#its just so frustrating but yeah my point is can we all stop making up new reasons to shit on poppy playtime its just kinda dumb

[reel-fear]

Honestly, every single time the whole 'poppy playtime is a bendy rip-off' stuff ever shows up I find it all extremely unconvincing and silly.

For one thing, rip-off usually is meant to imply that it's a cheap lazy copy of a better more polished thing, and uh. Sorry but even from chapter 1? Poppy Playtime is a better game than Bendy, it has a simple but understandable story, the game manages to be thrilling, creepy, and very intense at times... I mean that Huggy chase in the vents ALONE puts it way above Batim for me.

I mean BATDR had the most slow stupid chase I've ever seen [and every other encounter with the ink demon is text telling u he's there and then a timer goes down and u get jumpscared] and batim's chases were either silly or just not nearly as theatric or terrifying as that.

When making the vent sequence I mean not only is it absolutely horrifying to realize how fast Huggy is in there but also it's so theatric and cool? The fact that you round a corner after thinking you escaped only to see a terrifying animation of that thing crawling toward you is awesome! I wish Bendy had stuff like that!

And all the stuff it shares with Bendy are generic things Bendy ripped from other horror games/media anyways. I'm not saying Poppy Playtime isn't inspired by Bendy I for sure think it is but Bendy is such a generic story that somehow fails to do tropes 100 other horror games have done any comparison only makes Poppy Playtime look better.

"It has employees being sacrificed for their company" That is not a concept Bendy invented, literally look at any of the sci-fi horror series Bendy is very inspired by. This is literally a twist in the original Alien.

"It has a scary woman forcing you to do tasks for her" Once again, not a concept Bendy invented, a scary mysterious person forcing you to do fetch-quests is a concept found in tons of horror media. And at least Poppy Playtime gave you a chase with her and let you defeat her, look at poor malice. She's barely on screen for more than 10 minutes before she gets stabbed.

"It has a cult worshipping the monster" This is something tons of horror games and media have done too. I mean In The Tall Grass has a guy who worships a giant magical rock in the middle of a grass maze, Bioshock [which Bendy has only been taking more and more direct inspiration from while failing to grab any of the compelling parts] also had a lot of themes of religion and cult-ish behavior, almost every horror media franchise has at one point done a cult thing.

Bendy couldn't even come up with a reason Sammy worships the ink demon, the best motivation we've ever gotten is just that 'he's crazzyyyy the ink made him insaneeee'. Who is the cheap rip-off here?

At least Poppy Playtime gave their cultist a motive for worshipping the monster + a proper boss fight that feels intense and looks awesome! Bendy didn't even let you kill Malice [she got stabbed in front of you and then just collapsed on the floor how thrilling] meanwhile you get to kill three of the villains in Poppy Playtime and the gameplay and action in those scenes have only gotten better as the game went on.

I mean Sammy walks into a room and goes "AAA SCARY I'M BEING MURDERED" then later shows up and for NO REASON sees a normal human man and assumes it's the ink demon before once again someone else kills him for you. In Poppy Playtime you defeat Catnap as he floods the world with this horrible nightmare-inducing gas that intensifies the color palette and his design. Fight off versions of him that are illusions that you need your flare gun for, then watch in a wonderful animation as he mistakes the monster for his savior before getting killed by it, in a brutal way I might add, which game are we accusing of being cheap, lazy garbage again?

I just find this argument to be people who Really Really need to find a reason to hate Poppy Playtime which I think is silly. The devs being weird, shady people is already enough reason to dislike the game, you don't need to invent reasons why secretly every part of the game is malicious or bad. But esp when I see Bendy fans saying they don't support Poppy Playtime or dislike it bc of its devs or even saying its cringe ummmm.

I have bad news about the fact Bendy's devs are worse and it took not one, but TWO over an hour long videos to cover it all. Plus the Bendy games are just the worse games in every aspect, if I could sell my batim copy for a copy of Poppy Playtime I wouldn't hesitate at all.

Saying this as a bendy fan, we have no right to be super judgy towards Poppy Playtime. If Poppy Playtime is embarrassing cringe, Bendy is too and is way more embarrassing of an interest. We shouldn't spread misinformation just because we all want to hate Poppy Playtime, you can dislike Poppy Playtime without making up a bunch of nonsense to justify it.

Honestly seeing people just blatantly be unfairly mean to Poppy Playtime only makes its critics look worse and makes it hard to take any backlash to the games seriously. Because surprise surprise if you spread misinformation to make a point people will quickly stop listening to Anything you have to say bc they won't trust you're telling the truth anymore.

[phagodyke]

I love to talk but I rly do feel like we have to be talking for a minimum of 8 hours straight before I feel like I can even begin to rly broach things on my mind or that have been bothering me a lot that I actually want to talk abt without being vague or deflecting or omitting or lying and if the conversation takes a break at any point it resets back to 0 and its still nice regardless but.

[luveline]

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 

“Did you call them?” 

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 

“We really don’t have time to waste.” 

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!” 

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 

“No,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 

“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 

“Don’t know,” you mumble. 

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I understand.” 

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 

“What do I get in return?” 

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get. 

[fastandcarlos]

Study Hard : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: as proud as he is as you near the end of your degree, charles can’t help but worry about the levels you’re pushing yourself to in order to achieve it

The sight that greeted him was far from what Charles expected to see, walking into your apartment Charles was met by you, busying yourself on the sofa with books stacked as far as the eye could see. 

“Have you left that spot all day?” Charles asked, having left you there hours ago. 

“I got myself a drink a while ago,” you responded, not tearing your eyes from your book as you carefully read through the page. 

A sigh came from George as you found what you were looking for, picking up your laptop and typing away the source. Knowing that you’d only got yourself a drink immediately left Charles concerned, you were working yourself incredibly hard, and despite him continually reminding you to take care of yourself, it seemed as if you were doing anything but. 

The end was in sight for you now, but Charles was becoming increasingly concerned that you wouldn’t reach that end if you continued to work yourself as hard as you were doing currently. 

Charles sorted himself out, putting his keys away and slipping off his shoes before trying to find a space on the sofa where he could sit.  

“Love,” Charles whispered, poking against your arm as your eyes finally glanced across to look at him. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you muttered, putting everything down for a moment, even if you didn’t really want to. “How was your day? Did you have a good practice run?” 

“It was good,” he weakly smiled, “how’s your day been? You look busy.” 

“There’s lots to be getting on with,” you told him, pointing to all your books and paperwork, “but I’ve been getting a few breaks in and making sure that I stop for a while,” you then assured Charles, although he was far from convinced.  

“Right,” Charles hummed, his eyes studying you closely as you were itching to return to your laptop. “How about I go and get sorted and then we can do something together?” 

“Yeah, that would be nice,” you smiled, watching as Charles stood up from where he was sat. “I’ve only got this little bit left to do and then I can put all of this away for a little while.” 

Charles rushes to get himself sorted, hurrying down the stairs, hopeful that everything is tidy for you two to hang out. But it is anything but. 

You still looked as if you hadn’t moved when Charles came downstairs, you didn’t even notice him reappearing as he stood and watched you, his arms folded in front of his chest as he tried to not let you see just how frustrated he was becoming with you. 

Charles gives you a moment, wondering if maybe you need to just finish something, but when you pick up yet another book, his patience seems to run out with you. 

“Come on, time to stop with this for a while,” Charles encourages, going to pick something up. 

You leap across and snatch it from Charles, placing the paper back in its rightful stop. “You can’t just move these things Charles, they’re important.” 

“I’m well aware of how important this degree is to you love, but aren’t I important too?” Charles questioned, throwing his arms up in frustration. 

You stop what you’re doing, placing everything down as your hands run over the top of your head. You’d been working incredibly hard, some would argue a little too hard, and perhaps Charles had a point that you were beginning to forget about the man who always took such good care of you. 

As you remain silent, Charles moves closer to you, worried that he’s ended up upsetting you more than he intended. “Why don’t we put this away for the night?” 

Your head shook back at Charles, “I’ve still got so much to do.” 

“Really?” 

“I’m still lacking in sources for this to be a credible dissertation, I’m so far off the word count it’s embarrassing, and I’ve not even proofread any of what I wrote today,” you began to explain to him. “There’s only a few weeks left and if I don’t start pulling my finger out to get this done then there’s no way I’m going to get my degree, and if I don’t get my degree, I can’t get the job, and then who knows what I’ll do?” You fret, rambling away to Charles as you let your concerns get the better of you. “I don’t mean to do all of this and leave us doing nothing but if I don’t get on then I’m just going to end up further behind everyone else Charles.” He reached across and took a hold of your hand before he could let you rant any further, sensing that you were beginning to get yourself overwhelmed.  

“Babe, just listen to me,” Charles whispered, pulling you closely into his side. “You’re doing incredibly well, but you’re going to end up sick if you carry on like this.” 

“Charles I-” 

“No,” Charles continued, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. “It’s inspiring seeing how much this means to you, but you’ve still got to make sure that you’re prioritising yourself my love.” 

“I don’t know what to do,” you admitted as your voice began to falter, moving even closer into Charles. “Every time I try and relax and stop stressing, I just end up overthinking all the things I still have to do.” 

Charles let you vent, he lets you debrief, knowing it’s what’s been bubbling for so long. You’d tried to pretend that you were fine for so long, but Charles knew you much better than that. 

“It’s alright,” Charles whispered as he leant back on the sofa with you, moving you away from all of your books. 

“I’m exhausted with all this,” you sighed, burying into Charles’ chest. 

“I know you are, I know it’s hard,” Charles sympathised, knowing better than anyone how hard you were pushing yourself, “let’s not fret about this anymore tonight.” 

“Y-you’re right,” you stuttered, feeling Charles press a kiss against the top of your head, “can I just leave all this here?” 

“Let’s head to bed,” Charles suggested, knowing the thought of tidying up all of your mess was enough to potentially tip you over the edge. 

You don’t even protest as Charles takes your hand and helps you up from the sofa to wander over to the stairs. You allow him to guide you, your steps lazy and slow as you finally realise just how tired your body is. Everything aches, from your mind to your toes after cramping up on the sofa for most of the afternoon, you’re ready to just shut down from everything that’s been going on. 

It takes a moment for you to really allow yourself to forget the work that is scattered around your living room, but Charles doesn’t let you look back for long before walking you up the stairs and straight for your bedroom, knowing it’s the perfect place for you to be. 

Once you’re there, you flop down, Charles quickly joining you. He immediately takes on the role of big spoon and brings you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he can to take your mind off of things. 

“This is where we should be,” Charles mused as he rested his head on top of yours, “I forgot how nice it was to cuddle up to you, you’ve left me starved of affection for so long.” 

Your eyes roll at Charles’ dramatics, something he can tell you’re doing after so long together. Best of all though, Charles could feel you relaxing in his hold which was the only thing that he wanted for you. 

“Thank you for always looking out for me, even though I’m a pain,” you whispered back to Charles, “this will all be over soon enough.” 

“I just want you to be careful,” Charles reminded you, “I’m beyond proud of you, but I don’t want to see all your hard work see you hurt yourself too.” 

“I promise that I’ll take better care of myself.” 

“And I’ll make sure that I’m right there with you to take care of you too babe.” 

“What would I do without you?” You chuckled as your eyes began to close. 

Charles went to reply but soon noticed you settling down, deciding to fall silent and finally let you get some well-deserved sleep, with Charles right there when you woke up. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

[slu7formen]

luke castellan x fem!reader

Luke has been making fun of your ‘unnecessarily absurd beauty routine’ —as he liked to call it— for the past week, so, you decide to drown him in it, just to see how much he can handle.

warnings: just a single use of the word b1tch, fluff at the end <3, little use of yn

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

i. the eyebrows

“Ow, ow, ow! That hurt!”

“No it didn´t!”

“Yes, it did!”

“Shut up and hold still”

“Ow! You´re pinching my skin, you bitch!”

“That was fully on porpuse”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the nearby bunk beds. Most of the boys, Luke´s half-siblings, gathered around you both, enjoying the show, eyes gleaming with mischief as they witnessed their usually stoic and confident counselor reduced to a whiny mess. Luke´s head was leaning on your thighs as you plugged his eyebrows with some dangerously sharp tweezers.

“See, that´s what you get for making fun of a girl” Travis Stoll, the elder of the Stoll brothers, joined in, a smirk on his lips. "We all warned you about messing with her” he pointed towards you.

“Shut up, Travis!” Luke spat.

You enjoyed the way his face was turning red, from embarrasment and because he was trying so hard to hold back his tears.

“You know, Luke” you started, plugging on another thin hair which earned you a little curse whispered from his lips. “You can always just, give up on the bet”

You found yourself enjoying the sight immensely. The perfect Hermes´ cabin counselor who'd spent the past week mocking your beauty routine,– here he was, sprawled across your lap, a prisoner of your tweezers.

