#its the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

[themultifanshipper]

Can you do a size kink with George Russell, please?

It’s not your fault your genetics didn’t bless you with height. And it’s not your fault the universe decided to give you a fucking giant for a boyfriend. 

Warnings: smut, I didn’t know whether you meant size kink as in big dick kink or just body size kink so I did both!, online trolling but nothing too bad, very quick mention of breeding kink, belly bulge, also I couldn't resist making some fake tweets

When the internet finally figured out (it wasn’t hard, you were short even in heels) that you were over a foot shorter than your boyfriend, the memes started. And they never stopped. 

You weren’t upset, or angry at them. You knew they meant no harm, and you had a sense of humour about it. You even liked some of them on twitter, which always sent the fans into a frenzy, and in a way it gave them permission to make more. 

You’d been scrolling through the latest batch when George walked in. 

He was searching through his bag for something and had his back to you. 

You observed him silently. Noting how the muscles shifted in his back, and how his arms flexed when he dragged things out of the bag. 

You liked that your boyfriend was bigger than you. It had its advantages, you felt safe when you cuddled because he could wrap around you so fully, and he could pick you up easily, and manhandle you as if you weighed nothing... 

You snapped out of it and carried on scrolling down your twitter hashtag. Your name trended every single time you went to the track. 

You scoffed loudly when your eyes landed on a certain gif. 

The one with the train and the tunnel, you know the one. 

George wondered what had caught your attention and came to lie next to you on the hotel bed to see your screen. 

You looked at the replies to that tweet, and the first one made you laugh. 

You cackled and George snatched the phone to type out a response, scowling the whole time. 

He gave it back and stared at you, waiting for your reaction. 

You laughed even harder and he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“Think this is funny, do you?” 

You nodded, wiping away the tears in your eyes. 

“The PR team is going to give you so much shit for that” you giggled. 

“I don’t care, I can’t have rumours like that start circulating about me”  

Your hand landed on his thigh as you looked up at him through your lashes. “I didn’t know your ego was so fragile. You sure there isn’t any truth to it?” 

He leaned in, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “You of all people should know how well I know how to please you” he muttered. 

“I don’t know... I might need some more convincing” you purred, turning your head to capture his lips in a sensual kiss. 

He groaned into it, crawling over your body to trap you under him. 

You whimpered, just at the feel of his all-encompassing presence over you. 

“Then, allow me to demonstrate” 

He trailed downwards immediately, taking your sleep shorts off on the way and spreading your legs. 

He kissed up your inner thigh, getting dangerously close to where you wanted him. 

The first teasing lick made you let out a shuddering gasp, which made him smirk. 

“I guess I'm lucky that you’re so easy to please” he teased and you rolled your eyes. 

“It wasn’t your oral skills that were in question, darling” you remarked. 

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he tried to control himself. 

“Fine, if you’re going to be a brat...” he grabbed your hips and swiftly turned you over, extremely easily. “Then you deserve to limp tomorrow” 

You whimpered into the pillows and he gave your ass a harsh spank. 

“Hips up, legs spread. I’ll get the lube” 

Because the truth was, George had absolutely nothing to compensate for. He had a massive dick, and he indeed knew how to use it. 

Lube wasn’t always necessary, because he generally prepped you perfectly well enough to take him without issues.  

But sometimes you liked it a bit rougher, you wanted to feel it. 

So instead of prepping you, he would use as much lube as he needed to make it fit. 

He poured a load on your ass and watched it drip down your folds, reveling in the hiss you let out at the coldness. 

He slicked himself up, way more than necessary, and spread you open while he watched his tip slide over your entrance. 

“Colour?” 

“Green” you gasped, the anticipation was killing you. 

He pushed the tip in and waited for the satisfied exhale he knew would come from you. He knew you inside and out by now. 

And like clockwork, you breathed out a gasp, and begged him to continue. 

He obliged, pushing another couple of inches in. 

You were so fucking tight, yet so fucking slick around him, he could feel his composure slipping. 

“Still good?” he asked, voice tight with arousal. 

“Please” you begged. 

He let out a breath, and pushed another few inches in. 

Only half way in, he met your cervix, and you whined at the stretch when he pushed in even more. 

“Doing so good for me, baby” he praised, stroking your trembling thighs. Any minute now they were going to give out. 

With the height advantage, George could lean over your arched back, and plant his hands either side of your head and grind his hips in circles, slowly but surely getting more of him inside you. 

His movements made him rub against your insides insistently, your cervix, your g-spot, everything was being stimulated. It was always intense like this. 

“George!” you whined loudly “So full, oh my god-” 

“Almost there, darling. Just a couple more inches. You want to be good for me don’t you?” 

You nodded, whimpering as he continued his maddening slow grind. 

When he finally bottomed out he let out a pained groan and his hips stopped completely. 

“There we go... good girl taking all of me”  

He pulled out half way and dribbled some more lube on his cock, making sure the slide was as wet as possible. 

He stroked your thighs tenderly, pushing you down so you were laying flat on the bed with your legs together, taking the pressure off your hips. 

He propped himself up with his elbows either side of your head and gave an experimental snap of his hips. 

Your responding moan encouraged him to do it again, picking up the pace as his skin slapped against your ass repeatedly. 

This was both of yours’ favourite position. 

The angle meant that he was bullying your g-spot repeatedly without bruising your cervix too much, and you could feel his looming presence completely draped over you, like some kind of predator pinning you down to breed you. 

It drove you wild to know that you couldn’t really move, forced to take his girth as you lay there helplessly. 

“If only they could see you now” George rasped “whining and begging for the cock that should be too big for you...”  

It didn’t take long for him to drive you over the edge, but that didn’t stop him. 

He turned you over and held you up by your hips, hovering inches above the sheets as he slid into you again. 

