#just saw the worst take on tiktok and had to come back here

[im-trying-guys]

Listen you can dislike any ship you want but please don’t come out here saying sonadow is a proship please tell me y’all know what cryosleep is

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

BEFORE I START

Yes, another story of Curly. What can i do? I love him.

THIS IS ALL INSPIRED BY THIS AWESOME ARTIST THAT I FOUND ON TIKTOK

btw the curly of this story will kook like this so you can already imagine him.

The user is ladonb.kokosa

PLEASE GO CHECK THEIR ART ITS WONDERFUL

That being said. Lets get start with

Part 1 - Next

"Cryostasis ended"

"His vital signs are stable"

"Who could it be?"

"Disinfect the wounds"

"There are no more survivors"

"They authorized us to give him the implant."

The man could hear several voices in the distance, he saw silhouettes, shadows, he couldn't distinguish the people around him.

He felt them putting a mask on him to anesthetize him, and everything went dark again.

When he woke up, he saw a woman checking his signs, and he was astonished to recognize her despite some of her physical changes.

She was his fiancée, the woman he was supposed to marry after that trip.

Why did she look like that? She seemed older, but in his sigth, she remained beautiful.

He made some sounds to get her attention, causing her to turn and look at him. She approached and pressed something on his neck.

Curly: "Linda..."

Linda: "...No... Tell me it's not you..."

The woman immediately stepped back, covering her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing.

She didn't recognize the man laying in that bed in front of her, and she prayed so hard that he wasn't the man she was going to marry, but the fact that he recognized her confirmed her fear.

He could understand the terror on her face, but he didn't know there was something else he didn't know.

She took a deep breath and set her fear aside, sitting next to the man.

Linda: "Curly... If it really is you..." she said, still holding out a small hope that it wasn't him, "You were cryogenically frozen for 20 years... They rescued you because the Tulpar re-entered orbit near Earth before running out of energy, they were able to detect it and bring it back without causing damage, and that's how they found you inside... You have been in the hospital for two weeks today..."

He wanted to laugh as if what he was being told was a bad joke, it couldn't have been that long, right?

But looking closely at her, the small wrinkles now on her face and the few gray hairs she had showed her that she was real.

Linda: "They didn't find any more survivors and... The same press has taken care of paying your medical expenses because they want to hear your story... You have an implant in your neck so you can speak, a voice box, you have to press it if you have difficulties but in a while you won't need to do it anymore... and they did a skin graft... Including some prosthetics..."

She carefully took the prosthetics of his arms and raised them so he could see them, Curly felt like a completely different being.

Linda: "I recommend that you ask for what you want now because... As soon as they find out you're awake... They're going to bombard you with questions and the press will come here, they won't show any mercy."

The man tried to raise the prosthesis and pressed his implant on his neck to be able to speak.

Curly: "What about us?"

Linda: "Oh Curly..." she sighed, "When you didn't come back, I thought the worst... That you were dead... I just keep going with my life... I married someone else, I have two children... There is no longer an 'us'."

Before he could say anything else, a reporter peeked in and made a fuss upon seeing him awake; the place filled up in seconds.

The woman lowered her head and left the room in search of security to throw out the press, but the harassment didn't end there.

Curly chose to give them the answers to the questions they had by scheduling a meeting at the hospital.

Thanks to this, many people started donating things to him, including money to help him reintegrate into society.

But beyond the kindness of people, no one wanted to take care of him and help him, not even the nurses, they said they couldn't spend too much time near him.

Linda took care of him during his stay in the hospital while they fixed up his house that had been left abandoned.

Linda: "I found someone who can take care of you."

She commented while pushing his wheelchair, entering his house, that it looked completely renovated.

Linda: "I don't know if you still remember that I mentioned my younger sister, (Y/n), a couple of times?"

Curly: "The one who lived with your father?"

Linda: "That's right... My mom got full custody of her after a few years, and since then she has been living with her until she became independent shortly after turning 18..." 

Curly: "She was 12 back then..."

Linda: "She recently lost her job, I thought it would be a good opportunity for her. She is very responsible, I promise."

When they arrived in the room, he could see a woman standing and looking at the paintings hanging on the walls.

He had never met his fiancée's sister, but he had heard many stories about her, about how her father unjustly gained custody by labeling their mother as crazy, and since then they had fought to get the girl back.

He had been struck by how incredibly different she was from her sister; you two didn't seem related at all.

Linda: "Good thing you were already here," she mentioned with a smile to catch your attention. 

When you turned to look at them, Curly didn't expect such seriousness from you towards your older sister. 

"...Thank you for the job opportunity, I will do my best to help you," you mentioned, looking at the man, ignoring the woman. 

Linda: "Let me show you where everything is-"

"I've already been getting familiar with the place, it's not necessary, you can go."

Linda: "At least let me tell you which medications you should-"

"You have already sent me a message with clear instructions. I can do this, Lin."

Curly: "You should be more respectful to your older sister."

Upon hearing him speak, you turned to look at him again, without any expression. 

"...Lin"

Linda: "I'll leave, there is no problem. I'm sure you've already memorized everything to the letter. If you have any problem, don't hesitate to call me."

She indicated, she didn't want to make a scene and left without even saying goodbye to either of them. 

"...So you are Curly... It's a pleasure to meet you, I hope we get along well."

You had already made a bad first impression on Curly by treating the love of his life so poorly. 

"Lin left your pill organizer with me, and gave me the schedule for them, it's time for the first pill."

You took a bottle and opened it to take a pill, causing the man to tense up a bit as he remembered moments when he was given his painkillers.

Noticing his nervousness, you tilted your head somewhat confused and went to get something to drink so he could take the pill. 

What a surprise he got when you brought him a cup of chocolate along with the pill. 

"When I was little... I didn't know how to swallow pills, I would choke, so I would bite them... My dad used to give me pills with chocolate milk so I wouldn't have a bad taste in my mouth, don't you like the taste of the pills? These can be very bitter..." 

He thought it was very kind of you to consider that, immediately regretting having judged you without knowing anything about you. 

You helped him take the pills, giving him chocolate to drink slowly, it really helped with the bitter taste. 

Maybe... you weren't so bad.

[vienssunshine]

The Girl Next Door

pairing: Makima x fem!reader nsfw/cw: dom!Makima, mind control, mind break, noncon, gore, dark wc: 3.3k author's note: this was inspired by a tiktok cosplay i saw description: a lady covered in blood shows up to your door, just wanting to be let in

With money so tight, moving into one of the small houses in the outskirts of the city was your only option. Though a little rundown, your new home seemed nice enough, cozy and rustic, with your favorite part being how it sits right on the coast. The papers were signed and you could finally breathe a sigh of relief; living in a place of your own, without loud roommates or money-hungry landlords, was just what you needed to get your life back on track.

But then you tried to invite your coworkers over for a small housewarming party. Their smiles fell when you shared your address, and they asked only one question: did you know what went on at the house at the end of the street? 

You had noticed it, of course, the house was hard to miss, so large that it seemed like it was always about to teeter and fall off its perch on the cliffside. But it ultimately wasn’t a factor when buying your property, the price point of your small home the primary consideration. The only thing you had noted was the pleasant view it provided during sunset, the mansion-house sitting over the water reflecting the sky’s blend of colors was a picturesque sight. It was only when night fell and the wind began carrying screams through your windows you finally believed your coworkers' once ridiculous claims—that the house was owned and used by members of the Yakuza.

The first few weeks settling in to your new home were difficult. The noises at night haunted you—the rumbles of tires on gravel as cars traveled past your house up the cliff, the raucous laughter during game nights, and the occasional round of muffled gunshots. You’d close the windows and press your pillow to your ear.

Sometimes men would come up to your doorstep, banging on the door to ask for help finding the only house they could be looking for. You’d quickly give them directions, but once they got a good look at you, they’d change the conversation, saying how they could help you out with your living situation, take you to a much nicer place to which you’d have to awkwardly laugh and excuse yourself. You got an additional lock and stopped answering the door. 

It took you the better half of one month to learn all you need to know about this place, which is that it’s best to ignore anything that happens outside of your home.

Yet, tonight is eerily quiet. You hadn’t even had to shut the window. Besides the chatter from the show playing on your TV box, there’s only the gentle crash of waves on the shore and the low hum of the wind.

Your gaze wanders from the flickering screen to the open window behind you on the couch. The gap in the trees swaddling your house allows a straight line of sight from your living room window to the front of the infamous property, a sight you once admired. You felt like the biggest idiot in the world when you found out you had just moved into one of the worst areas near the city, but it's not like the place screams “this is a Yakuza house, don’t move here!” In fact, aside from the few cars pulled up in the driveway, the place looks abandoned tonight—all the lights are off, leaving the full moon alone to illuminate the house. It’s a strange sight for a Friday night. The place is usually spilling over with drunk guests on weekends, a chaos you usually can avoid by working the night shift. 

Then the front door opens and a figure strolls out onto the porch. It’s not any of the men you’ve seen lurking around before—it’s someone new, a woman. 

She doesn’t look like she’s from the area, dressed plainly yet sharp in a patterned button-up, a black tie, and slacks. Most of her hair is pulled back aside from her bangs that frame her face neatly. What could she be doing out there so late at night? Does she not know what goes on at that house?

The woman descends the stairs, stepping out into the moonlight. With a better look at her, the pattern on her shirt sticks out as strange. Dark, red splatters soak her white blouse. Your breath catches in your throat. It looks like blood. 

Her eyes flick over to yours. They’re orange and bright with a glow that cuts through the dark veil of the night right into your window. 

You duck down onto the couch, curled up into yourself. 

She saw you.

You don’t know how it’s even possible, your house is almost a mile away and in the company of the other homes scattered along the treeline that look just like yours. How did she know to look at your house, right at your open window?

Whatever the explanation, you just poked your nose into business you shouldn’t have. Your one fucking rule and you broke it. 

You get up and lock your door. Both locks. You test the knob with a twist, and then a yank. When it doesn’t move, you back up and sit down onto the couch, pulling your knees up to your chest. The TV has switched to running infomercials, but the chatter of the hosts is distant and unintelligible, blocked out by each drum of your rapid heartbeat echoing through your head.

Maybe you’re overreacting, letting your coworkers' stories get to you. No, there's something different about this kind of panic—it's instinctual. There's something wrong that you can't place but your body can, even if it can't communicate it back to you.

There’s a knock at your door. You startle to your feet. No, it can’t be her. That’s not physically possible. 

“Hello?” A calm voice travels through the door. 

It is. 

You hurry to the side of the couch furthest from the door, crouching down behind it with a hand pressed to your mouth, eyes locked onto the door you’re absolutely not answering. Maybe she’ll think no one’s home?

“I know you’re in there.”