“There´s no way in hell I´m letting you beat me that easily" he declared, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

You couldn't help but smirk. The bet had been born out of sheer frustration. For the past week, Luke had been relentless in his teasing about your beauty regimen. He'd mocked the meticulous way you cared for your eyebrows, the endless battle against unwanted body hair, the whining about the occasional pimples even when you spent a good twenty minutes locked in the bathroom cleaning your skin. He'd called you high-maintenance, a slave to societal expectations, and everything in between.

Finally, you'd snapped. "Alright, Castellan" you'd declared, eyes blazing. "How about a little bet? If you can handle a full day of 'girl stuff,' I'll clean your cabin for a week"

The look of surprise on Luke's face had been priceless. He'd scoffed, of course, overconfident and utterly clueless about the sheer torture involved in waxing, tweezing, and mud masks. But fueled by his arrogance, he'd readily agreed.

Now, here you were, watching him squirm on your lap like a fish, a testament to his underestimation of the situation. A wave of satisfaction washed over you. It wasn't just about winning the bet, though that was certainly a perk. It was about showing him, in a slightly sadistic way, that there was more to "girl stuff" than he thought. It was about proving that self-care wasn't about vanity, but about feeling confident and comfortable in your own skin.

“As you wish, little baby”

Chris suddenly appeard in your vision, the satisfaction on his face plagged as if he was enjoying this more than you did. “You know, yn” he called out, you momentarily stopped, accidentally giving Luke a break. “Luke has a little hair situation going on under his arms”

“What!?” Luke blurted out. His siblings laughed again.

“He does?” you asked Chris, looking down at Luke and patting his head like a little kid.

“Oh, yeah” Chris smirked. “Maybe that could be the next step, don´t you think?”

“I´m gonna-” Luke tried to get up from his bed, hands reaching out towards Chris. He took a step back just as you grabbed Luke by his shoulders and pushed him down again towards your lap.

“I´m not done with you yet, tough guy. But Chris´ right. Get your hairy armpits ready”

ii. the waxing

You pulled out a box of waxing stripes. Luke, oblivious to the impending torture, was too engrossed in examining his newly sculpted eyebrows in the hand mirror you'd provided. A satisfied smirk played on your lips. The eyebrows looked fantastic – perfectly groomed without being overly feminine. Because yes, he asked you to keep them as close to their natural shape as possible.

“Shirt off” you declared.

His head whipped towards you, eyes wide with horror and disbelief. His half-brothers, mirrored his action, erupting in a chorus of whistles and catcalls.

"Excuse you?" he sputtered, h is voice a touch higher than usual.

"Damn," Connor drawled to you. "at least ask the guy out first"

You rolled your eyes. Luke shot him a withering glare, but beneath the bluster, you could see a flicker of nervousness.

You held up the waxing strips. “It´s time for your armpits, champion” you announced with a playful lilt in your voice. You began rubbing the strips together to warm the wax.

He whined, pulling his camp t-shirt over his head, revealing his well-toned torso, and throwing it over a nearby bunk. You stole a glance at his body for a microsecond, a slight red blush coloring your cheeks. His brothers were quick to start a echo of whistles.

He flopped down heavily on the bed, one arm raised awkwardly above his head. To your surprise, there wasn't as much hair as you'd anticipated. But that didn't diminish the sheer terror radiating from him. You stifled a laugh. "Relax, Luke" you said, your voice gentler now. "The tenser you are, the worse it'll be."

His brothers leaned in closer, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them. You carefully pressed the strip against his skin, smoothing it down with the practiced ease. He held his breath, his entire body tensing in anticipation.

You inhaled sharply yourself, then you ripped the strip off in one swift motion. Luke let out a yelp that would have made a banshee proud. His face contorted in pain, and his free hand clenched into a fist. His brothers erupted in laughter, their amusement fueled by his pain.

"Alright, alright" you said, trying to sound sympathetic despite the laughter bubbling in your throat. "Deep breaths, Luke. If you don´t relax, it´s gonna hurt more"

He glared at you, his voice laced with a hint of betrayal. "Easy for you to say."

Ignoring his grumbling, you ripped off another strip. A chorus of gasps filled the room, and Luke let out another yelp, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

"See?" you said, holding up the strip adorned with a few stray hairs. "Not so bad, right?"

He wanted to murder you.

"Don't you use anesthesia for this?" he wheezed after a particularly harsh pull on his other armpit, his eyes watering slightly.

“We´re not babies, Luke” you replied, shaking your head. "Just good old-fashioned grit and determination. Besides, you wouldn't want to miss out on the full 'girl stuff' experience, would you?"

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity —at least for Luke—, you finished. His armpits were as smooth as a baby´s butt. His brothers, unable to resist themselves, reached out and slapped the freshly waxed skin, earning them a swift kick each from a now-furious Luke.

iii. the skincare

"Skincare? Seriously?" Luke asked, sitting down on your bed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You all went to your cabin to continue his so claimed ‘girl´s day´. You would´ve paid to take a picture of your sisters´ faces when they saw you walk in with a bunch of boys following you behind.

“Just lay down, princess” you declared “I´ll bring my stuff”

He leaned back against the your pushy pillows, getting comfortable.

“First time on a girl´s bed?” Chris asked, earning a few laughs from his siblings.

“Shut up” Luke spat.

You came back with your washbag, full of different products that nearly gave Luke a heart attack. You had to assure him that this time, this wasn´t gonna hurt. At least not the first part, but you kept it a secret.

"Alright, beautiful” you teased. “Let’s get started. First thing’s first. “Cleansing”

You dipped a soft washcloth in warm water and began gently wiping away the dirt and sweat from his face. Luke closed his eyes, a look of unexpected serenity washing over his features. You noticed him get loose under your touch, a slight smile playing on his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture of surprising compliance.

“Wow” he said. “This is actually quite nice”

"See?" you said softly. "This isn't so bad"

He opened one eye, a playful glint mirroring your own. "Not bad at all" he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice “Guys, you should try this."

The Hermes´ cabin boys leaned in closer, their usual boisterousness replaced by a quiet attentiveness. They watched as your fingers moved with a practiced ease, cleansing Luke's skin with a tenderness they hadn't seen before. They saw you take some cleanser, and rub it softly against Luke´s skin.

They all exchanged glances, a new kind of curiosity flickering in their eyes. Usually, the sight of anyone touching Luke, let alone his face, would have elicited a barrage of teasing. But seeing you, your movements gentle and practiced as you gathered a gentle cleanser, they found themselves strangely mesmerized.

"Well, he looks chill" Connor added. "Could you clean my face sometime, yn?"

You chuckled, throwing a playful glance thorwn at him. "Maybe later, Connor. Right now, it's all about Luke's glow-up."

Next came the toner, followed by a light moisturizer. Luke remained surprisingly still, his eyes closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips from time to time. His brothers, bored by the lack of drama, started to get bored.

Just as you were about to get some eye patchs, your eyes drifted on a little tool inside your washbag; your blackhead remover. An idea came up to you.

"Alright, Luke" you announced, a hint of warning in your voice. "Time for the fun part."

You reached for a steaming hot towel and pressed it gently against his nose and forehead. He inhaled deeply, the steam opening up his pores.

"This feels so nice" he mumbled, his voice muffled by the towel.

A slow grin spread across your face. "Oh, it gets better" you said, an evil spark in your eyes.

You grabbed the blackhead extractor and, with practiced ease, began gently removing the unwanted blemishes.

Suddenly, Luke's eyes flew open, a look of pure horror replacing his previous serenity. "Wait! What are you doing?" he shrieked.

"Shh" you hushed him playfully. "Relax. These little guys gotta go. Trust me, it'll be better for your skin in the long run."

"But it hurts!" he whined, swatting your hand away with a surprisingly weak attempt.

"Just a little pinch" you reassured him, your voice a mockery he hated. "Besides, if you don't remove them now, they'll grow bigger and poppier, and that will hurt even more."

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips as you expertly extracted another blackhead. This bet was getting a little harder to beat than expected. He winced slightly, then a defeated sigh escaped his lips.

“So, Connor” you called. “You wanted to be next, right?”

iv. make up

"So," you began, a sly smile playing on your lips as you settled into the chair across from Luke, "you think makeup is easy, right?"

"Shouldn't be that hard, I guess" he mumbled, trying to sound confident. Inside, however, his stomach churned with fear and worry.

You gestured towards your desk, which was now overflowing with an array of colorful tubes, palettes, and brushes – an arsenal of beauty products foreign to the boys' eyes. "Alright then," you declared, a playful lilt in your voice. "Here's a little game. I'll show you each product and you have to guess what it's for. Every one you get wrong? Goes on your face."

Luke's eyes widened in horror.

"Wait, what?" he sputtered, a nervous tremor in his voice. "You can't be serious!"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "But Luke, you just said makeup was easy. This is your chance to prove it!"

"This is cheating" he mumbled, looking betrayed. "You never mentioned makeup in the bet!"

"Technically," you countered, holding up a finger, "it's still 'girl stuff’, as you call it”

A groan escaped Luke's lips. He shot a desperate glance towards his brothers, hoping for some kind of intervention. Charles Beckendorf, who allegedly decided to join the fun, just grinned towards him.

"Don't chicken out now, Luke" he said, arms crossed over his chest. "You can always give up on the bet and let her win”

Luke glared at his friend, silently cursing the day he ever agreed to this ridiculous wager. He sighed dramatically, slumping back on the bed. "Fine" he mumbled, defeated. "At least try your best to make me look decent."

“That´s not gonna be on me, dear”

You couldn't help but laugh at his misery. You reached across the desk, picking up a sleek black tube with a silver cap. It felt cool and smooth in your hand.

"What do you think this is?" you asked, holding it up for him to see.

Luke squinted at the tube, his brow furrowed in concentration. He recalled seeing something similar in movies, actresses applying it with a flick of their wrist. An idea flickered in his mind.

"Eyeliner?" he ventured, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

You arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Huh, correct”

You set the eyeliner aside, a mischievous glint returning to your eyes. Next up, you picked up a thin, wooden-looking tool with a pointed tip. There was a small, round piece of what looked like colored chalk attached to the end.

"Alright," you announced, "round two. What is this?"

Luke studied the object carefully. It did resemble a pencil, but the colored tip threw him off. He wracked his brain, trying to recall anything similar he'd seen in the vast array of makeup products on your desk.

"Uh… a pencil?" he finally ventured, his voice lacking conviction.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cabin. Tears welled up in your eyes quickly, blurring your vision slightly.

"A pencil, Luke?" you wheezed, wiping a tear from your cheek. "It’s a lip liner"

Luke's cheeks flushed crimson.

"Lip liner?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. "For what? Do I need to draw on a bigger mouth?" He gestured to his own lips, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice.

You shook your head, stifling another giggle. "No, no need for a bigger mouth. Lip liner helps define the shape of your lips."

With a shake of your head, you said, "Now the fun part begins. Bring those lips here, handsome."

Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his face hovering a few inches from yours. The air got filled with a strange tension, probably because his brothers walked closer so they could get a better look. His breath hitched slightly as your fingers brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You´re lucky this is the same shade as your natural lip color” you whisper.

“Yeah” Chris adds. “Maybe you should wear it more often, handsome” he reaches out his hand to squeeze Luke´s cheeks, but he´s quick enough to slap his hand away.

“Shut up”

The minutes that followed were filled with a more lighthearted energy. You continued the game, Luke surprisingly getting a few things right – foundation, and even a surprisingly good guess on a shimmery eyeshadow palette.

But he wasn't without his misses. The concealer, a light, creamy formula designed to camouflage blemishes, ended up being applied liberally under his eyes, leaving him with a ghostly pallor that had his brothers doubled over in laughter. Then came the blush. A delicate peach shade, turned his cheeks a comical shade of fuchsia thanks to your deliberately exaggerated application with a fluffy brush.

His brothers, fueled by this new display of comedic gold, howled with laughter. Charles, wiping tears from his eyes, wheezed, “He-, he looks like a baboon in heat”

"Oh man" Travis howled, clutching his stomach. "This is even better than the armpit wax"

Next came the eyelash curler, that strange-looking contraption that promised to create dramatic, fluttery lashes. The moment you held it up, Luke's eyes widened in suspicion. He snatched it from your hand before you could ask him what he though it was.

"What the hell is this!?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mixture of disgust and fear. "You girls like torturing yourselves with these things?"

You reached out and gently took the curler back. "No torture involved" you replied. “And since you know absolutely nothing about it…"

He tried to look defiant, but a flicker of uncertainty betrayed him. "I know what it is" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Oh really?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

You handed him the curler and watched as he fumbled with it, his big hands clearly not designed for such delicate work. He eventually gave up with a defeated sigh.