It really was as if you weighed nothing to George, his large hands splayed over your hips, fingers digging into your flesh while he used his grip on you to shove you onto his cock repeatedly. 

“Look baby, look at how big my cock is inside you” he panted and you looked down to see the bulge prodruding from your lower stomach.  

Your moans echoed in the hotel room, and you’d be worried about the neighboring rooms if you weren’t getting your insides rearranged at that particular moment. 

In this position you could feel him so much deeper, and he forced you through another orgasm before letting go himself and coming deep inside you as you writhed in his hold. 

You panted, hair sticking to your face as you looked up at him dazedly, and he laughed. 

“What’s so funny?” you asked. 

“Just thinking of the memes that are going to come out after people see you limping tomorrow”  

You huffed out a laugh and leaned up to kiss him. 

“Actually I don’t feel too bad. I think my cervix got away with it this time” 

George chuckled. He leaned down, pressing you into the mattress. 

“It’s cute that you think I’m even remotely done with you”... 

The next day ...

[genderqueerdykes]

What i don't understand about people who are vehemently anti-endo is the fact that conditions like DID and plurality in general are extremely understudied.

How can someone say that "its impossible to be plural without xyz" when we barely even know anything about dissociative disorders, let alone plurality as a whole?

Asking you cause you seem smart and would understand where the other side is coming from at the very least + also seem like the least likely person to be mean about it

that's what i've been saying for a very long time, it makes no sense. I believe dissociative disorders are very well, but they're very poorly studied. and i do believe some of the things present in our current studies are heavily flawed or biased in nature because i don't agree with some of the more nitty gritty aspects when it comes to system structure and function.

i was diagnosed during an unrelated screening to apply for disability in 2017. i was relieved to finally have it acknowledged by a professional who knew what they were talking about. he knew a lot about plurality but we were still limited to what the DSM-V said and it's just a book. it only has so much info. it's not a bible. it's flawed. there's still outdated information in our medical reference boxes. research is constantly changing what we come to know about human health and psychology

How can someone say that "its impossible to be plural without xyz" when we barely even know anything about dissociative disorders, let alone plurality as a whole?

good question, thanks for asking! it is ignorance. people who say these sort of things generally refuse to interact with different plural oriented spaces and instead stay in their comfort zones and small bubbles. as a result, they don't learn anything about other types of plurals. they will refuse to because they have an attitude that tells them they are right about everything.

a lot of people virtue signal and try to look like they are a Good Plural or a Plural Ally by bulling plural people who don't have DID/OSDD. it's people trying to suck up to mean, rude plurals who think they know everything. a lot of people are doing this in various communities. it's pretty easy to spot once you've been there for long enough. it's very hollow. they don't back up what they're actually saying. they just say things to blend in and gain acceptance. they're not concerned about uncovering the truth about plurality, it is an attempt to find a place to call home

there are studies on non dissociative plurality, but they're under funded and poorly preserved and researched. medical studies do not occur unless there is money to fund them, and investors want guaranteed returns. they are not going to waste their time with something they think won't be profitable. this also isn't about exposing the truth about plurality. this is just an attempt to make money and nothing else. the medical industry is nothing but a cash generator

thanks for stopping by i appreciate it! plurality is varied. it's not a one size fits all experience. there are many ways to be plural

[alkelkha]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter four

relationship ��� jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

contents&warnings! : wc: 4.0k | post season 2 | lower-case indented | angst | heart to heart | just kiss already 🗣️ | non-sexual intimacy | fluff | mentions of them sharing the same bed | mentions of isha | these losers can't stay serious | yes reader has plot and yes i'm going through with it | not beta read | yes i am making this up along i go | author's note: i'm finally back after a month... don't come after me though! i'm literally in the middle of moving to a whole different state (not my choice).

❛❛ APOLOGIZE WITH FIREWORKS ❜❜

a careless toss of an envelope with this week’s paycheck slid off the desk. your eyes followed the movement. “you’re slacking, [name].” 

you’ve been slacking for the past two weeks. that’s how long it’s been since you and blue fought. you thought that she would come around and the two of you would hang out again like nothing happened, but of course, it didn’t. you were given straight radio silence, you even tried visiting her at her workshop and home. nothing.

she was your best friend and you hurt her to the point she’s shut herself in. was she even in there? was she ignoring you? did she run off? did she hate you now? did you just ruin everything? you couldn’t tell, it was like she locked herself in. this was killing you. 

every since she left it was like all the good things she brought with her did too. the endless laughter between the two of you, the satuation of the world. because of her you finally felt safe, your loan sharks finally stopped bothering you.

sometimes you think you see her (which you don’t). anything blue made you think of her, clouds too. you can’t bring yourself to eat the blue raspberry candy. 

the truth was that she was your good luck charm.

“do you want to lose this job?” big don’s voice rang in the office, snapping you back to reality. lose this job? this was the only job that could help pay off your debt that didn’t involve selling yourself, beating others half to death, and stealing. 

“i’ve been kind to you. i gave you this pussy job so you could pay me back with my own money.” he leans forward resting his clasped-together hands on the desk.

“but i see something,” the tall man raises from his seat. your breath got caught up in your throat and your heart quickened its pace. “…someone has made you sloppy. has taken your attention off of what is really important.” you knew what he meant and you couldn’t deny it. 

you have gotten sloppy with your work, clocking out a little bit early, and coming to work late more often— that was you when you and jinx started hanging out, but since jinx and you have gotten into that fight all of it got worse. “that new girl…” your eyes shot from the ground and straight to big don. the way he referred to her made your stomach turn. was he going to send his goons after her too.

“don’t—“ without thinking you stepped forward, you were about to walk up and slap him. good thing your mind caught up with you. yay, no bullet between your eyes!

