#its much harder to get the paint to do what i want - especially on the smaller scale

[dksartz]

Also I haven't painted on canvas in ages and I dislike it. I vastly prefer painting on a smooth surface like panel.

[mayghosts]

Little Gold Top: (6) Kate Martin x Reader

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Summary: morning after

Warnings: tears, this is so unhealthy y'all I'm sorry, honestly rly struggled with this chapter and you can tell

AN: me vs ending this, how many more chapters do we want? I promise its going to get cute and fluffy after this

The rising sun cast pinks and oranges over the living room. Your tea had gone cold hours ago as you shivered on the couch. You would've gotten up and gone to bed, in fact in another universe you probably would’ve taken the sleeping body on the opposite end with you. At least Kate was warm with that blanket.

You know you should just leave her on the couch, go to the 8AM you had every Tuesday morning, but you refused to let her sleep and dash. Especially not after last night. Quietly you slipped into the kitchen, getting yourself a fresh cup of tea, dumping the cold mug from last night down the drain. Walking back into the living room you were met with a pair of blue eyes.

Her face was still a bit puffy and red and her hair was a mess. Kate was still the prettiest girl you had ever seen. You paused, the mug burning your hand as she quickly looked away. You hadn’t really figured out what would happen when she woke up. I mean you tried to, it was all you could think about last night, but your brain seemed unable to give you a solution. You gently sat on your end of the couch, as if any sudden motions might send her running off.

The silence was deafening. You glanced up at the blonde as she quickly diverted her gaze again. Picking at her nails she spoke “I meant it.” Slowly you peeked over at her. “Every word I said last night I meant it-”

Silence fell again as you tried to find the word to express whatever the strange, consuming, overwhelming emotion you harbored towards the blonde. Feeling the tears well in your eyes you blinked rapidly, looking towards the window, the TV, the paintings on the far wall from team bonding. “You can’t just say that, that's not fair” Kate looked at you confused, you could see the hurt in her eyes. She almost looked like a sad lost puppy. You went back to listing items in the room, window, TV, paintings, table, lamp over and over. Wall, door knob, Gabbie. Oh fuck, its Gabbie.

“Uhh hey, good morning guys… everything okay out here…?” You had no idea how long Gabbie had been standing there. The look of absolutely panic, guilt and embarrassment that washed over Kates face would be funny in any other situation. You turned around to face your roommate again, trying to pull yourself together,“Yep! All good out here! Have fun at Class!” Standing up you ushered her out the door into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Leaning back against the door you felt the overwhelming sense of dread return.

You shuffeled back into the living room, coming face to face with a standing, six foot, Kate Marin. “So what, you're just gonna leave now? Like you always do?” You wanted to take it back as soon as you said it, partially because your voice cracked, and partially because you felt bad.

“I'm not leaving…” she stepped closer to you “I am serious I meant every word. I am not giving up on this.” This statement only seemed to worsen your predicament as you found yourself crying harder. God this was embarrassing. Attempting to pull yourself together, you wipe your face with your hoodie sleeves. Looking her dead in the eyes you say what you've been thinking this whole time.

“I don't believe you.”

You knew it hurt her to hear, but Kate was tough, and she had hurt you so much more, if anything, it canceled out. “I don’t believe that you are going to stay because you never have. We barely interact outside of hookups and I don’t trust you to..” Your words faded out at the end, the tears taking over your ability to talk. “Say it.” she gently tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

Clearing your throat you tried again. “You would kiss me and tell me you loved me and that I'm beautiful and fuck me in your car- and then you would leave. And we wouldn't talk about it, and you would fuck some other girl the next night and it happened over and over. Kate I'm so tired I can’t keep doing this!” you looked up into her glassy blue eyes “I mean I thought you said we were done! I'm trying so hard to be done!” The pool of yucky emotions in your stomach only grew as you watched her try not to cry. You could see how hard she way trying to appear strong, to keep it together. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to grab her and hold her and tell her you loved her and never let go. Because she said she loves you! However there was still that part of your brain just knew said she didn’t really mean it. You felt like a video game character, trying to make a game changing decision about which person to save from the zombie apocalypse. Except, you don’t get any do-overs and this wasn’t a game. In this reality, you would save Kate over yourself, every time. And you knew it.

Kate looked beyond tired, red eyes now brimming with tears again as she searched for the words to try and fix this.

Gently you traced your hand over her shoulder. Savoring the way she slightly leaned into your touch and the way her skin felt. You pulled her into a hug, “We will figure this out I promise.” She pulled you closer, holding you like you were going to disintegrate, “I can’t loose you, please don’t leave.” You could feel her tears on your neck as her fingers curled into your sweatshirt. Her body trembled in your arms. “I’m so scared I'm sorry.” You were both silent for a minute, your could feel your brain screaming at you to get her out, push her away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let her go. “It was always you, I've only ever wanted you.” Carefully you peeled away, holding her arms. “Then prove it, make me believe you.”

because I really really want to

[fandom-monium]

Sweet Poison - Part 5

Summary: In which you avoid Zagreus, until one day you can't. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

WC: 2.4k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones (technically it’s succubi magic aura), Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut, MINOR descriptions of blood and injuries. Physical touch, affection. Just Zagreus being soft and doting and kind to you this chap

Damn her, damn her, damn her, damn—

Teeth clenched, your vision swims as you grip the rim of the basin for balance, washing off the blood as red drops swirl and mix like watercolor paints before the water clears again. It’s days like this where you wish you can get stronger, more powerful, but there’s a limit to everyone’s full potential, and unfortunately you met yours a long time ago.

Still, it’d be nice.

Contrary to popular belief, succubi can be vicious warriors, they’re simply in their own class. Their abilities, their magic, while never measuring up to gods, could ruin an army in a master’s hand, but it has its limits. Especially amongst demonkind.

As the water calms, you grind your teeth at the sight of your reflection, assessing the damage. Blood and darkness, that’s going to bruise, that one’s definitely going to scar, and you curse the universe because your job’s about to get that much harder now that you may have to use a glamor. Oh, you swear next time you get your hands on her, you’ll—

A resounding rumble quakes the room.

Your chamber door.

You curse. But you're sluggish from the blood loss, and before you can hurl yourself out the balcony, Zagreus steps in without his usual greeting, panting and laurels slightly askew, like he rushed in knowing you’re here. Wild eyes dart to every corner of the chamber, as if he half-expects you to be hiding, until they fall on you, embarrassingly hunched over your healing fountain.

One glance at your battered face, he’s beside you in a flash.

"Zag—”

“What happened?” His tone is surprisingly strained as his hands, clean of blood and gore, reach for you. Then something flickers across his face that makes him hover, his eyes—red and green and wide—taking in your new wounds with horror.

If only you had the energy to cower, shield your bruised face. He’s the last person you want to see right now, and your vision blurs, hating how he of all people is seeing you like this—broken, imperfect.

“I’m fine, Zagreus,” You croak, your voice quiet as you swallow your insecurity like bile. A poor attempt to put some distance between you, you try to step aside, but your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumple like a house of cards.

Of course, Zagreus catches you—asshole—strong, lean arms gentle as he hugs you to his chest, holding you up as if you’re the most precious of gems. Hate how quick you are to relax in his hold, clay in his hands. Blood and darkness, it’s so easy, so quick, so… right.

You squirm against him, but his grip tightens slightly, mindful of your injuries.

“Sure you are,” Zagreus snorts, though he gazes down at you so soft and sweet you want to shout, wondering if he tastes the same. “Come on, I’ll patch you up.”

Unable to protest, you let him carry you like a rag doll, limp in his hands before he gently props you up on the lounge chair. You lean against the back with a groan. “Really, I'm—”

“'Fine', yes, you’ve said that,” Already, he’s rummaging through your cupboards, at least the ones he knows aren’t filled with art supplies. “Do you have bandages?”

“… Second last cabinet on your left.”

Without a word, he walks through your chamber with self assurance, maneuvering around your easel and stepping over splayed out canvas as they finish drying, careful where to leave his burning footprints. He finds what he’s looking for easily enough, a moment later pulling up a chair and plopping down in front of you. His hands are methodical as he lays everything out; two bowls of water, a small cloth, and the saddest little first aid kit.

In your defense, you hardly end up like this.

You watch his hands as he dips the towel in the water then wrings it out, before gently dragging it across your exposed arms. You flinch as he begins wiping off the grime.

“I know,” His tone is soft, terribly understanding as he continues. “Give it a minute, you’ll feel much better soon.”

You want to snort, snap at him that you’re fully aware of how it works, but the cool sting of water, the mild burn from the open gashes and cuts along your skin, is quick to clench your jaw shut. Pain ebbs across your body, and you watch him speechless, the rhythm he follows, painfully gentle as he drags the cloth across your skin, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Clean water, wring out, wipe, rinse, repeat; he even goes out of his way to change the water, and the relief that comes after would make you sink into the couch, if not for Zagreus's silence.

He's yet to say a word since he entered. He'd asked you already, yes, but you take him for someone who doesn't give up that easily. You expected more of a fight. Now, you're not so sure.

"Zagreus, I… I—" It's hoarse, hardly above a whisper, but it's a start.

You feel him pause before choosing to lay into your newfound cowardice like a wet blanket, avoiding his eyes. Who knows what you'll do if you meet his gaze.

Sensing your hesitation, Zagreus clears his throat, "Perhaps you should save your energy. We can chat when you're healed."

You shake your head, though it only makes the room spin. "No, I need to tell you this now. Before..."

"Before what? You start avoiding me again?" He resumes, wrapping gauze around your forearm, his touch ghosting your skin as he holds your arm out. There’s no malice or respite in his tone, soft and withdrawn as it comes, but you wince. If anything, it’s bittersweet, with an acceptance he long held before he approached your chamber, and it leaves your heart clenching. You don't know how to respond. Are you that obvious?

"(Your Name)... did I do something wrong?"

You blink, whirling to face him.

Zagreus bites his lip, emotions he can’t fathom threatening to spill out of him. That's always been his flaw, according to Father. He's attuned to his emotions, more than Nyx, Father, literally any of the chthonic gods. He stares as his hands tremble, attempting to knot the bandage. "Because if I did, please just tell me what it is so I can make things right between us."

"No-no, you've done nothing wrong," You assure him, sitting up through the pain even when Zagreus protests. When he raises a brow at your answer, you rush to add, "I swear! I've been busy with... work." Technically, this isn’t a lie.

"... 'Busy'. Is that how you got these?" Zagreus holds out your mangled arm by your hand, flicking his eyes over your body in the way you hate most. You'd take aura-induced desire over this: pity, disgust.

