#just go over the basic idea of the story without writing it properly

[moonybeasty]

I am cursed to forever think of new AUs and fanfic ideas, but to never have the time to finish any of them.

[belovedcloud]

I saw one of your latest fics (PERFECT HONEY🤍) and I just thought you were a great writer and it was like so cute and soft AAARGH

and then I also saw that you were accepting requests and I couldn't help but get excited, because I had an idea the other day - BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW TO WRITE 😭 so...

I was thinking about a short story fluff like with re2r Leon, where he still works at the police station but kind of without those traumatizing events YOU KNOW (or idk, you decide) so,,, he already knows Claire, who works in a cozy café near the police station where Leon usually goes on his break,buttt,, a new employee arrived (reader) and became friends with Claire (and kind of attracted Leon's attention 🥀) and idk, she (you decide if you want to use a feminine or neutral pronoun;) could work as a barista or waitress and was kind to Leon, until Leon started going to the cafe more often just to see her (or babbling about how pretty she is with Claire) until he found the courage to ask for her number or talk properly with her and, I don't know, this could end in a date or just Leon being a fool in love with a kind barista or waitress :)

IDK I AM DELULU BUT I KIND OF THOUGHT OF SOMETHING LIKE THAT

so...feel free to ignore this if you found it boring hun ^^ Thank you in advance for reading this thought and if you want to accept the idea ;)🩷🩷

Sweet Treats | Leon Kennedy x Barista! Fem! Reader

Notes: My first request! I hope you like this, I honestly found this concept so cute, and I love writing for RE2R Leon.

WC: 1.7K

CW: Fluffy Leon, no outbreak, Leon just being a clutz sometimes. Claire being your wingwoman basically and getting you both together. Mention of Y/N like once.

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After his first week in the RPD, Leon managed to get himself to work early enough to not get a lecture from Lieutenant Branagh. Soon enough, he met Chris Redfield who worked for S.T.A.R.S. Which quickly led to Chris taking him to a nearby café where his sister worked. Claire was a sweet girl, Leon and her slowly opened up to each other after a few days. Promptly, he became a regular customer. Getting the same raspberry and white chocolate muffin alongside a vanilla latte. Today was no different, Leon entering the café - however, he didn't see Claire at the counter. But you.

Leon couldn't help but think you were the prettiest girl he had seen. Trying to avert his eyes from your face he felt his legs subconsciously walk over to where Claire was sweeping the floor. "Morning Claire... New employee?" He mumbled as he nodded his head over to your direction. "Yeah! She came in yesterday. Super sweet." She laughed, taking out the tea towel as she wiped down the coffee table. "You don't have to be scared Leon." Claire couldn't help but snicker as she stared at Leon mentally psyching himself up to not fuck up his order. "I'm not scared.." He yipped back, before walking up to the counter.

Your hands slowly wrapped around the mug handle as you polished the inside of it, oblivious to the man in front of you. A quiet tap of the bell seized your attention, looking up to see a dark blonde haired man staring at your movements. "Oh! Sorry, hold on I'll only be a minute." You frantically rush back to the mug stack, gently placed it on top before returning to the stranger. "Sorry about that, what can I get you?" A bright smile is plastered on your face as you tap onto the half broken machine, trying to input your worker code. "Uh.. please could I get the raspberry white chocolate muffin and a vanilla latte?" Leon asked, fumbling with his thumbs below the counter. Thank fuck he didn't mess up his sentence. His hands slowly travelled to his face as he swept the hair out of his eyes, maybe he really should get a trim...

"Yeah of course! That'll be $6.24 please." Leon fumbled with his wallet after taking out $10. "You can keep the change." Leon uttered as the cash register opened, the till jittering out. You couldn't help but smile sweetly as he offered the change to you. "Are you sure?" He nodded as he saw you put the tip in your pocket. "Thanks... I'll get that for you straight away." Your body shifted towards the coffee machine. Leon couldn't help but admire the way you performed your job, it was somehow so different to how Claire would do it. You were angelic in your movements - his thoughts soon interrupted as he felt someone tap his shoulder. "In love?" Claire teased, earning a nudge from Leon's elbow into her side. "Ouch! Okay.. okay." She laughed as she went behind the counter, packaging Leon's muffin. You couldn't help but glance at Leon's smile. He was cute, super cute.

A few minutes later, a warm takeaway coffee cup and muffin stuffed into a brown paper bag laid neatly in front of Leon. "Thanks." Leon took both items into his hand and waved off to Claire, showing you a small smile as the bell chimed, indicating he had left the store. "Who was that?" You rushed over to Claire, her eyes looking at you with playful eyes. "That's Leon, he's my brother's friend or I guess co-worker sort of? He works for the RPD." Claire responded to you with a funny tone. "Why are you looking at me like that?" You laughed out, slowly wiping down the coffee stains on the counter. Your eyes wondering over to the door, missing the stranger you just encountered. "Oh it's nothing, I'm sure you and him will get along well y'know?" She giggled, shoving the tea towel in her pocket. "What the fuck is that suppos-" Your sentence quickly cut off as Claire shouted "I'm going on my break!"

Days passed, time and time again Leon soon became a person you got used to seeing. Smiling whenever you would see that navy blue uniform. A small crush blossomed in your heart - you couldn't tell him that though. Nor could you tell Claire, but she saw it in the way you stared at him as he ordered the same thing. Soon enough, you prepared it beforehand for him to have immediately. 8:30 AM, that's when Leon would come in. With that same uniform and same hairstyle, oh and of course he was handsome every time. Today was no different, except for the fact you weren't in. Leon's day was 100 times better when he saw you, entering the café he expects to see you. Seeing Claire at the front instead of cleaning caught him off guard. "Where's Y/N?" Leon closed the door behind him, leaving the cold and rubbing his hands together as the cozy environment felt different.

"She called in sick, why? Are you lovestruck?" She poked fun at him, getting his order ready. "Oh shut up.." He chuckled, sitting down at a nearby table. Thinking about Claire's words, he knew she was right. He was lovestruck by you. Leon couldn't help but find you so attractive, the way you were so attentive to him. That small talk wasn't awkward with you. He had a crush. "Honestly, yeah." His eyes diverted to the muffin and latte ahead of him. Claire's ears perked hearing his mini confession? "Oh?" She smacked his shoulder lightly. "She's beautiful and super sweet, don't get me started on how.." Leon soon rambled on about you, from your personality to your looks, the way you carried yourself. Losing himself in time as he subconsciously sipped on the latte, finishing the muffin. Claire had to sit down for this, it was cute seeing him chatter about you. "Fuck, sorry about that." He chuckled, checking his wrist-watch, seeing the time flicker to 9:00 AM. "Shit, I gotta go. Thank you for the treat Claire." Leon hastily got up and dashed out the door. Oh how Claire couldn't wait to tell you all about this tomorrow.

"You're shitting me right?" You mumbled, polishing the mugs as you looked over to the wall clock. 8:25 AM. Leon's order by your side as you heard Claire laugh. "Why would I lie about him basically confessing his love about you?" She nudged your arm, snickering as your eyes rolled back playfully. As if Leon could have a crush on you. I mean, you were just a barista who served him his raspberry white chocolate muffin and vanilla latte. What could've been so special about your actions? "Get out of your trance, it's 8:28." You heard Claire from one ear to another as she moved to dust the corners of the room. Oh how cruel could she be to leave you with this new information? The chime of the door caught you off-guard, seeing that same man in that RPD uniform.

"Good morning Leon." A shaky voice elicited from your throat. For Christs sake, pull yourself together. "Morning.. I see my order there." He chuckled, pulling out his wallet, taking out a $20 bill. "Keep the rest." A small grin crept on his face as he passed it to you. You couldn't accept this, not for basically doing something that took you three minutes at most. "Oh Leon, I can't accept this." A breathy laugh pursued out your lips. He wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Please, it's on me. You've been nothing but sweet to me. And this place must be a pain in the ass to clean up at the end of the day." Leon laughed as he took his muffin and latte, sitting down at a table. That was unusual. He usually left to enjoy his snack, but today seemed different. Your friendship seemed different. Leon was right, the sticky sugared tables and coffee splatters were annoying to clean - knowing he would refuse the money if given back to him, you stuffed the change in your pocket. "Thanks Leon.. but you really don't have to tip me each day. Makes me feel guilty, like I owe you." You muttered as you came out from behind the counter. Leon's eyes wondered over you, a small smile corrupting his lips as he thought of something.

"Well.. if you think you owe me, come sit down with me for a bit?" A teasing tone was laced with his words, but who were you to deny him. Even if the blush on your face was evident. "Alright, but why are you sat down? Don't you have to get to the station quick?" Your question rang in his head, your voice melodic in his ears. "Not really, if it comes to it I'll run." He chuckled, sipping on the latte. Burning just the tip of this tongue - warming up the rest of his body. Nothing warmed him up like you though, those pretty lips that rested peacefully on your face. Your giggles enticing him as he looked at your hands slowly fiddle, it was clear you were nervous. Fuck. So was he, but to him this was now or never.

"I uh... can I have your number?" Leon hastily said, averting his eyes from you and staring into the little leaf shape carved by the frothed milk in his hot drink. Did he mess up? Troubled thoughts rushed over Leon's head until he heard you speak. "My number, sure." You couldn't help but smile, Leon just asked for your number. This was practically a dream come true. A quick exchange of each others phone numbers soon lead to a conversation. Getting to know each other was time consuming which soon lead to Leon's face dropping as he checked his wristwatch. "Shit it's 9:15." He laughed, putting his leftovers in the bin. "I'll text you later yeah?" His hand waved off to you, feeling content in yourself.

Throwing your bag to the side of your room, your back aching from the constant horrible posture you had as you bent over tables to wipe them. Your phone buzzed. It was from Leon.

Leon: Can I take you out for dinner this weekend?

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

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[usedtobecooler]

if it's not with you | tom grant x fem!reader

Pairing | Tom Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, general banter, flirting, all around fluffiness.

Word Count | 5k

A/N | eeeee i'm so excited to share this fic with you all!! honestly i've fallen in love with tom all over again writing this, i hope you all enjoy this flirty fluffy cuteness!!

This caravan park was easily the worst place you’d ever been on holiday to. You couldn’t even lie to yourself — the entertainment area was outdated, the food was far from good, the staff were mostly rude and unhelpful, and the caravan you’d rented for the week was the biggest piece of shit.

Your idea of a nice, relaxing beachside break from the city was basically down the pan the moment you arrived, though you had to admit the one saving grace was in fact the gorgeous beach, barely thirty steps away from your rental, all golden sand and crashing waves. It was peaceful, quiet — the school summer holidays were over so it only left the caravan owners and the odd few stragglers without kids behind. 

Summer was barely clinging on, the nights were beginning to close in fast and the air was feeling that bit crisper once the sun set, like it had done every Summer since you could remember. There was still the odd humid, hot day, and this was one of them. 

Muggy beyond belief, despite the cool sea breeze rolling in from the East. You were sweating, skin feeling sticky as you sunbathed in peace, laid out in a one piece on your towel. Regardless of the factor thirty, you already knew you were going to burn — you always did, no matter what. The harsh rays from the sun were unforgiving to your sensitive skin, leaving you flushed and freckled.

You feel the figure looming over you pretty quickly. The slight darkness on your left hand side as said person blocked the sun. You let out a deep sigh, using your hand as a makeshift sun visor as you open your eyes carefully, squinting up into the sun.

You spy the caravan park logo on his polo shirt immediately — site worker, clearly. He’s all curly hair, pale skinned and a goofy grin on his face as he clutches onto the magazine you’d taken with you to read, obviously blown off in a gust of wind when you’d been blissfully unaware, “Think this was trying to do a runner on you,” His voice is unexpectedly deep, though still chirpy, as he extends his arm out with the magazine rolled up in his hand.

“Thanks, mate,” You bark out a little embarrassed laugh, propping yourself up on an elbow and taking the magazine from him. Your fingers brush, and you can’t help the flush that creeps up to your cheeks at the barely-there touch, “It’s shit anyway — one of them magazines people get paid fifty quid to share their fake stories to, y’know.” 