“don’t what?” big don shot back at you, he stopped pacing and walked over to you. “run her out of flosnum? tie up the new girl in town? have some of my men give her a good beating? or maybe i’ll make you do that…” gulping at his implication you step back. you knew big don was sick, but surely not that sick?

right?

towering over you, two heads taller his dull dark eyes look down at you, his eyes make you feel so insignificant. you were nothing but a mere worker bee, “[insert sibling] may have escaped off to bilgewater. ixtal? ionia? who gives a fuck anymore. what matters is that one of you is here. one thing stands. your father’s debt.”

“get your act together or you’re on your own.” he then grips your hair, and with a harsh tug he pulls you closer to him. he smelt of cigarettes and mangos, “once you’re on your own i won’t care how and what you do to pay off the debt. sell your body for all i care.”

you left his office and went back to working at the bar. overtime. work for two weeks with no pay as punishment, which was mercy considering you've been waterboarded other times.

though you were starting to consider being waterboarded instead.

how long has it been? she can’t remember, there was no point in counting hours or days when she was in this state. 

her chipped painted nails scratched off her cuticles to the point they bleed. curled up in the middle of her room stuck in an unforgiving daze. a haze that consumed her mind and filled it with thoughts that pricked her brain as if they were needles.

she fucked up. again. and she doesn’t have the guts to try and fix it.

not that there was anything to fix, you were done with her. you hated her. you saw her as insane as soon as you saw her.

she was an idiot to show you that side of her. what made her think that this would be any different? danger or not, flosnum was not immune to her effect. 

her blue chopped hair now grown inches past her ears but not long enough to touch her shoulders, her bangs terribly long, and the purple dye worn out. the bonsai tree on her bedroom windowsill half dead. the irrigating bear under her bed where its voice is too far to catch. 

jinx. that’s who she was. she couldn’t fight it anymore. running from it has been deemed impossible even when she’s a sea away from piltover and zaun. 

metal and wood clanking against each other.

she could hear it, the small huffs, exhales, and sniffles. the light-weight pitter-patter danced around her.

isha.

jinx was greatness to isha. a haven. a symbol. someone worth protecting.

jinx could feel the vibrations from the floor bouncing back to her curled-up position. she had her knees to her chest and hid her face.

she couldn’t bring herself to look up. she was scared that if she looked up she would see her. if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do.

all those times she told off sevika that jinx was dead, isha was the one that kept the image of her alive. not a symbol of destruction— no longer just a loose cannon but a hero. 

powder was the one that died.

she thought that maybe if she could start over, it would all be from the beginning.

no jinx. just powder. the more she stayed on this tropical island she was reminded that she couldn’t be powder. 

to be honest, jinx liked isha’s version of jinx. the version that isha would play games, watch battles fight each other, fall asleep to her overly-dramatized exploits, graffiti on walls, and stargaze with. 

the careless dancing footsteps morphed into cautious ones and the steps were slightly heavier. 

step. step. step.

these footsteps didn’t seem as if they were sneaking up on prey, still, jinx refused to raise her head up from her knees, her eyes stayed shut. 

just ignore it.

she repeated those words, a mantra that got her through a handful of her episodes. unexpectantly, light fingertips grazed her shoulder, unsure if they could go further in the contact. 

hallucinations couldn’t touch her.

a low gentle voice “blue.” jinx felt all of her defenses fall. how pathetic that’s all it took.

you crouched down behind her. jinx’s back faced you, wearing only a pink tank top and wool shorts that showed off the blue clouds on the right side of her body.

the only reason you were able to get in was because you found a foolishly placed spare key sticking out from under a ceramic pot with a wilting flower.

you were tired of waiting.

“i’m sorry.” trying to shove down the heat rising to your face, you swallow. there was nothing more you hated than apologizing, which was ironic since you did it quite often. normally when you did it, it was out of fear or common courtesy.

sincerely apologizing on the other hand? the thought of you being the person in the wrong felt like a punch in the gut, but none of that mattered. 

the only thing you wanted right now was your friend back. “i’m so sorry. that day at the beach when i sighed it wasn’t towards you.” jinx was still. “that day was perfect and i ruined it. i made you feel that i didn’t enjoy it. i did! it’s just—“ you sucked in a breath before explaining.

“…i have a hard time living in the moment, i’m always thinking about my next shift. that i have my shift in this many hours, i’ll have to deal with rowdy customers in less than a day after, i have to pay off my debt.” she didn’t answer, it felt like you were talking to a brick wall.

“ever since you came into my life you have been what i look forward to.”

silence is all she gives you. not even a hum of acknowledgment. “blu—“ you couldn’t finish the nickname because of how shocked you were to see jinx finally turn her head towards you. you can only see her side profile due to the position the two of you are holding. 

the saturation of her vibrant red-violet eyes is now exhausted and dull. an alarm rang in your head. scrabbling from your knees you made it to in front of her to get the whole view of her. you needed to see all of her.

jinx’s closed-off position, her days-old makeup, unkempt hair, and lightweight. her head a bit more raised so she could look at you better as your eyes roamed around her body. 

her eyes.

her eyes were so doe and dull, the manic that she usually held in her eyes was nowhere to be found. this was the most vulnerable you’ve seen her yet there were still so many walls. 

she looked horrible.

you did this.

