler shrugs him off his shoulders-- with less laze this time.

"We're both up," he states, clearing his throat as he lets his cigarette rest on the overflowing ashtray sitting on the bedside table. He bends over, bed creaking, sorting his own clothes from [Name]'s. "Might as well get a headstart."

[Name] sits back, arms fully leaving their place around Adler, resting them in his own lap. His hands come together, fingertips tobacco stained, much like Adler's own. He fiddles with his fingers, pressing one nail into the other, noting how it feels when it bends.

He watches with a vague, tired interest as Adler stands from the bed, tugging on his clothes. The sound of rustling fabric, a few popping joints, and the jingle of his belt is what fills the silence before [Name]'s voice takes its place.

"Work can wait for a few more hours, can't it?" His head cranes up, tilting to the side, lips parted and dry. "It's hardly past four."

The request wasn't even inherently lewd. He'd be lying if he said he wouldn't take whatever Adler gave him, but for once, he admitted to himself that he wasn't hoping for sex. There was a tenderness he searched for-- a glowing warmth as opposed to raging heat. Innocent touch without the assumed promise of something more.

Adler's brows pinch together, crows feet further crinkling as he looks back towards [Name]. He regards him with a strange look of disinterest-- one of the many faces of Adler that left [Name]'s mind running itself in circles all day long.

He wishes his could crack open Adler's head, look around inside, poke and prod. He imagines seeing tangible thoughts sliding along the ridges of his brain, telling him what Adler's thinking how he feels, what makes him happy, sad, angry.

Oblivious to the thoughts in [Name]'s head, Adler approaches the edge of the bed, smoothing out the wrinkes in his shirt. His lips press into a pensive purse as his knees reach the edge of the bed.

After a beat, he raises his hand to curn around the contors of [Name]'s jaw, giving it a tentative squeeze. The gesture lays halfway between affection and mocking, unsure of where it leans.

Adler mouth falls open, then closes once more. A soft sigh is shared between the too men.

Adler allows himself just a beat to feel the weight of the younger man's jaw resting in his palm. His fingers press into the flesh of his cheeks, letting it dip under the pressure of his firm touch.

Just as quickly, his hand falls back towards his side. Finally, he offers his version of an answer;

Then, just as quickly, his hand falls, then he finally answers.

"Get dressed. We've got a job to do."

[emositecc]

God I fucking hate Victoria the crybaby so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every page she's in, every scene, every fanart, every comic, she's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass personality on her stupid green face. Absolutely no part of her ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. Her stupid fucking dress? Who the hell wears a dress like that. Her dumb fucking lizard tail? Her shitty, annoying bastard attitude ? The three thousand percent dumbass shitass fucking haircut that no woman has EVER FUCKING SHITTY HAIR DESING HAD IN THE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate her. I hate her so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a comic or a fanart of her, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Boo hoo, I'm Bitchtoria the fuckshit whiny ass woman, woe is me. PITY ME 😢😢😢😢". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like shrek but if shrek was written by vivziepop. Your dumb fucking hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking dress and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top shitty ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene she's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a walmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know she's just a shitty fucking sad woman in a stupid fucking fan comic, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate her. I hate hier on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the bitch wife is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate her so much. I hate her so, so fucking much. I want to light her ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat her to death with her own stupid fucking punchable face. I want to punch her to death. I want to bash her brains out. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that her existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional woman

you've gone on sending me these kinds of messages in my ask box everytime i've updated my comic, even mentioning r*pe in your latest ones. At first I thought this is a bit, but now i honestly dont know. I think you need help and for your own good and mine, I'm going to be blocking you.

This probably wont stop you from reading my comic in other platforms but if you still do, please refrain from messaging me or whatnot because I will just block you again.

okay, thank you.

^ and that's not even ALL of it.

there's like 50+ more

get help.