"Okay" he grumbled, handing the curler back to you. "Do your worst."

The final touches were a disaster, a glorious, hilarious disaster. Every fiber of Luke's being screamed in protest as you handed the brushes over to his merciless brothers.

“Come here, Lookie-Pookie” Travis cooed, his voice dripping with mock sweetness as he leaned in with a thick brush loaded with sparkly eyeshadow. Luke recoiled, swatting his hand away with a glare.

"Don't touch me!”

“Come on Luke, give us those pretty little lips. We need to make sure they're nice and kissable” Beckendorf joined, opening a little lip product tube he wasn´t sure what it really was.

Luke wanted to melt into the floor, his face burning hotter than the volcanic eyeshadow now smudged across his eyelids. The audacity, the betrayal! His own brothers, the supposed bastions of masculinity, were gleefully participating in this humiliation.

“Maybe some of this highlighter will make him look prettier”

He couldn´t believe his own brothers knew what highlighter was except for him.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, a mix of horror and amusement washed over him. He never thought he'd feel so violated by makeup. But somewhere amidst the frustration and embarrassment, a strange sense of camaraderie bubbled up. His brothers, usually his biggest tormentors, were doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. And you, the leader of this whole mess, were practically glowing with barely suppressed mirth.

Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corner of Luke's lips. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Sure, he looked like a technicolor disaster, but the shared laughter, the fun, it felt strangely… good. He glanced at you, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Gods” he breathed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "This is the best day of your life, isn't it?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that filled the cabin. "Hell yeah it is" you replied as you offer him make up wipes.

v. the reconcile

Night had fallen, painting the sky with shimmering stars. The campfire illuminated the campers´ face, its flames dancing higher as the Apollo cabin filled the air with joyful camp songs. Laughter mingled with the strumming of guitars and lyres, creating a symphony of pure summer camp bliss.

The fire itself danced in response to the campers' emotions. It roared a little higher with every burst of laughter, dimmed momentarily during a quiet story, and flickered with a playful intensity as the Hermes boys, fueled by their mischievous exploits, recounted their version of the day's events.

You sat by the fire, poking a marshmallow with a stick, watching the scene unfold. Their narrative, of course, focused heavily on your supposed "torture" of Luke. Specially the Stoll brothers; they painted a picture of you as a ruthless makeup artist, a waxer who pealed Luke´s skin off and left his face shining like marble. Meanwhile, Luke simply sat there, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You noticed the Hermes boys regaling other campers with their story, punctuated by bursts of laughter. And yes, you didn´t like to admit it but, you'd lost the bet. Technically. But watching Luke handle their teasing with surprising grace, a hint of amusement in his eyes, filled you with a strange satisfaction.

You were there by yourself for a few more minutes. The camp sounds filling your ears as you tried your best not to stuff your face in all the toasted marshmallows your sisters offered you. Your hands felt tired, because yes, even though what you did was not too much for you to handle, Luke squirmed and behaved like a worm covered in salt, which only made your work harder.

Just then, a figure settled in front of you. Luke. He held two sticks, each crowned with a perfectly toasted marshmallow. He offered one to you, his usual smirk replaced by a genuine smile.

"Truce?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

You couldn't help but grin, accepting the marshmallow with a playful jab. "Truce"

He sat beside you, the marshmallow on his stick disappearing in one swift, hungry bite. Suddenly, you leaned in closer, feigning seriousness. "Oh dear" you said, your voice laced with mock concern.

Luke raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What is it now?"

"You've got a blackhead. Right, there" you declared, pointing to a non-existent imperfection on his nose.

His eyes widened in mock horror. "No way! I´m not letting you touch my face again" He swatted at your hand playfully, but you were quicker.

"Hold still, you wriggly worm" you teased, pretending to grab his nose. A playful fight ensued, a flurry of limbs and laughter. You managed to land a swipe at his cheek with a gooey bit of marshmallow.

Finally, breathless with laughter, you both settled back down, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the quiet camaraderie. As you bit into your marshmallow, a comfortable silence settled between you.

"So, about that bet" he began, wiping his marshmallow-streaked hands on his cargo pants.

You turned to look at him, still chewing on another marshmallow and a piece of melted chocolate. "Yeah?"

"I don't want you to clean my cabin" he explained.

"Why not? I lost the bet" you replied, surprised by his sudden declaration.

He looked at the sky, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, but… We're kind of a mess, actually. I would feel bad if you did it alone."

"Aww, Castellan, are you worried about little ol' me?" you teased him, squeezing his cheek playfully. He blushed a deeper shade of red, looking positively flustered.

"Maybe" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Okay, here's a deal" you continued, trying to cover your own blush. "I'll clean your cabin, but you have to help me. I really don't wanna get into dirty-underwear-business."

Luke considered this for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. "Deal. But I'm warning you, there might be some things you shouldn´t even try to touch with bare hands. And I mean Travis´ and Connor´s bunks”

From a distance, a group of campers — a mix of Hermes, Apollo, and Hephaestus cabins —watched your exchange with keen interest. The playful teasing, the way your hands brushed as you made your deal — it was all too much for their already overactive imaginations.

"I bet you fifteen bucks he's gonna ask her out by the end of the week" an Apollo camper, Lee, declared.

Chris snorted. "That's weak. Twenty bucks says he does it tonight."

hiiya, just thought I could write something different to what I usually do. hope you enjoyed <3 🩷

[peeweekey]

Sebastian likes frogs. Emphasis on the word likes.

He appreciates them, they do good for the environment. They eat up all the nasty flies that buzz around the mountain lake, too. He doesn’t have to worry about mosquitos snaking on his blood while he smokes. It’s just a plus that he finds them cool and interesting.

Which most people find weird. Sebastian thinks it’s weird that they find it weird. Frogs aren’t going out of their way to bother people.

Yes, he likes them. They’re his favorite animal, certainly.

But favorite is not enough for him to want to smooch a frog.

“Sam, I’m not gonna fucking kiss a frog.”

“C’mon! It’ll be like the movie!” Sam teases, insistently shoving Sebastian to the frog innocently sitting on a park bench. “Who knows, maybe it’ll be your very own froggy princess—”

“Didn’t the girl turn into a frog when she kissed it,” he shoots back, elbowing Sam backwards in the gut. The blond lets out an overdramatic hiss of pain, bent over and clutching his stomach. “Abby, back me up here.”

“I never watched that stuff,” Abigail shrugs, watching with amusement. She makes no move to help at all, comfortably resting against the wide wooden posts of a fence. “Watched a lotta cartoons though. Phineas and Ferb is my jam.”

“Not about the movie,” Sebastian grits exasperatedly. His brows knitting together in frustration “The frog.”

“Mhm, go on,” a cheshire-like grin on her face. “Kiss it, Seb. A big smooch right on its slimy mouth.”

Sam eggs him on, the pain of being elbowed magically disappearing. “Do it! Do it!”

Sebastian presses his lips tightly together. There’s no use resisting once Abby and Sam band together. They’re a force to be reckoned with like this—demanding and overbearing. Sebastian exasperatedly wipes a hand over his face, shooting the poor frog a sorry look.

Sam pushes him one more time, he gives him a stony glare in return. “Fuck—alright! Stop being so damn loud, you’ll scare it away.”

The frog in question croaks slightly, like it senses the trio talking about it. He gives it a wary glance.

As he slowly approaches, Sebastian can hear Abby and Sam’s satisfied sniggering behind him. They roped him into doing another stupidly outrageous thing for the umpteenth time.

He sighs, he really needs better friends.

Mustering up all his courage, he bends down, almost eye level with the frog, resting a hand on the wooden grain bench on where it’s perched upon.

He screws his eyes shut and goes for it.

Sebastian’s lips connect with the frog’s slimy, almost rough skin. So fast and featherlight that it can barely be considered a kiss. Cold against his lips. He pulls back immediately after, wiping any residue off his lips with the back of his hand.

The frog jumps, croaking with,what he assumes is, alarm.

“See?” Abby laughs, ruffling his hair good-naturedly. “No princess in sight. You didn’t turn into a frog either!”

“Man,” Sam snickers, patting him roughly on the back. Sebastian groans with every smack. “It would’ve been cool though, if you turned into a frog. We’d have a frog drummer in our band!”

Sebastian shoves his unruly friends off. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s get going. The frog is probably traumatized.”

“You can check that off your bucket list,” Abby teases, a smirk playing on her lips. “Kiss a frog before I die. We’ll tell the story for generations.”

Sam howls with laughter, Sebastian feels absolutely mortified.

Before the trio could make any move out of the park, a cloud of green smoke curtains the frog, so thick and so unusual. Sebastian unconsciously backs away from it.

“What—woah,” Sam says, more mezmerised than shocked at the green smoke pouring out of the frog Sebastian kissed. “What is that?”

“The fuck if we know, Sam!”

“Boys, boys, shut the fuck up. Look.”

Abigail points at the fog. It grows and grows, stopping and dissipating once the whole bench is covered with the green mist.

The frog is gone—disappeared into thin air. Instead, a not-so-frog shaped person sits. You blink up at Sebastian slowly.

Woah, woah.

He feels his heart accelerating—for all the wrong reasons. An unusual thumping sound that vibrates all throughout his body—his fingertips, his stomach, his toes. Where there should be fear and panic and definitely fear, Sebastian feels exhilaration.

You’re pretty.

It’s also pretty horrifying for him to think—and feel.

You blink slowly—a frog-like trait that cement his suspicions. You’re staring up at him as he stares back down at you, curious meets bewildered. “…”

His eyes are wide, scanning each and every part of your now not frog-like features. Sebastian feels cold sweat dripping down his forehead—a stark temperature difference to the heat in his cheeks. “Oh—oh shit.”

“Uhm… ribbit?”

-

Another thing he blames on Sam and Abby—his horrifying attraction you; the person, not the frog.

He checks that off his metaphorical bucket list, too.

[recklesssturniolo]

Locker Room - M.S

Matt loses a lacross game & takes his frustration out on you, dom!Matt, this is as if Matt was in college, reader and him are dating

A/N: idk how I feel about this I’m sorry😓 if no one likes it heart = shattered

NSFW below, leave if you’re a minor

I went to all of Matt’s games, always wearing his jersey, and always rooting for him. I loved watching him play, not only was it hot but I couldn’t help but always feel proud of him too. Nick and Chris usually tagged along as well, but today both weren’t able to. As I intensely watched the last few minutes of the game, my heart sank as I realized they had lost. I stood up from the bleachers, letting out a sigh knowing how upset Matt was going to be and made my way to the locker room to wait for him outside. I had watched as every other member of his team walked out, smiling and greeting them as they did but only grew more confused the longer Matt took. Assuming by this point that no one else was inside the lockeroom, I slowly made my way inside.

“Matt baby?” I called out.

“Yeah I’m here, you can come in no one else is inside” He mumbled back.

Spotting him as I walked inside, I couldn’t help but think to myself how good he looked. The sweat glisening off of him, his hair a mess and even just the way he was sitting, shirtless leaned back against the wall.

“It okay, it’s just one game Matty” I said, sitting beside him.

“For fuck sakes it isn’t just one game, this was important and we fucked it up” He said back, his voice raising a bit.

“How can I help make you feel better?” I asked as I brought my hand to rub his back.

Barley being able to process his movements I feel his lips smash to mine. The kiss immediately rough and his tongue winning for dominance. I moaned as his hands slipped up his jersey I had on, and he began playing with my breasts.

“Look so good in my jersey” He said, “You wanna make me feel better?”

“Yes of course” I replied.

“Get on your knees then” He responded, grabbing my arm and directing me to the ground.

I remove his pants, spitting on my hand before beginning to stroke his dick. My pace slow but steady, him instantly letting out a groan.

“Fuck sakes use your mouth” He demanded, his hand making its way to the back of my head.

I begin licking circles around his tip, before he applies pressure to the back of my head, making me take all of his dick in my mouth, a gag instantly leaving my mouth.

“Mph there you go, such a good girl for me” He groaned.

I was soaked, Matt being this dominant was something that rarely happened and I couldn’t get enough of it when it did. My pussy throbbing, beginning for some form of friction. I continued bobbing my head up and down, at times using my hand to stroke him when I wasn’t deep throating him.

“Matt” I whimpered, unable to stop myself, the throbbing between my legs becoming too much.

“Yeah? Fuck you’re so hot on your knees for me” He responds.

“I need you, please” I whine.

“Need me to fuck you? Take all my frustration out on your tight pussy?” He questioned.

“I - yes god please” I reply.

Matt grabs my arms and lifts me up, sitting me on the bench before spreading my legs open and smirking before rubbing circles over my clit.

“So wet for me, you won’t be able to walk out of here by the time I’m done with you” He smirks.