“[name]…”

her hoarse voice made your heart ache. gulping, pushing down the guilt. you slowly and carefully take her hands into yours. “let’s get you cleaned up, blue.”

the first thing you did was take off her makeup with a wet piece of cloth. you had no idea how long she had been like this, it looks like she had that same face of makeup for almost a week, probably more.

her cheeks were tear-stricken with dried-up mascara and eyeliner. her purple eyeshadow was worn out along with her smudged lipstick.

you washed her hair in the sink. she sat on a chair, her head leaned back as the faucet ran through her blue locks. your hands gently messaging her scalp, and then detangled everything with a brush.

the two of you didn’t talk at all. sitting on a stool your wrist moved in circular motions, washing her back.

she felt herself slowly come back to reality. the way you were being so careful with her as if she was worth being gentle to. were you doing all of this just to torment her?

surely you weren’t faking the affection in your touch? you wouldn’t do such a thing. you couldn’t. 

she felt her eyes burning up.

she felt the rough texture of the cloth exfoliating her skin, your hand carefully leading its way to her tattooed arm. your movements slow not wanting to have her pull away from your touch.

jinx lets out a ragged breath, louder than the scrubbing of her skin and water droplets. that was the first breath she let out since you came to her. your movement paused and went even slower. gentler. 

that’s when she bursts into tears. 

you froze up a bit hearing her choked sobs, “oh hon…” jinx’s shoulder shook as she leaned forward, away from you. her sobs only got louder and louder. saliva collected in her mouth and her face turned a pinkish hue.

putting aside the cloth you took her shoulders and pulled her back towards you, you wrapped your arms around her neck, and your head was right next to hers. “tell me what’s wrong.” you whispered in her ear, you didn’t bother hiding the tremor in your voice.

“please, talk to me. did i make you upset again?” you plead for her to talk to you.

“i’m sorry.” her sobs so broken that her voice cracks as she apologizes. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” she just shakes her head repeating herself over and over again.

“shh.” you say rocking the both of you side to side in an attempt to lull her sobs. “it’s okay, there’s nothing you need to apologize for. we both messed up.”

“i’m such a child, i ruined everything!” she hiccups, her sobs only worsened. she leans on you like a child seeking comfort.

“stop that. you ruined nothing, okay?” you tried to keep your voice firm.

“i made something out of nothing again and i pushed you away and now you hate me—”

you cut her off, “if i hated you would i be here right now?” 

“you will once i mess up again.”

sighing, you pinch her cheek. “it was a silly little fight, we got through it.”

jinx winces at the pinch but she doesn’t pull away instead, her cries lessen and her face scrunches up a bit. “what if we get into another fight?”

not letting go of her cheek you kept speaking, “we’ll get through it. even when i get irritated or mad with you, i’ll always come back to you.” she turns her head and you pull away to give her some space to move.

her eyes were bloodshot, her pink irises sparkled as if she was begging you to confirm your words. “you’re my best friend, things like this will always pass over, i promise.” 

jinx’s sobs were no more and what was left was her small sniffles as you got back to bathing her.

getting back together with you made jinx realize some things.

number one: you would never ever ever ever leave her no matter what! 

this meant she could do anything without you leaving her. like sleeping together in the same bed and kicking you off.

number two: the two of you were practically made for each other!

she has been clinging onto every second of the day and you welcomed it with open arms. (well other than the times she’s stalking you, but you don’t need to know that!) has she gotten more childish with you? maybe.

it was your day off so per usual you were with her, instead of rotting together at her workshop the two of you went out for ice cream and window shopped. the two of you walked side by side in the blazing heat, jinx’s arm hooked on yours. 

usually, she would complain and complain in this weather and end up with sunburns which you had to tend to. these days she wouldn’t, it was like she grew up with flosnum. she wore a mismatched bikini top and stockings, low rise shorts black and pink shorts, and black boots with pink laces. “new style?” you raised a brow.

“just matching the weather.” jinx licks the dripping cotton candy ice cream from her cone. the undercity wasn’t hot like flosnum. it was humid at best but mostly cold. hell, she felt the warmth of sun on her skin more on her first week here than she did her whole life in zaun.

going on your route you spot a jewelry vendor, something catches your eye. mindlessly pulling away from her to go check it out jinx furrows her brows, she follows behind you. your eyes were on the turtle trinket. the jewels on it sparkled like no other.

stupid.

jinx’s finger hooks on the loop of your bottoms and pulls you closer to her side. she bends over a bit to get a better look at the stupid trinket. “oh come on, toots, you don’t need this. you already have that ugly turtle pendant.”

you smack the back of her head and she whines. “my necklace is not stupid!” you defend the bronze hanging around your neck. “besides, i wasn’t going to buy it….” your eyes trail to the price tag, the sight causes you to frown. “way too expensive anyway.” you turn on your heels and walk away from the vendor. 

she watches you walk away and back to the turtle trinket. it was ugly. tacky too. you wouldn’t look good in it.

jinx shrugs and catches up with you, she loops her arm with yours licking her ice cream once again with a stolen trinket in her pocket.

number three: she missed chaos.

because of that, she’s going to blow up at tonight’s festival. she’s been working on it the day after you bathed her, tucked her into bed, and fell asleep in bed with her. which was six days ago.

don’t worry. don’t worry. she’s not going to kill anyone. she was done with that, instead, these bombs were going to make a teenie tiny little mess.

today’s festival was in honor of the day flosnum successfully defended itself against bilgewater, many lives were lost due to the battle. which was an incredible feat now that jinx thinks about it.

anyways, that doesn’t matter! what matters is that she wants to ruin it. 

it’s the most jinx thing she can do.

somehow the paradise was infinitely more vibrant under the dark sky. maybe it was the twinkling stars, the glowing plants, and the fairy lights. everyone gathered in the streets, adorned in tropical garlands. the two of you held a stick, the tip burned bright, sparkling. 

normally, jinx’s mind would be on how gorgeous your smile was, but today she was too excited to even think properly. she was too happy to fuck the celebration up. she had already planted the bombs. 

the air was filled with a sweet and fruity scent of exotic flowers. your sweet laughter echoed in her mind finally snapping her out of it. “what’s got you so happy, blue?” she asked, pointing out her dumb smile.

jinx dropped the stick, “follow me.” she grabbed onto you forcing you to do the same and follow behind her. 

there was so much of everything. people, noise, lights, smells. you canvas through the streets and she takes you onto her workshop’s rooftop. though her workshop was placed in a shady alleyway, the view she had up top was breathtaking.

her rooftop was decorated with random cut-up fabrics, unfinished projects (aka junk but she won’t let you call it that), and colorful lanterns. the stars painted the night sky, the jinx sat on the rooftop ledge. being the more cautious one you tried not to, but she forced you anyway.