You wrench your arm away, cradling it in your lap and shrugging. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

"(Your Name), who did this?"

You freeze. Nerves go haywire, and you squirm under his piercing gaze, burning through you as you contemplate lying to him, but you know better. At this point, you know each other too well, and—blood and darkness—he'll see right through you. There’s a defeated sigh, then a quiet, "Alecto."

Zagreus's eyes darken, but you wave him off. "Don't worry. In her defense, I kind of deserved it."

Zagreus sputters, taken aback, staring at you as if you offended him. "'Don't worry'? Don't—how can you say that? First I've seen you in days, and you're—" A sharp intake of breath, and he clenches his jaw so hard you're surprised it doesn't break.

"It's not a big deal. I disobeyed direct orders, and..." You trail off, thinking back.

Since meeting Zagreus, seeds of doubt sprout in your chest, in your lungs, suffocating you as you question the system you’ve worked under for so long. You’ve never questioned who you are and what you do, not to say you love your job, but it’s your life. Yet who’s to say there aren't poor souls sentenced to the wrong level? Genuine and kind, noble and passionate—people who don't deserve eternal damnation.

The possibility of your victims being innocent and undeserving makes you want to hurl, tortured shrieks and endless tears flashing across your memory and echoing in your ears. Your stomach clenches just thinking about it.

"(Your Name), I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Zagreus starts, mouth opening and closing like he can't find the words, his breaths coming quick and ragged. He just stares at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you can't quite place—as if your virtuous act breaks his heart, crushes his soul. Then he blinks, and it's gone, shaking his stupor. “This is my fault…”

You raise an eyebrow, “How is this your fault?”

“I… I just… you shouldn’t have…” You frown as Zagreus struggles, brow furrowed, clearly pained as he thinks over his answer, like whatever he says next determines your fates. Seeming to think better of it, he shakes his head and brings your hand to his lips, and you flush, your heart skipping as his lips graze over the bandages, warmth seeping through the material and into your wounds like a healing salve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” He rasps between each kiss, trailing up the back of your hand and up your forearm, like they’ll heal the wounds faster. Like this is the best he can do, like this is all he can do. Not that you plan to stop him.

Your face burns, but you let him apologize, though you’re not sure what for as he stops before your shoulder. At some point, he slotted himself between your thighs, and now face to face, he studies your cuts and bruises, already fading away as his eyes, soft and glistening, flick over your features. Like he’s debating if his kisses will help them heal faster too.

Gods, if he brings those lips anywhere near your face, you might combust.

You meet his gaze, “What—”

“I lied.”

It comes as a whisper, his voice dry and low that you tilt your head, urging him to continue.

“I’m not some mortal soul, dredging their way through Tartarus,” Zagreus grinds out, scanning your face as if committing you to memory one last time. Then he sits back and stares at the floor, still gripping your hand as he rubs circles over the bandage. “I mean, it’s true I intend to escape the Underworld.”

“Zagreus—”

“And yes, I’m searching for my mother—”

“Zag—”

“But I’m really—”

“My prince.”

He flinches, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “What?”

“None of this is your fault, my prince. With or without your influence, I’d have done the same thing anyway.” He gapes at you and you smirk, using the little strength you’ve recovered to squeeze his hand reassuringly, “Or would you rather I address you as Your Highness instead?”

Zagreus shakes his head, black hair flopping out of his shocked face. “I don’t understand. You knew?”

“For a bit now, yes,” You shrug as you turn his hand over, large and calloused in yours, swiping a thumb over one of his healed blisters, probably from gripping his weapons. “Took me a while to figure it out, but I can’t say I was surprised. It explained some of your funny behavior.”

He scoffs, the corners of his lips twitching slightly, “What sort of funny behavior?”

“Pretend all you like, but you can’t suppress those noble habits,” You chuckle, eyes crinkling seeing him cheer up. “All your mannerisms screamed ‘royal’, I just didn’t realize we were talking Underworld royalty.”

“Seriously?” Zagreus gazes at you in disbelief. “I thought I did a pretty good job acting—”

“Like a commoner?”

“Like a mortal,” He shoots you a pointed look, and you snort, relaxing into the love seat.

“You were okay.” You purse your lips, “While we’re on the subject of identity reveals, you should know I’m—”

“A succubus?”

You blink before pouting, snatching your hand away to cross your arms over your chest. “You only say that because I was about to tell you…”

“Not true,” Zagreus grins, leaning over to give your thigh an affectionate squeeze. “I knew from the beginning. Succubi magic doesn't affect gods, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.”

“And you still stayed? Knowing what I am and what I do?”

“And you still treated me as any other friend, knowing who I am?”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“I disagree,” He coaxes your hands into his, prompting you to meet his gaze as his expression shifts into something more earnest. “We both tried—and failed miserably—to hide a huge part of ourselves in fear of what we’d think of each other, am I wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Exactly. (Your Name), I hope you know not once did I think any less of you for your work, much less your species.”

You respond in kind, “And not once did I consider bowing down to the Prince of the Underworld, especially not after seeing him stuff his face with wraps he picked off the ground.”

He guffaws. “Good, then we’re in agreement?”

“I guess...”

“Just what every man wants to hear from a beautiful creature.” Ignoring the burn in your cheeks, you roll your eyes, and he adds, “But we’re okay? You won’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Keep that up, you won’t be seeing me for another couple runs.”

“I was agreeing with you!”

“Your tone said otherwise.”

By the time your shared laughter dies down, the atmosphere clears, leaving a comfortable silence settling in the small space between you. In that time, he’s yet to let go of your hands, your thighs brushing as he rubs soothing circles against your hands, and while he insists on staying until he’s sure you’re better, acceptance rushes over you like the oncoming tide, because try as you might, Alecto’s punishment was nothing in comparison to Zagreus’s absence. These fleeting moments he stops by your chamber, whether to recover, commission a painting, or to simply have a chat, you appreciate each and every one of them. If that’s all you’ll ever have with Zagreus, you decide, your chest tight with a melancholic warmth, then that's okay.

This is enough.

—

Soon after Zagreus reluctantly leaves you once more, he enters the last chamber of Tartarus.

“Redblood! What say you—ack—hey, I wasn’t done talking!”

If he prolongs their time together, allowing him to indulge his cruelty, then consider it time well spent.

—

AN: One of my biggest peeves in media tropes is the betrayal and angst as a reaction from hiding identities from s/o, like in superhero media. It's overplayed, overdone.

A good, recent example of this is the new animated Superman show, My Adventures with Superman, where (SPOILERS) Lois forces the truth out of Clark, and is pissed when he confirms he is Superman. Bro, you literally said to his face how you'd reveal his identity to the public, can you blame the guy? Idgaf you think he's lying ab his feelings omfg he's protecting his idenity (its a good show tho pls watch it!!)

However, a cartoon that does the scenario right is in the old Nickelodeon cartoon, Danny Phantom (some of yall may be too young to remember), the older sister, Jaz, of the mc, Danny, quietly realizes he's the superhero of their town, and decides to patiently wait for him to tell her when HE'S READY. Like askjgdaksjhf yassss we love patience and understanding.

Which is why I like to imagine while Zag didn't outright tell you who he is, he didn't try to hide it either. The underworld's a big ass place, he's got no control over who and what ppl say and do, so however you find out, whether in passing or of your own sleuthing skills, you both wait.

Ty for coming to my ted talk :D

[snek-panini]

It's been a month since Binderary ended but I've still got books to share! This is @worse0mens's (hi!) wonderful Good Omens series, The Blossom Realm, which starts with Omens of Another Kind. This is very much a longtime favorite of mine, an AU with a really compelling combo of worldbuilding and characterization. This is a believable grand romance that's also a court drama and a fairy tale, and it's really long (the full series is about 220k words) so it will keep you reading for a long time. This is one of the fics I learned bookbinding for, and it was the first really long fic that I typeset (and redid once I learned more about typesetting). It's been a long road but it was so worth it.

More photos under the cut!

Couple of photos of the spines. The series doesn't divide easily, with one very long work, one medium-length one, and several shorter pieces. The main story is nearly 200k on its own, the longest single volume I've ever made (about 500 pages), and I was worried about it getting too unwieldy, so I put all the other works into their own volume of about 100 pages. They make a disparate set but I love them. The cover is done in skiver green faux leather from Hollander's; I've never worked with this brand before but I loved it, and one sheet was big enough to do both books. The titles are done in cricut brand gold foil htv. There were some issues with that, as I'd bought a multi-pack with a few different colors and only found out after applying the front cover graphics on both books that one, I didn't have enough to do the backs and spines; two, that the gold in that pack is a totally different color than the gold they sell on its own; and three, that no one in my area stocked it anymore and I had to order it from Europe. Here's what the back looks like:

It's the same graphic as the front but without the title in the center, and it's one of the fanciest backs I've ever done and it took forever to weed all those little cutouts. The graphic was free to use on rawpixel. The font I used on the spines and front is a basic Microsoft font called Harrington that worked incredibly well on the cricut, even at small sizes; a lot of basic fonts are too thin, especially fancy ones, so this was a delightful surprise.

Photo of the top, with ribbon bookmark and handmade double core endbands. The endbands didn't come out as well as I'd have liked; they're a little uneven and the color changes aren't that evenly spaced. Double core ones are harder than I expected and I need more practice. The endpapers are chocolate silk moire, and I chose them because there's a very important massive tree in the fic and I thought they looked like wood grain. I did a little experimenting with the shorter volume that's visible around the edges of the endpaper. I wanted gilded edges but the longer book had to be rounded, and I thought I'd try paint instead of foil since I don't know how to foil a curved edge. But I did my experiments on the smaller volume and I couldn't get good coverage, so the edge had to be trimmed off. The watered-down paint had leaked into the edge of the silk moire too far for me to trim, so it's still there. But it's kind of pretty, so I'm going to call it an aesthetic choice.

The title pages are the same, with free graphics from rawpixel. I got lucky and found a similar set of roses that I used for the chapter headers:

These had to be positioned by hand for each chapter so they'd fit around the text properly. It was a pain but they look so pretty. The final photo contains a story spoiler, so proceed with caution if you don't want that:

The scene break image in both volumes is this tiny snake. This was one of the first aesthetic choices I made for the books. A lot of the plot is centered around a prophecy about a monster snake that everyone thinks will destroy the kingdom, and of course in the manner of Good Omens fic it's a wildly inaccurate misinterpretation and not a threat at all. I wanted something like this because the snake is not only non-threatening but it's been here the entire time and there was never any reason to freak out about it. It was surprisingly difficult to find a snake image that was both simple enough to still be clear at this size and also didn't look dangerous or like a cartoon character. I looked at so many snakes before I found this one, it's ridiculous.