The man snorts, shoves his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts, “I know the ones, my mums obsessed with them. Surely nobody believes the ghost stories?” He’s making conversation, not in any rush to get off, and it’s strange. He’s maybe the second worker you’d encountered who was genuinely an alright person. 

“Oh I know, in this one they’re claiming the ghost made toast in the middle of the night. Didn’t realise they could open a loaf of bread, who’d have thought it?” You humor him, and he properly laughs at that, kicking his toes in the sand as he looks down at you. 

He’s awfully pretty, you notice, as you look up at him properly now the glare of the sun has been blocked a little. Big brown eyes and a freckled nose, tinged pink from too much sun and not enough sunscreen, no doubt. Nice full lips and a cute chin, chains dangling on his neck. Very typical English boy, but that was always your type.

Your mouth runs dry, now that you’re suddenly aware of how attractive this man is and you’ve just called him mate. Ground swallow you now.

“Anyway, I’ve got to get going,” He looks sullen at that, nose scrunching up a little, “Duty calls — these old fuddy-duddies who arrive this time of year always find something to moan about.”

“Well, you enjoy that…” You blush, giggling like a dickhead, suddenly aware of the fact you’re lusting over a man who’s name you don’t even know,  “Sorry, I never got your name. No nametag?”

“Tom,” Tom digs in his pocket, a small triumphant noise escaping him when he pulls the old nametag out between two fingers proudly, showing you it, “I usually don’t wear it. Can’t be fucked when these arseholes complain about the staff and name us to management.” 

“Well, I’ll make sure to name you to the staff when I check out and let them know you were a very helpful young man, Tom,” Your voice drips sarcasm and humour, and you know you’ve got him hook, line and sinker when he bellows a true laugh, throwing his head back and exposing the vast expanse of his neck, veins protruding. Your thighs clench.

You’re both shook out of the little bubble when somebody starts shouting Tom’s name from behind you both, startling you. He rolls his eyes, tapping the watch on his wrist, “Gotta go, darling. You need anything just ask for me personally when you phone, yeah?” 

You nod, dumbstruck as he smiles wide at you, pearly white teeth on display. He takes off in a jog, and for the first time you truly understand the term ‘hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.’ 

You bump into him again two days later, in the laundry room as you’re banging on the washing machine that currently had four days worth of clothes and underwear locked in it. It’d swallowed your token, locked the doors then refused to start, and you were raging — three quid down the fucking drain, just like that.

He knocks up behind you unexpectedly, his hip catching on the soft flesh of your ass as he leans over to pop a token into it. You suck in a breath and hold it, watching with awestruck eyes as the tendons in his wrist flex when he turns the dial. The machine whirs to life, water beginning to fill the drum in just mere seconds.

“What’d I tell you about just shouting for me if you needed anything?” Tom’s smug, lips so close to your ear they’re almost brushing the shell and you have to literally shove down the gasp that almost makes its way up your throat. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, and a shiver ripples up your spine. 

“I didn’t expect to need maintenance help for washing my underwear,” You bristle, trying to act calm as he brushes past you and opts for leaning against the machine, hands once again buried deep into his pockets — he’s wearing grey joggers this time, clearly to match the miserable and dreary weather outside. You avert your gaze from the obvious bulge in his trousers, willing yourself to just get a fucking grip.

It doesn’t help when you lock eyes with him, and he’s all gooey brown orbs and long eyelashes. It’s embarrassing how much you fancy him, and now you feel like a right slob — down here in your leggings, hoodie and crocs of all things. Hair up in a messy bun and no makeup on, on account of the severe sunburn on your nose and cheeks.

“C’mon, we’ll go back to the token machine and I’ll get you your money back,” Tom nods towards the door, a small smirk tugging at his lips. You want to tell him you don’t need the money back, but a little part of you wonders — and hopes — that he’s offering to do this so that you have an excuse to wander off with him.

“Sure, lead the way my saviour,” You joke, extending an arm out towards the open door. He scoffs, rolling his eyes with a look that could only be described as fond on his features as he saunters past you. You feel your cheeks heat up, and it’s not from the sunburn this time.

“What’s brought you to Cornwall, then?” He asks conversationally — you’re bumping arms you’re that close, and the corridor isn’t even that narrow, he’s just naturally gravitating towards you. You plod along slowly and he matches your pace, your heart thudding in your chest as your hopes were confirmed; he was being nosey, interested in getting to know you.

“Not much, I like the beach but I live in London so I don’t get to see it much,” You admit, shoving your hands into your hoodie pocket, “I work from home, too. So I thought I’d maybe get some work done whilst I was here. The wifi is shit, by the way.”

Tom winces, shooting you an apologetic look, though it’s clearly a mockery, “Yeah, this place doesn’t have much going for it, darling. Though it’ll give you an excuse to actually enjoy your break instead of worrying about work, right?”

You’re walking so slowly you may as well be at a standstill, and you know it’s because the token machine is barely ten feet away, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” You admit, because it’s true — you’d hardly even thought about your job since you got here, enjoying your time soaking in the sun and the peace away from your roommate, “What about you? You from around here?”

“Born and raised,” Tom shrugs. You glance to the side, watching as his adams apple bobs up and down when he swallows, “I live on the site now, though, have done since I was sixteen. I’m here all year with Kai, you’ve probably seen him around, angry looking dickhead with a buzzcut. A girl called Jade used to live here too but eh, she’s gone now.”

You hum, acknowledging what he’s saying. You want to pry, the way his voice changed when he spoke about this ‘Jade’ character leaves a bitter taste in your mouth — an ex, maybe. But you were basically a stranger to Tom, so why would he explain that to you? 

The both of you stop right at the token machine, and Tom fumbles for his set of keys, flipping them until he finds one with a red tag on it. You watch his hands the entire time, thirsting silently — god, his hands were so nice. For a maintenance guy, they were clean, nails manicured, the skin soft. You could tell he took care of himself, and that made him all the more attractive to you. 

He slips the three pound coins into your hoodie pocket, knocking you out of your daze. His hand bumps against your waist when he pulls it out of said pocket, leaving you feeling flustered. There’s no way he’s just being nice, he’s flirting, albeit subtly. 

“Thank you,” Your voice is breathy, catching in the back of your throat as your eyes search for his again, though it doesn’t take long before his eyes are locking on yours once more, “Don’t know what I’d do without you. Or that three quid, actually, that’ll get me another shitty magazine from the shop and a bottle of Coke.”

Tom laughs, showing off his ridiculously perfect teeth once again, “You’re right, it will. Hopefully the ghost story in this one’s a bit better —” 

There’s a sudden harsh knock on the window behind your head that has you leaping out of your skin. He glances up to where the source of the banging came from, and he’s huffing, rolling his eyes, “Gotta go, darling. Another dickhead to deal with. Remember what I said, need anything just shout for me, yeah? Enjoy your magazine.” 

He lands a soothing hand on your shoulder just barely before he’s taking off, and your skin burns even through the thick material of your hoodie. 

There’s one day left of your holiday. One miserable day. You hadn’t seen Tom at all since your encounter in the laundry area, and you had to admit you were feeling deflated over it. You hadn’t been avoiding him, in fact quite the opposite, but your paths had just never crossed again. 

The weather was unbearably hot once more, worse than the first day you’d met Tom, not even a breeze coming in off the sea, and you were desperate for a cold shower to rinse off the sweat from your now sunkissed skin.

The caravan door slams shut behind you as you step foot inside, basking in the little bit of cool air in the living area that’d been bathed in shade the entire day. You strip off your two-piece without a second thought — your caravan doesn’t look onto any others, and you don’t see anybody around, so there was nobody to scar when you stripped naked. 

At the beginning of your holiday you didn’t believe you’d ever become accustomed to the tight living quarters, especially the bathroom, but now that you’d been at the park for a week you almost couldn’t imagine going back home to your shitty little flat in Central London. You actually enjoyed the peace and quiet, and you were saddened about leaving.

You couldn’t deny that Tom was part of that, too. Though you’d hardly gotten a chance to know him you were drawn in, and the thought of heading home the next day and never seeing him again was weighing heavy on your shoulders. 

Stepping into the tight shower, you twist the dial to turn on the water, only to be engulfed in a roaring hot heat that has you yelping and gasping. The sharp sting of the scalding hot water hitting your sunburnt chest brings tears to your eyes, your hands flapping to turn the dial back until the stream stops.

You jump out of the shower, grabbing for your fluffy towel that you’d set in the open window that morning, pulling it around your bare body and tucking it in until it’s sat nicely. The ends of your hair drip wet, the water cooling fast, an almost pleasant feeling in comparison to what you just felt.

There’s not a second thought before you’re dialing 0 on the phone in the living area and asking for a maintenance person to come look at the shower, reeling off that the water was scalding hot and had burned you. The person on the other end sounds bored, uninterested and far from shocked when you tell her what happened. You hang up and, in your anger, stick up your middle finger at the phone. 

You didn’t even think to ask for Tom. You perch your ass on the arm of the U-shaped sofa, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and shaking your leg as you wait, wondering who it’d be that showed up to your call. You really, really hoped it’d be him.

Not even five minutes go by before you’re hearing a rapping of knuckles on the glass pane of the door, and you answer it quickly, all street smarts going out the window as you pull the door open just clad in your towel. Tom stands on the narrow step, clutching onto a metal tool box, and you breathe out a sigh of relief that it’s him.

“Fucking hell, that burn looks sore,” Tom looks with bug eyes at your chest, taking in the look of your skin tinged a deep red, much darker than the rest of your sunburnt body. You flush, moving out of the way to let him in, “If you put in a claim for that this place would be shut down.”

He laughs about it, but visibly looks nervous. You can’t help but wonder if, as much as he complained about the job, he genuinely liked it. Or maybe it was all he knew, which was also probably true, considering he had told you he’d been here living since he was just a teenager. A pang in your chest asserts itself at that realisation.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, it’s my own stupid fault for stepping into the shower before turning it on like a silly bitch,” You shake it off, a wobbly little laugh escaping you, “Nothing a bit of lotion won’t fix, Tom.” 

“No, it’s fucking ridiculous that this even happened,” Tom grunts, stepping past you and wandering the short distance into the bathroom. You follow him like a lost puppy, clutching at the top of your towel with one hand, standing in the doorway as you watch him flip his toolbox open, grabbing for something and banging the shower door open. 

“Dunno why they still rent out this caravan every summer there’s so much shit wrong with it, told the manager it was fit for the scrap yard two years ago,” Tom’s conversational, unscrewing the shower tap and fiddling with it as if you’re not standing there basically naked and still slightly damp from your failed attempt at hosing off.

You’re trying to look anywhere but right in his direction. It’s hard, though. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his arm bulging and straining under the tight material of his polo shirt as he uses his wrench to tighten a bolt, “S’okay, I got it pretty cheap. I’m away home tomorrow, didn’t want the next poor sod to get burnt like I did.”

Tom shoots a glance at you, brows marrying for a moment until he’s turning back to the job at hand, “I didn’t realise you were away so soon, fuck sake. If I’d known I would’ve come and seen you earlier. You’re alright, y’know?” 

“Thank you?” It comes out as a question, and you can’t help but feel somewhat offended by his choice of words, “I suppose you’re alright yourself. Probably the only decent member of staff I’ve spoken to this entire week.” 

“Yeah, the nice face and banter are just a bonus, eh?” Tom flashes you his teeth again and it has you rolling your eyes, though a fond smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, “Not like those posh London boys, they’re stuffy and boring.”

“You’re right about that,” You agree, watching as he throws the wrench back into the toolbox blindly, the tool landing correctly in its place. It’s now or never, you think, as he screws the tap back on. This is it, after this last chance meeting you’re not gonna see him again. “Who’d have thought something as simple as catching a blown away magazine would have a girl weak at the knees?” 

You cringe at yourself, though Tom’s head shoots around. He looks at you with a confusion etched on his features, and you have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Surely you were being obvious enough, right?

You watch him dumbly step out of the shower, even going as far as to shut the screen door behind him, “What do you mean?” He asks, quirking a brow. Clearly you weren’t being obvious, then. 

“Is it not totally obvious that I’m into you?” You scoff, wanting to lean forward and rattle that devourable looking neck. He’s clearly so clueless, it would actually be kind of endearing if you didn’t find it so infuriating. 