“we’re best friends, right?” jinx slowly turns her head to you, your eyes are on the ground, watching the people below. 

“i sure hope so,” you snort. realizing that it wasn’t the right time to joke you backtracked, “of course we are, the best of friends.” you didn’t look back but that didn’t make your response any less sincere.

her red-violet eyes trace your side profile. you were pretty like this, with the colors of the lanterns illuminating off of you. the color blue graced your brown skin and the coils of your hair. it was almost as beautiful as when the sunlight would kiss your skin.

jinx wasn’t sure when it started. “it” being when she became so attentive to you. maybe, it was the day she first saw you behind the counter of her now workshop. maybe, it was the day she crashlanded and you saved her.

the topic of the day she crashlanded was never brought up between the two of you. jinx wasn’t sure if you were aware that she knew.

jinx should’ve forgotten about you that day, her vision was hazy and smoke filled her lungs— her mind shouldn’t even have registered the details of you. but she did.

the key detail she remembered?

it was that stupid bronze necklace.

the ugly piece of metal that is still hanging around your neck. it looks as if it was handmade. well maintained yet specks of chipped-off green paint on the turtle’s shell.

“good,” jinx smiles at your answer. her hand reaches into her pocket and your eyes follow, her fist closed around not letting you know what it is just yet. “because i wanted to give you something.”

your eyes finally lock with hers. “i’m not good with words. i’m not good with my actions either.” her vibrant eyes shift away from yours, but she forces herself to keep eye contact with yours. “i fuck shit up. always. as soon as something good comes in my life it’s taken away, by my hand or something else.”

jinx couldn't find the right words, she didn't even know where she was going with this. “i ruin everything,” she laughed bitterly, her eyes searched yours to see if you were annoyed by your senseless rambling, but you didn’t. you listened, waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth.

“i’m jinxed. it’s in my name.”

jinx looks down at her hand, her fist is holding onto the mystery item tightly. then her fingers hesitantly open up her fist, revealing what’s in the palm of your hand. you look down. this feeling in your stomach, it flips and flutters. “blue, is this—“

“jinx,” she didn’t let you get a sentence in. “that’s my name.”

jinx...so that was blue's name. oddly enough, it fit her perfectly. she didn't look like a sasha, cassie, hannah, or kate. for someone as cool as her she should have an equally cool name.

“that’s so cool!” your eyes twinkle, filled with excitement, completely ignorant to the significance of this moment.

when the words left your mouth jinx left hundreds of degrees hotter. a warmth blazed through her body. no one has ever had this type of reaction to her name.

“so, you’ve been cool you’re whole life, huh?” you scrunch up your face in mock jealousy. “cool hair. cool talents. cool personality. cool name. you’re just a package, aren’t you, jinx?”

why did she like her name coming from your lips so much?

trying to hide her flustered state she puts on a cocky front, “enough of how cool you think i am. are you going to take my gift or not?” she dangles the trinket in front of your face. “you stole it.” you blink at her unamused. still you took it from her hand. “says who? you think i can’t afford something like this?” she tilts her head, raising a brow. 

“then what’s this?” you point to the tag. 

she looks at it and grumbles. after pulling it off she then put on a faux innocent smile. “what’s what?” seeing how your unamused expression didn’t waver she sighed in defeat. “i just wanted to do something for you, you deserve tiny luxuries like this. maybe it could bring you some luck too. a lucky charm.”

her words managed to make you loosen up. your face softens. “thanks, hon, but i already have a lucky charm.”

jinx’s squints her eyes at you, “wait, you do?”

"i'm talking about you, jinx."

jinx, a lucky charm? how ironic. se had always been the cause of trouble, never the solution. when she did try to find one it only made everything worse. but here the two of you are. you hailed her as your lucky charm. a good omen.

she lets out a bark of laughter, she laughs with her full chest. all of this was too surreal it was making her head spin. 

POW POW POW

with distant bangs a cloud of red, then purple, then green, then blue. the town square exploded with a flurry of colorful dust. the dust danced in the sky and fell back down onto the cobbled ground as if it were snowfall.

oh right. jinx forgot about those.

the two of you whip your heads to the noise to see the mayhem going on. 

their faces being painted with the colorful dye. the locals dance and twirl along with the ongoing blasts of the bright vibrant powder into the air. children rushed trying to catch the falling powder, some even making angles on the ground.

your eyes snap wide with amazement at the view, “oh my gods!” no way in hell were you going to miss out on something like this. you carefully get off the rooftop ledge and pull jinx with you. 

“get your ass up, let’s join the fun!”

screams, panicked voices, and people trying to take cover, that’s what jinx expected. not the sound of flosnum residents’ laughter and cheers. her plans to cause chaos failed.

she really was a jinx.

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed @velvetinkbym

[lovesodakid]

shadows of the dark

matt sturniolo x reader

1 3

summary : growing up in the ‘middle of nowhere’ small town in lochcliff, colorado, stories were heard of multiple strange disappearances, murders, animal attacks, and more. when you were younger, you never paid attention to that stuff. now at the age of 17 it’s all you ever hear about. what happens when you realize those ‘stories’ you heard growing up, may not just be scary fairytales people tell their kids.

warning ⚠️ : contains mature themes, smut, gore (nothing insane), angst, etc. this warning is for all chapters.

(this does take some inspiration from tvd!)

chapter 2 : history & new kids

the sound of loud clapping causing the commotion of the students to quiet down as the assuming new teacher strides into the classroom. her black heels clicking across the white tiled floor below her.

“good morning everyone! i’m mrs. johnson, im so excited to work with you guys this year and welcome to your junior year of high school!” she exclaims enthusiastically.