“Just fuck me Matty, I need you so bad” I moan out.

He moves me so I was bent over, my ass in the air facing him. I feel him line himself up with my entrance, a moan already falling from my mouth just knowing the sensation that was going to follow.

Without a warning, he slams into me.

“Fuck Matt I - oh my god you’re so big” I whimper, a slight mix of pain and pleasure shooting through my body.

“Take it I know you can pretty girl” He groans out, continuing to slam himself into me at an ungodly pace. His grip on my hips growing tigher with each thrust, no doubt going to leave me with bruising.

“So fucking tight” He groans out, his voice raspy, “Such a good girl for me”

Continuous moans fall effortlessly from my mouth as he fucks me, hitting my g-spot in a way so good that with each thrust I felt my pussy clench.

“Touch yourself, I want you touching yourself while I come all over your ass” He demands.

I do as he demands, my hand now rubbing circles around my clit, only hightening my pleasure. The knot in my stomach only tighening the longer we continued, my legs beginning to shake. Feeling a sudden loss of Matt’s touch, I whimper until I feel his come on my ass and him groan, my name leaving his mouth as he did so.

“God you feel so good, not such a good girl now all covered in my come are you?” He says, without a doubt a smirk on his face.

“Matty I -“ I start but he cuts me off.

“I know baby, I’m not done with you” He replies, spreading my legs wider and moving so he was underneath me, my pussy hovering above his face.

I feel him swipe two fingers up my pussy, a whine leaving my mouth. His thumb moving slow circles on my clit as he used his tongue to flick the rest of my pussy.

“Taste so good, covering my face with your juices. So fucking hot” He says.

The knot in my stomach only becoming tigher as he flattens his tongue against my pussy before sucking on my clit, pushing two fingers inside of me.

“I’m gonna come holy fuck don’t stop please” I whimper. My legs now shaking to the point I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay standing.

“Good girl, show me how good I make you feel. Come all over my face” He mumbles, sending vibrations up my body.

Unable to hold myself back, I reach my climax, my eyes squeezing shut, and my legs buckling as I did, only pushing my pussy further down on his face. Moaning out his name continuously.

“Matt I can’t hold myself up much longer it - fuck it feels so good” I moan out.

Ignoring my comment, he continues using his tongue to lick up my juices, slowing the pace of his fingers that were insdie of me, before sliding out from underneath me and allowing me to sit down. Both of us catching our breath.

“Never really thought I’d feel this good after losing a game” He smirks.

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidsword @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @mattenthusiast @its-jennarose @lxvlysworld @lovingsturniolo @iwantmattsobad @secret-sturniolo @mattsd0ll @soursturniolo

[fellthemarvelous]

Holy forking shirtballs

I'm choosing violence today. I started this on Twitter, but I'm going to finish my thoughts here like I always do.

But what really blows my mind the most is the way that people look at Aziraphale's "choice" at the end, as if he had one to fucking begin with.

I'm sorry, but Aziraphale knows how messed up Heaven is. He told The Metatron, more than once, that he did not want to go back to Heaven! We can debate what each of us means by "choice" all night because my "choice" and your "choice" might be two different concepts. He could have been strong armed by The Metatron or he could have looked at where things were headed and realized he had no choice but to intervene himself.

You need to ask yourself what Aziraphale has a moral imperative to do.

What do we owe to each other?

Seriously, if you have not watched The Good Place, I recommend you go and watch it, because it absolutely shaped how I've viewed Good Omens 2 since its release.

My levels of frustration with the bad faith mischaracterizations of Aziraphale are off the charts. If you are blaming him for everything, implying that he should have to grovel and that Crowley has a right to hurt him back, you have missed the point of Good Omens entirely.

I defend Aziraphale, but I don't think one of them is more right or wrong than the other. They're equals. They're a group of the two of them, acting and reacting to each other throughout history. They're Alpha Centauri.

I cannot even begin to explain how fucking devastated I felt when Crowley said these words, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. What he said took a lot of courage because he's finally admitting something they've both been too scared to publicly define for 6,000 years. Crowley has had to spend so long with a rough outer shell because he fell and had to hide all of his softness.

The look on his face was one of pure joy when he created that nebula, but I think the fact that he got to share that moment with Aziraphale is what has always stuck with him.

So yeah, seeing Crowley with a broken heart at the end of "Every Day" was sad for me as well.

My brain still lives here!!

But Neil has said that Good Omens 3 is not quiet, gentle, or romantic. I imagine it's going to be more like the the first season in which they are not central to the plot. GO2 will help us make sense of how they ended up where they are when we see the bigger picture with all the other major players involved with GO3.

Aziraphale was still a soldier and accidentally got himself discorporated in his own magic circle in season one. He had a platoon waiting on him to start Armageddon, and he deserted them to go save the world with Crowley instead. Aziraphale is a deserter. I need everyone to remember that. He yeeted himself out of Heaven and sought out Crowley before even locating a body just to warn him about what was happening so they could try to save the world together.

I can't help but think of 1941 and that magician who had been arrested for being a deserter.

Aziraphale disobeyed orders. That took courage but it branded him as a traitor against Heaven. They tried to destroy him for it the same way Hell tried to destroy Crowley for his part in stopping the war.

Aziraphale and Job are the only characters we have seen interacting with God directly. Aziraphale has spoken to God before and he is determined to do so again.

Aziraphale knows Heaven is flawed, but he also knows it's supposed to be good. He wants it to be good. He does not like the way the system works and he wants to make a difference. (And I'm pretty sure he's also determined to talk to God without being intercepted by The Metatron.)

Since when is that a bad thing? I don't get it. And I've had this discussion before.

If you need to change the system by burning the old one to the ground, it's still change, and we don't know what Aziraphale has planned.

It seems to me that people just want to see Aziraphale fail because it would punish him for returning to Heaven instead of running off with Crowley.

Some of y'all take everything Aziraphale says or does and twist those things into malicious anti-Crowley actions because you think the only reason Aziraphale exists is to make Crowley happy, and if he isn't thinking only about Crowley then he's doing something wrong.

Aziraphale does not exist as a plot device to further Crowley's character. They come as a pair. They've been learning from each other for 6,000 years. Crowley challenges Aziraphale just as much as Aziraphale challenges him.

You can be mad at Aziraphale all you want, but villainizing him is gross. Defending Crowley does not mean you have to tear down and mischaracterize Aziraphale anymore than defending Aziraphale means you have to tear down Crowley (but I don't see that happen on nearly the same level it happens to Aziraphale). Stop painting Aziraphale as an abusive partner, for fuck sake.

Aziraphale knows there are flaws in the system. He wants to make a difference, and since he has seen that Gabriel can change, then maybe the whole system can. He has to at least try, and if he can succeed then maybe he and Crowley can stop hiding and finally be together without having to look over their shoulders all the time.

Why is that a bad thing? He's just as protective of Crowley as Crowley is of him!

But don't forget that Aziraphale's wing was covering Adam and Eve too. As much as a wants to protect Crowley, he has a moral imperative to keep humanity safe as well.

He sent Adam and Eve into the unknown with a flaming sword so they could protect themselves.

As much as he wants to be with Crowley, there are 8 billion people on Earth heading toward the Second Coming and Judgment Day. They'll work together to fight alongside humanity in the end. Aziraphale should not have to humiliate himself just to earn Crowley's forgiveness. That's a rancid notion.

The Resurrectionist was a whole ass moral dilemma for Aziraphale, which is why I brought up The Good Place earlier, but that's a post for a different time.

Aziraphale has his own motivations and they're just as important as Crowley's, and they don't have to be chalked up to Aziraphale being the bad guy. Weird, I know, but shades of grey.

"To the world."

[tulippanes]

𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐆

i. — catch that dog!

warnings: N/A

m.list ➥ next

"No!"

Hajime doesn't know why he called Takahiro, even after seeing how he took two miles worth of running. "Don't be so dramatic," he states as he exits his gym. He checks the time on his phone. 10:42 a.m.

"I'm still not gonna go," Takahiro says.

"Then what was the point of running with me today?"

"I got bored. Duh."

"'Cause your lazy ass doesn't do shit," Hajime huffs and he can hear Takahiro gasp.

"If I go with you next time will I get that gym pic?"

Hajime hung up after that. He grumbles in frustration and chugs the rest of his water before walking back to his car. He should've known something was up when Takahiro asked to join him on his run. Like he'd ever actually work out with him.

"Hey! Watch out!" He can hear a voice in the distance call out. Were they talking to him? Yet right when he looks to his side, he sees a dog leaping at him. Startled once the dog jumps on him, he loses balance and lands on the ground. He can hear the dog panting before it licks his cheek. Its beady eyes stare right back at him. A corgi.

The sound of rushed footsteps near and the dog picks it up, immediately sprinting off his chest. He looks up and sees a woman, an exasperated expression on her face once she watches the corgi dash off. She looked out of breath. Maybe it was the teeny bit of pity he felt for her, but he stands up in an instant and runs after the dog. He no doubt looks stupid chasing after a dog that's not even his. Even so, what's the harm in helping someone out?

He eventually corners the dog, slowly nearing it. Then it slips by him. Tries to at least, lucky enough for him he was able to grab the corgi before it officially did slip past him.

He walks back towards the stranger and spots her jogging up to him. The corgi in his arms while giving him another lick on his cheek, tail wagging and all. The two stop in front of each other and he gets a good look at her. She's pretty. Really pretty.

It's almost like her eyes are shining when she sees the dog in his arms. He tries hard not to avoid her gaze. "Thank you so much for catching him. I'm so sorry for all the trouble." She takes the corgi from him, his hand brushing hers which causes him to flinch. He shakes his head while scratching the back of his neck.

"No– Uh. It's fine. No trouble really... Is he yours?" he questions.

A small smile appears on her lips and Hajime instantly avoids her gaze. Fuck, was he feeling nervous? "No, no. I work at the doggie daycare just over there," she says and nods towards the building next to his gym. The Bone Zone. Oh, so that was a daycare for dogs. He's always seen it, just never really got curious to actually look into it. Maybe now he has a reason to.

"You're a great runner," she says. The compliment almost makes him smile.

"Oh.. Yeah, thanks. I like to run in my free time."

"Really? Well, is there any way I can compensate you?" He blanks out at that question. He looks her up and down. Damn it.

He clears his throat, "No. It's really okay. Swear."

"Then, if we ever see each other again let me know. Okay? Thank you again." He slowly nods and she waves goodbye before walking off. The corgi barks at him as she walks away, head on her shoulder. He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. He furiously scratches the back of his neck as he walks towards his car. He unlocks his vehicle and steps inside. Gripping the wheel, he sighs once more and leans his forehead against it.

He probably embarrassed himself. In front of a pretty girl like her? Yeah, he most definitely embarrassed himself. It's not like they'll actually see one another again. So what's the big deal?

He sits in his car in silence. He wants to pull out his hair.

[Name] hurries back towards the daycare, gently scolding the Corgi in her arms. "You really need to stop running off, you little troublemaker," she mumbles. She looks over her shoulder and watches Hajime enter his car. She looks back at the dog that was already staring up at her.

"..But I guess I can't really blame you for jumping at a guy like that, huh?"

𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐒:

• He fell first but still fell harder trope but w Hajime Iwaizumi (27) Athletic Trainer

• Hajime always goes on morning runs, usually at 8:00, but started his routine a little later since Takahiro tagged along this time

• He used to go on his morning runs with Tooru

• Hank the Corgi is notorious for running away

• He was relatively calm the entire week too

• Michimiya is always the one making sure those five back in line

• Tooru got his 30$

a/n first chapter finally out!!! i'm so sorry it took a little longer than expected, this chapter came out a little shorter than I intended it to but I hope it turned out okay nonetheless

tags:

@akaashislovee @shookykookie30 @wyrcan @darling-eos @pelicanpizza @bakugouswh0r3 @mawenskiblue @phoenix-eclipses @s777athv @jtaimeurmom @blueballslock @zazathezaer @strawberry-sanzu @oneiratxxia10 @tsukiesimp @idkanymorebuthere

p.s. those in blue couldn't be tagged😞😞

[prettyrenjunn]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫

haechan x f!reader

themes- best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff & crack

summary- haechan gets unnecessarily jealous a lot considering you’re just little ole’ best friends and it takes renjun pointing it out for him to realise.

it’s my first time writing like this i wanted to try it out but damn it’s hard. also if there’s mistakes… my bad

he’s ridiculous.

you think he might need a smack to the back of his head to finally come to his senses but you keep your hands to yourself, no matter how infuriating he is. “hyuck there’s nothing to be upset over.”

he’s going to deny it. he always does. “i’m not upset!” he grumbled back. “i just don’t understand why you and jeno were partners when we’re always partners.”

you can’t even fathom why he’s so upset you had a different partner for your friend groups game night but for some reason he always gets like this. you know donghyuck’s a clinger and he loves to be by your side with your attention on him as much as possible but god you were sick of this. “i’m not seeing the problem? i can partner up with whoever i want its not like we took a blood oath to always partner with eachother.”

it always goes like this until he gets frustrated and eventually..