Tom balks at you, taking a step closer to you, which has him almost right up in your face, with how enclosed the space of the bathroom is, “Really? I’m really shit at reading signals, sorry, love.” 

Love. You melt at the pet name, going all gooey. You take your chance, fingers tugging at your towel until it’s loosening on your body. He watches you with curious eyes that soon turn lust filled, when you let the towel drop to the floor and pool around your feet.

You blush under his intense gaze, taking in the swell of your tits, the pebble of your nipples, the curve of your hips, the mound of your cunt. He takes another step, so you’re basically toe to toe, and he exhales loudly.

“Not done this for a while,” Tom admits, as his large hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to him until your naked body is flush against him, the soft material of his worn-in work polo a pleasant feeling against your skin, “Can I kiss you?” 

You nod, far too fast, too eager, but he clearly doesn’t seem to mind, leaning in until his plump lips are capturing yours. You melt into it, arms wrapping around his neck to tug him in closer, fingers burying in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Tom deepens the kiss quickly, tongue running over your bottom lip and you open up willingly, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. His own tongue glides along yours deliciously, has your pussy clenching and your legs shaking. He moves you blindly backwards, like he knows the entire layout of this caravan — which he probably does, has probably been here many a time.

The backs of your legs hit the bed and you let yourself fall backward, opening your legs for Tom to nudge between them, one hand still on your waist tightly, other slipping down your leg, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh. You shiver, unable to contain it, the feeling of the hands you’d thought about so much the last week finally on you was almost enough to drive you crazy.

Tom’s hand skates higher and higher up your thigh, until he’s cupping the heat of your cunt. He’s the one to break the kiss, pulling away from you to look you in the eyes properly, like he’s looking for confirmation that you’re still good and you’re okay to keep going, “You okay if I touch you?” 

You melt. You nod, and he dives in, kissing the side of your neck with spit-slick lips, leaving you gasping and writhing below him. He bumps his hips down into you, and you feel the outline of his hard cock brushing against your inner thigh.

Suddenly, your carnal desire for him overcomes your every being, your hands falling from the back of his neck to fist into his shirt, bunching up big handfuls of the material, “C’mon, you too?” You beg, voice whiny, completely distracted by how Tom bites and kisses at your neck, “Need to see you too.” 

He sits back on his haunches, smirking down at you, hands leaving your body and in turn leaving you cold — though it’s not for long, as you watch him pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He dives back down into you quickly, bumping those godforsaken hips down against your pussy this time, leaving you gasping.

That stupid, shit eating grin never leaves his face until he’s burying his face back into your neck, peppering your skin with kisses, hand nudging between your legs again, until the pads of two of his fingers finally dip in between your slick folds, gathering your juices on them. He grunts against you, rutting his hips down again, “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He mumbles, caught off guard by it.

“Mmph, all for you,” You gasp, breath catching in your throat when he finds the swollen, sensitive bud of your clit and starts rubbing in small, tight circles, until your hips are pushing up into the air, “Oh God —!”

You lose yourself in the feeling of Tom lathering you in kisses, the way his plump lips ghost along the stinging, burnt skin of your chest and soothe it, his fingers working on your clit until your cunt is gushing wetter than before. He’s so sensual, passionate, taking the most attentive care to your body, and it’s driving you wild.

“You feel so good on my fingers,” Tom groans in between kisses, looking at you with those pretty, chocolate brown eyes, now mostly blackened with lust, “Can’t wait to feel you on my cock, babe.” 

You squeal, a moan punching out of you when his fingers leave your clit just barely to dip into the entrance of your pussy and glide back up, taking some of your milky wetness with them. You clench, quivering at his words, a deep heat blooming in the pit of your belly, alarmingly fast, “I’m so close,” You admit, losing yourself in the pleasure of Tom’s fingers catching on your clit, winding you up tight, tight, tight.

Tom kisses the swell of your breast, lips dragging down until they latch onto your nipple, licking and sucking until you’re crying out. He can’t take his eyes off of you, watching every contortion of your face as he makes you fall apart. Your fingers grip into his curls, tugging lightly until he’s groaning, vibrations echoing up your chest.

His fingers work at that same torturing pace, sliding in circles until you’re arching off the bed slightly, coil in your tummy snapping, your entire body tensing and going lax just as fast as your orgasm washes over you, a gush of slick slipping from your hole as you shake through it.

Tom works you through it until you’re jerking away, fingers unwinding from his hair and pushing at his shoulders instead. He presses a light kiss to your nipple, pulling himself up and slipping his fingers from your cunt, “Was that okay?” He asks, though he’s smiling, proud of himself, clearly.

You nod, catching sight of the prominent bulge in his grey joggers, sudden desperation to get to his cock overtaking you — you lean up, tugging at the waistband of the offending material until it’s bunched around his thighs, uncut cock springing out proudly, you gasp, “No underwear? You always wander around like this, you slag?”

Tom laughs, shaking his head, “No, I wasn’t on shift but took the call because I knew this was your caravan,” He admits, and you giggle, a little swell of pride in your chest. That little admission was enough for you, he did like you as much as you liked him. 

He dives back into you, capturing your lips with his own, and you take that opportunity to get a feel for his cock, deft fingers blindly wrapping around the length and giving him an experimental tug, pulling the foreskin back. He gasps into your mouth as you work him up and down, your thumb swiping over the tip, and he’s punching his hips into your hand.

“Keep doing that an’ I’m gonna cum before I get to fuck you,” He mumbles against your mouth, nibbling at your bottom lip just a little. You take that as your cue to stop, hand dropping from his cock and instead wrapping around his bicep.

He makes a show of it, like an arsehole, grabbing a hold of his cock and sliding the tip through the mess of your cunt, catching on your clit and gliding it back down, until you’re gasping and silently begging for it, digging your nails into the meat of his tanned arms.

“C’mon, Tom. Please?” You whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and he takes the bait — he slips his cock into you in one fluid motion, until his balls are flush against your ass. You couldn’t have been prepared for the sheer thickness of him stretching you from the inside out, a gasp escaping you when the head of his cock brushes along your frontal wall.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Tom moans, burying his head into the other side of your neck this time, kissing and biting at your flesh until it’s raised. He pulls out, slamming back into you to the hilt, and you clench around him, unable to help it, the curved head of his cock brushing against the spongey part of your cunt perfectly, “God, babe, don’t do that, I’ll cum so quick.”

You moan, clenching around him again until he’s groaning, fucking in and out of you properly, your cunt sucking him in, gushing around his length. You’re overwhelmed by the feeling of him all over you, his lips and teeth on your neck, his hair tickling your face, his toned torso crushing down into yours, his cock sliding in and out of the tight heat of your pussy.

“You feel so good around me, fuck,” Tom’s mumbling against you, words almost getting lost in your skin, but you’re fucking melting for it, the praises having you keening up into him.

You feel your orgasm building quickly, unaware of how loud you’re moaning until Tom’s picking up the pace of his thrusts, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing in the room, the wet schlick of your pussy mixing with the other sinful noises. 

“M’gonna cum,” You cry, tears pricking at your eyes as your tummy blooms with heat once again, orgasm building a lot quicker this time than the last time, and Tom pulls himself away from the crevice of your neck, looking at you with his lust blown eyes, swollen red lips open in a constant moan, “Fuck, Tom, s’good, so good,”

You’re babbling and Tom groans, fucking you so rough you’re sliding up the bed — your high hits you so hard you see stars, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and gushes around the girth of Tom’s cock, fingernails biting into his arms so hard that you know you’re going to leave behind broken skin.

“Oh shit, oh fuck,” Tom’s voice goes high pitched, eyes rolling into his skull as your pussy grips him like a vice, and he’s coming too, hips stuttering as he paints your walls in his release, cock pulsing in the tight heat of your cunt.

You mewl, spent body giving into everything. You feel like you’re floating, unable to comprehend what just happened. Tom’s looking down at you with this big dopey grin and you smile back, leaning up to kiss him languidly as his spent cock goes soft.

Tom slips out of you with a hiss, collapsing down next to you, chest still heaving on breath, “You sure you’ve gotta go home tomorrow, darling?” He asks, voice quiet as he tugs you into him, those big arms engulfing you in a tight cuddle. Your whole body melts into his, your mind blank of anything but him. Maybe you didn’t have to go home just yet. 

“I suppose I could see about hanging around for another week… or two,” You admit, and Tom cackles in triumph, squeezing you tighter until you’re giggling into his chest, heart swelling.

[jagibee]

Call Me Luna Info

Hello dear readers, Mari speaking!

I just wanted to lay down some basic info about my story so that things are clear

- This story will probably not include super explicit smut unless or until I become more comfortable writing it, but due to heavy discussion of sex and suggestive scenes, this is an 18+ work, so it please respect that and MDNI

- The reader has an AFAB body and uses she/her pronouns and I think at some point I will have her wear skirts/dresses, and I decided to divide SKZ in half in regards to how old everyone is compared to the reader for the purpose of honorifics, but I looped Hyunjin in with the younger half since they were born in the same year. I also might have a background for character motivation purposes, so just oc family members and their secondary genders. Other than that, I try to keep it pretty neutral including race, religion, etc. Unfortunately I am limited to my own experiences, so if you feel like I’m not keeping it neutral or I am portraying something incorrectly or problematically, feel free to say something!

- I have ADHD and will deadass forget this story exists unless I have people interacting with me, so please do!

- My chapters will probably be over 1,000 words but I’m really inconsistent other than that so good luck

- This isn’t meant to be an exact biography of Stray Kids obviously so I’m not putting pressure on them or forcing them to be together or anything, also they have less managers and choreographers and sound people just because I don’t really feel like including all of that

- I’ll update when I want

- This is my story, so if you don’t like it, you can just leave without reading anymore!

- This story will deal with physical, verbal, and psychological abuse, as well as slight substance abuse, eating disorders, and mental health issues so please don’t read this if any of these affect you negatively

- Again, I can only go off of my experience so the way the characters in this story deal with things is not meant to be the “correct way” and it may not be relatable to everyone

- If you guys have any theories or ideas for what will happen next, let me know! It’s fun to see how people interpret writing (and maybe I’ll get my next plot point idea😁)

- I really don’t know what direction this will take so I’ll be adding trigger warnings as needed for individual chapters, and if there’s something that I haven’t tagged properly, please tell me! I want everyone to have a good experience with this story

- This story will have cursing, that’s just the way I think and write (and I think we all know the kids curse off camera)

- When any character uses English, I’ll show it like “‘“this”’”

- I’m shit at titles so….. we’re doing chapter numbers, but I might add chapter names later

- Tag list is open! You can send in an ask or message me if you want in! My tumblr is a bit fucked up so I can’t really respond to replies, but I always add you even if I don’t answer

- However, being on my taglist and being able to read my work is ultimately up to me, so if you do or say something that I dislike, I have no problem with blocking you

- I am fine with comments like “can’t wait for the next chapter!” but if it’s something more like “when’s the next part😡” consider it an automatic block, sorry not sorry!

- Liking and reblogging are always appreciated!

- Really, just have fun, stay positive, and (hopefully) enjoy the ride!

Info Regarding ABO

- omegas have heats three times a year for 7-10 days

- alphas have ruts twice a year for 3-6 days

- betas have slips once a year for 4-5 days

- heats include abdomen cramping, change of the omega’s scent, a need to nest, slick, and horniness for most

- heat suppressants are common, they don’t completely take away everything, there is still usually mild cramping, change of the omega’s scent and a need to nest, though they are pretty moderate

- ruts include a stronger scent of the alpha, possessiveness, need to mark their partner or partners, aggression, headaches, and horniness for most

- rut suppressants aren’t nearly as common as heat suppressants but they can tone down a rut to only include headaches, slightly stronger scent, and a bit of aggression

- slips include betas getting a stronger sense of smell and touch and they become very sensitive both physically and emotionally

- slip suppressants are very rare and only tone down a slip by about 20% while making the beta emotionally numb so many don’t like taking suppressants even when they have access

- there are no specific alpha scents or beta scents or omega scents, but in this universe, people can still identify someone’s secondary gender based on their scent

- scent glands are on the wrists and neck but if you put blockers on the neck, the body automatically stops releasing scents from the wrist gland

- scent blockers also lessen the wearer’s sense of smell

- wrist to wrist scentings are for acquaintances, neck to wrists are for good friends, and neck to necks are basically the equivalent of saying “I want you in my life forever” which can be platonic, familial, or romantic

And now onto the masterlist!