And that's it! I hope the author likes it (and remembers me since I asked to do this almost a year ago). There are three more binderary posts forthcoming, though I don't know how long it'll take me to get to them. It was a busy month.

[espers-n-espurrs]

The Effects of the Darkest Day on Spikemuth

i said i was going to write this and write this i shall. apologies for any spelling mistakes or the like, im typing this on my phone.

here we go.

the darkest day was horrific for all in galar but i want to focus on spikemuth as that is where i am from.

for those of you unaware of spikemuth let me paint a picture.

spikemuth is the poorest city in galar, with low income and high poverty rates. the city itself exists within several large warehouses, each housing different portions of the city. the reasons behind the city having been built in warehouses was because the city was founded by the homeless who used those abandoned warehouses as their home. over time they managed to build homes and stores and the like within the warehouse walls and soon spikemuth was born.

it is also one of the many reasons spikemuth is known as the home of the punks as punk culture resonated with those that had been beat down by the hands of the big man.

but onto the darkest day. the second darkest day occured on november 15th, 2022 during the galar league championship. you see, spikemuth tends to go pretty hard when it comes to the championships (especially because marnie had gotten to participate that year) so many had taken the day off and were spending it with friends and family to watch the championship on the telly. everyone was having a blast, partying and drinking and just having a good ole.

but then former league chairman rose did what he did. i dont have to recount it. most of us know what he did.

so instead let me speak about the rampaging dynamax pokemon. you see, while spikemuth did not have an artificial powerspot as former gym leader piers adamantly refused to have one built (for good reason) that didnt mean eternatus wasnt making natural ones spawn.

so pkmn started to dynamax within the warehouses of spikemuth, breaking through the warehouse ceilings and sending building toppling down as the roofs that once kept us safe fell down.

i will not go into much more detail about that but as a result spikemuth suffered the highest amount of casualties of any city in galar from this event. many without their friends or family and now for many that survived they were without a home.

and the homeless crisis for spikemuth was only going to become worse as the city began to get repaired.

only two part of spikemuth and their warehouses could be repaired, allowing them to still exist within the warehouses that founded this city while the rest of the city that had to be rebuilt had to be built outside of the warehouses. entire parts of our history was removed or demolished as the city had to be rebuilt.

and with the rebuilding of the city came the gentrification. investors and the like trying to help rebuild the city by builder fancier apartment complexes than what we had and expensive housing. so expensive in fact that most spikemuthians could not afford it. so i stead of building affordable housing to combat the homelessness crisis they in turn mad it worse that what it had been before. more and more people with higher incomes from other cities moving to spikemuth and the price of living just kept going up.

and i dont care that more people are moving to spikemuth, i love spikemuth, but its making it harder for those of us that already lived here.

my family managed to get a new flat after everything but its not any bigger than the one we had before or really that much nicer and yet it is much more expensive. before the darkest day we were considering moving into a bigger flat that wouldve cost the same amount as the one we now have but we cant. do that anymore.

and the city is still rebuilding. its only been a year and a half since the darkest day. we will be rebuilding for a while. and im worried about what direction its going to go.

the darkest day has had a lasting effect on more than just being traumatic. and it will have a lasting effect for generations to come.

[manias-wordcount]

There do be not enough roy mustang stuff out there and i crave fluffy angst for him. All i can think of though is the "i thought you were dead hug". Probably not out in the open, given his position, but possibly as a form of love confession in private. I love your writing by the way. You're my go to for good anime fanfics.

O' Colonel, My Colonel (Roy Mustang x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗶 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗼 𝘀𝗮𝗱 𝘀𝗺𝗵 𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗛 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗶𝘁!! ;]

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

The door closes behind you with a heavy thud. You manage to finish your salute just in time to hear the final note in its symphony.

  You’ve heard it so many times it’s hard to forget. You’ve memorized the sound. Every creak and groan and its place. And it used to annoy you. Used to make you grimace every single time you had to take a trip down the hall to this office. But by all things holy, you’re more than glad you got to hear it at least one more time. Because now that you’ve heard the sound?

  You feel like you can finally breathe.

  The files tucked beneath your arms are heavy. And standing at attention has never been your strongest suit as just an administrative secretary. But his office is exactly as you remember it during the hours such as these. The hours when the sun starts to crawl on all fours and the sky gets painted shades of fiery reds and oranges and pinks. The hours when those will a little too much pay for their very few responsibilities decide that they’ve done enough sitting around for the day. And the hours when people like you and him had only truly begun to start working. His office looks exactly the same. And you know why you thought it would change. But it didn’t. It didn’t change.

  The man who owns this office is the face you wanted to see once you opened the door. It’s the same face. It didn’t change. 

  You’re so happy it didn’t change.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Mustang.” You greet lightly, unable to hold off the small smile that adorns your face. It’s hard keeping up the decorum when your nose is filing cabinets daily rather than speaking and working with the officers like your co-workers usually do. But it’s even harder for you to keep the formalities in check now that your superior is watching you from behind his desk with a smirk of his own dusting across his lips. It flusters you- something that he notices all too easily as he tosses up an eyebrow at you. And so, with warm cheeks and a tight throat, you’re forced to address him once more. “I have the files that you requested.”

  Despite the fact that you want nothing more than to run away and hide now that you’re the object of his amusement. 

  Fortunately for you, he’s merciful. At the mention of the folders tucked beneath your arm, he leans back in his chair with a nod of approval. The motion allows for his jacket to shift ever so slightly on his body. And your eyes manage to catch a glimpse of a worn, white bandage wrapped around his neck and collarbone before you avert your eyes. You’re glad he’s back. But it doesn’t change the reports of what happened out there while he was out in the field. It doesn’t change what he experienced.

  It doesn’t change what you thought you knew to be true when there had been no sight of him for over a week.

  “And that’s why you’re my favorite. Timely as ever.” The sound his voice makes as his hum carries over the room has you shivering. The look in his eyes is too proud to let you hold the false hope that he doesn’t recognize what he’s doing to you. And his posture is too relaxed to say that he’s not below picking on you now that it’s after hours and you’re both alone. But you should have known that after all his time alone, he wouldn’t change. “Excellent work. I’ll take them on my desk.”

  Especially not towards you.

  You try not to let the praise affect you that much. You’ve been a secretary for the Military since around the time he joined. You’ve watched him rise through the ranks quickly. Sometimes from afar. Sometimes up close. But at the moment, you’re overwhelmed. More overwhelmed than you’ve ever been in front of any of your superiors- including the Führer. 

  Your throat is tight, and your mind is elsewhere. But could you be blamed? When the status reports three weeks ago said that he had gone missing after a fight with an unknown assailant, you thought for sure you would never see him again. But as you stand in front of him now, you realize that your hands are shaking. More than they did when you shook his hand and introduced yourself to him for the first time. More than they did when you were told to start preparing the paperwork for a Lieutenant Colonel who had gone MIA and likely died on the battlefield. 

  More than they did when you first heard that they found his bound- barely conscious but somehow alive. 

  Yet here you are, walking to the side of his desk with a handful of files that you can’t be bothered to understand why he would deem them more important than his rest and recovery right now. And yet here he is, rising to his feet and stepping out from his chair to meet you as you approach him.

  You’re swallowing your thoughts as you stop to stand a respectable distance away. You have so many questions. So many things you weren’t told because of your clearance. But you don’t ask any of them. You don’t ask any of your questions. You just avert your gaze from his face and present the files to him in the way that you were always taught. Back straight and standing tall. Using two hands and reading nothing that you know you’re not supposed to. You have so many questions, but honestly, you’re not sure you care enough about them. You’re not sure you care about them at all. You’re just glad he’s back. 

  You’re just glad he’s back.

  He takes the files out of your hands gently without another word. For a second, you stand there, eyes still down as you await the sound of him dismissing you. But it never comes. Instead, you stand at attention for a moment longer than the first. And then another one. And another one. And another. And another. And another. And another until finally…you decide to look up.

  And the sight you’re met with- it surprises you.

  Mustang stands with his back straight. Proud and strong as his head turns to the side and reads the documents you just passed off to him. And while you know you’re not supposed to, you couldn’t help but study his profile. The curve of his nose. The shape of his jaw. And the distant look in his eyes. The shakiness of his grip. The unsteady frown on his lips. The sweat beading at his brow. The uneasy-

  Another thud sounds. Light, but it’s not without its weight. Not without its bass. Half a second later, the sound of papers scattering in every direction fills your ears. And all too quickly, the sight of it too.

  “Colonel Mustang?!” You exclaim in alarm. You hadn’t even noticed the pile of papers slipping from his grip with your gaze and mind being elsewhere at the moment. Your look around you briefly- noting all the papers that had fallen. Luckily, things haven’t seemed to have traveled far. You spot a few by a couple of papers nearby the empty desks abandoned by his subordinates from the day. But most are still on or thrown around his desk. You try your best to remember all the places where the papers had fallen just out of view before turning back to address your superior and his health with the utmost brevity. “Is something wrong? Do you need me to call a doctor or your-”

  You lose the words on your lips. Except they weren’t lost. They were taken. 

  By your superior. By a Lieutenant Colonel. By the flame alchemist. 

  By a man once presumed dead as he closes his arms around your body and holds you like you’re the only thing that will keep him alive.

  And so not only do you lose your words. You lose your breath. It catches in your throat before behind swiped away at Mustang’s speed and strength. And not only do you lose your breath, you lost your thoughts as well. No longer do you think about the papers scattered around the two of you. No longer do you think about how you’re due to report back to your workspace soon. No longer do you think about anything. Anything that isn’t him. Because you know you shouldn’t.You know you shouldn’t do this. You know that you’re breaking all kinds of rules and formalities. You know that if someone were to open the door right now and see him holding you tight and holding you close, your positions could be in jeopardy. You know all this.

  But his breath against your neck is sending more shivers down your spine as he buries his head into your shoulder and he breathes in your scent. And his arms around your torso are so, so tight and so warm. And the body you’re pressed against? It’s alive. It’s alive. Is it well? You’re not sure. But all you care about now is that it’s alive, and that’s human, and that it's him. So you tell the years of training and traditions and rules and regulations to fuck off for just a minute. Just one measly minute.

  And you hug him back. 

  And he hugs you tighter. 

  And you hug him, just as tight.

  And he breaks. 

  Because he’s more than just your superior. He’s a full-bodied human. He might have more confidence than you. He might like making you feel shy and small in front of someone so powerful. But He has thoughts. He has needs. He feels pain. He fights against death. He’s human. And what’s wrong with giving someone a hug? What’s wrong with showing someone that you care? Because you do. You do care. You care so much. You care so much that it hurts.