“okay it’s fine let’s just talk about something else.”

renjun claims hyuck is in love with you and that’s why he always acts like a possessive idiot but you’re quick to shut him up as you notice the boy himself strutting over to the table. “i’m heartbroken. hanging out without me is evil, are you replacing me now?”

you and renjun both roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i wouldn’t dare take your placing knowing you’d never stop whining.” renjun quips back. donghyuck pulls a face until he’s swallowed the big chunk of a sandwich he just bit into.

“i don’t whine.”

renjun bursts out laughing pointing his fingers at the boy. “sure you do. you whined when i called shotgun in yn’s car. you whined when yn went on a date instead of going to sit in your room to watch you game- which sounds like a horrible time by the way. the most recent case of whining was you getting pissy about yn and jeno being partners for game night.”

sheesh renjun had a whole speech. hyuck pursed his lips for a minute before nodding his head. “okay well maybe i do whine a little. i feel like it makes me charming, it’s not always a guy wants to be next to his witch of a best friend all the time..OUCH”

the kick to the shin was well deserved.

donghyuck has become conscious of his problem of always wanting to be your number one. has he seriously always been like this? he wonders.

he notices when a random guy stares at you for a little too long or when jaemins hands linger on your waist for longer then they should- scratch that they should never be there in the first place. he knows jaemin’s a touchy guy but come on! everybody knows yn is his girl.

wait.

my girl??? oh my fucking god.

at this very moment donghyuck realises he’s been an oblivious idiot this entire time. how didn’t he notice sooner? he doesn’t remember ever being this dense but this explains everything. he’s not exactly sure what he has to do right now but one things for sure, he needs to tell renjun.

it takes 3 missed calls and a load of spam texting for renjun to stop doing whatever he was doing and meet up with him. donghyuck calls him a bad friend for not picking up on the first ring and renjun tells him if this isn’t something serious he’s gonna whoop his ass.

“seriously why the hell did you make me come here?” renjun questions suspiciously. “why aren’t you talking? lee donghyuck i swear to-“

“i like yn.” donghyuck whispers quietly in response as he stares down and fiddles with his hands nervously. “you made me realise the whole jealously problem and then i realised it’s because i like her.”

renjun wants to laugh at his friend but he doesn’t because he looks like he’s about to cry or piss his pants…or do both simultaneously. “yeah? and what are you going to do about these feelings?”

“cry probably.”

renjun laughs in his face and donghyuck stares at him appalled. “why are you laughing? this is serious renjun! she’s my best friend.”

renjun only tuts in response, how can two people be so blissfully oblivious. even from his and everyone else’s perspectives it’s obvious there’s something more going on than just a pair of best friends. “i think you have a 90% succession rate if you just grow some balls and confess.”

“90%” donghyuck cries out. “that’s not nearly enough! and i have balls already thank you very much. i felt them drop when i was 13.”

“if you’re not gonna listen to my advise why did i even come.” renjun glares.

“oh renjun aren’t you just so so sweet.”

he’s acting weird and he knows you’ve noticed with the weird looks you keep giving him. in his defence, he’s in shock and you look really pretty and HE LIKES YOU!

“are you sure you’re alright?” you reach up to place the back of your hand on his head. “hm you don’t feel that warm but your cheeks are on fire hyuck.”

his mouth dries up at the close proximity but he needs to get himself together. “i think i just need some water.” he clears his throat. “can i have some of yours?”

you don’t hesitate to pass your bottle of water over and he realises he’s made a mistake.

an indirect kiss.

he’s going to faint.

“maybe you should go home just incase you’re getting sick or something.” you bring him back to reality once again. “come on, i’ll make sure you get home safe.”

donghyuck shakes his head frantically. “i swear i’m okay.” he bursts out. “and the others are already on their way.” he adds.

you nod and the next 5 minutes waiting for your friends to arrive is spent with you yapping and him listening along despite the breakdown he’s having in his head.

when your friends arrive they all notice donghyuck is acting differently too but they drop it after he says he’s okay, it’s only renjun that has an idea of what’s going on with him.

“yn i heard some guy in your lecture asked you on a date.” jaemin wiggles his brows as he starts a new conversation. “what did you say? is he taking you out or what?”

your friends heads turn to you straight away waiting on your answer. you can particularly feels donghyucks stare burning through your skull. “you’re all so nosy.” you chortle “but i told him i’ll think about it.”

donghyuck releases the breath he’d been holding at your answer and then he’s grabbing your hand in a hurry and rushing you out of the diner. “hyuck! what the hell? what are you doing?” you pull your arm back and he lets you, but he continues storming towards your car and waits for you to unlock it. “i’m sorry. can we go home please.”

you’re unsure if he wants you to go into his apartment with him but when he turns back to look at you with glistening eyes you’re already unbuckling your seatbelt.

he drops himself down on the couch and you sit next to him, turning so you’re facing him. “talk to me hyuck? what’s going on?” you murmur but he stays silent. “it’s okay. you don’t have to talk about it. shall we watch something?”

he stays silent for another minute and then he turns to look at you as he speaks. “can you say no to him?”

“say no to who hyuck?”

“the guy that asked you on a date. can you say no?” you’re confused but you nod anyway. “thanks.”

“did he do something?” you speak up. you’re worried he’s some horrible guy but donghyuck shakes his head at your words. “oh then why-“

“i realised something.” he cuts you off and you let him without protesting. you’d rather he talk than bottle up whatever’s going on. “i get jealous and petty because i like you, and i think i get scared and insecure because you’re not mine.”

your heart starts beating faster, so does his. you’re about to talk again but he beats you to it. “you don’t have to say anything i know i’ve thrown this all on you out of the blue. i want you to know that it’s okay if you don’t like me the same way, we can move past this but please don’t leave me.”

he’s rambling and your smile gradually grows. “lee donghyuck.”

“yeah?”

“i’ve always liked you.”

later that day he gets a text.

renjun: how is everthing?

he doesn’t answer yet but he thinks this is the best day of his life.

[solkver]

airdrop ⋆·˚ ༘ *

chapter 13... ᝰ.ᐟ you guys are freaks!

content warning! written smut under the cut, nsfw themes, fingering/rimming, car sex, dacryphilia

✄┈┈┈┈ october 25, 2024 – 6:30 pm

you sat on the backseat of your range rover, air conditioning on and seats reclined forward. as you were about to grab your phone and message sohee, a knock by the window grabs your attention.

“you came” you smiled as you opened the door for sohee, making no effort to move and give space, immediately sitting him on your lap.

surprised was an understatement. sohee’s face was beat red, his hands fumbling on his sides trying to figure out where to place them, if he can place them on you.

“I mean.. of course I would..” the younger murmurs, bottom lip caught between his teeth again. you smile slightly at that, “you’ve gotta stop biting your lips, it’ll bleed at some point” immediately, sohee releases his lips, quick to follow orders.

“you can hold me, baby. you're too nervous” you whisper by his neck, the heat of your breath spreading even more warmth in sohee’s body, “it's just us here”

sohee sighs, hands making its way on your chest, “we have to be quick, anton’s going to start suspecting soon..”

you chuckle, your right hand making its way to cup sohee’s jaw, “i’ll give it about 30 minutes before he realizes none of us are back” you caress his cheek before making its way on his lips, carefully tapping on it.

it takes sohee a hot second to realize before parting his lips, obediently taking your thumb into his mouth. his tongue wraps itself around your finger, coating it with saliva. sohee whimpers at the feeling of you pushing down on his tongue “so good for me”

sohee throws his head back, crotch grinding against yours, “m-more y/n, please..” his voice barely above a whisper, afraid he’ll be heard outside the vehicle.

since he asked so nicely in that pretty voice of his, who were you to deny him? “alright pretty, lay down for me” you kiss on his collarbone as you guide him on your lap, head laying on a pillow, ass prompted on your thighs, sweats and underwear now pulled down to his ankles.

the willingness in the younger makes you smile, so obedient and pliant for you “let’s test your self proclaimed tweet, yeah?” you chuckle as you squeeze on his ass cheeks, spreading it apart to see his awaiting hole.

you tap your fingers a couple of times on his puckered hole before spitting on it and god the sounds that sohee makes make you want to ditch everything else and fuck him stupid.

but you're a man of your words, aren't you? you glance over at sohee’s face, gauging his every reaction. you press your index finger in, eyes closely watching sohee’s face contort into a moan, “f-fuck, y/n..” you hum, your finger slowly pumping into him, “its only one baby, relax”

tears prickle sohee’s eyes, frustration building up from the very little stimulation, “more y/n, please please”

you groan, hand halting on his ass, finger still buried deep, “I’m so lucky, huh? I've got a pretty boy begging for my fingers in him” it makes sohee eagerly nod, head bobbing up and down in the pillow. you push down on the small of his back, making him arch more as you insert the second finger.

you hear sohee’s breath stutter, a broken cry spilling from his parted lips, tears on the rims of his eyes. the way sohee moans your name has you all self control, scissoring and twisting your fingers in him and adding another right after, the younger’s body convulsing.

you watch the tears stream down sohee’s cheeks as his whole body shakes, three fingers pumping relentlessly inside him “n-ngh.. fuck y/n, right there!” that alone makes you throw your head back, a groan rumbling from deep in your chest, sohee does indeed sound heavenly when fingered.

It doesn't take much longer of constantly thrusting your fingers into the same spot until sohee’s writhing on your lap, a mantra of your name falling from his lips, “y/n.. y/n! I’m s-so close, please”

“come for me, baby” you say shakily, your arm slowly growing tired from fucking your fingers into him. It doesn't take long until sohee is screaming your name, his cock spurting ropes and ropes of cum untouched before his body ultimately limps on your lap.

you wait a couple minutes for sohee to calm down, breathing slowly coming back to normal, “don’t fall asleep on me now, pretty” you laugh, arm extending to grab at the sanitary wipes behind your chair to wipe at sohee’s now flaccid dick and your cum stained knee.

sohee giggles weakly, allowing himself to be dressed by you, his boxers and sweats neatly worn on him again. you help sohee up again, sitting on your lap facing you. the younger smiles at you, eyes crinkle into crescents. sohee leans to kiss your cheek, lips ghosting over your ear “thank you”

you smile wide, hands coming up to caress his hips, “of course, pretty” you flick your wrist after, reading your watch, “and you’ve got 10 minutes to spare” which makes sohee giggle, much smaller hands finding purchase on your pecs and pushing away with a playful smile. you chuckle at his antics before slapping his ass and opening the door “go”

and if you stay inside the car for another 15 minutes to jerk off, no one has to know!

𓏔 i. MASTERLIST 𓏔 ii. BACK 𓏔 iii. NEXT

synopsis! bored sohee decides that airdropping memes at his best friend's gig would be the best way to kill the boredom. much to his luck, the drummer of his best friend's band, who he's been crushing on for years, is the one that got his meme airdropped to.

author's note! the amnt of times I had to hit my vape while writing this is unreal. not my best work but yay smut! also I'll be out for a couple of hours so no update til then 😓 taglists still open!

taglist! @pinklemonade34 @luvkyu @naseobseob @kmusicreblogs @desafortuno @dontwannaexsist @onementally-unstabel-kid @kaijunodos @kaiyunsim @xavi-in-kpopland @prettybluei @gnusihcom @shuaeunie

© solkver 2024 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms. thank you.

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Cherry Ink (Ace x GN!Reader)

“This is your fault.” 

“Is not!” The redhead’s protests only feed the fuel of your boiling rage. “I told you you didn’t have to follow me. You got yourself into this!”

“I was trying to make sure you didn’t get your sorry ass in trouble again!” 

“What’re you, my mom?” You desperately wanted to punch that grin clean off his face. “Are you going to make sure I eat my vegetables, too?” 

You decide to ignore him. There was no sense in getting into a fistfight. Right now, your main focus is to figure out where you are. You look up at the green road sign hanging above you. It reads, “Scuttle Str.” Well, that gives you a starting point at least. You then turn to look at the bus schedule posted to the wall of the shaded canopy under the bench you stood in front of. 

“There won’t be another bus for two hours.” 

“That’s not so bad.” Ace leans against the pole holding up the street sign. “We just have to hang out here for a while. When the next bus comes, we’ll ask the driver to take us back to the…the, um…” 

You sigh, trying your best to keep yourself calm. “Sebastian Square. By that time though, everyone will have already gone back to the resort. We’ll just have to go back there,” you narrow your gaze in his direction, “and hope that we don’t have a professor or two waiting to tear our heads off for disappearing.” 