Shit. Of course she knows, the TV is still playing. You don’t know what to do. You look around, frantically. Is there anything you can use as a weapon? A magazine…an empty cup…a shoe…?

The door you’re certain was just locked—you locked it, both locks—slowly opens, revealing the lady from the porch miraculously standing in the doorway. She couldn’t have run here, her hair still falls perfectly around her face, not disheveled at all.

Her eyes find your crouched form barely protected by the couch. She tilts to the side, greeting you with a polite smile, “Hello there. May I come in?”

You stand up, fingers digging into the arm of the couch. “I didn’t see anything,” you hurry out, “Nothing at all. Please, I–I don’t want any trouble.”

She rights herself before letting her gaze make a round over your body, sizing you up. “You seem nervous,” she observes, “I’m sure a simple conversation can sort this all out.”

“You just want to...talk?” It can’t be that easy. These people, they’re—your mind flashes to the hand, only a hand, that washed up on the shore during your morning walk last week. They’re the type of people to do things like that. 

“Yes,” she responds. Her expression remains placid, polite, and completely unreadable. You’re not certain her look would change if she decided to strangle you to death right now. 

No, you’re not going to let it end like this, your own stupidity killing you. You will not be a hand on the beach, and you’ll do anything to avoid such a fate. And if it’s a conversation she wants, you’ll just have to make sure you don’t say the wrong thing. 

“All right,” you say. “We can talk.”

She steps into the room and closes the door behind her. Then, she leans down to pick up the remote from your coffee table, pressing a button and clicking off the TV. Now it’s just you, her, and the roar of the waves below.

“Sit down,” she says, gesturing to your couch, like it’s hers to offer. Circling around the arm of the couch, you glance over to the window. It’s still open. The cliffside is steep, but if you jumped up on the couch and through the window–

She repeats herself, “Sit down,” and you do. Right, that’s the goal, to talk this out. Coming up with an escape plan would only worsen your stress, it’s easier to just do as she says and hopefully get this whole fuck-up of yours fixed.

The woman sits in the armchair perpendicular to the couch, staining it with the blood on her clothes...it's a lot more than what you could see from a distance and completely removes the possibility of cleaning the chair, you'll have to thrift another one.

She tilts her head, giving you a thin-lipped smile. “I’m Makima, head of the Public Safety Devil Hunter organization. I understand you’re a witness to my involvement in what’s happened up the street.” 

You shake your head. “No, I didn’t see anything.” 

Makima’s smile falters. “Don’t lie to me again.” 

Your mouth goes dry. “Uh–okay. Sorry.”

The smile returns.

“You weren’t supposed to be home this evening,” she asserts. 

You furrow your brows. How would she–? “Yeah, I–uh–switched my shift with a coworker. They had something come up last minute.” 

���Ah, I see,” Makima says, steepling her fingers. “I hate last minute changes.”

You press your lips together and give an awkward nod. “Yeah.” You’re not sure whether this interaction is going well or not, and that’s not how you want to feel when your life's on the line. 

“Well, I find myself in a difficult position.” Makima leans back in the chair. “What I should do is kill you. No one was supposed to see me tonight.”

You knew getting involved in anything related to that house would only bring trouble. Now it’s right here, sitting across from you. You almost break your promise, about to try to convince her that you saw nothing, when she continues:

“But, the standard solution isn’t always the most practical solution.” 

“Right,” you add, like your opinion means anything.

She leans her weight onto the left side of the armchair, studying you. “I do love my job, making a difference in Japan and such, but it can be very taxing. Especially when dealing with the animals that were your neighbors.” 

Your neighbors. It’s their blood on her clothes. You wonder why you don’t feel so bad about that. Or why you can’t take your eyes off of her, even if she’s soaked in blood. It must have something to do with this eerie pull she has—the more she talks, the more you want to listen.

“I do not get many opportunities to release this stress. Many of the men I work with," she sighs, "are insufficient."

"So," she continues, "instead of killing a pretty girl like you, I think there’s a way to resolve our situation favorably for both of us.” She uncrosses her legs. Your eyes flick down to her spread lap before jumping back up to hers. 

“Um, I don’t know what you mean,” you respond, even if the unexpected pulse through your veins contradicts your words. Your body must be becoming confused, all the adrenaline and nerves—your quick breaths, pounding heart, dizziness—it’s beginning to be understood as arousal. 

Makima hums. Then, her hands pull the black tie loose from her collar and go to the topmost button on her blouse. 

“Wait, what are you–” The button is undone, and your protest fades away at the slightest glimpse of her collarbone. Suddenly, you don’t feel like interrupting anymore. Instead, you sit quietly and watch, transfixed, as each little button pops open in succession, revealing the milky skin and black lacy bra underneath. It’s fucked up that how attractive she looks while undressing from blood-splattered clothing. She shrugs off the shirt and it falls onto the back of the chair, the sight of her exposed torso making your stomach flip.

“Do you understand better now?” Makima asks, a coy lilt in her voice.

You let out a shaky breath, eyes roaming over the curves of her breasts and waist. Her body is heavenly, a miracle it ever landed on Earth. The Yakuza…the blood…it’s all slipping away as she emerges to the forefront of your mind. 

“Take my pants off,” she commands, not even looking at you, rather, examining the black tie dripping between her fingers. Though moments ago you were frightened for your life, it’s without hesitation that you fall to your knees in front of her, your nervous hands working to undo the button on her black slacks. You’ve never felt like this before, a sudden desire so strong it’s overcoming your system, but, with a beautiful woman and her flushed face and lowered lids looking down at you, feeling this way is only what makes sense. 

“There you go,” she says, helping you slide off the pants. A lacy thong that matches her bra skates high up over her hip bones, making a V that draws your eyes down to the warmth between her thighs. Now unhindered, her scent leaks into the air, and your eyes flutter as you inhale. It's intoxicating, seeping into your system and clouding your mind, making it harder to think, even to move, until Makima’s words cut through the haze. “It’s okay to touch.”

She reaches down and picks up your wrists, placing your hands on the curve of her waist. You shudder, she’s so soft. Your fingertips roam her torso, exploring the curves and dips of her body, sinking into the flesh that gives as you squeeze into it. Then your fingers travel down and hook underneath the straps of her underwear, lifting the fabric from her skin. The reveal of that small patch hidden by the black strings only feeds your desire more, it’s growing much larger than you can handle.

Makima smirks down at you. “Is there something you want to do?” She spreads her legs wider, gifting you more of her to look at. 

No, you shouldn’t do anything, shouldn't even want to. Getting involved with her is a terrible idea. She's a murderer, she—Makima brings your fingers to the gusset of her underwear—she—she's so wet for you. Makima guides your christened fingertips to your lips and you swipe your tongue over them, drinking in the saccharine flavor. Those heavy thoughts are soon pushed from your head, leaving you only with your deep want to please.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you answer, looking up to her for permission, eyelids lowered in a desire-drunken state.

“So sweet,” she says, resting the side of her face on her hand, “You may.”

Relief overcomes your chest, so grateful that Makima would allow you to touch her in the way you so desperately want to. She’s so kind, so giving. It’s hard to remember why you were even scared in the first place, now your only fear is to be away from her touch, to live without the warmth her blazing gaze casts upon you.

Makima cants her hips up off the cushion of the chair so you can pull off her underwear by its strings, drinking in the way her wetness sticks to the fabric for a moment after separation. Your hands are on her thighs the moment you rid them of the underwear, fingertips squeezing into the plush flesh. You ease her knees open to get a full view of the dripping cunt before you, the sight of it as glorious as the scent. 

You press a kiss to her inner thigh, and then another, but find yourself moving things along faster than usual. There’s a magnetic draw to her center, one that pulls you in between her thighs so before you know it your panting mouth is inches from her pulsing cunt. 

“Go ahead,” Makima encourages, “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

You hum your affirmation, unable to fully process the question, too distracted by the desire spewing through your veins; it’s only intensifying, it needs to be acted on. 

It’s the moment your tongue touches the sweet nectar dripping from her cunt that any remaining doubt, hesitation, or concern floating around your mind evaporates. The sensation is overpowering, the best thing you’ve ever had to grace your tastebuds, and you instinctively lap at her cunt again, hungry for more.

“So eager, aren’t we?” Makima teases as your hands land on her hips, locking your body in place as you drink in her fluids. 

“Yes,” you slur, barely able to get the word out as you lick and suck. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s making your body buzz, your brain drunk.

“That’s good,” she says, “I–ah–I needed this.” 

Her praise sends dopamine flooding through your system—she likes that you’re doing this, it’s making her feel good. You like it so much that you’re making her feel good. It makes you feel so good. It’s all you could ever want. What else is there?

You moan into her thighs, wanting to touch between your own, but not daring to release yourself from the pleasure of touching her. It’s like her skin is seeping a toxin into yours, inspiring a reaction that you know you should push down but can’t, only able to sink your fingers deeper into the flesh of her hips, strengthening your body’s connection to hers as you swipe your tongue along her cunt. It’s so warm on your mouth, her folds soft and pliant as they welcome the tongue pushing through them that’s insistent on exploring every inch of her now that you’ve been granted access.

Makima’s hand lands on your head, running her fingers along your hair in slow, even strokes—petting you. Your hips twitch at her stimulation, oh how you love when she touches you.

“You’d make such a good pet,” she says.

Pet. You’d love to be her pet. Worry free, protected, loved. You could leave this whole situation behind you. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, and she could give it to you. 

“Please,” you whimper into her warmth, “Make me yours.”

“You want to be my pet?” she repeats, her free hand closing in around the black tie still sitting in her palm.

“Yes,” you murmur, eyes glazed over. In this moment, it’s all you could ever dream about. 

Makima grins and leans forward, wrapping her black tie around your neck, tying it, and pulling it tight. Then she sits back, and with a yank, returns you to the space between her legs with her makeshift leash. 

“Then keep going, pet.” 

You moan and eagerly return to your position between her thighs, eating her out messily, sloppily, like a goddamn animal. 

Her fingers tighten in your hair and her head falls back against the back of the chair. “Fuck,” she moans, “That’s a good pet. Good–ah–pet, such a good pet.”

You want to keep being her good pet. Making her feel so good so her chest rises and falls rapidly with her short, uneven breathes and so she pulls at your hair like she is now. You don’t care about the pain—how unnaturally strong her grip is, how tightly her thighs are locked around your head, how the tie is chafing the skin of your neck. None of that matters. The pleasure of serving her outweighs all of it. You’ll give her what she wants, no matter the consequences.

And she only wants one thing right now. So you bury your face even deeper, bringing all your attention to her throbbing clit. Her hips jolt, lifting her aching hole up and you meet it with a finger that you push into her warmth. She clamps around you, pulling your finger into her. You just add another and she takes it too. Your lungs are burning—not having taken a breath yet—but you don’t care. You’d die here if it meant she’d cum. You’d die here if she merely asked you to.