  “I thought about you every day out there. I don’t know why but I…I just did.” His whisper is quiet and hushed against your skin. But you swear you can feel every single word he says as his lips just ghost above your skin. But you don’t respond. You just find a way to squeeze your arms around his shoulders just a little tighter. And you try to pretend that his words didn’t make your heart race in a way that only he’s capable of doing to you. He squeezes you tighter too. The warmth of his palms pressed against your body can be felt through your uniform. It makes you want to cry. “I’m sorry I called you out here. But I had to see you. I had to. I’m sorry.”

  “Colonel-” You begin, tears already dusting at your eyes but he doesn’t let you finish. 

  “Roy.” He interrupts. You breathe hitches, and his grip on your body adjusts, almost as if he’s afraid of you becoming a flight risk now that all bets are off the table. But you just let you sniffle you’ve been holding in fall out as your fist grabs at the fabric of his uniform with all types of fear and desperation. He relaxes into that touch of yours. He breathes a sigh of relief that doesn’t quite go well with your tense body. But he’s quick to finish what he started. Especially now that you’re holding him as much as he’s holding you “You can call me Roy when we’re alone. And forget about all the respect and superiority bullshit. I don’t care how many rules it breaks, I don’t want to ever see you salute me agai-”

  But you had something you need to finish as well.

  “I thought you died.” You cut him off in your own harsh whisper. The words come out clearer than you expected. Stronger than you had known yourself to be capable of. And more true than you had ever hoped. But you said it. You said, and it’s too late to take it back. Your heart feels heavy at the confession. Your tears start to roll down your cheek at the admittance. And when all is said and done, you almost can’t believe that it’s true. That you almost lost him. That you almost lost the man that had taken your heart so, so long ago. “I thought you were dead, Colonel.”

  And that he’s now in your arms, confessing that he thought of you. 

  “I know…”

  Even in his darkest hours. Even in his worst moments.

  “I thought you had died… Roy. I thought you were….”

   He thought of you.

  “I'm sorry.” He tells you.

  You want to laugh. You want to laugh as much as you want to cry. Who would have thought that this stupid long-term crush of yours would lead you here? But most of all? You just want to hug him. Holding him. Feeling him. His heartbeat. His breath. His warmth. His body. His everything. Because maybe if you hug him this tight, you’ll gain the courage to tell him the thing you’ve been dying to tell since you first realized that you had fallen for him. And maybe hearing you speak those words will make him say the words you desperately want to hear from him. Since the moment you knew this crush wasn’t going away. Since the moment you heard, he had gone missing and would soon be officially declared dead. And since the moment you had heard he was alive and well and waiting for you in his office.

  Or maybe…maybe you won’t say a word. Maybe you won’t say anything at all.

  Because maybe feeling your arms around his body is all that you need right now. Because maybe his arms around your body are all that he needs right now too. Because maybe there’s nothing either of you could say that is worth more than the touch of another when the sun sits low. The hold of another when emotions climb high. 

  Because maybe words work the best when they are spoken at all. Either way, You’re glad he’s back. You’re glad he’s here. You’re glad he’s alive.

  And for now, that’s more than enough.

[midnightstargazer]

Do you have any favourite regulus headcanons?

So, so many of them. Where do I even start?

He had a summer birthday, making him almost two years younger than Sirius but only one year below him at school

His favorite cousin was Narcissa - even as a young child, but especially after Sirius was disowned. While everyone else expected him to be pleased at being the heir now and eager to be rid of a "blood traitor," she spoke with him in private and told him it was okay if he had mixed feelings or missed Sirius. She was the only one who considered that that might be the case, because she had gone through something similar with Andromeda.

He was naturally bright, but not so much that everything came easily; he still had to work hard in order to do well in school. He did excel at some subjects, though, especially Ancient Runes and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He dropped Divination and Herbology as soon as possible, the former because he didn't have the Sight, and the latter because, as far as he was concerned, digging around in the dirt was beneath his dignity.

He was nearly but not quite a hatstall and spent his Sorting ceremony absolutely terrified, begging for Slytherin while the hat considered the pros and cons of the various options. One of the reasons it hesitated so long was that it could tell he wanted to go there at least partially out of fear and thought he might have more room to grow as a person in one of the other Houses. It was probably right - but that doesn't mean it was wrong in its final decision.

He loved playing Quidditch and was really good at it.

If he had been an animagus, his animal form would have been a crow.

He was prejudiced about blood status, but could be polite when it suited him. Especially at the Slug Club. He wasn't friendly or welcoming towards Slughorn's Muggle-born favorites, but he carefully avoided showing any overt hostility - at least when Slughorn was watching.

In another life, he might have been a scholar (he was very interested in the academic side of magic), an artist (he painted the family crest above his bed himself), or a dueling champion (he was highly skilled with combative magic).

He joined the Death Eaters entirely by choice.

He was the youngest person ever recruited as a Death Eater until Draco Malfoy during the second war. Narcissa was well aware of this, and it was one of the reasons she insisted Draco was too young.

He had a soft spot for Kreacher. He didn't necessarily see him as an equal, but he felt genuine affection for him and appreciated his loyalty. He was furious on Kreacher's behalf when he found out what Voldemort had done.

He didn't get along with Sirius and would probably have said he hated him, but he never stopped thinking of him as his brother.

He went to the cave expecting to die and preferring to die on his own terms rather than be made an example of by Voldemort.

As he was drowning, he regretted not trying harder to survive.

[cup1dt3a]

what if y/n or reader was the villain in the show welcome home puppet show and had a crush on one of the character

There was only one person who did this so far and i loved it

would the reader go easy on them or harder so no one would know

would they show concern when there crush is crying

would they stop there plans all together if they were asked by that person (only for a day maybe)

Tysm for the request and love the idea! And I’m doing this with 2 of the members in cast if that is ok because no on was specified on here and I just really want to write about Julie! Also this is fan content of welcome home that has nothing to do with the lore!

Oh to be the antagonist of this story is very “interesting”. You’re always the cause of the moral of the story on why doing whatever it was is bad. Or you just sabotage them throughout the show.

But mostly sabotaging the main character Wally Darling. Always messing up his paintings by adding yourself to the picture. Literally you just crudely draw yourself right beside him. Even going as far as to cross a few of his friends out or replace their heads with yours. While always leaving a signature evil as yours right next to his with a little heart. All over yours and his neat signature. Sometimes putting a heart around both your signatures as a way to circle them. You thought it was cute and a sweet sorry. While Wally was sometimes annoyed by this you would always cut him off before he could say anything.

Most of the time apologizing with “ I’m so so very very sor-sore- sarh- sarh-I think I’m gonna puke! SORY! I said it now you can’t be mad at me…oh geepers my tummy is all topsy turvery now I hope your happy!”

Yes for comedic purposes you could never say sorry without almost puking it was a curse and a gift.

You would always go the hardest on him. No matter where or who he was with Wally would always be your main target. He was just so much fun to mess with. Such as putting the blame on him in Howdy Pillar’s shop by stealing an apple from its once neat stand. Leaving a mess for the yellow man to have to clean up himself. As they all fall you disappear with a clever disguise. Glasses and a mustache. The perfect disguise no one can recognize you! Well kinda? Howdy and Frank always know it’s you and you have no idea how. You fooled Julie and Barnaby with it. Even Wally you think? So how are they exposing you like that!?

For anyone else maybe a few pranks here and there but Wally oh dear sweet Wally will always be victim to your harshest pranks.

But Wally was also the only person you ever listened to that made you stop your devious plans all together. One little “ No, not today Neighbor.” And you’re done for. Fully defeated, and devastated that your plans were cancelled. Not really to be honest you could always do them next time.

Crying. Is something you’d never really try to make anyone do. Really it’s all harmless fun until someone gets hurt. And if Wally do happened to get hurt or start crying your the one who is literally comforting him. Pulling out tons of tissues from your pocket. Panicking over the fact that you made him cry. So you’ll disappear for a few days and go very and almost too easy in everyone especially Wally for once.

You were once again in your unnoticeable disguise. The same one you always wore as you walked around the colorful road of the neighborhood to find Wally. You the came upon the man asking what to paint. Excitedly rushing over onto his shoulder.

“ I think you should paint me~!” you announced dramatically catching the blue haired man off guard.

“ Sure neighbor.” He said gaining his composure now catching you off guard.

Now this was a surprise as you blushed. You quirked your eyebrow at his calmness and to the fact that he willingly without hesitation said he would paint you.

“ Fine then…stranger! Paint me as if I’m the most amazing person in the world! Because I am!” You proclaimed in a dramatic pose.

“ Whatever you say ___.” He said with a sigh as he started to paint catching you fully off guard.

You panicked declaring an answer on how he knew it was you.

“ You use the same disguise and put a different mustache on every time you’re doing something no good.” He said as you huffed.

You thought no one would notice especially with the purple mustache. Come on it was purple and very long and pointy too. And you even got different shoes. This is so unbelievable the nerve of that pretty man!

To be the antagonist of the story and have Julie as your main “victim” is the hardest thing ever. She always laughs and says “ Oh neighbor you’re so silly!” or “ Can you teach me how to do that!?” and even “ Hear let me help you I know an easier way to do that.”

She is too nice to you. She even laughs when you’re doing your evil laugh too! It throws your whole vibe off! You’re supposed to be the evil villain that strikes fear and misery. Not the joke of a villian with some stupidly adorable blonde who always helps and complements you! No she’s supposed to fear you not hug you right after you just tripped over falling face first from your epic exit!

With Julie you go harder on her than anyone else! Not because you like her no it’s because you hate that she is supper nice and supportive; She’s always trying to help you become a better person and…she needs to be stopped. Julie is always thought rushed away from you when Frank is near. The man pulls her away as she tells you “ Bye ___! Hope you have a good day!”

“ Guys I think they just need a chance!” She’ll say while being told “ THEY JUST TRIED TO TRICK HOWDY INTO GIVING THEM OWNER SHIP OF HIS OWN SHOP!”

Making Julie cry is the worst thing you could ever do. Literally if you’re the reason she cried or because you ran into the always happy blonde crying you better give her a hug. It’s technically illegal not to. She is just a ball of pure sunshine that is too nice. If you don’t hug or try to comfort her you’re a heartless monster at that point. But if you are the reason she cried because of you. Do not show your face for a few days. Never show your face again you monster!

“ Hey Julie….Um so I’m sorry about what happened yesterday… I brought you flowers.” You sighed as you handed her the huge bouquet of all her favorite flowers.