“Oh please,” Ace scoffs with a roll of his eye. “If they’re so worried, they’ll have the police find us. You worry too much.” 

“Yeah, I do.” You cross your arms over your chest, continuing to glare at him. “I worry about us getting in serious trouble for running off. Wait, no, actually, you ran off! I was the one to go after you and try to drag you back to where we were supposed to be!” 

“Hey, I didn’t know the bus would take us here! I thought it was the one that stopped by that huge mall we went to Wednesday.”

You throw your arms in the air in frustration. “Ace Trappola, everyone! Freshman at Night Raven College and he can’t even bother to read!” 

“Since when was the last time you read a bus’ time table?!” 

“When I want to make sure I’m getting on the right bus, dumbass!” 

This is getting you nowhere. Despite the shade, the heat is sweltering and you’re sweating bullets. That little fan in the bus you and Ace disembarked a few minutes ago hadn’t helped at all. On top of that, you’re starving. Professor Crewel said at the beginning of the day that you would all stop to eat at a restaurant centered in Sebastian Square a little past twelve. You pull out your shitty little phone Crowley gave you last winter and, sure enough, it’s past twelve. That small breakfast you had to scarf down because your alarm didn’t go off that morning wasn’t going to hold you forever. 

“Let’s just get out of this heat.” You tuck your phone back into the pocket of your shorts and look around the area. “There’s bound to be somewhere we can sit and hang out till the bus comes.” 

Ace points to a building up a small hill. “What about there? It looks like some lil mom-and-pop place. I’m starving!”

He took the words right out of your mouth. You nod and, without another word, begin the short trek up to the thatched roof shack. 

You thanked whatever higher being there might be that you had some madol on you. It wasn’t much - just enough to buy you a cold drink and a bag of chips. You stepped to the side to allow Ace to place his order; you sat at a small table in the corner of the eatery and waited for him to join you. Your stomach growled as you opened the bag of chips, raising the bag to your open mouth and tilting it up and pouring them in. You chewed the few salty crisps that fell in, sighing through your nose as you swallowed as your stomach began to calm its hungry tirade. Hopefully the chips would last you until you could get some real food. Though a part of you felt guilty for thinking it, you were glad Grim wasn’t here with you - all your money would’ve been spent on him. 

A few minutes later, Ace plops down in the seat across from you. His meal consists of a burger, potato wedges, and a milkshake. You try to avoid ogling the bounty of food, directing your gaze down at your small, near empty bag of chips. You pick your drink up off the table and take a sip, the liquid gloriously wetting your mouth and tongue, staving off your parchness. As you place your drink back on the wooden table, Ace speaks up after swallowing a mouthful of burger. “That’s all you’re gonna eat?”

That pang of embarrassment for your situation wells up in your heart, like it has so many times before. “I’m not that hungry,” you say, avoiding his gaze as you take a potato chip and eat it. From the corner of your eye, you see Ace raise an inquisitive brow. 

“Could have fooled me for the way your stomach was growling earlier.” So, he had heard that. You thought it’d been quiet enough for only you to hear - apparently not. You mentally cursed your gut’s cries for sustenance as you bit into another chip, this time a bit more forcefully. 

“Well, I’m eating, so it shouldn’t do that anymore.” 

Your voice was a bit more snappy than you intended. “Geez, alright!” Ace takes a sip from his milkshake, right after mumbling a quiet, “Don’t have to bite my head off.” 

Soon, your bag of chips is empty. While the cold drink eases your body temperature and quenches your thirst, it does little to satisfy your lingering hunger. You take out your phone to check the time: it’s just a few minutes past one. A little under an hour to go before the bus comes back - another hour without food. Your stomach begins to ache; it’s a subtle pain, but you know it’ll gradually grow as the minutes pass. You desperately try to ignore it, distracting yourself from the smell of scrumptious food by looking out the window and glancing around the eatery. It truly is a nice place, just out of the way of the hustle and bustle of the city, located about a ten minute walk from the coastline. 

Just as you’re fancying a quick swim to further distance yourself from your hunger, someone pokes your arm. “Hey.” You tilt your head to look over at Ace. He’s got a teasing smirk on his punchable face. “Your stomach growling again.” 

You hadn’t even noticed, too lost in your thoughts to hear it. You fold your arms over your stomach and glare out the window. “Probably just indigestion,” you suggest dismissively. 

You feel Ace stare at you for a moment, perhaps coming up with a way to tease you further. Instead, he asks, “You’re still hungry, aren’t you?” 

Despite how much of a shithead he can be, there’s no sense in lying to him. “Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just going to hold out until we get back to the resort.” 

“Um, hello?” Ace gestures about the space with his hand. “We’re at a restaurant? Or whatever you call this? They make food.”

“No shit.” 

“So, go get something else to eat.”

“I’m fine, Ace.” 

“Your stomach says otherwise.” 

“Well, it can shut the fuck up, can’t it?” 

Again, your tone came out sharper than you intended it to. This time, however, Ace didn’t make an offended comment about it. He is quiet, almost too quiet. Suddenly, he gets up from his seat and walks away. Maybe he has to go to the bathroom? That, or he doesn’t want to get kicked out by starting an argument with you. That’d be surprisingly smart of him, you think. 

You glance over at his unfinished burger and wedges. Would he notice if you snuck in a bite of the meat, stole a fry? No - no, that’s wrong and you know it. You’re not Grim - you’re better than that. Wrapping your arms tighter around your stomach you turn back towards the window, once again trying to ignore the way your stomach continues to growl, mocking you. You almost jump out of your seat when something slams down on your side of the table. You’re startled to find a plate of food waiting for you. 

“Eat.” That sounds more like a demand than a suggestion. Coming from Ace, it’s rather surprising. He sits across from you once more, no smile in sight as he stares at you, expression serious. You look down at the plate of food - a dish you often order from places like this. The growling of your gut intensifies as the glorious scent fills your nostrils. You look up at Ace and eye him suspiciously. 

“I’m not falling for it,” you say, accusingly. 

“Falling for what?” 

“This!” You point at the plate of food. “You’re going to make me do some favor or something in return - like do your homework!” 

Ace scoffs. “Who am I, Azul? I’m not gonna do something like that!” You narrow your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I’ve done it before! But that’s not what this is about.” 

He nudges the plate closer to you with his finger. “I’m not going to stuff my face and let you go hungry. I’m not even that low.” You raise an eyebrow at him. Ace briefly raises his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, maybe I’ve been an ass like that before. This is different, though.” 

Ace leans back in his seat. “Eat, okay?” The beginning of a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Or am I going to have to come over there and force you?” 

No way in hell were you going to let that happen. He actually is serious, then. Well…if he insists. You put aside your suspicions - for now - and begin to eat. Immediately, you feel relief. In no time you’re wolfing down your food; it’s only when Ace chuckles at how you stuff your face that you slow down. “It’s good,” you say, trying not to be embarrassed. 

“Mhm,” Ace hums in agreement as he chomps down on his burger. “Real good stuff,” he concurs through a mouthful of meat, bun, veggies, and condiments. 

“Ew!” You cringe in disgust as you catch a glimpse of the mushy food in his mouth. “Don’t talk with your mouthful. It’s gross!” 

Ace laughs as he swallows the bite. “You’re such a baby! You sound like Crewel.” He lightly kicks your ankle under the table. “Are you gonna call me a ‘bad dog,’ too?” 

“No,” you grin at him wickedly, “but I could tell him how you’ve been acting here.” 

You glimpsed fear in those cherry-colored eyes. “Don’t you dare! My ass is already grass when we get back!” He jabs a potato wedge in your direction. “And I bought you that food.” 

“See?” You smirked. “I told you you’d use this against me.” The boy frowns at the realization, almost appearing disappointed in himself. An odd look on him, but likely nothing too deep. You smile and say, “Tell you what: as thanks for the food, I won’t tell anyone about your bad table manners.” 

Ace’s smile is almost mischievous as he winks at you. “Deal.” He nods his head to the side, towards the napkin holder at the edge of the table near the window. “You want me to take one of those napkins and write up a makeshift contrast, too?” 

You laugh as you shake your head, right before taking another big bite of your food. Maybe sneaking away from the rest of your class - whether or not intentional - wasn’t so bad after all. 

***

Your asses were, indeed, grass when you finally made it back to Sebastian Square. You arrived just in time to catch the rest of your schoolmates and teachers about to leave the area for the resort. Professor Crewel was the one to greet you both, as Vargas and Trein had gone out to look for you. To say the man chewed you out would be an understatement - and in front of all your peers, too. Of course, when it was discovered that you were only trying to keep Ace from running off, your punishment was a lot lighter. All you would have to do is write a one page apology for not notifying a staff member instead, among other details. Ace, on the other hand, barely got out of detention while still on the trip; although, he would surely face that consequence the moment he stepped back on campus. 

You step out of your hotel room and into the hall. Once again, hunger pangs your gut, and you decide to satiate it with a midnight snack. As you walk, your hand feels the billfold within your pocket. You’re very grateful that, upon learning that you used the last of your funds to procure sustenance during your unplanned delinquency, Crewel replenished your empty pockets. He strictly stated that they were for necessities - however, he discreetly said that, should there be any wants you desire in the last several days of the trip, you may come see him. Many would call it special treatment, but at this rate you’re waiting for the man to serve you adoption papers. 

The glimpse of a smile ghosts over your lips as you take the elevator down to the lobby. After departing the lift, you walk across the room and enter a smaller one a short distance away from the front desk. What meets your gaze are three large vending machines - and one familiar redhead. “Ace?” 

The man startles at the sound of his name. Obviously, he didn’t expect anyone else to come down here, let alone find him. “Shh!” he hisses. “Shut up! You want Crewel or Trein or Vargas to hear?” 

“And cook your goose further?” You giggle. “Nah - I don’t think you can get anymore burnt.” You ignore the daggers he glares into the back of your head as you view the choices available behind the glass of the vending machines. Candy, chips, granola bars, bottled drinks - you insert your money into your chosen machine and make your selection. Ace does the same shortly after you’ve acquired your snack. As you suspected, it’s a candy bar, one made of dark chocolate and cherries. 

“Bad dog!” You almost scare Ace out of his skin. “You’ll rot your teeth with that!” 

“You-!” Ace looks like he’s going to punch your shoulder, but refrains. He tucks the bar of chocolate into his pocket before walking past you. He bumps into you as he does, forcing you to sway to the side. 

“Hey, watch it!” 

“Make me!” he calls back, mockingly sticking his tongue out at you before making a run for the elevators. You run after him, but by the time you get across the lobby, muttering a quick apology to the janitor you almost bumped into, Ace is already gone. You mumble under your breath how annoying he is as you hit a button between the elevators, indicating you want to go up. After a small bit of waiting, the one to your far left opens and you get on. You press the button for your floor and watch the large metal doors close, right before you feel yourself ascending upwards. 

As you wait to reach your floor, you lean against the wall and shove your hands into your pockets. Your forehead crinkles as you frown, confused as to why there’s some sort of paper in your right pocket. You take it out, wondering if it’s some form of receipt you forgot. Instead, in your hand is a folded piece of lined paper, like you would use at school. You unfold the paper once, twice, three times before its face is opened up towards you. Your eyes widen as you read the words on the page, written in red ink. 

Date #1 was nice. Date #2?

❑ Yes    ❑No

[strawhbrrries]

Three gifts and a kiss

pairing: reader x softish!joel miller

summary: three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart.

warnings: implied age gap (never mentioned), use of pet names (darlin’), straight fluff, no use of Y/N *please let me know if i forgot anything*

author’s note: this is my first real writing piece, outside of fanfic i wrote on wattpad when i was twelve, so please be kind with criticism! as much as i love smut i was too nervous to write it for my first post so i hope the fluff does justice. i really do hope you enjoy it! *not proofread*

word count: 2145 words

“Shh. Stop your fussing. I am just braiding your hair.” You teased, separating the three strands of hair you were overlapping into more organized strands to work with.

“It hurts!” Ellie whined, laying her head back in your lap to emphasize her point, bringing one her hands up to rub the side of her head to soothe the pain she swore up and down was the worst thing she ever felt.

Ellie was sat on the floor in between your legs reading whatever she had picked up off the end table when she came barging in your house demanding for her hair to be branded, something about how she had never learned and needed to be taught. Which was a big load of bullshit, as proved by the fact you were just braiding her hair and she wasn’t learning shit, well only half a load of bullshit as she truly had never learned. 