With a low, long moan she seizes on your eager tongue, fingers tight around your leash as she pulls you by it into her deeper. You lick and suck as she cums all over your face, drenching you in her scent, her flavor. Claiming you. 

You sit back on your heels, watching her, waiting for whatever she says next. A command follows, “Redress me.”

Like a good little pet, you do, pulling her underwear back up her legs, then her pants. Finally, her bloodied blouse.

“Your clothes are still dirty,” you say, “Do you want to wear mine?” Instinctively you go to pull your shirt up but Makima waves her hand.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Okay,” you say, “And your tie?” Your hands come up to your neck to untie it at her request.

Her eyes flick down to the fabric around your throat. “Keep it as a reminder of who you belong to.”

“I will,” you agree, hands coming back down from your neck. As you lower them, you notice some of the blood from her clothes has transferred over, staining your skin in uneven splotches. 

When you look back up she’s halfway out the door. “No one needs to hear about our little encounter. Or anything at all regarding tonight, correct?”

“Of course not,” you respond. Not even torture would get you to betray Makima. You’re hers now.

“Good pet,” she rewards you. The door closes behind her and you walk into the kitchen to wash your hands.

There’s no reason to worry about the house at the end of the street anymore.

[alotofpockets]

Holiday break | Mary Earps x Reader

Where you enjoy a Barbados holiday with your wife

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

“Welcome back to another edition of Mazza’s hotel tours!” Mary says as she opens the hotel room door and urges her fans inside, and by her fans she means you holding the phone to upload the video to her TikTok later. 

“A lot of you wonder who films these hotel tour videos and today I would like you to meet the lovely videographer.” She takes the phone from your hands and turns the camera around. “It’s my lovely wife!” You wave at the camera. “Alright love, give that back now please. The people aren’t here to see me, they are here for the legendary Mazza.” The camera captures the way you lovingly look at your wife before she hands you back the phone. 

“And now onto the tour! Welcome to our beautiful room in Barbados.” You follow Mary around as she shows off your hotel room, in each room she mentions something about the decor, and makes it show like she always does. Your wife was known for her TikTok’s and even on holidays the woman did not disappoint. 

On the balcony overlooking the beach Mary finished the video, “Thank you for coming along, and I am sure I will see you again soon!” 

Mary made quick work on editing the video, while she was laying in your arms. A couple minutes of editing and the video was posted. “Alright, do you want to go to the pool or the beach first?” She asked, turning in your arms so she could peck your lips a couple of times after her question. “Wanna go check out the beach first?” 

After a short walk you arrive on the white sand and see the turquoise water up close for the first time. “It’s so beautiful.” Mary smiles at you, “Yeah it is, just like you.” It didn’t matter how many years you had been married to the goalkeeper, she would never stop flirting with you. “Alright flirt, let’s find a spot and enjoy this holiday.”

It didn’t take long before Mary ran into the ocean and dived in instantly. “Baby, come on! It’s so nice.” Who were you to say no to her? You approached the water at a slower pace, but once your feet touched the water, you got to the same level of excitement of your wife. “I can’t believe this place is real.” 

Mary took hold of your hand and pulled you closer to her, “Well believe it baby, and it's our home for the next week.” You grabbed her face with both your hands and kissed her. “This holiday is going to be perfect.”

In her hotel tour video she had said they would see more of her soon, and when Mary saw you peacefully sunbathing on your towel, she had the perfect idea of what to do next. She grabbed her phone and an empty bottle before walking to the water's edge.

“I’ve got probably the worst idea of my life, so I am documenting this in case it will be my final TikTok ever. So, my wife is over there napping in the sun.” She zoomed in on you laying on the beach. “And I have this bottle that I just filled with water from the ocean. I think you all know where my head is at right now. Anyways, if you don’t hear from me again, this is proof that I deserve what’s coming to me.” Mary laughs at the camera before she turns the camera around and approaches you slowly.

The moment the cold water hit your back you shot up, “Oh my god that’s so cold!” You jump up to shake off the cold water and see Mary laughing with the camera on your face. “You’re dead, Earps.” You say before you start chasing after her. The video ends when you tackle your wife to the ground and the two of you roll onto the sand. Mary ended up posting it like that, with your permission of course. You made her think you were even, but you had already thought of your revenge plan, you just had to wait until you were at the pool. 

A plan that came into action the next morning. “Oh baby, I saw this fun trend where people put their phone down and then step over it in one location, and then again in a new location so it looks like they travelled through the phone. Here, let me show you some examples.” You grab your phone and open your saved TikTok’s to show your wife the trend.

Mary loved the trend and asked what you had in mind for the location. “So, I was thinking we start it here, like fully dressed and then we end it at the pool in our swimsuits.” Mary was on board and you set up the shot at the hotel. 

She stepped over the phone first, and you followed. Then you changed into your swimsuits and headed down to the pool. It was still quiet, so you had the pool to yourselves. You set up the phone so the background showed the pool and the beautiful surroundings. Mary jumped over first again and then turned around, waving for you to come too. You jump over and run to hug her, but instead of hugging her, you push her into the pool. “And that is how it’s done.” You say to the camera as you pick it up to walk over to the pool’s edge. 

“What do you have to say to the fans, baby?” You smirk wide at your girlfriend leaning up on the pool’s edge. “If you mess with your wife, she messed with you back?” You nod, “Yeah, remember that people!”

You set the phone away and join Mary in the pool. “How about no more pranks for the rest of the week?” Mary swims towards you, “Hmm, what’s the fun in that?” You roll your eyes, Mary knew you loved pranks just as much as she did.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[charmedreincarnation]

My sucess story

Trigger Warning: Abusive, homophobia, mentions of suicide

Hey there, Maya! I just had to take a moment and express my appreciation for all the fantastic posts you put out. I can now confirm, without a shadow of a doubt, that shifting is real, manifesting is real, and so is the void. Our desires and ambitions aren't in vain.

I've been part of the shifting community since 2020 when it exploded on TikTok. It might not matter much, but as a gay man, I rarely saw other guys in the community (though Reddit and Amino have a more diverse crowd). I've always felt more comfortable in women-centric spaces because they tend to be less judgmental.

I never saw success stories from guys, especially the kind I wanted to see - like waking up in a new world, not just manifesting money or a girlfriend (or boyfriend in my case >.<). I've always been spiritual and interested in witchcraft, voodoo, deities, and now manifesting and shifting. But it felt like nothing would let me shift.

Growing up with homophobic and physically abusive parents, struggling with poverty, depression, homelessness, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and more, I began to feel like you could only manifest and shift if your life was okay. I didn't have the luxury of time or safety to practice methods, constantly dealing with noise, verbal abuse, or physical violence.

Then, I read this post

https://www.reddit.com/r/shiftingrealities/comments/14v4lw3/how_to_shift_the_next_time_you_go_to_sleep/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=ioscss&utm_content=2&utm_term=1

It led me to your Tumblr because OP used some of your old posts and talked about the concept of the void. All searched lead to tumblr. A couple of months ago (2.5 ish) after one of the worst days of my life, I went to bed sobbing, trying to block out the noise around me, praying and crying for anything - death, shifting, a new identity...

Everything around me started to fade - it was as if I was being engulfed by a white, serene blanket of nothingness. It was completely silent, and I couldn't see or feel anything. The only thing that seemed to persist was my awareness.

Now, I've read about the void before, but mostly in the context of it being a black, empty space. So, I'm not entirely sure if what I experienced was indeed the void or something altogether different. The concept still baffles me a bit, but I'm learning and growing through these experiences.

Regardless of where I was, my heart was set on reaching my dr.I kept praying and hoping, to wake up in my DR.

I woke up in my Twitch streamer DR! I found myself in a completely unfamiliar yet perfect place. My room was equipped with a high-end PC, top-notch gaming gear, and quaint decor items. Milo, my dog, was there too. I was sharing a mansion in LA with my boyfriend and four other streamers. The house was beyond my imagination, and streaming here was a dream come true. As night fell, my friends and I explored the vibrant LA nightlife, creating lasting memories.

After a week, i can’t lie I almost forgot I had shifted here. Then, I set an intention to shift back into this reality but where I had moved out, lived with my best friend and their supportive parents, mastered shifting and manifesting, had my desired looks, and money came easily to me. And it worked!

Since then, I've been living my best boujee gay life, and I shift all the time. I even created a waiting room where I'm immortal and use it whenever I need a break. I wish I could offer better advice, but like everyone says, there isn't a key to shifting. It's different for everyone. But you can and will shift. You can manifest your dream life. You can and deserve to be happy

Oh my god, I'm so happy for you, love 💕💕. I also completely related to what you felt. I know it can seem like your circumstances are holding you back, but believe me when I say this - that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's that same resilience, and your ability to persist despite the odds, that paved the way to your dream life. There’s nothing, I mean nothing that can stop you. Not wavering, crying, or doubt. Nothing. If you want it, it’s yours.

[twilghtkoo]

ride: rendezvous [part two] jjk

“where we going?” “you’ll see.”

summary. you’re having one of the worst days so jungkook takes you to his favorite place

pairings. biker!jungkook x reader (f)

genres/aus. fluff, comfort, s2l, f2l, college au

warnings. slight peek of popular!jk, reader has anxiety, mentions of a panic attack

word count.

notes. this series is in chronological order so this is a bit after their first date!! a scene that i wrote is inspired by a tiktok i saw 🛐 guys i was deadass when i said i keep seeing motorcycle tiktoks on my fyp T__T it was so random but my brain somehow connected it to jungkook, anyway !!! stream still with you and likes/reblogs are appreciated >_<

[ series masterpost | masterlist | taglist ]

—

you failed.

you failed the test.

you stared at your laptop screen, the big, bold, red colored fifty-nine almost mocking you in a sense. if the nine grew a pair of eyes and a mouth it’d be laughing at you right now.

you don’t get it. you’ve studied for this test, knowing it’d play a big part in your overall grade, and you still managed to flunk it.

tears started to form, blurring your vision, before you remember that you’re in the library that occupy other fellow students that don’t need to see a mental breakdown and a forming anxiety attack. even though they probably would’ve understood. you shut your laptop and shove the electronic inside your bag, standing up to push your chair in to make your way to the exit doors.

jungkook isn’t here with you today. he was working on a project with a couple of his classmates somewhere on campus, you can’t remember his text.

and although you wish you could just dial his number and cry to him, you don’t. no matter how bad your chest is tightening. instead, just taking the bus home and already deciding to have a crying session with your pillows.