“Listen I swear I didn’t mean to ruin that feild of flowers…my Poison-inator3000 somehow malfunction and-“ “ Oh Neighbor! You’re the best!” She gasped hugging you around the neck with a loving squeeze.

She happily smiled at you as you just stood in show with the bouquet still in your hands. You slowly hugged her unsure how to huge her in your akward position and mental state. The sweet blonde is hugging you. Repeat the sweet adorable blonde is hugging you.

Sorry for the wait I’ve been busy recently. So expect me to post more often! Hope you’re all doing well or things are getting better!

Sincerely-Cup1dT3a💕

[themiracleofteddybearmanifestos]

I know I'm late to the party but I just watched Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe and I have a LOT of thoughts.

I think this was a terrible adaptation.

I think it was a beautifully produced and well acted movie, and maybe without having read the book it would have been fine, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't separate it from its source material because some of the changes were just horrible.

I know you can't keep everything in, that's fine. You cut some things, you rearrange some stuff, you fit within your runtime. But why change some of the most crucial/beautiful moments? I have a long, long list of quotes that were either removed or just horribly altered/misplaced and it's so disappointing.

Getting rid of Mrs. Quintana grasping Ari's face and saying, "Aristotle Mendoza, I will love you forever" is so sad. Changing what Gina said, that Ari says is the "nicest thing you ever said to me" to be something totally mundane (essentially changed "you got hunkier" to "you look different") is just an odd choice. But changing the way Ari reacts to kissing Dante? That's horrible.

Ari was done horribly in this movie, I'm sorry. The actor did great and he was lovely in certain moments, but they took out what made him shine. I have a friend who said they didn't like the book because Dante deserved so much better, and I disagreed. Book Ari has moments where he's an asshole, but at his core he is a kind and loving boy who is grateful and appreciative. Film Ari is a sometimes sweet boy who is more often than not just rude.

I can understand some changes have to be made when adapting a first person POV novel, that's fair, but you can absolutely use body language and other visual cues to give insight. This is especially clear with Ari's dad, who in the book is understandably difficult for Ari to get along with. He's distant and intimidating and doesn't want to be open. But in the movie he just seems like a sad dad trying his best to talk to his teenage son, and Ari is completely rude and cold to him for no apparent reason! Film Ari does not thank or hug his parents when they give him a car. Film Ari does not say goodnight to his father or listen when his father wants to show him a painting. Idk exactly how that all plays out in the book since I forget a lot, but the important thing is that all we are shown is his father trying and Ari being rude in response. His motivation is unclear and his behavior is selfish.

Now, one of the biggest crimes is what happens in the truck after Dante and Ari kiss. First off, change of location from Dante's room to the truck ... Okay sure. But I have no idea how you can first off, totally alter this scene and omit a very important quote:

"I don’t kiss boys.” “Okay, so the first rule is: No trying to kiss Ari.”

"You have the harder rule? Buffalo shit... I, on the other hand, have to refrain from kissing the greatest guy in the universe—which is like walking barefoot on hot coals." (Pgs 256-257)

And then completely and entirely warp this scene:

So I closed my eyes.

And he kissed me. And I kissed him back.

And then he started really kissing me. And I pulled away.

"Well?" he said.

"Didn't work for me," I said.

"Nothing?"

"Nope."

"Okay. It sure worked for me."

"Yeah. I think I get that, Dante."

"So, well, that's over with then, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Are you mad at me?"

"A little."

He sat back down on his bed. He looked sad. I didn't like seeing him that way. "I'm more mad at myself," I said. "I always let you talk me into things. It's not your fault."

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Don't cry, okay?"

"Okay," he said.

"You're crying."

"I'm not."

"Okay."

"Okay." (Pgs. 263-264)

HOW do you turn that into Ari calling Dante disgusting and screaming at him to get the fuck out of his car??? That's the fucking breaking point for me, because Ari is a lot of things, but an outright aggressive homophobe is not one of them. Maybe I'm forgetting, and maybe something similar happens later and they just rearranged it. But I know for a FACT that Ari NEVER calls Dante disgusting. Never. Because the word disgusting appears once in this book and Gina says it to Ari. That's it, not a single other usage.

That's what broke it for me, even though I had a lot of issues with other parts (Ari not saying thank you about the truck, removing the shoe-throwing game, getting rid of so much important dialogue, etc.) THIS is the thing that was unacceptable because even when Ari was mad at Dante, he didn't hurt him. He didn't immediately go back on his loyalty he'd just sworn, to stay by Dante even though he's gay. He didn't scream at him or curse him.

But I also just couldn't stand how much of the beautiful writing was completely removed. I love that book because it's poetic and full of quips and oddities. Dante in the movie is cute and sweet, but the oddest thing shown about him is that he wears silly sunglasses. We're told he's weird, and get little glimpse of it, but the heart of Dante is not there. In the book he feels a little mystified and hard to fully grasp, but in the movie he's just... There. A shell, almost. He's still lovable, but he's not wholly Dante. It's like an afterimage of Dante, which is impressive because he was very personable in the movie, but that just shows how enchanting Dante is in the book. He's hard to pin down, but he's not hollow. I think a big issue was that a lot of the time, Dante seemed hurt by Ari. Genuinely disheartened, rather than laughing it off until he couldn't anymore, he was kind of just sad? I don't know. We had the bones of something beautiful with this movie, really, but they just didn't do it right.

Again, the loss of the poeticism and the changes to Ari are what hurt it the most. Movie Ari has very sweet moments where the book character shines through, but he takes himself too seriously in a way where it feels like we're supposed to as well. Ari is lame! He's an awkward teenager with a lot of angst because he's figuring things out and struggling to find his place in the universe, but movie Ari isn't that at all. He's just brooding and downright mean at times. His reactions to the things around him were so hollow and uncaring, and maybe that's how he looked from the outside, but again, this story was not told from the outside and completely loses it's effect when you can't tell what he's feeling or thinking because he just seems mad or disinterested. Not all the time, there were some incredible scenes. I loved him talking with his parents after he beat up Julian. I loved the final scene with the kiss. I think his reaction worked well when hearing about his aunt's girlfriend. But damnit that was lost to me the moment he called the most brilliant boy he'd ever met "disgusting."

Overall, I don't regret watching the movie and I loved some of the scenes and think the music and atmosphere were great. But I'm heartbroken over the fact that so much of the nuance was completely lost. Even if there was some nuance present in the movie, it was far, far less than in the book.

(Less structured bonus points because this rant was messy enough but I have more to say): Dante told him not to open the sketchbook until he was gone. In the movie Ari opened it right up and made a kind of rude comment. Next: so many important bonding moments were removed. Dante giving Ari a sponge bath and them visiting with each other every day Ari was in the hospital. The shoes were significantly played down to the point where the sentimentality of the little shoes was almost lost. Also: The letters were so entirely diminished. And: Ari's brother killed two people, not just the trans woman but also someone in jail. Bro I haven't read this book in multiple years and I'm able to recount this much, I don't even want to think about how glaringly off it all is when I've read the whole book to compare. (If any of my points were wrong, I blame this. But I'm pretty sure most of them are right.)

I loved the end of the movie tho lol I'm always a sucker for a sweet scene and Dante's actor killed it with the eye acting in that scene, the emotions were palpable.

[eddiesguitarskills]

When We Were Young

Part 3

Ex Eddie Munson X reader

Other parts 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Intro: 5 years have past since you packed up and left behind Hawkins. Well not all of it, as the people you met there are still a huge part of your life. But it's been 5 years since you had set a foot in the small town, 5 years since you left him. And now after all that time you were back.

Warning: angst, language, mentions of suicide, miscarriages, self harm, mental health. Use of y/n. Slow burn. Arguments. Mentions of break ups. Female identity reader.

Bold parts are flashbacks

Word count: 2.2k

A/n: please only read if you are in a good place, I wouldn't want this story to trigger or hurt anyone. I'm sorry this part it short but I didn't want to add loads in when it felt like a good place to end this part. Also there will be happy moments coming soon, it's just super slow burn. Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next part, thank you for reading

Not prove read.

Despite the panic attack you had after Eddie left, you still went downstairs and pretended to be fine. Everyone was so excited to see you, you didn’t want to ruin that. You couldn't let them see how broken you felt. You had to be okay. You couldn't make them worry about you again, especially Steve. So you smiled and laughed, pretending your hands weren’t hurting from your nails digging into the palms.

After a long night, you went to your new house, you couldn’t make it to the bedroom with how emotionally exhausted you felt. So tired, that you couldn’t even make sounds as you silently sobbed on the sofa until you eventually fell asleep.

You woke up with the promise today would be a better day, last night you just slipped into your old self. You were better now. No stupid ex could ruin your progress. You needed to get some groceries for the house so at least you had something to distract your mind for a little while.

As you drove in your new red Ford (well it was a used ford from a couple of years) to the grocery store you expected everything to look different, but to your surprise, it was the same. The florist with the pink lettering on the window spelling out its name Haley’s, the paint had slightly started to peel but it was still there. The 50% off at the clothing boutique. Even the graffiti that was on the side of the market was still there, from four years ago. The town was stuck in a time warp, maybe it wouldn’t take as much time to adjust.

Grabbing a shopping cart you slowly walk down the isles not sticking to the list you wrote at home. Picking up all sorts of snacks. You had missed American cuisine. Your cart was getting full. I guess it’s true what they said about how you shouldn't come shopping on an empty stomach. The cart was old and rusty, meaning the fuller the cart got the harder to steer it was. The wheels screeched and lagged every time a new item was added. You turned the corner to enter another aisle when the left wheel furthest away from you decided to jam, ramming you into a customer's cart.

“I am so sorry” you look up at the old man wearing a cap. Maybe it wasn’t your ex you were a magnet too, maybe it was just the Munson’s. He frowned at you. Okay so maybe not everything was the same. Wayne was known for being grumpy to others but you only knew him as a sweetheart he was never anything but kind to you. You had never seen him look at you like this. There was a disappointment hidden beneath his eyes, that you, unfortunately, didn’t miss. “For what? Bumping into my cart or breaking my son’s heart?” You don’t know what you expected him to say. But maybe silence would have been better. The words stung you.

His son was the one to break your heart, not the other way around. Sure it might have hurt him when you left, but how were you supposed to feel when he didn’t give you a choice? And the only way of having part of him was taken away from you.

“Do you want me to be your little housewife and have food on the table ready for when you get back from your big successful job?". You stared in disbelief despite the thoughts building like a storm in your head. “Is that what you think?” He hated when you used that voice. The one where it sounded like you were about to break.