“now why don’t we start with-”

she’s cut off by the sound of the classroom door opening, the hinges making an ear-raping scream cutting through the silence of the enclosed room.

“is this the language arts room?” the husky voice questions.

my eyes trail from mrs. johnson over towards the mysterious man in the doorway. starting at his pants, which are a pair of blue denim baggy jeans, his black shirt being halfway covered by the black leather jacket he’s paired it with.

until i catch a glimpse of his face. the same face we passed earlier this morning in the car. it’s almost as if he can sense me looking at him when that very second, his eyes snap over to mine. his blue piercing irises gazing into mine. his stare so distinct, i feel as though he can read every thought in my brain. i swear i even see his lips curving into a small smirk.

“yes! welcome! take a seat wherever you want, what’s your name first?” mrs. johnson’s voice interrupting whatever hypnotic state i was just in.

my eyes immediately shooting down to my desk in front of me, nervously picking at the wood.

“matthew. matthew sturniolo.” i hear his biker boots clatter against the floor, coming right beside me until he comes to a short lived halt. my body recognizing the feeling of his stare on the top of my head, until he continues his stride to a few seats behind me to my right.

“sturniolo?” she questions. “sturniolo as in…carmilla sturniolo?”

the sound of rough chuckles coming from behind me, causing my nerves to shiver. i’m not quite sure what kind of effect he has over myself, but i don’t know if i like it either. “yes ma’am.”

the town of lochcliff has its ‘respected’ family names. the blackwell’s, the whitlocks, steven’s, and more. they’re known to have helped in the founding of the town around 150 years ago. the sturniolo’s being one of those family’s. although, it has been rumored that 20 years ago, the last of the sturniolo bloodline was brutally murdered on his way to work one morning. but his body was never found, hence - rumors.

carmilla sturniolo was the first woman to ever be apart of the city hall’s council. back then, it wasn’t as easily as it is today for a woman to get a job like that. carmilla’s name has been passed around from mouth to mouth for years. her, going down in the towns historical records.

she was also rumored to have been murdered. or attacked by animals some say. no one really knows the full truth on what happened to carmilla sturniolo on that fateful night of october 21st 1898.

“well, it is so lovely to meet you matthew. i hope you will enjoy my class.” mrs. johnson says as she gives him a warm smile. “okay now, back to what you can expect this year.”

-

“have you seen that christopher sturniolo guy?” jayde’s enthusiasm laced voice asks from beside me.

the rest of first period, and then the whole of my second and third periods went by in a blur. as jayde and i now sit in our free period in her car in the schools parking lot, debriefing on how our days have been so far.

“no, his name is matthew.” i correct her as i take a handful of cheez itz i got out of the vending machine.

she quickly shakes her head back and forth. “no his name is christopher. he’s new. he’s a total babe and snack. dark brown hair, bright blue eyes. literally the epitome of my type.” she exhales.

my eyebrows crease i stare at her, clear confusion taking over my features.

“there’s a guy who looks exactly the way you described in my first period. and his last name is sturniolo, but his name is matthew.”

she begins…giggling?

“oh my god! what if they’re twins!” she shoots up excitedly.

“don’t you think it’s a little strange that these two guys - whom have the same last name that no one has even heard of anyone having in years, just..come out of nowhere?” i question her.

i watch her shrug, a strand of her black hair falling off of her shoulder as she does so. “not really. probably just moved away forever ago and just decided not to tell anyone, then move back.”

i slowly nod my head in agreement. “yeah maybe.” i grab another handful of the cheesy and salty snack, throwing them into my mouth.

“oh my god! look! there he is!” she shouts as she points to the entrance of the building.

i watch as a guy who looks eerily similar to matthew walking out. but instead of wearing blue jeans with a leather jacket - he’s wearing a plain white shirt with grey sweatpants and a beanie on.

i squint my eyes trying to get a better look at him, same facial features and all. minuscule differences here and there but overall, they look exactly alike.

i continue my staring at the strange man until i see the big blue doors open again behind him, this time, 2 more boys joining him on the sidewalk right outside the building.

matthew.

and another guy who looks like them?

“y/n! what the fuck? there’s three of them!” jayde’s voice screaming happily as she watches the same scene in front of us.

three?

a/n : sorry this is kind of short! i wanted to hurry and write the second part for funsies and cause im bored. hope this is okay😭 lmk if you like it !!

[mytardisisparked]

The World Will End

Scully thinks about kissing Mulder at different points in their partnership.

Read on AO3

She wants to kiss him.

The thought strikes her one day as they’re quietly discussing a case. Their heads are close together so they can keep their shared thoughts from the prying ears of the local LEOs trying to listen in, and her eyes wander down to his lips. They’re not all that far from hers. It would be so easy…

Something internal pulls Scully back from those thoughts like a bucket of cold water. She looks back up at his eyes, feeling her cheeks color against her will. Thankfully, he’s studying one of the pictures between them and hasn’t seemed to notice.

Why the hell does she suddenly want to kiss him?

Sure, he’s attractive; Scully has eyes that function. She’s noticed Mulder’s soft, hooded gaze and brilliant smile and nice jawline. She’s also noticed the way he calls her “Scully” or “Agent Scully” or “Doctor Scully” instead of defaulting to “Dana” like some of her other male colleagues. She’s noticed the way he defers to her while questioning witnesses. She’s noticed the way he’s quick to remind other law enforcement that she’s a medical doctor and, therefore, extremely qualified and deserving of professional respect. 

She’s also noticed the way he runs headfirst into danger if it has anything at all to do with his sister. She’s noticed the way he allows the darkness to swallow him sometimes. He’s reckless with his life. He’s dangerous, in a way. 

And, yet, she still wants to kiss him. 

He smiles at her, flipping to a new crime scene photograph as he continues to talk about soil samples and local legends. She smiles back, despite herself. Her chest feels warm and fuzzy and–

No.