-

“see you later jeon.”

jungkook waves one last time to namjoon and taehyung, his classmates, before he heads in the opposite direction. shoving his hands in the front of his jean pockets as he takes his time to walk to the campus’s parking garage.

he can feel the stares of the people who pass by but he ignores them.

he’s reminded of the one girl who’s been on his mind and he pulls his phone out to see if he’s gotten any notifications from you. but there’s none.

that’s strange. he pouts at his screen, only a few notifications being emails from his teachers and some from social media. but they don’t speak out to him the way yours do. he’s familiar with your schedule so he knows you’re out of class already. you usually text him to tell him how your class went and spam his tiktok with a dozen of tiktoks— he watches them all by the way.

before he concerns any further, his phone dings and he freezes.

“oh, jungkook!” a girl shouts from behind him, waving to get his attention. quickly glancing at her before he starts to pick up his pace. is she from one of his classes? he can’t remember.

he gives a tight lipped smile before he starts jogging. “can’t talk right now.”

yn 👑

ur out of class aren’t u, can u come over? ;-;

-

you got home about an hour ago and you still haven’t broke down. the heavy weight on your chest was becoming too much, but why won’t your body let you give out.

you groan out loud, turning over on your bed and clutching your plushie that looks like it’s been through hell and back— you’ve had it since you were a kid, okay— tighter against your chest. hoping it’ll ease the pain in your chest.

the familiar roar of a motorcycle awakens you and you’re quick to hop on your feet and rush to your door.

by the time you open your front door jungkook was just walking towards you.

“hey princess, eager to see me?” he chuckles, brushing back the strands of hair from his forehead with his tatted hand. it’s the same strands that have you itch to brush them yourself. an action that seemed too intimate, you weren’t sure if you could handle that. but you wanted to test the waters.

not trusting what you would say if you opened your mouth so you nod.

“you okay? anything happened today?” he asks while stepping into your home after you told him to come in. it’s not the first he’s been inside your home, your safe space that surrounds colors, photos and a scent that screamed you.

from his questions, the tightening feeling in your chest returned and you wince.

your fists are by your sides, opening and closing.

“i think i’m okay, i don’t know. and yeah, something did happen.” you responded softly. he observes the way your eyes dodge his and lower at his feet. something was definitely clouding your mind.

he sighs. “wanna come with me somewhere? you can tell me when we get there, if you want.”

“where we going?” you ask, as you get yourself comfortable behind him, before circling your arms around him.

he kicks the kickstand off, turning his head with his helmet on. “you’ll see.” revving the throttle as you both head to your destination.

-

“a park,” you giggled. “are you healing your inner child?”

he smirks at you, helping you with your helmet. since your first date, every time you are on his bike he becomes so attentive towards you.

“no, but i thought we could go on the swings and if you’re comfortable enough you can tell me who or what made you sad.”

your eyes dance over to the vacant playground behind him and back up to his eyes that are studying yours.

“you gonna beat up somebody for me?” you joke, but his face remains the same but with amusement behind his orbs.

“yah,” you nudge his side with your finger making him break his tough side, finally breaking out into a smile. the mole under his bottom lip reveals itself and you have to fight yourself to not reach on your tippy toes and kiss the beauty mark.

he gently places a hand on your waist, pulling you along with him. “come on, i’ll push you.” he tells you, leading you to the two swings.

you sit on a swing, holding onto the rusty chains as jungkook gets behind you. the mulch underneath you both crunching from his chunky boots.

“don’t push me too hard.” you tell him, a bit scared.

he lets out a laugh, “i won’t, promise.”

jungkook and you fall into a comfortable silence as he pushes you, careful not to push you too high.

“i failed my test.” you confess, you watch your still feet pass by the scenery blur beneath you.

“and i’m mad at myself because i studied so hard for it yet i managed to fail. god, and i don’t even want to see how much it dropped my grade, i literally almost had a panic attack in the library, but i left, and i wanted to contact you but remembered you were with your classmates so i had plans to cry into my pillow and fall into a pit of self-deprecation—“

jungkook grabs hold onto the swings chains to still you. “woah, woah princess, shhh.” he comes around to crouch down in front of you.

jungkook has never comforted someone, never been in a situation where a person in front of him showed their weakness. but you’re different. the way your voice cracked before he cut you off broke something inside him. it was an act of instinct how he’s crouching in front of you, his hands wrapped around the rusty chains next to your hips. he doesn’t know the first thing on how to console someone but for you he’ll learn today.

“do you want my advice or do you want to be held?” he asks you, his eyes raking over your facial features.

you purse your lips, curling your hands into your thighs before shyly answering, “can you hug me?”

he softly chuckles before straightening his legs, his figure towering over you before he envelopes you in a hug. cradling your head close to his chest.

once you were engulfed in the boy who slowly yet managed to warm up to your heart, you let out small cries. your fingers gripping the denim fabric of his jean jacket.

“you can cry princess, i won’t ever judge you.” he mumbles, his large hand brushing your head.

you don’t want to scare him but those words make you cry harder. like you’ve always wanted to hear those words.

-

you gasp, the palm of your hand is covering your mouth as you turn to jungkook. “let’s play rock, paper, scissors.” you suggest, grinning at him.

you cocks an eyebrow, “for?”

“if i win, i get to take your spot and you have to sit behind me. but if you lose…hm..i don’t know.” you laugh.

“i really like you princess, but i won’t let you ride us to our death.”

did your brain even process his words?

you smack him on the shoulder, he doesn’t even flinch. “no, just to sit. please,” you beg, putting your hands together and poking out your bottom lip and batting your eyelashes.

jungkook observes you with a smirk. do you even know that if you weren’t begging he would have said yes to you. because you affect him in that way.

in a way he’ll do anything for you.

he scoffs, letting out sigh and bringing out his hands out of his pockets. “okay.”

-

“rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

you: paper

jungkook: scissors

“two out of three!” you exclaim.

he laughs but accepts it.

“rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

you: rock

jungkook: scissors

“rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

you: scissors

jungkook: paper

“i won, you lose!” you bring your index and middle finger to cut his imaginary paper that’s his hand before jumping up and down.

he shakes his head. “you win,” he states, taking a step closer and leaning in.

“hop on, loser.” you jog over to his parked bike, throwing your leg over the seat to sit. you lean forward to grab the hand clutches with a big smile on your face.

“vroom, vroom,” you mimic the sound of the bike coming to life in an adorable way that has jungkook turning his head so you don’t see the goofy smile on his face. the way your figure looks tiny on the seat of his usual spot compared to him. your feet can barely even touch the ground.

he reaches in the front of his pant pocket. “let me take a photo of you.” he spoke, you nod giving him permission.

he quickly snaps a few photos of you before he finally makes his way over to you. leaving a mental note to send them to you and to look over them when he gets home. with one hand placed over your hip he manages to sit behind you. his legs are placed a bit uncomfortable but he doesn’t complain, instead he grabs your waist and squeezes it.

you let out a breathy laugh, “we look so silly right now. my feet can’t even touch the ground.” you wiggle your feet in front of you.

“what if i got a bike?” you ask, dipping your toes in the water. you would never get a bike, but you want to see his reaction.

he shakes his head, the wavy strands framing his face swaying left and right. “definitely not. bikes are dangerous, plus princesses can’t ride bikes.” he tries to reason with you.

you pout your lips, “princess peach does.” you mutter.

he scoffs, “babe, this isn’t mario kart silly. and, i enjoy having you as my backpack.”

[jennysparksandtheauthority]

I wish I could believe any Pricefield's criticisms in good faith, but this is the same fandom that harassed and abused Dontnod when Life is Strange 2 came out and it wasn't about Max and Chloe. The game got review bombed in the early days, and along with harassing the staff, the VAs and characters both received terrible racist comments. We also saw similar instances with True Colors. Harassment, review bombing, and racism.

Both Dontnod and Square/Deck Nine wanted to make this series into an anthology.

It was the Pricefield shippers who continually demanded the return of Max and Chloe.

Seeing how horrifically this fandom has treated so many people who worked on these games, many of whom are just as big of fans and passionate about it as they are, is it any wonder the latest entry is now a souless cash grab meant to bring in money banking on nostalgia while disrespecting the fans and hating on one half of a big ship?

And ever since the first two episodes of Double Exposure has come out, when the fandom isn't talking about Pricefield, I've seen nothing but transphobic comments about Gwen (constantly misgendering her and calling her a pedo because she's trans), racist comments towards Moses and Safi (accusing Moses of being the murderer just because he's black or being hoping Safi is going to die in both timelines because she's Arabic), bisexual erasure towards Max (which Michael confirmed was always supposed to happen, Square didn't influence her sexuality like so many of the fandom and the "former D9 employee" keep insisting), and attacking the VAs who are actually excited for this project and want to play the game on their youtube channels.

I used to love Pricefield when I was younger. I grew out of it as I got older because I saw all the flaws with the ship and figured out it wasn't for me. Any chance of enjoying the ship ever again was ruined by this fandom.

The Life is Strange fandom, and the Pricefield fandom especially, are incredibly entitled and bigoted. One of the worst fandoms I've ever had the displeasure to be a part of. And I'm not surprised at all that things ended up this way.

Big fandoms are always bound to be toxic at some point. The more people in a fandom, the higher the chances of having assholes among us. Unfortunately, it happens. And you’re right about all the fucked up shit that happened through the years, the LIS2 situation was especially heartbreaking.

But you’re also leaning into confirmation bias.

I’ve seen people on Twitter and TikTok and Instagram and here making fan cams of Gwen, saying she’s the best new character, arguing that she would have been a better love interest for Max than whatshisname and Amanda (and I echo that sentiment, Gwen rocks and I’ll fight the transphobes with my bare hands if I have to).

I’ve seen people hold dearly Sean and Daniel’s story, making the ‘squad’ sweatshirt sell out repeatedly in that website that has LIS stuff.

I’ve seen people saying they want to protect Moses at all costs, even calling for everyone to be respectful to the VA and to leave him out of the madness, just like with Hannah Tell.

If we’re having dinner in a restaurant with 100 well behaved people and there’s one or two or even ten assholes screaming and throwing things to other people, they’re going to ruin the experience for everyone else. They’re going to be loud and annoying and you could leave saying you’re never coming back to that restaurant. That’s fair. But the fault falls specifically on that group, not the other hundred people that were minding their own business and enjoying their dinners.

Nowadays, it’s impossible to enjoy any fandom if you don’t find the four/five weirdos that enjoy the thing as much as you and you create a nice little bubble of the stuff you like and the people you want to interact with. It’s sad, but it’s true.

This doesn’t mean people shouldn’t be held accountable and that we shouldn’t try to take out our own trash — I’ve been calling out an awful person on Twitter that’s been harassing and insulting the devs for the last few days. I reported them, I tried to reason, I did all the work until there was nothing left to do but to block them.

Sometimes you can make a difference. Other times, you can’t.