It made him hate himself more than he already did. Maybe this is why he was treating you this way. Seeing if you take his bait, to see if you thought he was as worthless as he felt. He didn’t want to hear that voice in his head, he didn’t want to see the disappointment on your face right now, he just needed something to numb it all. So he turned away from you in search of a blunt, a pill, powder, anything.

His turning away from you, caused the storm to break loose, this was the end and he wasn’t even kind enough to break up with you in words. “Fuck you” you whispered and left. You got in your car. Driving as far as you could from him. You could see just enough to get as far as the Family Video which wasn’t a long way from the trailer park before your tears completely cover your eyes sight. You pulled up not wanting to risk anyone’s life. breathing heavily, panic intensifying. In comprehensive words being screamed from your mouth. Cursing out to the universe, Eddie and apologising to the life in your stomach.

God how you wanted to curse his nephew out and tell Wayne the whole truth. But as Eddie said you were nothing so why did it matter anymore? You did hate how you had never said goodbye to the man who took you into his family so easily. Making sure you were always welcome. Making sure your favourite snacks were in his home despite not having the money and living paycheck to paycheck. So you just said “I’m sorry Wayne” he didn’t need to know that it was an apology to him, not his nephew.

His face didn’t change, you guess this was the Wayne Munson everyone talked about, the cold-hearted, scary guy. You had never been on the receiving end of this version of him but it was frightening. So you looked down, scared if you look up for a second more you would cry. “That kid already had a hard enough life, he didn’t need you promising him a better one and then being like the rest of them. You messed him up so bad that he’s only now just starting to smile again. So if you plan on staying don’t you dare hurt him again”. With that threat he left. You wanted to leave the store than to wallow, but you stood in fear not wanting to cross paths with a Munson again. “Are you okay ma’am?” a shop clerk addresses you. You nod “I’m fine thank you.”

Thankfully you wouldn’t cross paths with another Munson today as Wayne had gone to work and the younger Munson was still in bed hungover. Deciding not to come into work today, he might as well have gone in with how many times Sarah had called, asking how to do things, that she should know how to do. Hearing the constant rings and her voice was giving the boy a headache. Eddie didn’t realise she was only doing this to make sure he was okay, it wasn’t like him to call in sick. After plumping his pillow and changing positions back and forth, he found a comfortable spot and started to close his eyes.

The phone rang again, and he groaned. Picking it up now pissed. “Come on Sarah you called 10 minutes ago, you’re a floor manager you should be better than this. Use some instinct, I shouldn’t have to hold your hand through this”. A male’s chuckle made him realise that it wasn’t his employee on the phone. He knew that laugh anywhere and right now he would have preferred to hear from Sarah 20 more times if it meant not talking to Harrington. “You seem like such a lovely boss” Steve joked, hoping to gauge Eddie’s mood. When he didn’t laugh back or make a snide remark, when he was met with silence. He realise how pissed Eddie was, he was never the quiet type.

Steve sighed “look I know I should have given you a heads up, trust me I was going to. I just got so excited about having her back that I didn’t think-“. Eddie rolled his eyes cutting in “yeah you didn’t think”. Steve ignore the rise Eddie was trying to cause and continued. “I was going to tell you, I just didn’t expect you there, not that I didn’t want to see you. I just didn’t know Dustin invited you. I hoped the first time you met again would go better, I didn't plan for it to go like that”. If the men were in the same room, Eddie might have hit the boy, even if he didn’t mean it. With the rage he was feeling. “Better? Do you really think we could ever get along, After what she did?”.

"shut it Munson" Oh, it was definitely a good job they weren't in the same room. Steve didn’t snap anymore. He tried not to raise his voice because he hated how it made him feel like his father. But he would not have Eddie speak about you like that. Especially with what he did. He had come so far with Eddie, after the first couple of months of the incident he couldn't even look at him. But after time he forgave and tried to understand the boy. But he never forgot. How could he forget?

Steve was blinded by the headlight pouring into the shop window. After a long 12-hour shift he was super tired and didn’t need this. He left the shop storming over to the car, about to tell the jerk off. Until he came closer and realised it was your car. He walked over quicker, wondering what you were up to. Were you trying to be funny, by annoying him? He supposed this is what best friends did. He grabbed open your door, trying to scare you. To get his own back. However, as soon as the door opened, he saw you hysterically crying, clutching your stomach. He got down to his knees in front of you, rubbing your arms. “It hurts so much”.

He wanted to cry looking at you like this, you were always the strong one. The anchor in his life. No matter how scared or how much of a dick he was, you brought him back to earth. You were never like this. You squeezed your eyes in pain, holding your stomach tighter. This was worse than the pain he felt when Nancy left, worse than anything with the upside down. This was the most heartbreaking thing he had ever seen. But he had to be as strong for you as you had been for him. So he sniffed back up the tears. “What hurts y/n?”. You pull his hand from your arm to your stomach. “It hurts Steve”. He couldn't be sure, he hoped it was just stomach pain and not... God, he hoped it wasn't that. All he knew is that he needed to take you to the hospital. “Can you move?”

Eddie wasn't used to this version of Steve, even when they weren't friends Steve hadn't spoken to him like this. At that moment he realised that if there was a choice Steve would always pick you, and maybe all his friends would always pick you. Why was he the only that hated you? At that moment he felt more alone than he had in years. It made him scared, he couldn't be abandoned again. He felt like a child scared of his dad, feeling like he disappointed him. With how quickly Steve was to turn his back on him he wondered if everyone else felt the same. Was he just a place holder until you came back?

You had left, he had stuck around. Sat with his friends while they cried. Make them laugh on bad days. Trained Dustin to be a Dm. Went to hospital appointments with friends. Stayed awake talking them down from nightmares. All while suffering from his own traumas. He never complained because that's what friends do. Especially when they had gone through what they had. You left everyone, and now you could just come back, and everyone would love you. What do you know about hard?

“She got to leave, it couldn't have been that bad.” Steve growled through the phone “you don’t know shit Munson” he slammed the phone down. Eddie was all alone, well not completely, he had his thoughts. He was now wishing for Sarah to call. He felt like he was being smothered by thoughts, what did Steve mean? Eddie might have been mean that night to you, but surely it wasn't enough to qualify this sort of response. How had you had a hard life? Had something happened? Was he missing something? He shook his head. No, he hated you, he needs to keep it this way. He picked up the phone and rang Sarah, as soon as he heard her voice he spoke. “Come over after work”. He slammed the phone down. He needed to forget, Sarah could help with that even if it was only a couple of hours.

A couple of hours before the thoughts would come back and he was swarmed by curiosity, pain and loneliness.

Tag list

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[wrathofrats]

Day 11: marking/ breath play

Prompts by @kroas-adtam

Swiss and dew have to be weird about the face paint bc its fucking swiss and dew

“Honestly I wished they’d just give me a balaclava at this point” Swiss sighed as he looked up meeting dews gaze.

It was always hard for dew to not stare at Swiss while he put his face paint on. The black paint covered the tips of his fingers as he smeared it onto his face and mouth. Swiss claimed it was faster than using a sponge, and less wasteful. Always mumbling something about not being bothered to actually do it properly, it was going to smear anyways.

“Harder to breathe though, and you can’t sing. Think I rather have the paint”

Swiss squirted another thick glob of paint into his hands, rubbing it around before wiping on the other cheek. He took special care to get it into his stubble, tried to get as even of a coat as he could, even if it would be faded and streaky within the hour. His fingers left marks on his face as he worked, lines and texture coming through once it started to get tacky.

“Eh, you could just put a hole in the fabric”

The entirety of his hands were covered in the stuff now, The rough calluses and veins sharply outlined. Swiss’ hands were so big, especially compared to dew, long thick fingers completely stained an inky black, faded to grey around his wrists. He doesn’t even know how Swiss could get that messy in the time they had. He doesn’t think he cares anyways.

“Wouldn’t that look stupid?”

Swiss just shrugs.

“Do I look ok?” He smiles

“Same as you always do”

Swiss leans on his elbow to stand up and push his chair back. He raises his hands in the air to attempt to not get the paint anywhere else. The venue's vanity still winds up getting black streaks on it, but they’ll clean it up later.

“Can you help me wash this off?” Swiss asks

Dew looks at him confused, Swiss usually does it himself. A quick run to the bathroom and he’s usually out in 5 minutes to start grabbing things from the crew. They don’t have much time anyways, about 15 minutes to call, nothing about the plan makes sense.

It was hard to get used to the chaos. Swiss always making up convoluted plans that end up with someone in trouble, or hurt, and on the off chance everything went right it usually still wasn’t a good idea in the first place. He doesn’t know he says yes, but he does anyways.

“Do you just use soap or-“ dews statement is cut off as Swiss quickly pulls him into a bathroom, slamming the door and clicking the lock in one swift motion before backing dew up against the wall.

“We don’t have fucking time for this swiss” dew tries to push against his chest and slip past him with a sigh. He knows these plans don’t end well for him, especially not when he has to be on stage in 13 minutes.

“Saw the way you were staring at me droplet” he gives Dew a crooked smile, white teeth contrasting sharply against the black paint. “Know you love the way my hands look like this”

“Shut up, can you just be weird later?”

“Cmon, you said you rather have the paint right?”

Dew rolls his eyes “you know what I meant, move”

Swiss wraps his hand around the back of dews head, thumbing at his lips, “hold still, gonna make you real fucking pretty”

Dew stops moving and watches Swiss intently, he smears the still wet paint on his hands onto dews lips and cheek where he holds him, the bitter chemical taste invading his taste buds. His cock kicks in his pants as Swiss’ thumb runs down his chin, hand wrapping around his throat.

“Just want to mark you as mine sweetheart, said you wanted this didn’t you?”

Dew hates the way Swiss smirks at him. He hates his confidence. He hates that he’s completely right. His senses are filled with the plasticy smell of the face paint and Swiss’ cologne as Swiss’ grip starts to get tighter, a warning, waiting for dew to tell him no.

He doesn’t.

The heel of his hand digs into his throat, cutting off his air supply. Dew closes his eyes and leans his head back against the cool concrete wall as his brain goes fuzzy at the edges, waiting for Swiss to let up.

Swiss releases the pressure around dews neck, “alright droplet?”

Dew nods, meekly whispering “again”

“Thought you said you didn’t want it” Swiss mocks, complying easily as dew lets out a short whine before Swiss’s hand tightens again. “That’s ok, know you like be to marked as mine. Gonna keep this on all night?”

Dew nods once again, letting himself completely embrace the feeling, now fully hard in his pants.