[blueikeproductions]

The first episode tease goes a little more into why the Decepticons are back to being evil.

The long and short of it is they largely still think the Terrans are freaks, and they want to use the Emberstone “properly” to make new Transformers to help take over Earth,

Ergo Aftermath and Spitfire.

I don’t know why some people are confused by this, Shockwave viewed the Terrans as mutant creatures unfit to live. The Decepticons as a whole are inherently racist, cruel, battle hungry, and just plain mean. Most of them are quick to blow up non mechanical life without a second thought, and then blow up a mechanical life form for not bending to the Decepticon Empire.

It’s rather disappointing that it has to be more punctuated that the Decepticons are evil, that’s kinda their deal unless it’s Shattered Glass.

EarthSpark did a terrible job communicating how the Decepticons work, coupled with aborted plots and vague retcons on what I assume were partly Catt’s doing to make the Decepticons’ sympathetic. It’s the same problem as Cyberverse where they parted themselves on the back with Megatron, but explained his character on Twitter, not using it in show, and still showing us a twitchy and dangerous driven by pride, his own ego, and his inability to let the war stop. Megatron had to die twice so the Transformers could finally move on in Cyberverse.

Starscream meanwhile in EarthSpark was shown to be petty and vindictive against Megatron like he always is, he doesn’t have a high opinion of Autobots, humans or Terrans, and naturally after being locked up by GHOST, of COURSE the first thing he does is want to take over Earth after Mandroid is killed.

The Femjets willingly follow Mandroid and happily cause mindless destruction so they can get Energon and get revenge on Megatron. While they briefly contemplate being Autobots mostly for the Energon, they’re disgusted at the idea.

Shockwave wanted to kill everyone to get the Allspark, and he especially wanted to kill Megatron.

Like I don’t get it, the writing was terrible and the messaging was muddled, and while the Decepticons teeter tottered due to bad story editing, it was still pretty clear letting them out of containment was a bad idea. The second season is telling us why GHOST keeping them locked up was at least the better alternative.

I think the semi abrupt about face to a more traditional Autobots vs Decepticons conflict was potentially due to the bad ratings of the S1 drop. Hasbro probably saw the terrible performance, Hasbro/Paramount/Nick fired some creatives and forced a course correction for S2’s plot because normies and kids weren’t tuning into the contrived messaging. Skybound and now EarthSpark trying to go back to basics, with ES borrowing Animated’s Allspark Shard plot, are signs that Transformers (among other series) are continuing to shed the unpopular with normies, casuals and kids stereotypical Tumblr-IDW rhetoric.

The Decepticons being racist to the Terrans at least makes more sense from a simpler perspective. It’s like Mudbloods from Harry Potter, the Terrans aren’t pure Transformers because they aren’t native to Cybertron… Which likely doesn’t paint a pretty picture on how they feel about Velocitronians, Antillians and the like… The Decepticons basically are going “Slag you guys, we’re gonna use the Emberstone right! Stupid shoddy Protoforms made of dirt and fleshy bits.”

[im-out-of-it]

“It seemed like a distant dream now, of a more innocent time (Thomas in the infirmary), when the horrors of the present would have been unimaginable, and the loss of James and Matthew were unimaginable still. They’re not dead, he reminded himself, starting to turn over, the blankets rustling around his feet.”

you know what’s a crazy idea??? this is something CC never imagined but wouldn’t it be crazy if we I don’t know, grieved Kit?

YOU KNOW WHO ACTUALLY IS DEAD? YOUR COUSIN BROTHER BFF THOMAS. it’s not Thomas’s fault that the writing goes against him. seriously why can’t Kit be grieved??????? why is the whole focus on Matthew and James? okay I get if they’re missed (I only miss Mathew) and you want to move forward in this war but someone very close died and everyone acts like he never fucking existed.

this is an inappropriate pov because all she has Thomas focus on now is Matthew and James. he gets heartbroken and maybe it hurts him to think of Kit. but Thomas doesn’t actually have to go on and on about. HE HAS A BRAIN SO LET HIM USE IT CC. I’m sorry but I don’t believe someone Thomas spent with every second (basically) of the day with is just going to ignore their death?

NO I DONT BELIEVE IT. I get they’re all worried and everything but belial needs James and for James to cooperate, that means keeping Matthew alive. so why would you think that they would die? they need to be alive for giving belial what he wants. and we already knew that Cordelia would use Cortana to kill belial and then save james. it was obvious from the moment it was mentioned.

the only unfinished business kit has is being properly mourned lmao like imagine dying and everyone’s not even grieving????? fuck I’d be hurt and ghost the fuck out of them 💀 it makes it look as though Christopher never mattered. they don’t have to be all in hysterics but LET THEM GRIEVE ALREADY

Barbara was a very minor character and she got to be grieved more than Christopher did who was there for most of it. I love Barbara and honestly girl could’ve been grieved more (or add other pov) but she was in the series for 1% of the time.

I seriously do not understand the hold and obsession CC has with the herondales. why do their presence matter more? I swear if she had any balls and killed off James, she would make everyone fucking grieve James and act like they couldn’t live without him. but it’s a Lightwood and it’s forgotten. who cares because the lightwoods don’t matter to cc!!!!

it’s just frustrating because Kit deserved to be grieved. he deserved better writing. his defending Grace could have been handled better. like the fact that CC makes the focus for Thomas about Matthew and James is insane. I’m sorry but she shouldn’t be in charge of her own pov and majority of what she writes lmao

side note: eldest curses isn’t too bad but at least it had other writers so the main focus wasn’t the herondales because devil forbid, you have more than two characters in the story and how terrible is it to include others. sorry not sorry but I can’t think of anyone who just wants to read about the same two toxic bland uninteresting characters for 700+ pages

I also want to add I love adore admire Thomas and I’m happy he at least got some pov but I feel that the way CC went about it wasn’t fair to Thomas. yes she created these characters but I feel we as readers know them more. we know how much Thomas cares for Kit. we know he starts to have feelings for Alastair and tries to hide it as best as he can. we know he’s kind and sometimes wishes he weren’t. it’s handled (thomastair by the way) a lot better than Malec but I think it still needed a bunch of tuning. CC is focusing on all of the wrong things in my opinion

CHRISTOPHER DESERVED BETTER

[kob131]

Lily Orchard and Pokemon: Gen 2

Gen 1

"How did GF manage to fit all of this into a Gameboy? Simple, they had Satoru Iwata do it!"

False.

Satoru Iwata's contributions were him writing a formula to help cut fractions of a second off the numerous load times in the game, like with trainer battles, wild Pokemon and probably stuff like loading in cities. The real reason why Kanto made it was because, quite simply- they had double the space.

Kind of goes to show how much of a basic Pokemon fan Lily is, considering people slightly more informed like me found this out. A limited view that goes onto explaining some of her questionable points, like the Psychic type not being that busted.

But hey, at least it's not offensive terri-

"The games start becoming more directed and firm in their pacing!"

... Really? Now of all times you bring up that idea?

That doesn't even work here. Gold and Silver's tutorial opening may take a few minutes more due to having to go farther and slightly more text but that's likely because GSC has an actual plot and characters to set up. You know, stuff that someone who cares more about the main gameplay rather than features would probably like as it engages the brain more?

I get that Lily doesn't like Pokemon's stories but this stuff isn't very much and it helps make the game more memorable and engaging.

... You know, I honestly thought the follow up would have been worse.

"Silver is an uninteresting rival! He's just edgy and a punk bitch who slags everyone off while getting beat up! He's just an ignorant loser, like Hop!"

Like that. So much worse like that.

A- Silver isn't just an edgy and arrogant kid. He starts this way but becomes better over time, developing from being beaten by Lance and the player so much. Compare his line in his second fight in Azalea Town-

"I hate the weak. Pokémon, Trainers. It doesn't matter who or what. I hate to see them hanging around. That goes for Team Rocket, too. They think they are big and tough as long as they are in a group. But get them alone, and they're weak. I hate them all. You stay out of my way. You won't be an exception if you get in my way."

To his final line.

"…Oh, no… I still can't win after all that training… I…I have to believe more in my Pokémon… …No big deal. Sorry to have got in the way. Don't forget to rest your Pokémon before you challenge the Champion!"

In fact, Silver is the FIRST rival to actually react properly to being constantly beaten by the player, much like Hop.

B- Does Lily's complaints sound...familiar to anyone? As if these complaints do in fact fit a Pokemon Rival...but not Silver?

It should- This applies to BLUE, not Silver. Since, by necessity, Blue WILL lose more to the player than win. And yet he will always brush off his losses and act superior even as the game.

In fact, take his loss line in Oak's Lab-

"WHAT? Unbelievable! I picked the wrong Pokémon!"

To his loss line at the Pokemon League as Champion.

"NO! That can't be! You beat my best! After all that work to become League champ? My reign is over already? It's not fair!"

Lily's point about Blue before and why she liked him kind of contradicts her slagging off Silver...for the same shit Blue pulls but without the context that he's SUPPOSED to be wrong.

"Falkner's gym was kind of a pushover. yeah I nearly fainted but I didn't lose-"

You almost lost. ...To Falknier Lily.

Falkner...regarded as being one of the top 10 easiest Gym Leaders in Pokemon. ... How did you look at that and not go 'Damn, maybe I should change my strats.'

Like, this WILL undercut any points about Pokemon's gameplay and difficulty because it's coming from someone who nearly lost to FALKNER. A guy I beat at age 7.

"Team Rocket's so pathetic in Gen 2. In Gen 1, they were a legit criminal orgnazation and fun but now they're just pathetic."

And here's the problem that's likely gonna rear its ugly head in any Gen with half a story: Lily's not paying attention. Team Rocket is MEANT to be pathetic and lost without Giovanni. Because they are clinging to the past and refusing to move on with their lives even as the world does so. This gets hammered home pretty hard given the changes to the world introduced in Gen 2, like Lance becoming the Champion or through characters like Silver letting his daddy issues define him.

That's the point Lily. Complaining that they're boring because they've changed from before in order to fit a new story isn't analysis, it's just you mouthing off.

"Hey, isn't it funny that I tried using Mud-Slap twice in a row even though it didn't fucking work the first time and almost got wiped by Bugsy? I'm such a bimbo!"

Funny yes but more in a 'public humiliation' way. Joking about almost being beaten by a children's game does not make it better: you're still claiming to analyze these games.

"SILVER WORST RIVAL EVAR! BLUE GOOD BECAUSE FRIENDLY AND DYNAMIC! SILVER BAD BECAUSE ANNOTING! HE NO CHANGE UNLESS YOU LOOK! YOU LIKE EMOS!"

That or Silver is well liked because he was the first rival to have an actual arc in the games. It isn't optional either, Silver starts to realize he was wrong in his Victory Road fight, which is mandatory. And it's a logical progress from losing to the player and Lance, reinforced by the sage from Sprout Tower. As much as you bitch about the games' stories being invasive, Silver is an example of the game showcasing a natural progression in character without using a thousand words.

Meanwhile, Blue is the one slagging you off after every fight even as you have to beat him and then proceeding to throw a fit when he loses.

You don't pay attention Lily.

"Silber and Hop are fundamentally the same character!"

So...your point is that Silver is fundamentally the same...as one of the best rivals in the series?

Not the own you think it is.

I mean, she's correct since what Hop does in SWSH is just a more detailed, expressive and in depth version of what Silver does just more on the softer end. But Lily's too blinded to see it.

"Imma go ahead and ignore all the daily events in Goldenrod because WoW!"

Again, Lily telling on herself on how badly she's handling this video. The past 30 minutes could have been compressed down to 8 and nothing of value would be lost. Hell, cutting out Lily's reasonings and leaving people to insert their own explanations would actually make the video better.

Not a good sign.

"Johto's level curve isn't a problem! You can just go rematch trainers, it's intended! These games weren't meant for internet reviewers focused on progress, they're focused on kids!"

Yeah, Lily?