Now, are you suggesting that the whole pricefield fandom deserved this? That we all should be punished? That we’re all implicitly responsible for the misogyny, the homophobia and the greed of the capitalistic machine? Wow.

The simple truth is SE and D9 wanted to pander to casual gamers and gamebros cause they thought that would give them more money. The truth is that D9’s toxic work environment (reason enough to boycott everything they put out well before the pricefield fiasco) influenced this game to the point of being lead by people who didn’t understand the first game and that hated the themes at its core.

You think the pricefield fandom is bigoted and entitled? Oh boy, have a look at all the articles about D9’s internal affairs: N*ZI symbolism, misogyny, sexual harassment, homophobia…

You think the majority of the LIS fandom is toxic? Then take a look at what the casual cismale straight gamers are saying now. They’re the new LIS:DE fandom. I’m not going to reproduce the comments and the absolute vile things I’ve seen them say post-DE gameplay reveal and the break up confirmation, but I’ll show you a glimpse of the reactions:

So, in the bitter conclusion, you might be right: just like Chloe, we might deserve all of this because after all we’re loud, we’re queer, and we deserve to be punished.

Just like Nathan said to Chloe in the bathroom, the devs were asking this to the pricefield fandom… “Nobody would ever even miss your "punk ass" would they?”

Well, fuck around and find out.

[munsonsduchess]

Monster Smash

summary: you meet eddie at a house party and the night takes an unexpected turn warnings: underage drinking, recreational drug use (weed), face sitting, oral (f receiving), semi public sex (eddie and the reader are in a room at a frat house during a party) w/c: 977 a/n: surprise bitch! another halloween fic! honestly with the amount of ghostface content on tiktok these days it was kind of inevitable we'd end up here, i was originally just going to post the other halloween fic but this one wouldn't leave me alone

It was Halloween and you were having the worst time. You didn’t know anyone at this party your roommate had dragged you to, citing that you needed to get out more, the drinks were shit, the music was shit, honestly you were tempted to just sneak out the back door of this frat house and claim you’d met somebody if your roommate asked the next day. 

You sighed and took another drink from your lukewarm beer and pulled at the hem of the black dress you were wearing. Usually you didn’t feel self conscious in the things you picked for yourself but being, less petite, than some of your peers and wearing something your roommate had picked out so you could both wear matching costumes (you got to be the bad witch) in a room full of obnoxious frat bros made you feel slightly … less confident than normal. 

You were about to cut and run when a guy appeared in front of you wearing a Ghostface Costume,

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“The Exorcist, 1973. A masterpiece in horror cinema” you responded without thinking. You hadn’t actually expected anyone to talk to you, after being basically ignored all night

“That’s, yeah that’s a really good pick” the guy pulled his mask off and you found yourself looking into the face of the local weed guy, Eddie Munson. 

Everyone you knew, yourself included, bought their weed from Eddie. His stuff was guaranteed to be the best and not laced with anything it shouldn’t be,

“It’s the line from the homeless guy in the subway ‘can you help an old altar boy father’ and then later on when they’re in Regan’s bedroom and she says the same thing in the same voice. Chills. Literal chills” 

“Such a good movie. They don’t make movies like that anymore, y’know? Halloween, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Rosemary’s Baby” 

“Have you seen X? Or Pearl? They have the same kinda vibes but are totally modern movies” 

“I’ve seen X. Massive Texas Chainsaw vibes” 

“Right!” 

You ended up finding a quiet corner with Eddie where the two of you could talk about horror movies for the rest of the evening. You’d honestly never really found anyone who loved horror the way you did so it was amazing to be able to vibe with someone like this. 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 👻 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

The party raged on into the wee hours and by now both you and Eddie were feeling the effects of the beer and few joints you’d shared. You were feeling pleasantly buzzed and enjoying the attention of an attractive man, even if it wouldn’t go anywhere. 

“It’s so cool that you’re into horror, most people get freaked out or maybe enjoy those like conjuring movies”

“Ugh. The Warrens are the absolute worst, by all accounts they just scam people and then use their stories to write books and make more money” you gestured widely around the room, “how fucked is that?”

“Totally fucked” Eddie agreed 

“You know I almost didn’t come tonight but my roommate kinda forced me to” 

“Remind me to send your roommate a fruit basket or something as thanks then” Eddie said, “cause this is definitely a way better night than I thought it was gonna be”

“It’s so cool to meet a friend tonight” you agreed, “but aren’t you like ‘working’ the party?” 

Eddie laughed and you had to admit you loved the sound. You wondered if he would want to still be friends after the party was over,

“You’re cute. I mean sure it’s great talking like this but honestly, I saw you standing on your own and seriously couldn’t understand why cause just the sight of you in that dress had all the blood in my body run south. I mean, the fact that you’re awesome on top of being drop dead hot is a bonus”

Your brain short circuited for a moment and you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing,

“So, you wanna get a room?” 

“Absolutely I do”

Eddie smirked wickedly at you before helping you off the couch and pulling you behind him to the main staircase and along a corridor to an empty room. 

⊱ ────── {.⋅ 👻 ⋅.} ───── ⊰

“Sit on my face, come on” Eddie grinned at you, taking one of your hands and pulling you towards the bed. 

You followed the tug and threw one leg over the bed and balanced on your knees. Before you could even try to think about how much weight to bear down you felt Eddie grab your hips and pull you down onto his face forcefully. 

There was no way you could focus on anything but the way Eddie licked into you hungrily. His hands on your hips dug into the flesh there and you threw your head back with the intense feelings, moaning loudly. 

“Oh my god Eddie”

Beneath you Eddie made a muffled noise which you assumed was positive since he didn’t stop what he was doing for even a moment. 

You wondered briefly how he could breathe but the thought left your mind as quickly as it had arrived when Eddie’s nose brushed against your clit and you saw stars. 

Eddie continued to suck and lick you through your orgasm and the aftershocks, the oversensitivity made you want to pull away but Eddie held you firm coaxing yet another orgasm from you until your legs began to shake. Only then did he allow you to pull away and catch your breath,

“Holy shit” you panted, trying to regain some of your self control,

“That’s only the warm up act baby. It’s just you and me and no one is gonna hear you when you scream my name as loud as you want to” 

This was definitely a way better night than you’d thought it would be when your roommate forced you out tonight. 

After all what was Halloween without a few screams?

[queen-of-the-avengers]

My One and Only, My Lifeline

Pairing: NASCAR!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: angst, crash and injuries

Summary: Steve is a famous NASCAR driver who finds the thrill in driving at high speeds. You’re there at every one of his races, praying that he’ll make it out without injury. Sometimes, God doesn’t answer prayers and then the worst happens.

Squares Filled: "I'm just trying to sound tough" (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: i saw this video on tiktok and i immediately drew inspiration for it. go check it out!

x

One of the most dangerous jobs in your opinion is race car driving like NASCAR, but your boyfriend is very skilled at it. He has always had a passion for racing even when he was a teenager. There were underground racing groups that would take their precious muscle cars and go so far out of town that there wouldn’t ever be people on the road to crash into. Hundreds of kids would gather to watch the race and almost all of them would place bets on the best driver, that being Steve.

Steve claimed he loved the thrill of it but you know the fame was a big part of it to. He felt untouchable. Everyone tried racing him but he had all the best things. It didn’t help his dad was the best mechanic in town that would often supply Steve with the best parts. Still, Steve didn’t need it. He had raw talent on his side.

There was this one time when Steve’s opponent got so mad that he lost against him that he declared a rematch but the driver had to pick who got to drive their car. He picked someone he thought was the best while Steve immediately went to you. You have never driven like he does a day in your life but he trusted you to drive his car without question.

He sat in the passenger seat and watched you with heart eyes as you drove as smoothly as he did. The cops were called about the illegal racing and came to shut it down, and you passed by the finish line and continued driving away. The cops almost nailed you two but you made a swift escape by outrunning a train. There was an opening that Steve didn’t think you’d make but you proved him wrong that night.

It was thrilling but it was something you never wanted to do again. You’d leave that for Steve to do.

Eventually, he moved out of state with you and applied for NASCAR. It took him a long time to actually drive on the track and when he did, he impressed everyone. His rise to fame was fast, almost too fast for you to keep up. Before, you’d go out with him to the store without issue. Now, you can’t go anywhere without women falling head over heels for him or men asking him to sign things.

It makes Steve happy so you don’t say anything about it. It could be worse but you often wish that things could go back to underground racing and running from the cops.

You walk into the area with your laminated VIP pass slung over your neck like a necklace. From Steve’s first race to now, you have never missed one. Even when you were in the hospital for a broken leg, you still found a way to cheer him on from the stands. Steve’s been part of the same pit crew for years so they all know you like you’re part of their little family. They allow you to be with the crew because you’re always out of their way.

All you want to do is support your man as close as you can get.

“Hey, Tony!” you greet the man responsible for designing Steve’s car. Tony took a shot at Steve years ago and has been his sponsor ever since. “How’s Pepper?”

“At home with Morgan. I told her she could come but she didn’t want Morgan around here.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want a six-year-old here either.”

“You’re here.” You turn around and see Steve jogging over to you. “I’m just about to go out.”

“Go kill it, baby,” you grin.

He kisses you twice--once because he loves you and one more for good luck. He slides his helmet on and hops into his car through the window since the doors don’t open. Cars don’t have any opening doors to protect the drivers in case they crash. They can roll safely knowing a door won’t open and they’d be ejected from it. You fear for Steve’s life whenever he gets into that car and pray that he makes it through this race unscathed.

It’s worked so far… until it doesn’t.

Steve slides into his car and does the pre-race checkup with his pit crew before driving over to the group of cars that are already driving slowly along the track. They do that as they wait for everyone to prepare for it. As soon as everyone is in line, they set up the starting line witht he large green flag in the air. Just like how a flip is switched, every single driver presses on the accelerator and the race is on.

It’s hard to determoine who will come out on top in the beginning os everyone is fair game. It’s only until they reach the mid-mark that people start to get an idea of who is going to come in the first five spots. Steve pulls into the pit area and stops so his crew can give the car fuel and change his tires all at an alarming speed. It amazes you how quickly his team works.

You sit with your elbows on your knees and rub your hands together from how nervous you are. Cars race by in the blink of an eye, round and round they go. This race is three hundred and twelve laps and Steve just passed the three hundred mark. The race is nearly done and he is neck and neck with his biggest opponent, Baron Zemo.

“Y/N, he wants to talk to you.”

You get up and take the headset from one of the crew members, Bucky.

“Steve?”

“Baby, talk to me. Give me words of encouragement.”

“You can do this, Steve. I’m so proud of you and I’ll be proud of you no matter the outcome.”

“No, do better.”

“Uh… Oh! If you don’t win this, I’m going to leave you for another man.”