Jackson wasn’t necessarily a boring place for you before Ellie and Joel showed up, but it wasn’t the most entertaining either. Bartending has its perks but outside of it, all the days blended together and were a never ending boring hell. The foul mouthed child made your days way more interesting, finding every excuse under the sun to find her way into your home. Not that you minded, but a knock would be nice every now and then. You enjoyed her company more than you expected when Tommy informed you that the empty house next door would be filled. You had actual friends your age, but most had adult responsibilities that started earlier in the day than yours did, besides Ellie being over occasionally meant Joel visiting to bring her home. Those were your favorite days.

The first time you ever met the infamous Joel Miller, is forever ingrained in your mind. His footsteps rattling through the house and the deepness of his voice as he called out for Ellie, you mentally noted that he was the reason she never knocked.

“In here Joel!” Ellie called out from your bedroom just up the stairs, giving you a look that expressed all her frustration of him just showing up.

“C’mon, dinners ready.” His voice carried through the house, not once had he really raised his voice since he showed up. His footsteps on the stairs sent her into a flurry to grab her things and go.

The two finger knock on the door captured your attention, never in your twenty years of living had you seen a man so attractive and he became so much more attractive the second he nodded his head in your direction. You knew it had been a long time when such a simple action made warmth flood your body.

“I’ll see you later, Ellie, hopefully the garden will be a bit more grown in soon so we can mess around in it !” You smiled, smoothing out the shirt you were wearing to try and make yourself more presentable for your unexpected handsome visitor. “It’s Joel, right?” 

“Yeah, sorry it took so long to meet.” He spoke back, no emotion present. You added to your, short, mental notes about the man that he seemed almost robotic.

“‘s okay. Ellie said you’ve been pretty busy, I enjoy having her around. It was nice to meet you!” You spoke enthusiastically to try and elicit a response from him but all he did was nod his head out the door and left with Ellie trailing behind him. A frown and disappointment soon took over the warmth he had originally brought.

Joel never went out of his way to acknowledge you, sure he nodded his head every time you served him at the bar but unlike your other regulars he had no interest in your stories and new recipes.  However, you always went out of your way to acknowledge him in subtle ways; always sending some leftovers home with Ellie, leaving a brand new guitar on his porch after Ellie told you he had broken his other one (admittedly, not your most subtle move), and a record of Linda Ronstadt with the words “I don’t need this back :)” scribbled on a piece of paper taped to it. 

The leftovers he appreciated, not that he ever expressed his gratitude to you about it. They were nice after a long shift on patrol, especially so because he didn’t have to cook nor did he have to interact with people at the mess hall. He spoke more to you, kinder to you, after you started sending leftovers home with Ellie. You found him, much like Ellie, barging in more often and on one occasion found him in your garden inspecting the produce you had planted for the season.

“You’ve got weeds.” He’d mumble, as if he was genius of the year for that observation. “Prolly some bugs too.” Joel placed a hand on his knee and got up off the ground, standing awkwardly as he had previously planned to have been gone before you caught him here. 

“By all means, if you can find insecticide that won’t cost me a fortune I would be forever indebted to you.” A chuckle slipped out at the thought that THE Joel Miller was in your garden going on about weeds. Life was weird sometimes. Your words earned you the first smile you’ve seen from the man, you thought about it every night from then on out. Joel, unbeknownst to you, thought of your giggle and the pretty blue sundress you had been wearing when you stumbled upon him every night.

The guitar, that one stirred up some trouble in the imaginary relationship you thought was going on with you and Mr. Miller. Ellie had come to help you cook and also gossip about Joel, you didn’t mind either, when he came storming in the house. You and Ellie exchanged a knowing look, but neither could’ve predicted the storm that was going to brew.

“Ellie. Go home.” His voice was low and his face mean. Everyone knew Joel Miller was a mean man but to be the person it was directed at, even worse.

“Wha- I’m just helping!” Ellie tried to plead her case, motioning to the half cut vegetables she was cutting.

“Go.” 

Ellie, reluctantly, left which left you with the seething older man standing in your kitchen. Instead of speaking, you simply turned around to the vegetables Ellie just left and started chopping in hopes that maybe he would leave and you didn’t have to be the brunt of whatever anger he had about something you didn’t even know about!

“What did you trade.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement and he expected an answer about point five seconds ago.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Also not a question, also a statement, most certainly a lie. You knew exactly what he was asking about, it was an act of kindness and you didn’t want to be scolded for caring about him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, leaned over the kitchen table that sat in between the two of you and let out a sigh. “Let's cut to the chase, darlin’. What the fuck did you trade. Don’t fuck with me either ‘cus I know you’re smarter than that.” 

“What I did or did not trade for the guitar is not your business, I was being nice, Joel. Hard for you to get used to, I know.” Your words came out a bit harsher than intended, you weren’t trying to be rude all you had intended to do was give him a new guitar after his had broken.

Instead of a rebuttal all you heard was his boots hitting the floor and the slam of your front door. You were too angry to cry, all you had tried to do was be kind. Had he been embarrassed? Embarrassed about what, that someone cares for him? You were too angry to chop, the fear of accidentally cutting off a finger was a bit too real at the moment, so you settled for half the usual vegetables. 

You still put leftovers on his porch. No amount of anger, and sadness for what occurred, would stop you from caring about him. 

He didn’t speak to you for eight days. Never showed up to coax Ellie home. Stopped playing his, new, guitar on the porch. For eight days he gave you the cold shoulder, it sucked. He only caved on the eighth day when he overheard your boss mention you had called out of work three days in a row, he couldn’t figure out why he cared but he did. He knocked on your door four times before you opened it.

“You look like shit.” His words robotic as ever.

“If you came to be rude, leave.” Your response was weak and quiet, your skin pale and visibly clammy. You had stressed yourself sick.

“What happened?” He brought his hand to your forehead and immediately felt the heat, surprised you hadn’t melted yet. 

For the first time in over twenty years, Joel had taken care of someone. He slept in the uncomfortable chair that sat in the corner of your bedroom, refusing the bed or the couch. He reheated meals and even made some of his own to make sure you were fed, and hydrated. For the first time since you met, you felt that he truly cared. He even let his guard down enough to, begrudgingly almost so much he could’ve convinced someone he was forced to do it, lay with you when the blankets weren’t enough to fight off the shivers. Ellie teased him in the privacy of their home that he was developing a crush, and he was.

The Linda Ronstadt record was your most genius idea. When you had first met Ellie, she mentioned a cassette her and Joel listened to when they were first driving out here. You asked for the artist and her exact words were “I don't know. Linda blah blah blah.” The guitar incident was long forgotten so you figured gifts were pretty safe now. A coworker had mentioned trading a few records for some home cooked meals, and the stars aligned so perfectly that one of them happened to be the exact record Ellie had spoken about (or so you hoped). 

Joel frequented your place more often, he found your company more appealing than his own, and you enjoyed it more than you let on. You had Ellie leave the record somewhere in his room to find after his patrol shift. 

The now familiar sound of Joel’s boots hitting the floor as he took them off filled your living room. However, he was supposed to be on patrol and definitely not here in your house holding a Linda Ronstadt record. 

“Darlin’ what’s with the gift?” He asked softly, or as soft as he possibly could. His body finding comfort next to yours on the couch, plucking the note you wrote off the record and tucking it away into the pocket of his flannel.

“Ellie said you liked her, someone at work was gettin’ rid of it. Figured you might like it.” A smile making itself home on your face, he thought it was the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. He’d gone soft.

“I don’t own a record player sweet girl.” 

“You’ll have to visit more then. Or! Let me give you one!” 

“I’ll just let you have it, hopefully the lyrics haven’t left my brain just yet and I can teach ‘em to ya.” He placed the record on the end table next to him and placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Can’t believe I was such a hard ass on you, sweetest thing to ever grace my life.”

“I knew you’d come around eventually.” Looking up at him softly and caressing his cheek before placing the gentlest of kisses to his lips. “Thought you were supposed to be on patrol anyway.” 

“Got someone to switch with me after I saw the record, had to come see my girl.” Joel responded, placing a kiss on your lips before trailing his thumb along your bottom lip.

Three gifts and a kiss is all it took for you to break the walls around Joel Miller’s heart. The leftovers no longer found their way onto his porch, as eventually it became your porch and the leftovers found themselves in a new fridge. The guitar was played and used to teach Ellie how to play, you often spent evenings on the porch listening to someone strum it. The record was always on repeat when Joel was home, until he accidentally dropped it on the floor consequently covering it in scratches unable to be played. As for the kisses, they never stopped and each one filled your body with butterflies that could burst out at any moment.

[ask-the-rag-dolly]

ok the askbox is open. im taking this opportunity to say ohhhhh im going crazy over the narrative constructed here. specifically with how audience (anon) interaction is intertwined with the main conflict.

because its like.. we are inherently a BAD THING. yes, some of us are actually malicious, but even if we do have kind intentions, and only want the best for ragatha.. just being there is a negative impact that outweighs any positives. we are a parasite, after all. and technically, the only positive action we could do is to simply.. stop engaging. leave the askblog alone. leave ragatha alone. except we could never do that, because we're too curious now, too attached- we want to see how the story continues, how it ends. we cant leave well enough alone, we just have to know. we need to know. so the cycle will continue nonetheless due to our nature. and we have to watch as our main character, the person we're rooting for, gets worse and worse. knowing that its our fault, because we're choosing to engage. we're choosing this path of pain. because we're curious, and that curiosity would kill us if we didn't feed it.

and of course its on a tadc tumblr ask blog of all things lol. no hate btw. im here enjoying it after all! though honestly i say that like this had any opportunity of existing outside of the askblog genre... or even the tumblr landscape itself- i feel like the anon feature itself is also a big part of this sort of narrative, as it allows those actively malicious anons to be even nastier. because it distances us from our actions. like.. we're given a mask, something that obscures our true identities (both to the other askers.. and to ragatha to an extent, as most all look the same to her. who knows, maybe that one supportive anon trying to cheer her up is the same one also encouraging her downfall! she cant tell!)- a thing that wipes our hands free of any consequences. a chance to become faceless and untraceable- so of course some people will indulge. be as horrible as possible. because, hey, its not like you'll be getting any consequences for it! no way to trace it back to you! no way to be held accountable! you can just sit back and watch the fire you made grow higher. more bright. thats the main goal, after all- to make a spectacle! to move the story along and make it exciting! thats the only thing that matters to you. that its entertaining. not the people you'll be harming in the process.

anyways sorry for the fucking. essay. in your askbox. i like talking and also i fucking love dissecting meta-aligned narratives like this. gggrrggrgrgrrrr chewing on this blog like a chewtoy. i hope everyone gets worse and this whole blog blows up!!!!!!!

i can't stop giggling at ' its on a tadc tumblr ask blog of all things ' . this was really originally supposed to just be a silly blog with little story but here we are . you really won't get this anywhere else

i get pretty happy when someone dissects this silly thing so no need to apologize !! i'm my own harshest critic when it comes to this blog so it's often difficult for me to grasp what meaning people get out of this lol truly thank you guys for wanting to see my insane , Unhinged ideas come through

and i love the dissection on the mean anons - a lot of this thing hinges on actions having consequences after all ! every little thing will have an impact on ragatha's mental state . i'll say i think the anons have potential to not be as harmful - as there was a point in the blog's time where they acted more like inner therapists to ragatha than reality-bending beings of chaos ( good times ) . it just really depends on being patient with an actually mentally ill person like ragatha - it does fascinate me how people's frustration with her echoes real life mental health situations .

but yeah thanks !!! i'll be kissing this essay and pinning it on the refrigerator that i call my brain (:

[tantei-chan01]

The Giver. Mute Branch Au

Notebook talking has this "-"

Sign language is this "*"

Xxx

A scrapbook opens as Poppy narrates, "Years ago, on the night of the Harvest Moon, a mysterious troll paid our village a visit and delivered gifts to everyone becoming known only as ... the Giver." On the page, a little troll in a hoodie leaves presents in the pods, stopping to pose in front of the moon. "Every Harvest Moon since has been the same, leaving presents under the veil of night."

The little trolls in the pod leave for a moment, missing the Giver leaving them a gift, "Yay!"

"Which everyone loves...." Poppy suddenly shuts the book, "but it drives ME completely insane!"

A crowd of trolls looked at her in confusion, chattering amongst themselves.

"When you give a gift, you’re supposed to receive a thank-you card. It’s what separates us from the animals. And this Troll is making a mockery of the whole thing. " Frustrated, Poppy throws the book on the mushroom, Smidge behind her with a stern look. "Ugh!"

The crowd gasped, Biggie covering Mr. Dinkles eyes. Branch tapped a dazed Suki's shoulder and held up his brown notebook, "- I think I might missed a step from being in my bunker the last decade. Does she do this every year?-"

Suki shrugged, "Pretty much. I just nap through it. Thank goodness, I learned to sleep with my eyes open, right?" She snores with her eyes open, making Branch gasp and drop his notebook.