“Let anyone who sees you with paint around your throat know what I did to you, wonder if theyll know how much you wanted it”

[rosaline-black]

ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢꜰᴏʀʏᴏᴜ - ꜱɪʀɪᴜꜱ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ

Summary: on a summers night Sirius surprises you with a call. Will those unspoken feelings finally bubble over ?

Pairing: Fem!reader X Sirius black

A/N: this is a song fic! I’ve been a big 1975 fan since I was 11 and well since I couldn’t afford tickets I thought I’d live vicariously through their old songs. Enjoy :) even if u don’t know the song, this is still pretty romantic.

 ───◌┈┈───♡⃝───┈┈◌───

What time you coming out?

We started losing light

I’ll never make it right

If you don’t wander off

“Come on l/n one night with me you won’t regret it…” Sirius pleaded over the muggle pay phone. He craved the site of your face just as much as he craved a cigarette right now. Love wasn’t normal for someone like Sirius. It didn’t just happen, not with his upbringing, not when he’d never experienced it from anyone other then his friends before. It was getting darker outside with every second and Sirius needed you near him.

“Sirius it’s 11pm and my parents are sleeping you can’t just call my house begging to see me… especially in the middle of summer when you haven’t owled me once!” You snapped in return. He couldn’t expect you to run to him after he’d been radio silent for four weeks.

“You know how my parents are y/n… I can’t send letters to…” he trailed off not knowing how to phrase his statement. You were muggleborn, if his parents caught wind of him associating with such he’d not only be punished but you could be put in danger too.

“Mudbloods? Just hang up Sirius…” you snapped

I’m so excited for the night

All we need’s my bike and your enormous house

“Hey don’t use that fucking word… look I have my bike with me… I can cycle..” Sirius pleaded even harder.

“Fine let’s say I agree where would we go?” You asked sighing into the phone.

“Your enormous house of course… look I just really need to see you… please”

If it wasn’t for the sincerity in his usually sarcastic and annoying voice you would of hung up. But he was doing what always did, he reeled you in until you craved to smell his cologne again, until you wanted to hear his deep chuckle.

“Fine… get here any later then midnight and I’m going to bed…” and with that you put down the phone.

Half an hour later you were sat on your front porch when a bike made its way up the road. The moonlight caught on metallic paint and his grey eyes. You could spot those eyes from a mile away.

“You’re here…”

“What did you think I wouldn’t come…”

You shrugged honestly. You never really knew where you stood with Sirius most of the time. He teased you like one of his friends but whenever you spoke he held an intensity you couldn’t locate when he conversed with his other friends. He’d joked in the past about hooking up with you. And you’d just laughed it off, it was better to push the playboy away then confront your feelings and have them crushed.

Don’t you see me I

I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you

And don’t you need me I

I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you

On this night, and in this light

I think I’m falling (I think I’m falling), I’m falling for you

And maybe you, change your mind..

"Glad your opinion of me is high…“ Sirius joked taking a seat beside you as you both looked up at the clear night sky.

Sirius noticed your reluctance to give in to him. He completely understood. You had an unspoken tie to each other that you both chose to ignore. But on nights like this, in the dimmed glow of the porch light he was certain he was falling for you.

"At least I’m honest with you… I don’t fall at your knees like half the other girls in our school..” you commented with a tiny smile that was hidden behind your hair.

Sometimes you wondered if he truly saw you. If he was just stringing you along as a back up option in case someone more desirable didn’t want him. No way would you be his scapegoat. No way would you degrade yourself for love, even if that love was getting more apparent with every second you spent on your porch alone with him.

I’m caught on your coat again

You said, “Oh no, it’s fine”

I read between the lines and touched your leg again (again)

Sirius leant over to get closer to you, one of his many rings that he worse getting caught on a lose string from your coat. He pulled it away but only drew you closer.

“Sorry I…”

“Oh no it’s fine..” you said pulling away the string as you realised how close he’d grown to you; it was pissing you off that you didn’t mind his nose nearly brushing yours.

You moved your gaze back to the sky. Losing yourself in the stars as a cold calloused finger grazed your upper thigh. Any other time where the atmosphere wasn’t as thick with intensity you would of pushed it away. But you couldn’t.

Sirius didn’t mean to graze your leg. When he saw you hadn’t pushed him away like usual he rested his hand there. Grounding him deeper beside you. Touching you in anyway felt like a privilege he of all people didn’t deserve, but right now with all these unspoken thoughts, there was no way he’d let go. He couldn’t.

I’ll take it one day at a time

Soon you will be mine, oh, but I want you now (I want you now)

In that instant Sirius knew he couldn’t have anyone else ever again. He’d wait the rest of his life to call you his. Wether it was in this life or the next he didn’t care. Your souls were intertwined. Afar from the pureblood bullshit he didn’t see your blood status or even your looks, he just saw your soul. And he was hoping you saw his.

In that instant he knew that he’d take it one day at a time, even though when you bit your lip that way or tucked that loose strand of hair behind your delicate ears he wanted to steal you away. Have you now.

“Stop staring…” you muttered just above a whisper, like a whistle in the wind.

“Never…”

When the smoke is in your eyes, you look so alive

Do you fancy sitting down with me maybe

‘Cause you’re all I need

“Cigarette?” He asked lighting his own. Your brief nod was enough to carefully slip one between your lips and light it.

He watched the smoke streams catch in the light of your porch, more importantly your eyes. The majestic patterns that the smoke formed weren’t even close to competing with the intoxicating puddle which were your eyes.

“So we’re just going to sit here in silence then..” you broke the silence.

“What is there to talk about…” Sirius murmured almost mockingly. There was clearly lots for the both of you to talk about. Infact there was everything to talk about.

You could of sworn the glimmer of his teeth that showed when he smirked was enough for you to fall into the hole that was Sirius black. You couldn’t let it though, what if you’d made up the bond you shared in your head. You weren’t the first girl he’d probably ever done this for.

According to your heart

My place is not deliberate

Feeling of your arms

I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck

Sirius could practically hear the cogs turning in your head. Maybe now was the time to ease the doubts and reservations you had about him. Maybe now was a good time for him to get on his knees and confess every bad thing he’d ever done just so you completely trusted he could never hurt you, even if he wanted to.

He was sure you were bound to each other. Maybe to you the feeling wasn’t as strong. He’d accidentally fallen into your heart and now you were trying your best to get him out. But while he had the chance he’d take it.

Before he could take it though, your arms were pressed against his chest. Your eyes glued to his own. That mental timer that had been counting down the seconds until you could no longer ignore this had run out. Whatever this was.

“I don’t wanna be your friend y/n… I can’t just, be your friend…”

Then his lips were on yours. And you were fighting for dominance, wanting to equally prove to each other that this wasn’t just a kiss. Your hearts were chained to one another and neither of you wanted to find the key to loosen the shackles.

His lips found your neck and every thought of him hurting you was now long gone. You liked to think you couldn’t be deceived, and if this was him deceiving you then you’d happily call yourself a fool.

Don’t you see me I

I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you

And don’t you need me I

I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you

On this night, and in this light

I think I’m falling (I think I’m falling), I’m falling for you

And maybe you, change your mind

You must have laid with each other until the sun began to rise. You didn’t want it too though, neither of you did. The thought of losing that atmosphere, that perfect circumstance where you could freely declare your love for one another was frightening.

Those same doubts crept back up on you. Would you go back to Hogwarts in September and would he pretend as though he’d never kissed you this way. Would he push away your bound to each other, or would he give in? Give in like you had so easily.

“I’ve fallen for you…” those four words were the only confirmation you needed. You were bound.

[operation-steal-chans-laptop]

Forgive my brain for this one bubby, had to get it out of my head,

Han jisung + your glasses

Now you don't really have a prescription for glasses but given that your screen time is as much as it is, you do usually wear a pair to avoid headaches from high bright light exposure (lets presume so because well I do in this case yes I'm being self indulgent and no I shall not shame myself about it)

Sungie coming back from a grocery run on your common day off which was interrupted by some last minute tweaking your client asked you to get done so you were currently just hyperfixated at your laptop.

"Ah the glasses are out today, looks like it'll take you some time hm?"

You reassure him and say it won't take long but it did end up taking a bunch of hours. Jisung could have done anything in that while but why would he when he could daydream about you. When you keep your hair up with that big claw pin and a few baby strands just frame your face so perfectly it's artistic to him. And your glasses,

Especially, your glasses

The way they sit on your nose and accentuate your pretty eyes so much and gosh you almost become a different person when you wear those and goddamn it do they make you look professional,

And hot, authoritative and very hot

He wishes if he had a desk job, maybe the ones with the CEO's and their big offices, and fall in love with you, the newbie secretary with the pretty faces and who looks so hot when she's focused.

Maybe he could call you in, because behind closed doors you are really his loving girlfriend, the one who he sleeps next to each night even if you can't go home by the same car. And maybe he can just ask you to lock the door behind you and kneel next to him on a particularly stressful day,

And maybe with a little bit of whining and begging he can definetly ask you to blow him off, help him calm down a bit yeah? Ofcourse you'll agree, right?

And right when you're about to take your glasses off he can pout at you and ask you to pleaseeee keep those on for him you look so hot he can barely breathe around you properly.

But here's the catch,

You could make him blow his load in under 2 minutes if you wanted to but you decide to take your time with it, letting him enjoy it as much as he can but Jisung had a mission because he wanted to cum, he really did, not down your throat though, he loves it but not today,

You both feel him getting closer and right when you were about to suck him harder to let it go all down your throat, jisung pushes your head away from him.

He hold your head with his right hand with his left still pumping his dick, a strained plea of "stay there please?" And you obey because gid knows what goes on in his head but its usually hot as fuck.

And it was

When he aimed his spurt right at your glasses. He paints your lenses with his essence and gets some on your cheek too but oh fuck he could cum again just by looking at you. (Spoiler: he almost did overstim himself too much at how you looked)

You were caught offguard to say the least, oh man and what if,

What if roles were switched and you wanted to-

The bedroom gate opens, you're still in a big t shirt and some shorts, hair up, and glasses.

Jisung's shorts don't really feel as comfortable rn.

"Gosh that client was a complete pain in the ass, ruining my day off too, any ideas of dinner?"