“No man will ever get the chance to touch you,” he smirks.

“Go kill it, baby.”

“You know I will.”

You take the headset off and hand it back to Bucky. Eleven laps to go.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

You’re standing on the edge where the concrete barricade is. It feels like your head is going to explode from the lack of oxygen because you’re holding your breath in anticipation. If you even blink, you fear you’ll miss it.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Nearly there. Steve and Zemo are neck and neck as they come across the final three laps. You’re not sure which one is going to win. One half of the audience is cheering for Steve while the other half is rooting for Zemo.

Three.

Two.

You prayed for tonight to go according to plan but not all prayers reach God. There are some that fall through the cracks, this time, it’s yours. It’s the last lap and it’s clear that Zemo isn’t going to win this one. He does the one thing that would ensure his first place prize. All it takes it one swerve of his car and Steve gets thrown off balance. His car is slammed into concrete wall before swerving toward the grass. It flips twice and comes to a screeching halt.

Time slows down for you. Nothing else matters but your boyfriend. You open your mouth and scream his name but you don’t hear it. You heave yourself over the concrete barricade and sprint right into the tracks. The crew members try grabbing at you to keep you from running onto the tracks with dozens of racecars.

Silence befalls the audience as they watch with horror from the accident. Not even Zemo’s side are cheering for his run. Everyone saw what he did. He betrayed Steve and causes him to crash just so he could get the nearly eight million dollars. You take a step onto the track and almost get knocked back by cars speeding past you.

You find your first opening and run across the track as fast as you can before the next wave of cars can come. Thirty feet before you get to Steve’s car, the engine blows up in flames. Reality comes rushing at you at full speed.

“Steve!”

HIs pit crew is already trying to make their way over to help but you’re not sure what they can do about the smoke bellowing out of the car. You get on your knees and look through the open window to see him coughing inside.

“Steve! Grab my hand!”

Steve looks at you with dazed eyes. He must have hit his head on the ceiling. He struggles to get into a position that can slide him right out of the car but he doesn’t stop trying. You reach in to help but your arm touches the hot, hot metal of the dashboard. You hiss in pain but ignore it because Steve is top priority.

Bucky grabs your shoulder and gently moves you out of the way so that he and the crew can get him out. They’re better qualified than you are. Bucky pulls Steve out of the car only moments before the rest of the car gos up in flames. He has scratches to his leg and bruising on his face but you think he’ll be okay.

“Y/N, are you nuts? You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“You’re bleeding, Steve.”

“I’m okay.” He winces from pain which means he’s clearly not okay. “Okay, I’m just trying to sound tough. You really shouldn’t have come out here. It was stupid.”

“Nothing is stupid when it comes to you. I thought… I can’t lose you, Steve.”

Steve stays seated on the ground and waits for the paramedics to come and you sit right nex to him to keep him company. Steve grabs your hand and notices the burn on your forearm.

“Shit, Y/N, you’re burned. You could have died.”

“So could you. Your life is tied to mine. If you die, then I die.”

Steve kisses you quickly to assure you that he’s going to be okay.

“I can’t die now,” he chuckles painfully. “Winning means nothing if you’re not next to me.”

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[filthyjoetini]

Stumblin' In

a/n: Part 2! Enjoy! Likes, reblogs and feedback are always welcome. The usual thank you goes out to @barfightzanddiscolightz for taking her time to beta read and edit and giving input &lt;3

warnings: none

wordcount: 2.6k

part 1 - part 3 - part 4

Part 2

Just as you had finally made yourself somewhat comfortable in the unforgiving embrace of the hospital bed, your bladder made itself known once again. Groaning, you pressed the call button for the fifth time in the past three hours. How much can one person piss? Stupid I.V. drip, you thought to yourself.

-

When they had first wheeled you into the emergency room, you were quickly surrounded by a flurry of nurses and a doctor. They had palpated your neck and spine as well as the back of your head and damn, did it hurt like a bitch. Because of your reaction to the examination and to be on the safe side, the doctor had ordered an x-ray of your neck, spine, and ribs.

You had immediately been pushed out of the emergency room, down a very long and bright corridor and into the x-ray room. In the x-ray room, you had bravely endured the examination, even squeezing your eyes shut, despite the x-ray technician telling you that nothing would happen. Your inner child, however, was hoping for at least one laser beam. Later, you blamed the concussion for your strange behaviour.

Back at the ER, the doctor had checked your results and fortunately found nothing more than a big bump and that your obvious concussion could be diagnosed. Additionally, they had confirmed what the paramedics had already told you: you would have to stay in the hospital for at least a 24-hour observation, and the worst part of it all was that you were not allowed to eat. So, they had put you on a drip, which fed you all the nutrients and medication directly into your bloodstream. The actual procedure turned out to be a mammoth task. It had taken them several tries to find a vein, and when they finally did, they had managed to pop one, turning your arm all bruised and blue. It looked like someone had twisted your arm.

-

“Hi. Do you need to go to the toilet again?”, the nurse asked with a smile, as she stepped into the room.

You nodded and pushed yourself up a little. Immediately, the nurse was at your side, tutting you.

“Dear, I’ve told you not to overexert yourself. I’m here to help you with that. Come on, take my arm.”

You grabbed her arm, and she pulled you into a standing position before taking the IV pole in her other hand and slowly leading you to the small adjacent bathroom.

Once the nurse had brought you back to your bed, you decided to scroll through TikTok, which you got bored with rather quickly. You thought about calling your best friend and your dad again but decided against it. Firstly, because they had both been alerted by the lady at the desk after she had entered you in the system, that you had been admitted to the hospital. You had insisted on giving her both names and phone numbers as emergency contacts and so they had both been waiting for you in your room as soon as ER had transferred you. Secondly, because it was already nearing midnight, and you were sure that they both would be asleep by now.

Before you closed your contact list, you saw it again. The short three-letter name that had only been on the list for a few hours: Joe.

Gingerly, you tapped on the name and a new iMessage chat opened.

Hey...

The three dots immediately appeared, and you almost threw your phone at the wall opposite your bed.

Hi there. How are you?

Blushing, you began typing your reply, your fingers gliding thoughtlessly over your phone’s touchscreen.

I’m fine, all things considered. I have to stay for a 24-hour observation, and I’m not allowed to eat solid food. They have me on a drip, which makes me piss like a horse...

Oh wow. Sorry to hear that 😉

Oh no! Oh fuck. Totally TMI.

Sorry! That was TMI!

Haha. No worries.

Chewing on your lips, you started typing again. You had one burning question to ask him.

OK. Cool. Um. Also. HOW THE HECK DID YOU PUT YOUR NUMBER INTO MY PHONE? DID YOU HACK IT?

Hahaha...do you seriously think I could hack a phone?

Yes?! I mean, it could be your job for all I know!

Hahaha. It’s far from what I do for a living.

Your phone was unlocked. I believe you turned off your auto-lock-thingy or whatever...

You quickly opened your settings, and he was absolutely right, you had it turned off. Snorting, you reopened the chat.

Wow there, IT-God, you were right.

IT-God...good one, Humpty Dumpty.

Stop calling me that!

What else am I supposed to call you. I don’t know your name. You’re Humpty Dumpty in my phone now.

Omg...noooo.

What’s your name, Bambi on ice?

Another one? Is he serious?, you thought with a groan but, quickly let him know your name.

Alright, changed it. See! *attachment*

Smiling at the visual confirmation, you let out a small yawn. Your eyes suddenly became very heavy.

I’m going to get some shut eye, I’m really tired.

Totally understandable. You had a rough day.

Bye Joe x

Bye...sleep tight. Keep me updated. x

---

You woke up from what you considered was the worst night’s sleep you had ever had. If it wasn’t the weird position you were forced to sleep in waking you, it was when a nurse would come check on you from time to time or help you when you needed to use the loo for the gazillionth time.

You were relieved when morning finally came. The first thing the nurse did, was to take you off the I.V. That meant no more peeing every 30 minutes. Thank fuck. She even brought you a small, stomach-friendly breakfast and informed you that the doctor would come by to discharge you soon.

Less than an hour later, the pleasant doctor handed you the discharge form as well as a prescription to take to the hospital pharmacy. You hadn’t shown any unusual symptoms which meant that your brain was working as intended. Therefore, the doctor decided that you could leave the hospital early.

Quickly, you informed your best friend and your dad about the good news, and they both asked you if they should come and pick you up. You told them they didn’t need to; you could find your way home just fine. Your dad, in his usual dad-manner, replied with a thumbs-up emoji whilst your best friend sent you the side-eye one. You knew exactly what she meant with it. Girl, if you fall again, I’ll kick your arse.

You chuckled and exited the message feed when another one caught your eye. It was the one you had started with Joe yesterday. His last message taunted you. He had asked you to keep him updated. So, you did.

Hey Joe!

Hey Tumbleina!

Stop it!

I’m being discharged early!

That’s great news! When?

You hurriedly checked your form. It said that you needed to pick up your medication from the in-house pharmacy and that it would be ready for pick-up at 12:45pm, which was in an hour from now.

I’m still waiting for my medication to be ready for collection which won’t be until 12:45...so, I think around 1-ish?

Cool! 👍

Yeah, I’m glad. Can’t wait to crawl into my bed.

I bet. Hospital beds are the worst.

Tell me about it.

Anyway, I thought I’d let you know. Because you were so adamant about it.

Thank you, very considerate of you to keep me, your saviour, in the loop.

You laughed out loud at his reply and responded with a series of laughing emojis before putting your phone down on the bed.

Too hastily, you changed out of your hospital gown and into your clothes. Your dad had brought you an overnight bag with comfortable clothes when he had come to visit you yesterday. However, the quick movement was too much for your bruised body and you hissed in pain. Slow down, you scolded yourself and continued to get ready at a slower pace.

You packed your few belongings into your duffle bag, cautiously slung it over your shoulder, and quickly glanced back to make sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.

When you arrived in the lobby, the receptionist asked you to wait in the waiting area until your name was called. Nodding, you sauntered over to the nearest available seat and ungraciously plopped down onto it. You retrieved your phone from your joggers to kill some time. You read the news and played some word-based online games.

You were just about to solve a rather tricky one when your name was suddenly called. Letting out a sigh that you hadn’t really intend to let out, you got up and trudged over to the chemist’s counter. The old lady behind it handed you a small plastic bag with your medication. It was ibuprofen and some sort of gel that you were supposed to rub on your neck and back. How you were supposed to do that yourself was beyond you. You quietly thanked the old lady who gave you a dismissive nod in return.

Slowly, you turned around and walked away from the counter towards the hospital’s exit. You were just checking your next tube connections on your phone when you heard someone clear their throat. Looking up, you saw a man standing by the litter bin, tapping his cigarette into the bin’s built-in ashtray. Why was this man trying to get your attention?