That bit about kids PROVES the issue with Johto, not debunk it. Because a kid might explore the rematches- it's far more likely that the kid is gonna want to keep moving forward and see new things and not back track for the sake of refighting the same guys with lowsy teams and just as little EXP as the wild Pokemon.

A kid is also gonna wanna catch new Pokemon and try them out-And the new Pokemon just got KO'd because it was so underleveled it's general stats aren't enough to face the trainers ahead. Now the kid is probably just gonna stick to the starter, one or two Route 1 Pokemon, the Red Gyrados (which is at least somewhat appropriately leveled) and the legendary. Oops.

I could also talk about how a good level curve in Pokemon aids in the feeling of growing stronger while providing something stimulating to the player to engage them in story, making each victory feel like a logical progression due to previous one but I doubt Lily would even understand what I'm talking about.

"Why do all the gyms in this game have some kind of side-quest?!"

Story and worldbuilding to make the core gameplay more interesting and engaging. It shows that the Gym Leaders are people who interact with their community. It's something to supplement the core gameplay you're supposedly focusing on.

"Oh shit! Chuck's Gym requires the Strength HM!"

Hey Lily, remember when you were complaining about people bitching on about HMs? You think maybe shit like this, creating unnecessary roadblocks that require restricting a player's self-expression and choice, might just factor into their complaints.

*Lily uses a Butterfree's Psychic on a Primeape, knocks off only 40% of the Pokemon's HP*

You know, Lily. If you made a habit of questioning yourself and your opinions- now would be the time where you would think back to the statement about 'Butterfree not being considered good because no STAB is stupid because coverage!' and admit there might be a point. You can still use Butterfree while admitting it's something of a handicap.

If you're observant, you will also notice that Lily's team is slightly below Chuck's in Level and that she wins her fight using battle items instead of, I dunno- engaging in those rematches she said negated the criticisms of Johto's level curve to train up her Pokemon.

"Ugh! The level curve in Johto is so awfu-"

Wait.

Lily. Didn't you DEFEND the level curve in Johto or at least try debunking this idea behind the game not having enough EXP earlier by talking about the rematches, talking about kids just rematching as they go back to explore unlike Youtubers? Which you are now admitting is 'extremely inelegant and forces you to wait' which...debunks your own view?

... This is a DIRECT contradiction of your stance from before. This is why you question yourself: you find contradictions in that self reflection.

"Johto's distribution of Pokemon suck! You can't even catch Houndour, Misdreavus and Larvitar until the post game! It's shitty because if you like these Pokemon, you can't catch them! It doesn't make them more valuable- just less fun!"

God damn it.

1-Lily, gating Pokemon out is not inherently a bad idea. Locking say...the pseudo-legendary into near the end of the game isn't a bad idea. That way you can't just power level one Pokemon into one of the strongest possible.

2-I do agree with Lily on this instance though. Johto locking away three of their new families of Pokemon behind KANTO is fucking insane. But issue here is that Lily just says they're locked behind the post game and just ends there, without giving context to why this is a problem. So- I'll do her job FOR her.

Let's start with the weakest one- Houndour. You catch this Pokemon at Route 7 (between Celadon and Saffron) in Kanto at Night. Seems like a good placement, since Houndour's type (Fire/Dark) counters the two nearby Gyms (Erika and Sabrina). Problem.

Houndour is caught at a max level of 18. Sabrina and Erika's teams average Level 48 and 44 respectively. There's no Trainers on this route either. Same with Murkrow btw.

Larvitar you catch at MT. SILVER (aka WHERE RED IS) at Level 20...at a 9% catch rate...right before Red. And Larvitar is a pseudo-legendary btw, so it levels up SLOWER than normal. Similar to Misdreavus, except it CAN'T evolve to get better.

And it's not like there aren't better options. Umbreon can be gotten as early as Level 21 by the fourth Gym Badge to cover Dark. Growlithe and Vulpix at Level 13 on ROute 36 as soon as Whitney to cover Fire. Geodude as early as ROCK CAVE for Rock. And Ghastly as soon as Sprout Tower. And many of these Pokemon are or become better than their counterparts so you have NO incentive to switch out Pokemon in your likely finalized team for newer, likely weaker Pokemon that you need to train up.

This summarizes the issue with Johto- the Pokemon MADE for Johto don't get to shine and the level curve makes adding new Pokemon pretty fucking shitty.

"Only pathetic shits think Shinies have any value!"

Lily, you are comparing locking off new Pokemon to a post game where they can't be effective to...an aesthetic change.

Move on. Also we get it with the capitalist dig- You want a social system that would have killed you off long ago.

"It's wrong to lock off Pokemon! See, this difficulty ROM Hack has so many!"

Yeah, DIFFICULTY ROM HACK Lily. As in, a hack of an already finished game that ends up tweaking certain aspects to increase difficulty likely for experience, adult Pokemon players. But for the ACTUAL Pokemon games- they have to be built for the new, casual or more relaxed fans as well.

Shoving a bunch of Pokemon into a single route, dropping multiple encounter rates down as low as 5% just to cram in as many Pokemon as possible is just gonna tire those poeple out as they search for every Pokemon possible. Even I, someone who likes Pokemon fan games, don't really like it when they try cramming 15 Pokemon into one Route just to accommodate them all because it feels like a slog trying to get one specific Pokemon I like that likely isn't even good enough to justify this. I would like all Pokemon catchable in a game (hence why I like the DLCs- they let you catch everything they add) but it would require so much effort to actually do that it's not feasible for Pokemon's release schedule.

Also all those Pokemon are available because it's balance out the difficulty with variety and the ability to EV train early. Most people still don't know how EVs, IVs and Natures work Lily. Most people wouldn't like this level of difficulty. Case and point: SMT has far less complexity and thus can be understood more easily yet it's difficulty, despite being easier to adjust to, is a turn off by itself.

"Pokemon games should give you all this variety so you can make unique and varied teams each game!"

Really Lily? You think having a bunch of Pokemon available at the start will allow you to use varied teams every game?

Because in practice, due to players valuing efficency- They will likely centralize around six extremely good Pokemon that synergize together to steam roll through the game. Limiting Pokemon helps CREATE variety by gate keeping strong Pokemon until the challenge matches up with them while you use weaker Pokemon as they were given a chance. It's probably why you like Butterfree so much: You used Butterfree as a kid and blowed through the early game with it and got attached. This likely wouldn't have happened if you had access to, say, Scyther instead.

Also, kind of funny you go off about making varied and unique teams when A. You started this rant talking about the cruelty of gatekeeping Pokemon so people who love them can't use them (thus forcing them to use different Pokemon) and B. we already know from your earlier Butterfree rant that you're gonna be using the EXACT SAME TEAM in each game.

Practice what you preach.

"People talk up the newer villains like Cyrus and N and the bigger plots but they suck!"

Lily. You couldn't even get Blue right.

Your opinion on the story means nothing.

"Mahagony Gym makes you take the path that faces you against the most Gym Trainers and that's bad! But the Gym is like an endurance test and that's good!"

So the gym making you fight trainers rapidly before facing the boss is bad...while also being good because it's an endurance test?

Proofread your scripts.

"Ice Cave is great because there's barely any trainers and there's little to no random encounters!"

Look I get that random encounters are annoying when you can't control them and Trainers can be tedious if you wish to get to your destination but...come on Lily. Battling is the main gameplay loop.

"I beat Silver and he doubles down-"

"…I couldn't win… I gave it everything I had… What you possess, and what I lack… I'm beginning to understand what that dragon master said to me…"

He doesn't.

And that ends Lily's view of Johto. Yes, she doesn't tackle Kanto or Red. Pretty sure she hates playing post games. Probably why she bashes Gen 5 so much.

Now for Gen 3. Which she calls the one with 'her favorite characters, best story and most beautiful locales in the series.'

... And I really hate Gen 3. Yay...

[ikeromantic]

A new follower here 🌼

I rlly started to like your fics and I was hoping to see kore of Kyubei 🥺 I swear bro deserves a route for himself, so—

Kyubei - Instructor - 🌸

Kyubei really does deserve a route and a sprite. He’s got to have some interesting stories to tell, working for the kitsune! Here’s to more Kyubei content! Approx. 900 words.

Kyubei held in a sigh. This was going to take time. A lot of time. And of course, the task landed on him because it was yet another thing his Lord Akechi agreed to without actually having time to do it. Well, there was no help for it and at least this wasn’t the most unpleasant thing he’d been asked to do. Far from it.

“So . . . where do I start?” The chatelaine eyed the pile of papers with an anxious eye. 

“Not with those.” Kyubei patted the seat next to him. “This isn’t something you will find on any of our retained correspondence.”

She tilted her head. “Alright, I guess.” She sat primly beside him and looked at the blank slate tile curiously. “So, what is this?”

Kyubei liked how enthusiastic she was to learn things. Always ready to jump in, even when she was scared. “I am going to teach you the first cipher we use with our agents in the field. You have to memorize the symbols and what they mean. So we use this slate board - because we can easily erase everything we write.” 

“Oh! That makes sense! Because if you just had paper lying around with the key, someone could find it.” She grinned. 

That was another thing he liked about her. While her knowledge was woefully lacking in some areas, she could quickly make connections and think things through. She was smart and good natured. Attractive. Kind. 

“Uhm. Kyubei? You’re kind of staring into space. Are you ok? Do you need a break?”

Heat crept up his neck. “N-no. I was just thinking about . . . things. Anyway, Let’s get started.” 

She nodded agreeably, and he bent to the task of showing her the cipher. The symbols weren’t hard to draw - in fact, they were intentionally simple to allow even an illiterate to make them - the lines wide and basic. The hard part was memorizing. A line to the left over a straight line meant enemies north. Two dots meant watched. Three lines horizontal, meant no survivors. And so on. 

“Ok, so if I wanted to say ‘spies to the west’ I would write it like so?” She nearly lost her grip on the narrow bit of chalk, and Kyubei reached to catch it. Their hands met for a heartbeat, her fingers brushing his. an unexpected jolt of warmth shot up Kyubei’s arm at her touch.

He jerked his hand back in surprise. 

“Sorry.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “I’m a bit clumsy.”

“No, no! That was my fault. You had it and I got in the way.” He forced a laugh. “In my line of work, one startles easily. I’m like a rabbit, you know?” He made bunny ears over his own head, hoping she would forgive his reaction and just laugh it off.

After a moment, she giggled. “I do like the idea of Kyu-bunny.”

Kyubei twitched his nose in rabbit like fashion, eliciting another laugh from her. 

“I always have so much fun in our lessons.” She smiled. “I feel like I’ve never properly thanked you.” The chatelaine seemed to lean closer as she said this, or perhaps, Kyubei thought, he was the one bending toward her. 

He cleared his throat, trying to get ahold of the situation. “I-it’s really nothing. At all. I’m just . . . doing as I’m told.”

Her soft laugh made his heart lurch in his chest. “No, I don’t think anyone ordered you to be kind or to make the lessons enjoyable. That’s just you.”

Kyubei couldn’t take his eyes from her face. She captivated him, like a rabbit in a snare. His pulse thundered in his ears and he felt like his face might catch on fire. His mouth didn’t feel capable of words, though he did open and close it as if he had a reply on hand. 

She reached out and laid her hand atop his. “Maybe, if you like, we could go to town one of these days? I’d like to buy you lunch, if you’ll let me. As a thank you.”

“I - I -” He struggled to get his brain to work but all he could think about was the way her hand felt on his, and how warm her gaze was. A mad thought dashed through his mind, what if I kissed her? Kyubei let out a laugh as he imagined her slapping him. She wasn’t flirtatious. She just wanted to say thanks, he told himself. Stop being awkward.   

“Is that a yes?”

He nodded in relief and finally found his tongue. “Yes. Yes, that would be very kind of you. We can pick up some things for the manor too, while we’re out.”

The chatelaine smiled brightly. “We could even spend the whole day together!”

“We - we could.” He swallowed. Like a date. “Is tomorrow alright?”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed. 

Kyubei called an end to the day’s lesson after that. He couldn’t keep the cipher in his head, distracted by every move she made, every breath. His hand still felt warm and tingled where she’d touched it, as if she left some magic in her wake. Ridiculous, of course, for a vassal to feel this way about a princess. He knew nothing could come of it. But that thought did not so much as slow the racing of his heart nor cause the flame within to flicker.