No, she can’t do this. 

There is a line here, in the proverbial sand between them that, if crossed, will almost certainly end in destruction. Workplace romances never end well, in her experience, and the FBI likely won’t allow them to keep working together. She will be looked down upon even further by her male counterparts. Mulder will be mocked for more than just being a little “spooky.” 

Nothing good will come of it.

And, the truth is, she likes what they have now. It’s not easy or comfortable, but it works. It works very well. Her world is steady on its axle, with Mulder, the X-Files, and her emotions orbiting it in careful synchronization. If one thing steps out of orbit, the whole system will crash and go careening off into space. They have a tentative friendship and mutual respect that she values deeply and would hurt to lose. They provide a push-and-pull set of perspectives to their work that gets good results. This is working.

And so, she does not kiss him, because then the world will end.

—

She wants to kiss him.

This thought is not new. In fact, she’s starting to tire of her own inner thoughts drifting in that direction. She’s thinking it more and more lately, likely because they have been getting closer. Something between them shifted after her abduction, and the resulting loyalty between them is somewhat astounding to her; she feels a strong pull to stay by Mulder’s side and, most of the time, she thinks he feels the same way. 

What they have is good. Very good. He’s the closest friend she thinks she’s ever had, even when he’s frustrating and single-minded and full of hare-brained ideas that are bound to get them both killed someday. 

Kissing him would change all of that. Their friendship is so new – so good – but there is a glass wall between them even still. Kissing him would shatter that glass, the shards would get stuck in their skin, and every action after that – every touch – would have the potential to hurt. 

She likes him too much to risk that. She likes what they have. She likes this partnership between opposites and the balance that has come with it. They make a good team.

If they kissed, the world would end.

And, so, she does not kiss him.

—

She wants to kiss him. 

He has kissed her plenty, on her hollowed cheeks and cold hands, but it is not enough. Not remotely. Her world is ending, drawing to a quiet close, and there are so many things she hasn’t done yet in her life that it makes her want to scream against the coming darkness with every last breath she has in her tired lungs. 

And, she figures, if the world is about to end anyway, then why not kiss him? It’s one of those things she hasn’t yet done and it’s easier to accomplish than winning a Nobel Prize in medicine or solving some famous cold-case. Kissing Mulder would be so, so easy. And she wants to so, so badly.

But his world is not ending. Long after she is gone, his will go on. Is the taste of her dying lips really the taste she wants to leave in his mouth? If they cross that line, will his world end with hers? Or will that memory be what pulls him away from the darkness after she is no longer there to do it herself?

Will it be enough to help him fight his demons? Or will it push him further into their grasp?

She doesn’t know, and the thoughts make her head ache more than it already does. So she does not kiss him. She settles for cheek and knuckle kisses and prays that it is enough. It has to be enough.

—

She wants to kiss him.

She plans to kiss him. 

She pays too much for wine and cheese at the motel’s front desk and takes it to his room. She flirts with him a bit and feels pleased when he seems to flirt back in his typically-Mulder-y way. She cracks open the wine and pours glasses and thinks about how it might taste on his lips. 

And then, in an instant, he is leaving on a wild goose chase. He’s got a goofy look on his face and the pit in her stomach can’t decipher if he picked up on her intentions and panicked, or if he’s really that oblivious. 

Or, perhaps, he’s rejecting her. The thought almost brings tears to her eyes as she tastes the too-cheery drink from the rim of the cold, hard glass. 

She thought that his cheek and hand kisses in the hospital might lead to something more now that she’s healing, but she realizes that his forwardness, his bravery, might have been fueled by the fact that he might never see her again; the emotional equivalent of a one-night-stand.

She shakes herself mentally, realizing how unfair that thought is to Mulder. He isn’t like that. Is he?

She stands alone in his empty hotel room, drinking both of their portions of wine and eating their cheese. Her heart squeezes as she realizes that, despite everything, the world will still end if they kissed, if they tried to become something other than what they currently are. 

And, at the realization that he has ditched her to go investigate on his own again, she wonders if the end of the world is already beginning. 

—

She wants to kiss him. Just, not like this. 

He’s standing in the hallway, but he might as well have been on his knees, for all the begging he has been doing. Their world has been slowly falling apart, their partnership fraying at the seams, but he still begs her to stay; he still tells her she’s his other half, that she’s saved him, that he needs her.

And now he’s leaning forward to kiss her. 

Is this a kiss he really wants? Or is this just another way of convincing her to stay? His prior words feel like the edge of a love confession, but the sting of Diana’s presence and all that has happened since she arrived rip through Scully and threaten to tear her heart in half. 

Does he mean it? Does he really��mean this impending kiss?

Still, she lets him lean forward – unable to decide if she should meet him halfway or lean back and rethink everything she knows – until his lips brush hers and a sting, a physical one this time, pricks her neck. She ducks, feeling equal parts disappointed and appreciative towards the interruption. 

But then the floor begins to spin. Her chest constricts. She’s falling to the floor, and Mulder is running, sobbing, clutching her with gentle, desperate hands.

And slowly, dizzyingly, the world seems to end.

—

She wants to kiss him, despite everything.

Despite Diana. Despite his betrayal. Despite the last few, tense months. Despite his arrogance. Despite his lack of apology. 

Despite every last little thing , she’s standing there in the cool night air with his arms wrapped around her hitting baseballs, and she wants nothing more than to turn around and grab his stupid face and kiss him. She wants to kiss him into silence. She wants to kiss him into stillness. She wants to kiss him so he will stop touching her hip like that . 

She’s almost angry at herself. She’s still angry at him. The crack of the bat in her hand sends satisfying shockwaves up her arm as her muscles stretch and flex and strain to hit the ball harder, harder, harder into the night sky.