You squinted at him and all he did was stare back at you, with big brown chocolate button eyes. You let out a loud gasp.

“Joe?”

“Hey there, Bambi. Good to see you up and about.”, he chuckled, as he took the last drag of his cigarette.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, you asked in complete bewilderment, entirely ignoring his nickname for you and taking quick steps towards him.

Putting out his cigarette, he let out another chuckle.

“Well, I thought I could take you home...you know, make sure you don’t stumble over your own feet and fall again.”

“What makes you think I don’t have a ride home?”, you inquired, your hand now on your hip and his smile instantly began to falter.

“Oh shit! I didn’t think of that! Do you?”

“Nah.”, you giggled and he visibly relaxed, but his cheeks already held a red, embarrassed tint. “My dad and bestie asked me if they could come pick me up, but I declined.”, you continued. “It’s only a couple stops on the tube.”

“A few stops too many, if you ask me.”, Joe concluded, back on his confidence-track. He took a few steps towards you and held out his arms to you. “Let me accompany you home.”

“Fiiiine.”, you groaned, rolling your eyes and eventually linking your arm with his. “You’re insufferable.”

---

Your 20-minute ride home was the most eventful tube journey you had ever had. Joe made sure you held on to every railing, and if there wasn’t one available, his arm. He fussed over you like an overprotective boyfriend, which made your cheeks flush a little. No, you gotta stop thinking like that. He’s just helping!, you reminded yourself, shaking your head to get rid of those intrusive thoughts.

Still arm in arm with Joe, you exited the tube station closest to your block of flats and led the way down the street towards it.

“This is me.”, you announced, suddenly shy as you began to slow down your pace. Joe smiled down at you and let go of your arm.

“Nice house.”, he looked up at it. It was anything but nice. It was one of those ugly buildings straight out of the seventies and most of its residents had lived there since the beginning.

“Ah...it’s nothing. Most of my neighbours are elderly people. I basically live in a retirement home.”, you chuckled lowly, and Joe’s grin grew wider.

“Could be worse.”, Joe determined. “You could have a funeral parlour on the ground level.”

You gave him a puzzled, questioning look.

“Not that I have a funeral parlour in the building I live in.”, Joe clarified, giggling softly. “I just think that’s worse than living with the elderly.”

“You’re very strange, Joe.”, you snorted, shaking your head again.

“I’ve been told that before.”, he smiled broadly and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Hmmm...”, you hummed, glancing quickly at him. His eyes were fixed on your face, and you quickly averted your gaze.

“Uhm...thank you.”, you started, blushing once more. “For helping me yesterday and bringing me home just now. I really don’t know how I could make it up to you.”

“Hmmm...”, he copied you. Wanker. Then his face lit up like a thousand suns. “You know what? You could make it up to me by going on a date with me.”

Snorting, you threw your head back in laughter and rolled your eyes at him. When you looked at him again you saw him looking at you with anticipation. His big puppy eyes on full display. Fuck.

“Aaaalright. I’ll go on a date with you.”, you relented. How could you not? He could ask anything of you with those fucking adorable eyes.

“Brilliant!”, he replied, grinning from ear to ear, pulling you into his arms. Stunned, you wrapped your arms around him as well. He smelled just like he had yesterday: so damn good. Who needs air when you could live off his smell?

When he, too soon for your liking, pulled back a little, he winked at you and said: “I’ll let you know when and where.”

Gently, he let go of you completely and you nodded in agreement, head still too wrapped up in his scent to give him a vocal response.

“Shall I help you upstairs or are you good?”

“Huh?...”, you questioned, not quite hearing what he had said but since his thumb was pointing at your door you assumed you knew what was asking.

“Oh...uhm. I’m good. Thanks though.”, you smiled and slowly stepped towards the entrance of the house.

“Perfect.”, Joe said with a nod and slowly took a few steps back. “I’ll text you.”

“Yeah, alright. Let me know, when you get home.”, you requested without thinking, whilst rummaging through your duffle bag. Then you saw it, his trench coat. Before he could respond to your demand, you gasped and shouted:

“Joe! Wait!”

“Huh?”, he questioned, swiftly turning around and walking back to where you were.

“Your coat!”, you clarified, pulling it out of the duffle bag. Luckily, for once, it wasn’t accompanied by its other contents which would have spilled out all over the floor any other day.

Joe looked at you, confusion evident on his face but then he saw you pull out the familiar fabric and he suddenly remembered.

“Oh right! I gave it to you.”, he chuckled, and you carefully placed the coat in his outstretched hands, “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.”, you dismissed him with a polite smile, “you asked for it back and I gave it back.”

Your pathetic attempt at indifference didn’t go unnoticed and it made him grin from ear to ear. Then he skilfully threw the coat over his shoulder and took the three steps down the stairs backwards, eyes locked with yours

You put your key in the lock and opened the door, bashful eyes on his now slowly retreating figure.

“Joe…let me know when you’re home, yeah?”, you repeated your request, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Will do. Bye, Bambi.”, he returned, almost shouting as he waved at you.

“Bye Joe.”, you called back, louder than him, rolling your eyes at his repeated use of the new nickname he had given you. Giggling, because to be honest, you thought the name was very cute, you entered your house and gently closed the door behind you.

---

Taglist:

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[lvrsturniolo]

“a boy two boys who are jacked and kind..”

‘Slim Pickins’

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws 💓

It was one of those random afternoons where you, Matt, and Chris were just hanging out at their house(Nick had just gotten back from a space camp meeting and was taking a nap),scrolling through TikTok and tossing around ideas for what to do. Chris was laying sprawled across the couch, scrolling through his For You Page, while Matt sat at the table pretending to be interested in something on his phone. You were sitting on the floor, back against the couch, doing the same thing until Chris suddenly sat up.

“Yo, have you two seen that one TikTok trend to the Sabrina carpenter song?,” he said, grinning like he just had the best idea ever.

“The Juno pose one? Cause I’m not doing that if that’s what you’re thinking of.”

The boy giggled softly. “No, no. It’s the one to- I think the songs called slim pickins?”

You squinted at him. “What’s that?”

He flipped his phone around to show a video of some dude lifting his girlfriend onto his shoulder.

“Absolutely not,” Matt muttered from across the room without even looking up.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start. It’s not like you’d be the only one lifting her. We’d do it together. Team effort.”

You laughed, looking between them. “You seriously think both of you could pull that off? You’re barely strong enough to pick me up in general, let alone on your shoulder.”

Chris was already hyped. “Nah, we got this, it’ll be both of us together;piece of cake! We’re stronger than we look, right Matt?”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself.

“C’mon,” Chris said, nudging you. “You in? It’ll be funny. Worst case, we drop you and it’s great content.

“Worst case, I break a bone and you’re paying my hospital bill,” you shot back, but honestly, it sounded kind of fun.

Chris clapped his hands together, leaning down and kissing you softly on your forehead. “Thank you baby, it’ll be fun I promise.”

It took another ten minutes of you and Chris trying to convince Matt, but when he saw you giving him those eyes. The begging eyes,he finally caved. “Fine, but if this goes south, m’blaming both of you,” Matt grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris said, dragging you both to the center of the living room where there was more space. “Alright, so here’s the plan. You get in the middle, we both squat down, and then we lift you up. Easy.”

“Easy for you to say,” Matt muttered, shaking his head but moving into position anyway.

The first attempt was a disaster. You couldn’t stop laughing long enough to actually get steady, and Matt kept losing his grip.

“Bro, hold her fuckin legs higher!” Chris yelled, adjusting his grip on your thigh.

“I’m trying! She keeps moving!” Matt shot back, struggling to keep his balance.

“Guys, I swear if you drop me—” you started, but you were laughing too hard to finish the sentence.

By the third try, you were all red-faced and wheezing from laughing so much. Finally, Chris and Matt managed to get you up on their shoulders at the same time, and you threw your arms out like you were on top of the world.

“WE DID IT!” Chris yelled, spinning in a circle while still holding you up.

Matt looked up at you, smirking despite himself. “Not bad, huh?”

“Alright, alright, you proved me wrong,” you said, laughing and holding onto their heads for balance.

You all stood there for a second, just laughing like idiots and feeling way too proud of yourselves. It wasn’t perfect, but it was your kind of perfect.

“Alright, one more time for the TikTok,” Chris said, already setting up his phone.

Matt groaned. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! Why weren’t we filming before?”

“Come on, Matt,” you teased. “For the content!”

And honestly? It was worth every awkward, giggly attempt.

Mel speaks~I know this is shit but I tried 😋😋 I loveeeee Chratt so much

[gloriousburden]

Hey!! I just wanna say your takes on Loki are super refreshing to read, and they cleared up my mind a little! Maybe this sounds a little stupid but I got so confused after rewatching everything (+ watching the series and I feel like that was the breaking point xd) and since I didn't read anything nor any opinions I was. Just lost in these jambled thoughts because I couldn't figure out Loki's character well since he just feels so... so different after Avengers/TDW and I really couldn't tell wtf was going on with him for a while until I sat down and deconstructed everything since it was so bad?? Maybe it's just me and I'm slow but I seriously never had that experience with a character I fixated before and I can't tell if it was because how badly Loki was handled by his writers or it's just me being scatterbrained or both 😭

Anyway thanks again this isn't anything new just wanted to let you know,, your/others takes in your posts are the ones that resonate the most with me and I feel less alone lol when I read some of them on other platforms it's either too much shipping or just... things that don't really make sense to me xd

So yeah, there's no take here, but thanks if you read!! You don't have to answer 🫰

Hello! I am so glad to hear that I could help. I know that feeling all too well, and it’s exactly why I started posting on here. Watching each weekly episode of the series as it was coming out was torture. It was like a punch to the gut every single time that they belittled Loki, mischaracterized him, hinted to the romance with Sylvie, had him consistently forgive the characters who treated him like shit, and took it all in a direction that… had absolutely nothing to do with Loki.

I fell in love with Loki’s character around 5 months before the series came out, and everyday I mourn what the fandom used to be despite the short amount of time I experienced it the way it was. Of course there was mischaracterization, but never was it as widespread as this.

In all honesty, the series turned me off from liking Loki for a hot minute. It disgusted, angered, and saddened me so much. I lost the ability to enjoy watching or interacting with anything related to Loki because I was reminded of it all each time. I remember watching the finale feeling complete fucking shock and a sense of dread. On top of all that bullshit… there’s going to be a season 2?! 🤦🏻‍♀️

I took comfort in the shared reaction and negativity Loki TikTok (at the time) had to it lol. What annoyed the shit out of me also was people beginning to ship Lokius/Sylki. You saw what both of those characters did to him, why ship them? the shipping bullshit is the worst. What happened to people liking Loki for JUST BEING LOKI?