"Well, listen up, Giver. You may have escaped me in the past, but this year I’ve rigged the entire village with hidden alarms." She points to Smidge, who pulls a conveniently placed vine. Red and blue bell like flowers beging blaring out an alarm. "Which means I will catch you and will get what’s coming to you."

Smidge pulls out a purple bat (which I hope is actually rubber) with an eager face. "Yeah!"

"This!" Poppy pulls out a blue thank-you card and opens it to show off her card, making skills

Smidge nervously laughs and hides the bat. "Uh, yeah, that."

"So this is your last chance. Come forward now and take your thank-you like a troll." The crowd looks at each other, but no one comes forward. Poppy then hears a certain breathing pattern that she definitely recognizes as laughter, "Something funny, Branch?"

Branch signs, "*Yes, you.*"

"Hm…"

"*I realize I’m new to all this, but if “the Gifter” wants to remain anonymous, shouldn’t we respect that?*"

Biggie excitedly asks, "OH! Can I try translating?" Branch nods to the gentle giant. "Okay, you said something about making cookies for the Giver."

"Meep."

Biggie looks at Mr. Dinkles, "What do you mean I'm not even close?"

Reminding herself to help Biggie with translating later, Poppy responds as Smidge seems to be counting trolls, "It’s “the Giver.” If you’re gonna be a know-it-all, get your facts straight."

"Uh, Poppy, just did a hair count, and Satin and Chenille are absent."

Poppy quickly turns to her, "Absent?! On the Harvest Moon?" Her face switched to determination, "Let’s go, Smidge. We’ve got a new lead suspect."

"Uh, there’s two of them."

"We’ve got a new lead of suspects. "

Xxx

The scene switches to Satin and Chenille's pod, only to reveal Satin sick in bed.

Satin sneezes and then blows her nose into a tissue, tossing it into a pile next to her. "I love being sick. It’s like my body has a whole other side to its personality for me to get to know. Don’t you think?" She turns to Chenille, who's wearing a gas mask and carrying a spray bottle.

Chenille sprays at her twin, "Back, vessel of pestilence! Back!"

Poppy and Smidge sneakily walk up to the window, "You ready to bust these gift-giving punks, Poppy?"

Poppy pulls out the card and preps it. "Locked and loaded." She hears crunching and sees Branch sitting in a chair, eating a bag of popcorn. "Ugh! Don’t you have better things to do?"

"*Than watch you make a fool of yourself? (munches) Please, I cleared my whole day.*"

Smidge looks at him, "OK he definitely said something about you embarrassing yourself." Branch tapped his nose twice. "Cool." She smiles, then turns her attention back to Poppy, "Ignore him. How do we get ‘em to talk?"

"By using the oldest Troll interrogating technique there is-good cop, great cop."

Smidge uses her baseball bat to shine light into Satin and Chenille’s pod. Directing it to face Satin.

She flinches for a moment and then relaxes into it. "Ah! Ooh, that sunshine feels so good."

Poppy leans in close to the sick troll. "You know what else is good?" She takes out a cookie. "Cookies. And you can have them if you tell me what I want to know."

"Ooh."

She pushes the cookie closer, "Or if you don’t, either way."

Satin smiles. "That’s so nice."

"Oh, yeah?!" Smidge pulls a cake from behind and lightly slams it on the table, "I’ll give you an entire cake, no strings attached!"

Satin feels a bit conflicted, "Wow, I feel like I should at least tell you something."

Poppy gets right in her face, "Well, I’ll give you a back rub."

"I’ll write you a haiku."

Poppy bangs on the table, "I’ll be your best friend!"

Satin holds her head in what seems to be guilt, "OK. OK. I confess. I color my hair! I’m not a natural purple." She then points to her sister as the lights come on. "Neither is Chenille."

Chenille's eye twitches in disbelief, "You...are dead to me."

"Hold on. So you’re not the Giver?"

An unfamiliar laugh distracts the four, turning to see Branch leaning on his chair laughing, "*Bravo, Poppy. You really broke the case of the purple hair wide open.*"

Poppy growls, feeling a little conflicted, seeing as he'sactually laughing for others to hear. Chenille comments, "I only understood purple hair. "

Satin smiles a little, "Well, it's nice to actuallyhearhim laugh. "

Branch leans to far bach on the chair, knocking down the curtains, revealing what appears to be red wrapping papper. Poppy gasps, "That looks like the paper the Giver uses." She turns back to Satin and Chenille. "Explain yourself… ves!"

"That paper’s not ours."

Chenille explains, "Yeah, it’s so five years ago. Do you think we’ve been living under a rock?"

Smidge licks the paper, "It’s definitely the same-quality pulp, hand-cut edging," She then points to a logo, "and look at the insignia. It comes from Sky Toronto’s Party Shop.

Poppy turns back to the twins, "Ladies, I really hope Sky doesn’t tell me you’re the Giver, or so help me, I’ll thank you like you’ve never been thanked before." She walks backward and arrives at Sky Toronto’s Party Shop.

She walks with the older glitter troll as he gives out orders, "It’s crunch time, people. I need 200 piñata ideas on my desk by tomorrow morning." The workers walk away. "Queen Poppy, I’m honored, yada, yada, but let’s cut to the chase. There are 18 parties, 12 soirees, and at least five shindigs on an average Troll night all supplied by me, Sky Toronto." He snaps his fingers. "So time is glitter."

She holds out the wrapping paper, "Do you recognize this?"

Sky stops as a worker approaches him, "Pause."

The worker holds out the confetti samples, "Mr. Toronto, the new confetti designs for your approval, sir."

Sky throws each sample to inspect, "Pass, hard pass, too cliché." He stops at the fourth one. "Ah, that one. That’s the confetti of the now." The worker leaves, and he turns back to Poppy, "Yes, I recognize it. Not popular, except with one troll who picks up about 100 rolls once a year."

Poppy gasps, "Once a year?!"

Another worker walks up to him with a disco ball in her hand, "Hey, S.T. The boys in decorations just cooked up this new color. Thoughts?"

Sky thinks for a moment, "Hm. Not bad. But disco balls aren’t testing well. How about disco… cubes?" The worker gasps and walks backward, her mind blown.

Poppy tries to get his attention, "Let me get this straight. The Troll who gets this paper, you’ve seen him in person?"

"Many times." An explosion catches his attention and sees some workers running from it. "Don’t mind that. Accident in the trick candle division. We try to put it out, but every time we do…" Trolls bring in water and fire extinguishers to put it out, but the explosion gets worse. "I should ask Branch to see if he can come up with something to put it out."

Later, Smidge is getting a cup of water in the meeting room while Poppy is talking to Sky with Harper sitting with him.

"Okay. Just give Harper here a physical description."

Sky begins the description, "Body of a warrior. Earlobes of a poet. Butt that shimmers like the night sky. We done here?"

Poppy looks at the picture groans, "Describe the mystery Troll, not yourself." She turns Harper's clipboard to reveal a drawing of Sky.

Sky takes the picture Harper drew and hands it over to one of the workers, "My mistake. But I’m keeping that. The troll had dark eyes, a shrouded face, and hair the color of mystery."

Harper shows Poppy a picture of the Giver. Which is only a troll in a hoody wearing sunglasses. Poppy stammers, "What is this?! This isn’t helpful."

"I said I saw the Giver, not that it’d be helpful."

Harper takes back the picture she drew, "Wait. I’ve seen this Troll."

Xxx

Later that night, Harper Poppy and Smidge go to find the Giver, "I saw the Troll down here this morning… over by the tree roots." She points to a large tree. They continue to walk as the fog clears. Poppy gasps to see several gifts ready to be delivered.

Smidge is a bit suspicious, "Uh…"

Poppy looks on in awe, "The Giver’s stash. They’ll have to come back here before delivering tonight’ gifts. This is where we make out stand." As she tries to walk away, she hears squishing sounds.

Smidge looks up at her, unimpressed, "Uh, we’re standing in mud."

The royal moves away from the mud, "This is where we make our stand.

An owl is heard hooting in the background. Poppy and Smidge are hiding in the bushes. "It’s just a matter of time. Eventually, our Mystery Troll will have to come back to get the gifts, only to find…"

Smidge pops out of some tall grass, "Whammo! It’s a stakeout, boy!"

"Oh, yeah!" The two hear rusting. "That’s the Giver now!" The troll appears and seems to go to the gifts. "Gotcha!" She pulls a vine, and many flowers pop up. They shoot balls and streamers along with a thank-you banner.

Spiders jump down and sing, "Thank you!"

Poppy runs out of her hiding place, "Ha! I thanked you! I thanked you so hard! Yes, yes, yes!" She turns on a flashlight and pulls away the flowers. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself?!" The flowers reveal that it was only Cooper.

Cooper gives them a clueless smile, "You’re welcome."

Poppy is shocked, "All these years, it was you? W-why did you - When did you…" She puts her flashlight away and tries to calm down. "You know what? Just start from the beginning and tell me everything."

Cooper looks at her, "Everything? Okay. Darkness. Then I emerge from the womb, wearing this very hat."

(5 minutes later)

"And then the theme of my 7th birthday party was invisible friends. It was very well attended."

(2 hours later)

"And then, after years of hard work at graduation, my classmates finally turned to me and said, “You’re not in class.” (chuckles) We laughed."

(Another 2 hours later)

"And then some weird Troll told me if I came out here, I’d find some empty boxed for my empty-box collection. And then you trapped me and said, “Tell me everything.” And then I said, “Darkness. I emerge from the womb”-

Poppy stops him, "Whoa! Just answer this question." She takes out the picture Harper drew. "Are you or are you not the Giver?"

He taps the picture, "That’s the weird Troll that sent me here."

They looked at him in disbelief, "The Giver sent you here?"

A random green spider set down a package and pulled back up. "Special delivery from the Giver."

Smidge opens the present and reveals a letter. “Dear Poppy, I’m sorry. This was the only way. From, the Giver.”

"It’s a setup. The Giver wanted us to come here!" She hears the alarms sounding in Troll Village.

Smidge looks over the horizon, "Oh, my Guh."

Poppy quickly runs toward the village, "Halt! Halt in the name of gratitude!" She looks up at the pods to hear the Trolls cheering because their gifts were delivered. She falls to her knees, leans up towards the sky, and exclaims, "THANK YOU!"

The Trolls are celebrating their given gifts while a sad Poppy sits at her pod. "The giver won, Smidge." She opens her card. "No point in holding on to this anymore. She rips the card to pieces.

Smidge tries to cheer her up, "Come on, Poppy, at least you got a present, huh?"

Poppy takes the present, "A horribly wrapped present. Who uses so much tape?" She sighs, "Chenille was right. This Troll really must live… under a rock! (gasps) Trolly-moley. I know who it is!" She gives her present to Smidge and runs. Then she comes back to pick up her destroyed card. "I really regret doing that." Smidge takes both presents to her pod for safe keeping.

Xxxxx

We return to the tree to see a dark figure heading towards a cave hidden amongst the vines, "Hold it right there, Giver."

Poppy walks towards the figure and grabs their shoulders, "It’s time for you to be finally thanked." She turned them around to reveal, "(gasps) Mr. Dinkles!"

The hoodie falls off to reveal the cute little glow worm on top of some other pets. Smidge pops out of the bushes, "Wait, so it wasn't Branch?"

Poppy shakes her head, "If you're here, then who's with Biggie?"

Xxxx

We quickly go back to the village in Biggie's pod, "Isn't this wonderful, Mr. Dinkles?" He pulls out a brand new camera, showing it to a doll that looks like Mr. Dinkles, with a poorly hidden tape recorder on its back. "Meep"

Xxxx

"So if all of you are the Giver, why keep it a secret?" Poppy asks.

"Meep."

Poppy cooed, "Aww, you all just wanted to show your love for everyone by doing something nice."

Smidge pulls out a present from her hair, "Well, that explains the massive amount of tape. Must be pretty hard to wrap without thumbs."

Poppy cleared her throat, "OK guys, I still want to thank all of you, so how about you all come to my pod tomorrow for some special treats?"

The pets all agreed and waved goodbye to the two trolls as they walked back to the village. Once they were gone, they quickly ran into the cave. Dinkles flipped over a rock to reveal a pass code lock, he typed in some numbers, and a hatch opened. They all jumped in, landing in a very familiar living room.

"Meep." Well done, everyone. They all turned to see Branch taking off a dark hoodie and special night vision sunglasses. "Meep." She doesn't suspect a thing.

"Meep." Correct, Quiet One. Now, I believe we are to receive our payment.

Branch smiles and pulls out his special, pet friendly, triple fudge brownies. As he watches them enjoy the treat, he laughs silently, 'Sorry Poppy, but this is one secret I'd like to keep to myself for a while.