She giggles and she isn’t sure if it’s the result of elation or some other carefully restrained emotion squeaking out past her defenses. 

Damn it. Damn it all.

She hits ball after ball after ball because, at least, if she’s playing baseball she isn’t kissing him. The history and emotions between them are behind her, at her back. He’s warm and solid and steady there, and it’s easier to forget everything that has happened as shivers run down her spine.

She isn’t sure what will happen when the boy runs out of baseballs to load into the pitching machine. But she knows she will not kiss him. 

She can’t. 

She won’t.

Her heart is too fragile, too tender, too cracked. Letting herself give in after all the hurt and damage that has been done will break it. The world will end.

She hits another ball. And she does not kiss him.

—

She wants to kiss him, and she does. 

One millennium ends. Another begins. The ball drops and the fireworks flash on the tiny screen above them and Scully doesn’t give a single damn because she’s kissing Mulder. And he’s kissing her back.

It’s rather chaste, but she can feel the promise of something more beneath it. Or, at least, she thinks she can. They break away and Mulder gives her a smile that is somewhere between silly and shy and, with a shrug, says: “The world didn’t end.”

Her own smile falters because she catches his double meaning and isn’t sure how to process it along with her own history of thoughts and emotions. 

“No, it didn’t.”

Before she can fall into her own thoughts any further, Mulder is quietly wishing her a Happy New Year and putting an arm around her shoulders in a way that warms her all the way through. The hope she tasted in their kiss – their very first kiss – returns tenfold and she allows him, with a small smile on her face, to lead her out of the hospital to their shared vehicle.

When they finally reach her home, he presses a kiss to her cheek that feels entirely different than the kisses he left there during her battle with cancer. It’s still warm and full of affection, but it’s shyer, as though it’s asking a question. 

She answers the question and pulls him back down by his coat lapels for another proper kiss on the lips, this one a little longer and a little less chaste. 

He smiles after the kiss and wishes her a good night. A very good night. The best night ever. He stumbles away as they exchange goofy, silly grins and light giggles. 

As he drives away, Scully looks up at the stars and smiles. 

“The world didn’t end.”

—

She wants to kiss him and she does. Often.

She kisses him in the morning, when his eyes squint against the sun and his hair sticks up everywhere like dandelion fluff. She kisses him in the evening when they say goodnight and his lips taste like their shared pitcher of iced tea. She kisses him in the afternoons when he says something ridiculous and insane on their way to lunch at the diner down the road from their office. She kisses him often because she can. Because she wants to. Because he wants to.

Because the world does not end. Because it never will.

[sammygender]

the thing thats always missing in conversations about gender in general is the fact that 'cis', as an identity, is not a innate Thing Some People Are, but rather a state of acceptance society grooms us into from birth

[tenderjock]

I’m with you, my love The lights shining through on you Yes, I’m with you, my love It’s the morning and just we two

[xxplastic-cubexx]

do u think either charles or erik had trouble coming to terms with their love for one another?? like religious guilt, internalized homophobia, etc.

Many such cases really … not hard to imagine them dealin with that …

[luvfy0dor]

Evermore best Taylor Swift album (through tears)

[sholmeser]

my transfem raiden vision…walk with me

[dreadfuldevotee]

im hit sometimes with how desperately i miss my friends and its just...ugh its bad because i know we will never all be together again and thats life but there is that stubborn part of me that doesn't want to make New Friends. It's the novelty of feeling like I belonged for the first time and everything else has just felt...idk. shallow.

[frobby]

i love madoka magica however i dont think we as a fandom talk enough about how tragic madoka herself is. probably because the narrative itself steers you away from thinking about her personally. shes not a character shes a desire that homura has, shes a force of good, shes homura's foil. but those are all madoka's narrative roles but madoka herself as a person is not really looked at because we are viewing this world from an unreliable narrator(homura) who only sees madoka as those things. The best thing homura could have done for madoka was give up on her, to let her go. because every time we go back in time the image of madoka is distorted, she loses more of herself every regression of homura's as she tries harder and harder to save her. We don't even know what madoka originally wished for to become a magical girl in the original timeline. and she actually acts quite differently than the madoka we meet. shes a lot more honest and caring and bold. by the time homura's has reached the actual anime madoka has been reduced by the sands of time to a figment of herself. she has no wants or desires of her own beyond wanting to do good and help her friends and when all her humanity is stripped away is when she finally acends to godhood because thats all thats left of her. an ideal and a faith in her. madoka kaname died a long time ago and all that is left is her ghost.

[wickershells]

not everyone feigns sincerity

[flufallo]

DID NEIL GAYMEN WRITE DBD

He wrote the comics yes

[stewyhosseini-bf]

no but like on a real note ... VERY intrigued by what that whole storyline is about... like okay:

unless i'm totally wrong this probably means ken and roman are the ones to ask shiv to invite nate

and what is all this debt about ... at first i thought he was saying he has some debts to nate that he wants to repay but that kinda doesn't make sense, considering he's the one asking HIM for a favor... but who knows

[ccaptain]

Things that successfully fluster H:SR Kaeya and render him speechless:

- Pet names (sugar, sweetheart, darling, love, etc.) - Someone he considers close calling themselves ''his'' (ex. ''your [Name]'') or calling Kaeya ''theirs'' (ex. ''my Kaeya''). It really helps him settle with the closeness - Drawing him close by the waist, or simply resting an hand/an arm around there. There's just something- - Slipping off his gloves. Equals to something like a marriage proposal, and I wish I was kidding. Similialry, fighting the coldness of his hands to try and hold them - Very casual touches during completely normal situations (ex. talking with someone else and resting his hand anywhere on him, etc.) - Flirting honestly. As in the compliment you're paying him is so genuine in both tone and expression he can't overanalyze it - Talking low in his ear. I think he'd just act like a cartoon slowly flushing from his neck up and then explode like the head of a mercurial termometer.