" I don't have an idea for dinner necessarily, but I do have an idea angel...."

~~~

Yours lovingly

- 💌

Ahzbcjxbxjcidncjfjfncjtj BUBBY?!?!!?! YOUR BRAIN??????

As much as the glasses make you look professional and sexy, in a way they also make you look more innocent? The big framing seemingly making your features softer

he’d think it’s so cute and hot when you have your glasses on with your hair up messily and an oversized shirt on?!?!?!?! Han would not be able to stop thinking about all the dirty things he’d do to you, and how pretty you’d look falling apart on his cock, the glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose

I CANT THINK PROPERLY

[pilferingapples]

7, 22, 24 Feuilly for the character ask!!

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I like that we're about 9000 percent more likely to give him dialogue than Hugo..... >< He's not even one of the Top Three Most Popular Amis in Fanwork or anything but WE REMEMBER HIM<3 And generally try to put him in group scenes and all as much as we can, if we're making those! --also also one perk of modern shift work vs canon era is that it's very VERY easy to justify Feuilly having more Off time overlapping with the other Amis and I have ZERO issues with people using that to include him in the hijinks. Put that political nerd in some Situations!!

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

...I like it when he gets nice things he wants I am a simple creature who likes fluff and fix its but I also like it a lot when he's centrally involved in activism and planning and gets to go on long rants about politics (thought I suppose for Feuilly that is also Nice Things He Wants )! I love his canon tendency to talk about his One Niche Interest, which happens to be EVERYONE IN THE WORLD <3<3<3 and I like when that gets fanwork time (although I VERY MUCH get that it's hard to do! how do you draw "intense interest in global politics and solidarity across national lines" ? it's a lot harder to compose than a handholding scene! XD) For the other part of this...ok I don't exactly dislike it but I do think it's very funny when people decide that since he's a Worker he must be a big muscledy jock laborer. He's a fan painter. Graphic Design is His Passion. His only workplace injuries are carpal tunnel and headaches from paint vapors and eyestrain from going over the same dozen damn seasonal motifs for twelve hours at a time XD Sorry to all the art idealizing men of the Working Classes as Big Buff Hulks, Feuilly is a little glass cannon with puny wizard arms and a migraine (I love him) .

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

..man that is HARD. There are not a lot of characters like Feuilly! Even heroic characters! Especially when so many heroic characters spend huge chunks of their story going " oooohhhh nooooo pleeeaaase don't tell me I have to use my cool powers to do awesome things, I'm just a little birthday boy" and Feuilly's whole thing is I WILL SAVE THE WORLD ARMED WITH BASIC LITERACY AND SOME DAMN COMPASSION

I...y' know what? Captain Kirk. Original flavor, poetry-quoting Stack of Books With Legs James T. " Let Me Help" Kirk. And I wish I could think of more characters like this because I love them, but well, here we are.

[dragonncat]

god i love glass onion so much and everything about it. major spoilers ahead.

like let's talk about the characters. i love that they're all pieces of shit. interesting, well-written, clear pieces of shit. they are even called shitheads. and like. the "disruptors" are all clearly painted as self-serving rich bitches (haha get it?) who only care about money and their public image and are willing to stab (or shoot) people in the back for it, but even some of the side characters are morally gray.

whiskey, for example? no, she isn't as alt-right as duke nor isshe as misogynistic, but she still went along with it in his streams and helped duke. and the reason she was dating him in the first place was for her own money and public image. sure, not as bad as duke or the others, but she's not entirely pure.

even peg is still self-serving. she did agree with helen, and she tried to reel in birdie's ignorance, but even that was just her doing her job. she literally begged miles not to make birdie release the statement because she was worried about her own image. now, clearly she's not nearly as bad as any of the others, but how much of that is because she's morally superior and how much of it is because of her position? if she were a celebrity billionaire like the rest of them instead of an assistant, would she act the same?

the only characters that aren't focused on money and public image are the ones who aren't public figures. especially helen- benoit is world-famous, but helen is just a third-grade teacher who wants to avenge her twin sister. the lesson here is of course, power and fame corrupt. every character that gains fame and money are obsessed with keeping it, by any means necessary.

and to show this so thoroughly that it seeps into every detail of the movie, that i could spend hours writing about? goddamn that's a fantastic movie. it's a glass onion- you can see its core, but around it are a lot of layers that are harder to pick out. i could watch this movie fifteen times and still not get all the nuance, and that is what makes a good movie great in my opinion.

[stickytrigger69]

Well if you're taking requests, please allow me to make one✨ I see Prime on your list as "have watched". Could I request Bounty Hunter Reader/TFP Wheeljack with a "rivals who keep hooking up cause it's easier than admitting feelings" thing ? Thank you so much(◍•ᴗ•◍)✧*。Nuetral/Masc Bot reader is def preferred

TFP Wheeljack x GN Cybertronian Reader

Reader is gender neutral

Bot instead of mech or femme

Reader frame type, paint job, etc. is unspecified

NSFW

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You've been in the bounty hunting business for a long long time, even before the war. Often being hired by the one who had the most money to offer you. During the war there were times that the Autobots had more and others the Cons did, there were other times it was a completely different species. You found things in both groups that you disliked, the Autobots were prideful and the Decepticons were cruel. You especially disliked the wreckers, no matter what side they are on.

And there was one who was consistently disruptive. He really grinded your gears. He's a decent sized mech, white, red, and green paint job and two large finials on the sides of his helm. The finials were an unmistakable characteristic of his that by appearance alone, made you edgy. He liked to push your buttons and tease you.

But his favorite pass time is to flirt with you like he wasn't just angering you a few kliks ago. His servos wander over your frame as he smirks knowingly at you, like if you've already succumbed to his 'charm'. He thinks he has you wrapped around his digits like copper wire but you always argue that he doesn't. Even when he's spiking you real good you deny that you enjoy it, degrading him the entire time. He, of course, pokes back, telling you this, you, is nothing to him.

Most of the time when he sees you you're glaring deep into his optics, a blatant display of your disdain for the mech. He can feel your scowl as he presses his derma against yours. A sour tint in the charge of your glossa while he sticks his own down your intake. His servos are holding you up against the wall, digits digging into your prtomesh between your plating. Spike thrusting in and out of your tight valve, dripping with your fluids.

He releases your derma and just looks you in the optics while he pounds you into the wall. For a moment he sees a softness in them. Feels a small spark of compassion come off of you, your face goes slack for a moment. He grunts deeply and buries his face in your neck cables. He lets out a chuckle before he bites down on one of them.

You're such a gorgeous bot. Perfect frame which is accentuated when you're pressed up against him like you are now. Legs wrapped around his waist, servos holding onto his shoulders for support. He can't help it but try to make you upset when he sees you. He loves when you get all soft and vulnerable like this, when you're not so hostile towards him.

He knows its his fault that you're always so defensive around him. He's the reason that you won't show him all of you the way he wants you to. He bounces you up and down faster on his spike trying to ignore his feelings. For now, the soft pants and moans coming from your intake are more than enough for him. But man does he hate having to settle for things.

In his frustration he thrusts harder, you cry out and hold onto him even tighter. Wheeljack grinds his denta together, groaning with every thrust upward into you. The clanging of metal hitting metal and the squelch of your wet valve fills his audials. Your warm breath tickles his neck cables.

"Ah, oh please." You whine into his neck. Optics squeezed shut as you feel every ridge of his spike push past your calipers. You grind down onto his spike, your own rubbing against his abdomen.

"Yeah yeah," He taunts, "I know what I'm doing." His voice is gruff and his tone is sharp. His optics stare into the wall behind you. He's so frustrated. With you and himself.

"I hate you." You groan out before you bite down on his neck cables. Denta digging into the smooth mesh covering the wires. The pain adds to his pleasure and makes him moan deeply. His spike twitches inside of you, he's getting close. And if the fluttering of your valve wasn't hint enough, he can tell you're getting close too.

"You piece of scrap." He says through gritted denta. His servo let's go of your leg, making you stand, to wrap around your throat. His digits squeeze and he stares into your optics with a grin. You scowl at him in turn, optics flickering with the building overload in your system. His glossa flicks over your derma, licking up the bit of lubricant that dribbled out.

You glare at him and try pulling his servo from your neck. He tuts at you and tightens his grip. He puts more force into his thrusts. Spike hitting you deep and hard.

"Ngh, overload for me gearhead." He chuckles at how you shudder from the command.

"Mmm-no!" You cry defiantly as you shut your optics.

"No~?" His servo releases your throat. "Aww, c'mon sweetspark, pleeaase~." He begs you as the servo previously wrapped around your throat reaches down and gently rubs at your anterior node. You gasp. Your back arches and you lean into his touch. It doesn't take very long until your calipers are spasming around his spike.

You throw your helm back with a loud moan as your overload crashes into you, charge bursting and sending an electric current down your spinal strut. His hips stutter for a moment.

"Jeeze darling, your valve is trying so hard to milk my spike." He grunts deeply. You reply with a small whine. "I'll give you what you want gearhead." You moan at the insult. He lifts you up again and uses you to reach his own overload. And in no time he reaches his limit, painting your insides with his transfluid.

Your optics leak coolant from the corners. Overstimulated and fucked to exhaustion. Another shudder passes through you when he pulls out. Both of you are panting, cooling fans slowing down. His transfluid leaks from your valve and puddles on the floor beneath you.

He's still holding you up, leaning against you, face in your neck again. Neither of you say anything for a long time, just recovering from the hot session. He sets you down but remains cautious, you have fallen a few times before after rough sessions so he is trying to be on the safer side this time. With him being so close but not touching you you both just stare into eachothers optics for a little. Searching your thoughts for something to say, you can see in his optics he's doing the same, looking for something, anything, to say.

You look down at his servo and take it into your own.

"You can just leave it," you look down at the puddle, " I'll clean it up." You look back up. He looks confused for a moment and then it clearly clicks.

"Alright, till next time then, eh gearhead?" He pulls his servo from yours to take a cloth from his subspace to wipe himself off. He hands it to you and you take it with a scoff.

"Sure I guess." Your processor still rebooting. Your voice is static-y still and he smiles at you for it. He turns around and steps off of your ship. A sore feeling in his spark chamber as he walks to his own. Though he knows he's going to see you again, he's just not sure if he wants to keep going like this.

He thinks he might want to face his inner feelings and tell you about it but he's not sure how you'll react. He doesn't want to lose this, this bit of intimacy he has with you. You watch as he flies off into the sky. You're left feeling conflicted. You want to talk to him about your "relationship" but you know what kind of mech he is so you always think against it.

You'll keep it to yourself you guess. You look away from the glass to the puddle of fluids on the floor. You feel sad looking at it, sad that this might be the only reason he'd want to keep in touch with you. After you clean it up you don't feel so bad. When you're finally ready, you sit in your chair and pull up the next bounty.

The face of a random bot stares back at you from the glass while you continue to think. 'I'll tell him how I feel next time' you tell yourself for the hundredth time. You always think that but when it comes down to it you never can do it. Intimidated by his frame and prickly nature. You take a deep invent and release it slowly and accept the bounty contract on your display, 'next time'.