[modern-inheritance]

"Dark Magic"

*Rubbing temples*

Paolini never really defines dark magic in Inheritance Cycle. It's most frequently associated with Shades and Galbatorix. Durza taught Galbatorix 'dark magics' before he went on his traitorous rampage. Durza uses 'dark magics' to give Eragon his curse (??? look I'm still not fully clear on wtf Eragon's seizures were, we could go into a full side tangent rant on this but I digress) and used it in a variety of other ways. There's scattered mentions of 'dark magic' throughout the books beyond these.

But we are never told, as far as I am aware, about what exactly it is. What we know of magic is that it is typically shaped through use of the Ancient Language, some creatures, like dragons, can effect the world through the use of instinctive magic, and that magic in other cases and places just appears in the world (floating rocks, etc, though come to think of it no wait stop sciencing).

In this TED Talk I wi– I'm kidding. We're here to talk about MIC adaptations again.

MIC has always been a bit of a science experiment. In the later books we can see Paolini really using science to explain what happens when Eragon or others craft certain spells. Hell, he even uses coding in Murtagh, which made me grin a bit. I'm awful at it but If/Then statements are coding 101 kinda things. But a lot of the time we are left in the dark (pun somewhat intended) on how certain things work.

I (have I??) explain some things via science/biology/etc in MIC. Elves bones have to be stronger to resist their innate strength or else they'd shatter their skeletons every time then did something with force, so I adapted the Spartan-III augmentations of Titanium Carbide replacing the typical materials of calcium and whatnot. There's a weird bit of their diet that changes because of that. I have a few others but that's the main one I think I spent ages going over in my head.

So what is 'dark magic?' How do we explain it scientifically, or in context of the mix of language and science that the IC magic system is based off of?

WELL!

I just realized I don't remember what I was LANGUAGE!

RIGHT! WHY DID I TALK ABOUT SCIENCE?!

I am currently writing a story about Eragon's seizures and what people are doing to see about finding a cure. This requires me to look at dark magic. And since we have no canon idea of if dark magic would draw from the same language as 'regular' magic, making it just...regular magic with inherently dark motives, which is boring, I decided to change it up a bit.

The Ancient Language is, well, ancient. One day I will spell Language properly without autocorrect but here we are. Although AL (it is not today) is considered locked in, I wouldn't be surprised if there were other languages and/or dialects of AL. The dwarves and the dragons are the 'true' inhabitants of Alagäesia (were-creatures?? more like where did they come from but again, I digress)–

and you know what I just read the Ancient Language and Grey Folk pages on the wiki and now I'm kinda mad bUT I'M DOING WHAT I'M DOING ANYWAY.

Long story short: there are several different dialects of AL, influenced by a lot of different factors. The dark magic Ancient Language dialect was created by shades and other malevolent creatures w/ sentience and magic usage, and is purposefully absolutely fucking convoluted, varied and jumbled with lots of uuuuh what's the word influence fuck I just had it

the caster can choose and mix and match their syntax and structure at will. to prevent their curses from being undone unless you were present during the casting and know almost word for word what was said and used for the curse/spell. The dragon's magic that undid Eragon's curse was basically like a cleanse and used dragon's instinctive world weave magic to rewrite Eragon enough that he sorta DNA mixed (sorry Paolini, in MIC we do get some fun DNA rewriting because Ket wants the science....mmm....science......) with elf code and a little bit of dragon code (possibly, I'm a little on unsure on this, elves are already a mix of their original base with dragon code due to the orignal bond and I'M GETTING OFF TOPIC AGAIN) and he became different enough that the curse no longer worked and because he was uh...well, he was kinda factory reset. It wiped any and all spells attached to his body.

uh

okay. I...think I made my point. I'm...I'm sorry I just completely lost my train of thought after 'attached to his body.'

um.

Have a good day, I guess.

[bklynmusicnerd]

"It's easier to be alone, because what if you learn that you need love and you don't have it? What if you like it and lean on it? What if you shape your life around it and then it falls apart? Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It's like dying. The only difference is death ends. This? It could go on forever." - Meredith Grey (Grey's Anatomy)

So I definitely feel like today was the best in terms of the writing for Trina's grief so far, just because it finally grounded it in a clear direction, survivor's guilt. Trina's grief manifesting itself as survivor's guilt makes so much sense for her character because it's the natural culmination of her savior complex.

That inherent belief that it's her job to save the people around her, the foundation of many of her key relationships and her status as a heroine, is also the belief that leads her to coming to the conclusion that she wishes she had died instead of Spencer.

I feel like it's easy to write that line off as a classic "soap heroine can't live without her love" moment but I actually think it's a little deeper than that for Trina, I think she's basically drowning in this idea that she doesn't deserve to be the one who lived. I've said it before, but this isn't just a sense of loss for Trina. It's a sense of failure.

Spencer having to sacrifice himself for her, in Trina's eyes, is her failing to protect him and be his "hero" (one of the "last" things he said to her before he went overboard). It doesn't matter if that's a completely irrational conclusion, it speaks to how Trina burdens herself. She won't take the compliment when it's given to her but she'll always take the blame, even when no one gives to her.

Cause no one else is burdening themselves with the "loss" of Spencer to that extent except maybe Nik, who turned himself in and is doing penance in the local clink like he's not an incredibly wealthy and powerful man. But to get back to the Trina of it all, she goes to the gallery seeking a sense of usefulness, gets triggered by the first painting she holds, is taken back to a moment of bleak helplessness, and is completely overwhelmed by the anxiety she experiences over the memory of Paris alone (TA played not just the grief but the hints of ptsd so smoothly). This is the kind of fluidity in Trina's grief that I was hoping for as opposed to the one-note, generic "boo hoo" stuff.

She can't move on because she can't forgive herself, and Ava just gets that immediately and starts listing all these people who need her to stay alive for them, herself included. She tells Trina that she's grateful to Spencer for what he did because she needs her, and cuts through (however temporarily) Trina's sense of not feeling worthy of it.

In general, I love how dark things got with Trina's pov today, I don't think we've ever seen her come this close to suicidal ideation before, but I think it works. She's mentally stuck in this moment where she had to watch someone she loved die for her and it all happened so fast that there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The panic, the frustration, the despair Trina displayed today, all makes sense in accordance with this survivor's guilt arc. The only problem is that's a heavy story that requires way more screentime that it's currently being given to be told properly. But, I do think it's interesting that Trina is sort of stuck in grief even though she doesn't want to be.

She's punishing herself by putting her education on hold, and the gallery isn't the reprieve she's used to it being for her during hard times. How far is Trina's survivor's guilt going to go and how far is she going to take this idea of punishing herself? Trina is a character that likes to have control over her life and right now, in the aftermath of all of this, she has none. She can't move on and there's nothing and no one for her to save (yet) so she's just stuck in this moment of failing to be the hero.

This is why Trina's admission to Ava that it "feels like [she] can't breathe" hit as hard as it did. It feels like we're watching Trina succumb to a darkness that Spencer credited her with saving him from. That's the tragic irony of this whole thing, it's not in Trina's instinct to give herself credit for all the ways in which she saved Spencer, but she will replay on a loop the one crucial time she thinks she failed him. It's important to remember that Trina felt this sense of responsibility toward Spencer way before she knew she was in love with him. She was always going to lash out at herself the most.

[marezablr]

i just read your future gohan fic and it made me feel horrible both emotionally (as one does about him) and physically. your character writing is great and you absolutely nailed gohan's inner monologue and how he works. however im very curious as to how this 17/gohan thing occured to you, and why you decided to explore that? it took me by surprise and i even considered stopping reading (im glad i didn't tho) at first. future gohan's life and self-perception is already so awful so i wanted to know why you'd add to that in such a specifically unnerving way? specially since you clarify at the start that it's not a shipping thing, im really very curious on your thought process here. but yes great writing

thank you so much for reading! i very much understand the reservations, and i appreciate that you were willing to give it a chance. this answer is a bit long, because i wanted to try to fully, properly respond to what you're asking. so, here we go!

1) how it came to be:

i'd just played the dbz:kakarot dlc, and i had seen some art that made me feel some kind of way about future gohan, so i was browsing ao3 for fic, as one does. i encountered basically this premise in the summary of an explicit fic, and i… was very unnerved by it! a lot. fics will be what they will be! but this concept unsettled me.

but because of that, it stuck with me, and i ended up talking about why with a friend, to help me understand my own response. and in that discussion, i noticed that if you took that element of SA as a premise for a different type of story, a lot of concepts around agency and bodily autonomy that are relevant to the characters come up: gohan as a child soldier, with his right to decide the fate of his own body taken from him and, in this timeline, forever lost; the androids as victims of human experimentation, who had not just their bodies stolen but whose very minds were warped, so that the delight they have in their violent power over others is also the result of violence done to them—of their own minds ripped away and remade to someone else's design.

that resonated with something. so i started exploring ideas, and i ended up getting some concepts for a story that i liked, a story that felt like it was saying something about how people maintain integrity and assert agency in situations that try to take those things from them.

but i was still hesitant about the core premise, so i tried to find ways to write it out of the outline. i tested some things, but ultimately i realized i couldn’t get rid of that part of the story. it just didn't work without it. and it felt somehow cowardly for me to turn away from it? disrespectful, somehow, even? like…

there’s a way that 17 talks to gohan in the dbz:kakarot trunks dlc's english dub. 18 and 17 are both over-familiar with him, but 17 is mock-affectionate in a way that made me want to slap him. it made my skin crawl. and the type of violence addressed in "good loser" is not so distant from the violence that the androids and gohan both experience in canon: it's all violence that happens when someone decides that another person's body isn't theirs to control; instead, the body will be put to the perpetrator's purposes (for the androids, dr. gero’s plans; for gohan, piccolo’s vision of his potential vs the saiyans). (ofc there is a difference between piccolo and gero, which in "good loser" 17 refuses to see, but there IS also a similarity, which gohan refuses to see.)

and there's a link between those canonical violences and the uncomfortable way 17 talks to gohan. as a consequence of those experiences, the androids and gohan were set on a path where 17 and 18, in the bodies and minds that their abuser remade, would treat gohan as theirs to abuse and break, over and over, until they bored of him. and gohan could never back down, because of what he was made into—but also because of who he chooses to be

and that, i think, is 2) why i decided to explore it.

because the premise created a scenario where all those interrelated violences could be addressed, even if the characters resisted facing them. it pulled the uncomfortable truth of their experiences, and the situation they were now in, to the surface. if i wanted to tell a story that looked honestly at the way gohan's agency over his own body has been stolen from him by violence, and how that related to the androids' own loss of bodily and mental autonomy, i couldn’t run away from the idea that let me see it. i had to face it directly.

but if i was going to deal with it directly, i'd have to do so in a way that felt right to me.

so i decided on not doing any explicit content. aside from not wanting to write it, the absence worked better for the story i wanted to tell: 1) it reflected how gohan dissociated away from and repressed the experiences, and 2) it gave gohan a kind of meta-level agency. this is his story, in his pov, and he doesn’t want to share how he was victimized. so he gets to have that refusal.

i also knew i had to take seriously what this kind of violence means for the people involved. to take seriously what it would mean for 18, who was once a teen girl runaway, to see her brother perpetrate the type of violence that she was almost certainly threatened with, violence she may not be able to remember but that sticks deep in her subconscious. to take seriously 17’s mindset as a perpetrator, how he could justify and excuse it and not see what he was doing for what it was—how he could act like he and gohan were both contenders in a shared game, while at the same time enjoying how much he outclassed gohan, how he could differentiate himself to himself from the type of perpetrator his sister is trying not to see him as.

and most of all, i’d take seriously gohan’s experiences: not just the trauma and violation, but also the integrity and unflinching compassion, the deep love he has for the people he protects and for the people who protected him, the will he has to keep fighting even when it feels like a lost cause, because he believes someone else can build on his resistance and that one day that person will win.

that—gohan with his integrity and hope, doing all that he can to stop violence from happening to anyone else, if not now then tomorrow—that felt like the only way i'd feel right about writing this. that was the story that was meaningful to me, enough that, even in my discomfort, i wanted to tell it. i wanted to write more than resilience: i wanted to write gohan's resistance.

in the end, i had to accept that it would be unnerving as a premise, and i couldn't run away from it. all i could do was try my best to write it with care.

thanks again for reading, and for asking this question! it means a lot to me that you were willing to give the story a try. i hope this answer explains how it came to happen, and why i took the approach i did. if you want any clarifications or have any other questions, definitely let me know!

[dr-rabbit-3]

Sooo you guys wanted to see it so here it is it's old and I'm not the best writer rn so.. in joy?

Worning: this story has cannibalism in it(obviously)

And violents, stabbing, blood (trauma?) pls don't read it if you're sensitive to stuff like that (ya mental health comes first)

Anyway story in the undercut 👇

Gregory stabbed Tony meltable times

Tony tried to fight back

Gregory tried to ignore the pained screams coming from Tony

As he stabbed him he wanted to give Tony at least a quick death he didn't want Tony to suffer..

Tony was the first friend he made at school,

Tony was his friend!......

What kinda child does this to a friend?

a blood thirsty monster

That's what kind.

Tony was barley alive any more

he wasn't putting up a fight anymore...

it only took one last stab

And it was over

Gregory looked down at tony

As tears filled his eyes

he hated having to do this

But it had to be done

Tony was trying to find out things...

Gregory had no clue how he was gonna dispose of the body but

soon he came to a horrible collision

he didn't like it one bit

But he had no other way

There's only one way to properly dispose of the body without getting caught

no body

No problem...

Gregory stared blankly at Tony's body

Gregory was going to eat it.

But how he thought would he start with the head or the hands?

he didn't know...

he looked around and then back at tony......

After a couple of hours Tony was nothing but a skeleton

And bloody clothes

he folded and put the clothing in his backpack

He didn't know what he was gonna do with the skeleton he had a couple of ideas

He hid the skeleton somewhere nobody will find it for now

He crawled in the vent and into the outside world he had a therapy session in 10 minutes he can't tell his therapist about this he can't tell anyone about this!

he walked home blood on his hands

Vanessa wasn't home yet he dropped his backpack on the floor

and made his way to the bathroom

He washed the blood of his hands

He looked in the mirror and saw

A monster looking back at him

6 months later with Cassie and vannasa.....

"Did you see Gregory today his been acting strange lately and haven't been eating much

I'm kinda worried.."

Vanessa said as she placed a plate of pancakes in front of Cassie

"I'm gonna go talk to him and see what's up"

Cassie said as she made her way

Down the hall to Gregorys bedroom

she knocked at the door gently

"Hay can I come in?"

Cassie said softly

She could hear light crying

crying she never heard from Gregory before

"y-yes...."

Gregory said with a Shakey voice

Cassie slowly opened the door

She saw Gregory in the corner of his room

In a fetal position kinda rocking back and forth

she never seen Gregory like this

It hurt her

"G...gregory are you okay?...."

Gregory looked up at Cassie

With the saddest eyes

And then softly smiled

And nodded

"Y.... you don't have to worry about me it's nothing it's just been a hard day....."

Gregory said wiping the tears from his face

"Do you want to talk about it"

Gregory knew he couldn't talk about that

He ate his friend he's a....a monster he's a cannibal!

Author's note: this story is short and was supposed to be a part of a larger fanfic before the butterfly au

Where Tony gets eaten by Greg and basically haunts him and tries to get revenge and Tony's spirit is attached to Gregory because Gregory ate em

Idk I might write the story after the butterfly au is finished 🤷‍♀️

[thequietmanno1]

TheLreads, Vigilantes ch 119, Replies Part 1

1) “Are we all properly drunk or it’s just me? I think it’s just me, but I’m having my doubts about Furuhashi’s sobriety here. Yet, I’m planning to be the one left standing when this is all over, this story shall not defeat me I tell you that. It didn’t got me before, it won’t get me now, and what a fitting title for this chapter. Get ready Furuhashi, this i cHapter 119: I’m still here”- And at the end of it all, you not only remain standing, you decided to write the story better than Furuhashi did!

2) “Oh no, Koichi was caught by a hit, he’s gonna die 6v chapters before the end of the story? Oh the humanity~”-Look, basically everybody was the walking dead in this fight, especially Nomura. I don’t think there’s any one of the main group that didn’t have a half-foot in the grave towards the end of it. 3) “The last All Might hoodie… has been destroyed…

Now get ready for Koichi fighting butt-naked against McBee”- It blew off his hoodie, but sadly, Koichi hasn’t worked out to Midoira’s level enough to get the full shirtless scene. 4) “Koichi joined Pop and Knuckleduster in the afterlife. Tragic. This explains why AfO never went after his quirk.”-That, and AFO no longer resembles his passport for overseas trips. 5) “…oh my fucking god this is literally the reason why AfO didn’t tried to go after him? He thought he died here? Even though I bet my fucking ass that he’s gonna show up in five seconds to fight again?”- Nah, he just figured that Koichi wasn’t worth devoting nearly as much effort into focusing on as All Might and OFA, especially now his plans had taken a definite step towards completion with the Nomura data being used to create his multi-Quirk using soldiers. 6) “Had your fun already McBee? Ready to evaporate? Although I want to see if those bones will be left behind or not”- Honestly, this last portion of the fight was kinda unnecessary. Koichi just had to play dead and let Nomura’s emotional high that was powering his transformation die down, then emerge in the aftermath once he’d lost the spark to keep going. Koichi’s last stand against Nomura here was as much a way of giving the guy a means of not dying alone and unnoticed as it were, a means of “saving” the soul of the guy he didn’t really know and who hated his guts from the start. 7) “Now we’re really starting to lean into Attack on Titan territory, aren’t we?”- Would it be easier or harder to cut Nomura’s spine in this state, I wonder? It’s easier to see the target, but harder to approach as a consequence. 8) “OH MY FUCKING GOD 

IT’S ANOTHER FLASHBACK”- Nope, it’s metaphor-land, just to make things more confusing at the 11th hour for you! 9) “WAIT WHAT THE FUCK, WASN’T HE UNDER AFO’s CONTROL BY THEN? HOW THE FUCK DID HE LEFT THE LAB TO GO PLAY WITH THE KIDS?!”- Nope, those kids are all playing All Might cosplays and the like, whereas Nomura’s trying to showcase the Overclock action figure as a means of demonstrating his own idea of what the top hero’s like to them as a means of fitting it…and because the majority of the masses don’t like being singled out for being “different” or having contrary opinions that go out with others, they all shun Nomura instead for his own innocent perception. It may have been the kids claiming they admired the “top” hero, but really they just admired the one everybody agreed was popular, without stopping to consider that not everybody would share the same view of what made the best hero, and shunning those that did. 10) “…Is the implication here that liking O'Clock was something so lame that nobody wanted to interact with him?”- The implication is that, like Tomura, having opinions or a situation that others didn’t agree with meant they were shunned and ignored rather than make a scene out of events, leaving them easy prey for AFO’s manipulations for them to come along in the aftermath when they’re on their own. It’s no coincidence that Nomura’s approached by Koichi alone in this metaphor, just like AFO approached Tenko afterwards. If somebody had bothered to be there for them when they needed emotional support, they might not have fallen as hard as they did, and ultimately, it’s because Koichi’s there for Nomura in the end that he stays his hand form the killing blow rather than follow AFO’s orders till the end of his life. @thelreads

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Howdy, friend! An idea for a request hit me while I was struggling in the hair care department. Black/POC reader trying to educate Eddie on how to take care of his curls ?

All I have to say is YES. Let me get my hands on those curls sir. Right NOW.

Requests have resumed. You can submit yours here!

Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, readers of color too).

The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: “What about some fluff for Eddie after he’s had a long day?”

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

Eddie Munson x Black Reader

_________________________

"What do you mean it takes the whole day?" Eddie questions, phone pressed to his ear by his shoulder. The fridge rattles just a little with the force of Eddie closing the door with his foot. On the counter, he tosses a few pieces of the lunch meat--chicken he thinks that Wayne got from the deli--onto his sandwich.

He'd gotten up early by his standards--around ten. He got up mostly because he knew if he didn't catch you early enough your day would become a gambit of whatever errands your mother needed to run and that you'd get tagged along.

"It takes a few hours, Eds. To do it properly."

"It's hair," he counters. "And I get yours is different than mine. But--hours? You mean I have to go the whole day without one of your kisses because it's wash day?"

You know his shock and frustration isn't directed at you or is malicious. But you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, pushing out a deep breathe. He doesn't get it, you tell yourself. And Eddie can't know fully what it's like. He understood on a basic level but the depths he would never truly feel in his bones like you do yours.

"Yikes, I'm sorry. What did I say?" Eddie knows, even through a receiver when he's crossed a line with you.

"It's not just hair Eddie."

His full name. He definitely fucked up. "I'm sorry, hon. Those--the words, I could've said it better."

"You just want to hang out with me?" you pose it so you can understand better what Eddie really wants to say. There's no use is senseless arguing. Speaking and censoring where two things that took great effort with Eddie. Sure, he could physically talk a mile a minute, but there was a gear where the words were just automatic. You know what Eddie really wants to say and what he actually is saying are paths that could easily diverge.

"I wanted to see you today." Eddie nearly whispers it, setting the knife down as he finishes the swipe of mustard on the bread.

You worked--a by product of you graduating in Eddie's second attempt at senior year and not being in a position to afford college. So you stayed in town, helping your mother around and working. It was something Eddie dreaded. But you were working at one of the daycare centers a town over and nearly every time you and Eddie talked he had a story about one of the kids and you always sounded happy.

It worried Eddied that he really wouldn't find the thing that would make him smile like the daycare does for you. But high school, a third time, is fucking miserable. The two of you wouldn't really crossed paths post your graduation save for the occasional run ins around own and the town gossip. But you helped him with a project and the two of you became fast friends. Then you graduated. When you were out getting medicine for your mother you ran into Eddie again and his crush on you hadn't fully disapiated. Fast forward through the summer, now into the depths of October's breeze before the November freeze and the relationship blossomed.

But the realities were still there--you worked and the only time Eddie got with you was on the weekends. That is if your mother didn't snag you first and now it seemed you hair too.

The words escape you without hesitation. "Why don't you come over? You can stand to learn a thing or two about taking care of curls."

"My hair is perfectly fine."

"They are dying of thirst. Just get over here. Twenty minutes or we get started without you."

"No," Eddie wails around the frantic bites of his sandwich. "I'll be there in fifteen."

You can only laugh, listening to the way Eddie's screams are muffled by whatever it is he's eating before the line goes completely dead. He is a strange man, but you adore him regardless.

Eddie's just grateful, by the time he gets into the van, the last quarter of his sandwich in his hand, that you always extend him grace and then a little more. He feels like kicking himself after his comment. Of course it wasn't just hair. It never would be just hair--he'd seen all the intricate styles you'd weaved into the strands, the cornbrows creating a maze of your scalp that he liked to trace sometimes while you two watched movies. It always smelled good, shined a little and when Eddie asked why you always laughed a little, and said just a little bit of elbow grease is all.

Your street is only one more right turn away and Eddie is more mindful to slow down more than he normally does. Your street is busy at this time of the day on a Saturday. Kids played pick up games of basketball in the narrow street or rode bikes up and down before dumping them in someone's yard to play games of football.

Just as he expected, he can spot a game of 4 v 4 one house down from you. So Eddie creeps until he can pull up into your driveway. But the caution is all thrown out as he runs up to the front door of the house. He knocks are rapid and he bounces on the balls of his toes.

"Edward Munson," you tease, hollering from behind the door. A moment later, the lock gives and opens to reveal a grin. "Thirteen minutes."

"I lost a few seconds to finishing my breakfast."

You wave him inside and he quickly toes off his Reeboks before wrapping you up in a hug. The work coat--a hand me down from Wayne you're sure--doesn't swallow Eddie, but it is warm as you step into his embrace. He kisses the side of your head, arms encasing your waist tightly.

"Is that mustard I smell?" you ask, when Eddie exhales.

He laughs. "That's what you're worried about. The mustard on my breathe."

"It's a valid question."

"Only valid cus you got the nose of a dog," your mother teases as she approaches arms wide to give Eddie a hug too. "Good to see you again, sugar."

"Hi, Ma," Eddie laughs wrapping her into a hug too.

You expect Eddie just to watch, maybe attempt to give you a fauhawk when your hair is shampooed. But instead, he asks if you're okay with him stepping in. You and your mom had built a ritual. When she had the time, she'd wash your hair for you, deep condition it, part, cornrow and oil your scalp. It reminded you deeply of your childhood as she worked her fingers over your scalp or as you sat on the floor on a pillow as she sat behind you on the couch. But Eddie slips out of the jacket, rolls up the sleeves on the flannel he'd thrown on and ask if your mother can teach him, if he can be the one to do it.

You expect to laugh as Eddie tosses popcorn at you while you're sitting. You expect that you'll be the one to bring up to ask if Eddie will let you do a modified version of your wash day on him. But it's Eddie who breaks the seal and asks to be taught.

"I know it's important," he states. "I want to learn."

"You don't have to make up for earlier," you return, the towel already draped over your shoulders.

"I-" Well, Eddie is trying to make up for earlier. But he also wants to see and feel what makes this more than hair. "I appreciate that. But I feel like I need to get it. As best as I can of course."

Your mother easily agrees, but you keep staring him down. Those his eyes are big and you can always read them, you wonder for a moment if there's something that Eddie manages to hide as you watch him. All you feel those is genuineness.

You nod and Eddie nods, a smile gracing his face. "Thanks."

"Oh, don't say that just yet," your mother laughs. "Welcome to Black Hair 101. Detangling is going to be a bitch."

Eddie takes the outstretched comb, the teeth are tight together and a long silver need falls into his palm. "I'm going to need a picture dictionary," he laughs.

"We gotchu. C'mon. That there is a rat tailed comb. Good for parting and taking braids down," your mother directs not wasting another second.

Eddie nods, carefully taking you by the shoulder to pull you back into him. You scoot on your butt until your back hits the couch. The instruction of his hand, a titling of your head, is nearly too soft but you know what he's silently asking for.

Eddie's fingers are tentative, worried you might even say whereas your mothers hand are sure. But you like the feeling of him standing just off to the side of you as your bend your torso so your head is over the sink and his hips gently knock into your shoulder. He apologizes each time. "Nah, you're good," you state into the basin of the kitchen sink, fingers clutching the ends of the towel closed around your shoulder.

"Sorry," he whispers, fingers catching a knotted strand.

"Nah, you're good," you return.

It is a volley and each time you take hold of the apologies and return them with a soft reassurance. Eddie is good. He is okay. He is fine. He is just learning. He is just shampoo.ing He is good. He is okay. He is fine. He is just learning.

"That is a wide tooth comb," your mother direct. "Start at the ends, get that untangled first then you can go higher up. LIke this." She takes hold of a section, holding the mid shift tight and then working the comb through your ends. Once the comb goes through easily, she grabs higher up onto your hair and works the knots out before combing from the root to the ends.

Her arm is steady and swift. She knows just how much to tug, she knows when a knot needs more time to unravel the cause. She knows just when to put just a little bit more rake to get the desired result.

Eddie is slower. You can almost imagine how he's holding his breath each time his rake with the comb catches. You block the apology before it can fine. "You're fine. It's okay. It doesn't actually hurt me."

Eddie hums. He believes you, but he also knows the horrors of a bad knot.

The plastic crinkles in his hands, but he gets the cap over all your hair and tilts your head back. "Okay?"

"Perfect," you return, knowing that soon the hose will be plugged in and your mother will be setting a timer so you sit with the conditioner under heat for a few minutes.

You can only sit and watch. But the moment your mother gets the timer set, she's crooking her fingers for Eddie to follow. And into the kitchen they disappear again. You imagine it's clean up. Getting the shampoo and conditioner back up into the bedroom, cleaning out the combs, finding the rubber bands and hair grease.

But you only catch the sight of them from your periphery. But you take it. What catches your attention though, however clipped it is in your vision, is Eddie now posed at the sink.

Only your mother. You know she's fast. By the time the machine cools and then shuts off, Eddie's returning to the living room, his own hair dripping and resting against a towel. "She got you too, huh?" you laugh.

"I blinked and my head was under the faucet," he laughs.

You mother motions for you to scoot, and you do after peeling the cap off your head. Eddie takes your spot. "Just a couple minutes for you, sweetheart. Nothing too long."

He barely gets the nod before his hair it tucked up and way and the heat billows around his skull. Your mother is swift as she rinses your hair out and then the dryer turns off by the time the two of you can return to the living room.

"Should've brought a snack," Eddie teases, watching from the floor as your mother parts your hair.

"Told you it was called wash day."

"You hungry?" he asks, one hand resting on your knee. HIs thumb brushes over the exposed skin--thanks to the rise of your shorts due to you sitting.

"Nah, I'm good."

"This whole time I just thought you rinse conditioner out right after you got it through your hair," Eddie snorts.

"Lawd, have mercy," you and you mother echo. The room fills with cackles, a sheepish grin taking over Eddie's face.

"No one told me otherwise!" he defends. And it's true--Wayne most likely wouldn't have known. But now Eddie knows. Like he knows how to take down the cornrows. He knows how to shampoo, and detangle. He knows what sort of products you need. He'll figure out which ones are best for him later. He understands how to do a braid, but is sure, that his fingers won't cooperate. He almost wants to ask to try but the way your mother tugs and tucks, he fears he'd interrupt too much.

"You look like you wanna say something," you state, fingers tracing up Eddie's clothed calf.

"No, just watching," he answers. It's a lie. You both know it. But not even the arch of your brow gets him to confess.

Just as your mother plucks the last rubber band from the box, you unscrew the top on the jar of grease and hold it up. Your mother takes the pad of her fingers to take a small swipe, warming it up on the back of her hand before swiping it on your scalp. She follows the lines down and down to the nape of your neck.

Eddie peers in at the blue substance. His nose places the scent--something he's always connected to you-- but he never really knew what it looked like. It's jelly like, but easily pliable with a few rubs. He takes a taste amount, just dipping his pinkie into the jar.

"Just don't eat it," you laugh, watching Eddie inspect it.

"I doubt it would taste great," he concedes. You wave him in close, reaching for a different jar. He can't make out what it is, but you rub the cream between your palms and smooth it over his strands. You are careful as you finger coil clumps. It smells sweet. He catches the smell when you reach around his shoulders to take the towel.

"All done?" he questions.

"All done," you answer, pulling his head back by his forehead and kissing the end of his nose. "You hungry?"

Eddie peers to the clock next to the TV. Ten to three. "Shit, now that you mention it, yeah. But I see what you mean by it takes a whole day."

"Absolutely. We've got leftovers. Is that okay?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Give you strength to get hair products later. That'll be fun."

"You mean it's going to take another four hours," Eddie laughs.

"We have to get it right!" you defend.

Eddie stretches up, rubbing at your forearms. "I like the sound of that."

[encrucijada]

Please tell me everything there is to know about Bb&Gg 🙏 I’ve been scrolling the tags but I’m desperate for more!!! Hope you’re doing well 💛

omg first of all thank you so much 💖

and second, bb&gg are the initials of babylon boy and gossamer girl. a duology i co-write with my partner @teddywriting that is titled home habitat.

if you've scrolled through the tags you've got the general idea of what it's about but here are the basics: it follows our characters theodore "theo" rayes and maría paz "maripaz" vega, who each ran away from home for different reasons. they meet on the street and the plot of book 1 (babylon boy) follows their year of homelessness and how their relationship grows and changes. it is a very "characters over plot" book as the plot is really the emotional journey mari and theo go through, dealing with matters of want and trust and companionship. i'm not saying much about book 2 (gossamer girl), just that it follows the same character > plot structure and deals with matters of family and second opportunities.

throughout babylon boy theo is dealing with a drug addiction he is vehemently denying and maripaz is dealing with problems related to shame. talking about bb&gg is difficult without just explaining the entire character arcs these two go through. they first meet when theo helps maripaz shoplift some food and he steals one of the two necklaces she was wearing, this one with an angel pendant (this is important). upon fatefully meeting again theo returns the necklace to maripaz, having felt guilty for stealing it at all, and they form an alliance to help each other survive. the relationship obviously has a rocky start, not aided by each of them dealing with their own internal problems that they make external through arguments and once even ending in a physical fight.

if categorised in the fell first/fell harder, maripaz would be fell first. problem being her backstory includes her literally having just left a neglectful boyfriend that poisoned her rose-tinted look of romance, though it didn't kill it completely as maripaz is at her core a romantic. so, when she begins to catch feelings for theo she buries them and buries them deep. this would make theo the fell harder half of the equation, as he goes through a mini arc of realising he's demisexual and maripaz has the privilege of being the first person he's ever felt romantic and sexual attraction towards.

the real progression of events is a bit hazy. teddy and i do a lot of bite-sized rps that are very call and response, very "yes, and," so whatever happens is revealed to us as it happens. the book properly is not something we've started yet as we're either too busy (teddy) or burned out (me) for it atm. we've got around... 5... ? moments decided, if you don't count the meeting at the start. one of those being the physical fight i mentioned above. said fight is whom we have to thank for home habitat existing at all, we revisited it and a story with character arcs and a whole sequel sprung out. the other scenes are the church scene, the pool scene, the halo scene, and the ending! (not explaining any of those, sorry). i always have a really hard time trying to talk about mari and theo. they are so much the result of their environment that i feel i need to explain not just them but every other character in this universe so people understand. and then you'll be stuck hearing me talking about every single character because i'm also unwell about all of them.

home habitat is a bit of a change of form for what is "base canon" for mari&theo. mari and theo's twin sister bee are usually best friends, a very "extrovert adopts introvert" situation. tge character alex moore and theo are usually best friends, it is a Thing(tm) that they are best friends, in some aus they even live together. but because of the setting of home habitat, mari and bee have never met and neither have theo and alex. in fact, alex and mari were friends in school in this version. i am a little sad people might never get to see that version of them, as these four as a Group(tm) are very dear and special to me.

but yeah, i'll leave it at that. thank you again! 💖 hope you're doing well too

[merlinsbudgiesmugglers]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @charmsandtealeaves

How many works do you have on AO3? 74, but some of those are drabble fests/micro fics that are in the same fic.

2. What's your total A03 words count? 118,466

3. What fandoms do you write for? Just Harry Potter

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (I'm skipping the first two here, because they're my Remadora Ficlets and my Fluffbruary stories) 1. Something Bad Rated M, Harry comes downstairs to make breakfast for Ginny's birthday, only to discover that Lily has shown her first instance of accidental magic and covered the kitchen in flour.

2. Not Tonight Rated M, My first Tedromeda fic! Written for the TTB Yule Bash last year and the beginning of an obsession.

3. The Truth Rated G, I didn't realise this one had so many kudos. It's Tonks telling her parents about Sirius' death and admitting to them about her situationship with Remus the morning after the Ministry.

4. When Pain is Over Rated G, Lily Luna gets an insight into what Ginny went through during the war.

E.) How Lily Luna Got Her Name Rated T, My attempt at answering the question, why was Luna the only living person the Potters named their children after?

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I try to respond to every comment, mostly because I love when authors reply to me. Sometimes I fall behind or I miss some, but I do my best.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angtiest ending? Probably Grief which is an exploration of Andromeda's grief after the war, or Don't Go, which is Tonks leaving Teddy with Andromeda. Basically anything to do with Andromeda losing nearly everyone she holds dear. 7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Too many to count, I love a happy ending!!

8. Do you get hate on fics? No I've never gotten any hate, but I do mostly write for a smaller ship that doesn't have a competing ship, so there's less opportunity for hate.

9. Do you write smut. If so what kind? I do, but I struggle with it. I much prefer a fade to black sometimes

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Nope

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? No, I honestly don't know how I would go with co-writing. But maybe I'll give it a go one day.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Shockingly, it's Tedromeda. 15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? My Tedromeda Anastasia AU. I've written a couple of scenes but I don't know if I'll ever actually write it properly.

16. What are your writing strengths? The yearning haha

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Finishing long fics

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Love it when it's in other fics, not something I think I'll ever be able to do without a lot of help.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? Haha this literally changes every day. Today it's Bad Idea

Tagging: @celestemagnoliathewriter @artemisia-black @hinnyfied @lanaturnergetup @somesunlitdays @incalculablepower