I had that same confusion. How could this be Loki at all, but especially Loki after the events of THE AVENGERS?! This couldn’t even be Ragnarok Loki, so how could it be Loki DIRECTLY after/during his most villainous? I just kept thinking to myself.. Loki is intelligent. He is strong. He is more than what they represented him as. And he never deserved any of that. He is playful, of course. But he is not a buffoon who lets others walk all over him. He doesn’t deserve to be the laughingstock in a series that was supposed to uplift him. No other character was “humbled” in their own series like this.

Like you said, you’ve never had this experience with characters you’ve been fixated on before. I felt the same way. I had many favorite characters who were killed off, yet their deaths weren’t as brutal to me as the character assassination Loki was put through. I think I posted something along the lines of that. That all of this has made mourning Loki’s actual death in Infinity War so… weird.

The next months or so, I tried getting back into loving Loki. Which as you can probably tell… it worked. But I was still so disgusted by the series. I would pace around my room thinking of Loki rants in my head, and I’d write them down in my notes app just thinking… ‘well that doesn’t fucking add up.’

What helped was knowing there were others that shared the same feelings that I did.

I began lurking on this side of Tumblr, reading everyone’s posts (and even masterlists) of reasons why the series was so fucking garbage, and how it did absolutely no justice to Loki’s character.

It helped me realize and identify the reasons why the series upset me so much. It also helped me learn more about Loki’s character in general, to which I fell more in love with him. It helped me feel less alone, and I wanted to voice my own opinions as well. I felt so lost, and I really wanted to connect with others who felt the same.

Eventually, I began posting my own rants as well as following a bunch of other OG Loki fans who primarily focused on Loki’s character before the series (as well as before Ragnarok.)

These were people who understood Loki, and loved him as much as I did. I found community, and everyday I am so grateful for everyone here. I was (and still am) heavily fixated on Loki, and the mischaracterization would irk me so fucking badly. The lack of love for Loki for who he is, outside of ships and fanon, hurt me. He means a lot to me even if he is just a fictional character. I see myself in him.

So… long story short, it really means a lot that I could play a part in helping you out with your own confusion and feelings of loneliness through all of this bullshit. It’s the same thing I went through a few years ago. Wanting to help as well as wanting to connect with others who felt lost and hurt like I did, was why I started posting on here. It’s a bit of a full circle moment for me lol.

Other platforms are DREADFUL. I think I’ve said this on here somewhere before, but Pinterest has a lot of OG Loki content, and I find it easier to avoid the series related stuff. I recommend checking it out if you haven’t. Also… I HIGHLY recommend using the google search Before:Year feature helps so much!! It’s pretty fun to see a lot of the first reactions to Loki’s character, as well as the outdated memes 😭😭😭 OG Loki fangirls paved the way!!

It really is a peculiar ass situation. My favorite character has been killed off, an alternate version of him was revived, and it’s all complete misery. What REALLY annoyed me though was people just accepting it.. Like what? Really? This is Loki to you?

Thank you for this, and I’m glad you feel less alone. I hope that you continue to find community within this side of Tumblr. It’s all I ever wanted for anyone who stumbled across my blog. So sorry for the long ass response LOL

[s0dium]

hiii :D thank you so much for offering a matchup that it so sweet 😩 heres some of my infooo

my name is cube and i'd like a haikyuu matchup, and i don't mind the gender.

i like writing (fanfic haha), reading (mostly nonfic science), D&D, pharmaceutical chem, and watching reality tv (specifcally matchmaking shows oops) and anime.

i dislike hot weather, clinginess, cows (evil forsaken creatures) & slow drivers.

turn offs for me are people who can dish it but not take it. also people that interupt others while they are talking/talk over others.

ideal traits in a partner would be humour, intelligence, passion and a bit of sassiness.

my love language is quality time.

in terms of personality, i'm such a chatterbox. i've probably had to refine this message and cut out 90% of the needless yap. i will talk to someone even if they aren't listening. i'd like to think i'm patient bc i used to work with kids now i work with old ppl haha. i'm a d1 eavesdropper and gossip .. i'm just so nosy it's one of my worst qualities and a ik it's a terrible habit but like.. if someone is having a conversation near me, i think it's my god given right to tune in!!

those "hoodkyu!!" fake tweet screenshots on tiktok make me laugh (embarrassingly). and everytime a hot person gets botched botox/filler, i cry.

my ideal date is an escape room or playing boards games. i'm a beast at donuts, icl. (it's kinda like connect 4 basically lol)

i have no idea if this is like too much info but yeah 😭 again, thank you so much , you're so kind!

"Kiss me" You murmured Kuroo smiled. "You are always ordering me around" "Kiss me." You repeated "Are you sure?" He murmurs with a smirk playing on his mouth. "Because once I do I might not be able to-" You don't let him finish the sentence, you are already grabbing the back of his head and yanking him down

Honestly choosing kuroo for you because he is someone who can match your 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

After a long day he would totally come home and watch matchmaking shows with

You and Kuroo would have lively discussions about various topics, from the latest advancements in pharmaceutical chemistry , matchmaking shows and volley ball. He loves how passionate and knowledgeable you are and finds your chatterbox nature endearing.

Kuroo would be a KILLER at escape rooms. His strategic mind and your analytical skills make you an unstoppable team. The two of you always manage to escape with time to spare

Prepare yourself for pet names, I bet he would probably call you extra cheesy ones in public to embarrass you

Kuroo enjoys your competitive spirit during board game nights. Whether it’s Donuts or any other game, he loves seeing the determination in your eyes. He’s equally competitive, and the two of you often end up in playful banter and teasing each other about who’s going to win.

Your nosiness and love for gossiping is something Kuroo finds amusing. He enjoys listening to the latest scoop you’ve picked up, and sometimes, he even joins in, providing his own sarcastic remarks and observations. But you know how men are when it comes to gossiping, they will be like "yeah so this happened and i forgot everything else that happened"

Knowing that quality time is your love language, Kuroo ensures that you always have his undivided attention. He would txt you druing work too like "love u" "hey look who i saw at work today *takes an awful selfie of him and tsuki*

HE'D LOVE THE FACT THAT YOU ARE A FAN FIC WRITER omg i think he'd find it cute and a lil funny

RUNNER UP:

TSUKI KEI

He was a close runner-up, might be a bit too sassy

[cookiesupplier]

A request based off of this tiktok 😮‍💨 /// doesn’t matter which guy

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8P3mwxq/

You guys go for a ride on his bike but seeing him drive turns you on

I had to go with Folio for this!

I hope you come back to find it again anon, and enjoy it!

~~

Fuck, she loved seeing him wearing his leather jacket and ready to ride. She would say she loved riding with him just as much but it always made her a little nervous at the same time. Okay that was a lie, it terrified her actually. It took her years to learn how to ride a bike as a kid and to be honest she had never been confident in it, she still wasn’t. Didn’t like getting on one on her own, and didn’t to this day. When she admitted that to her boyfriend though, he hadn’t laughed at her, he had smiled. It wasn’t a smile that suggested he was making fun of her, it was the smile that she loved, that smile made her want to cup his cheeks in her hands and press his face together and kiss him until he couldn’t breath when he told her it would be okay.

She would be okay. He was going to be driving the motorbike and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. 

Oh, she knew he’d had an accident before, and sure, anyone would think that would make her fear even worse, but it didn’t, it actually helped, because it told her he knew exactly what not to do. Especially when she was going to be riding with him now.

Folio had been planning to take her out for a ride for awhile now, and whether it was because of her nerves, or because of the tour planning, band practices, and studio recording taking up so much time, it just never seemed to happen, until today. They’d agreed to meet up for coffee after he spent the morning in the studio with the guys, what she hadn’t realised was when he said he’d give her a ride home, he’d meant on his bike, and not in a car, and leaving the cafe, she saw his motorbike on the curb and instantly, a shudder ran down her spine.

Just watching him reach for his leather jacket to pull it on had her pausing a little. Folio glancing back to her, maybe misinterpreting her hesitation,

“Baby, if you don’t want to ride, we can call a cab?”

Her eyes flew to his instantly, hoping he didn’t see the way her thighs pressed together a little as he finished doing up his jacket. Swallowing,

“No, its alright, you promised me a ride remember, thought I don’t have a jacket?”

His smile was bright then, as he reached for the back of his bike where he kept the spare helmet and brought out the jacket he’d also gotten her, along with the riding gloves,

“For you, Baby.”

Despite the fact she was nervous, and no matter how excited she was, she absolutely still was so very nervous about getting on that bike. She knew he could tell with the way he pressed his lips to her cheek when he held up the jacket to help her put it on, one arm at a time. Once it was settled on, and zipped up carefully, Y/N pulled on the gloves carefully, and then watched as Folio climbed onto the motorbike, and just like that, her mouth was dry.

Fuck. She always did love seeing him on his bike.

Honestly it was the main reason why she wanted to ride with him. As it was, she was so distracted by the way she looked at him, she almost completely missed the way he was looking at her right now as she prepared to pull on the helmet. “Look at you, my gorgeous little bad ass of a girlfriend.” The smile on his lips wasn’t remotely taunting either despite the fact that he knew how she felt about riding bikes, no, it was nothing but sweet, his tone fond and all kinds of delighted that she was joining him. Folio was so far gone on her that it felt like there wasn’t a single thing she could do that would put him off of her at this point, even her worst moment and he wouldn’t care. She was right here, trusting him, despite knowing he’d already gone down on his bike once. “Only you get on, hold on to me as tight as you like, okay?” Nodding, once her helmet was on, he helped her onto the bike behind him and pulled his helmet on too. Knowing how nervous she was, Folio pulled her arms around his middle. Holding onto him tight, her knees against his thighs, her chest against his back, letting his warmth wash over her body with the way she pressed right against him as she is.. And they were off. The power of the bike, the power of him thrummed through her, and everything she felt before just watching him get ready to ride was just magnified now. Y/N knew she needed to keep her hands to herself though, not distract Folio, her boyfriend was the in front riding, controlling the bike, not wanting to wreck them and all…

Y/N presses her hand’s flat to his middle, holding onto him tightly as they pull up to a set of lightly and they relax a little. She almost moaned as she breathed in and caught Folio’s aftershave and mixed with the rumble of the motorcycle engine between her legs, her body pressed right up against his, she could feel her thighs, her pussy clench so tightly.

Distraction, she needed a distraction, and she found it in her boyfriend’s jacket. Before she did something stupid like cause him to run the bike off the road, her fingers were running lightly down the zipper of the jacket lightly, that was alright, wasn’t it? It wasn’t a problem? Just down, and up, and back down again.. 

Of course, then her hand moves to his thighs without thinking, rubbing against his pants, her chin resting on his shoulder as her chest pressed right up against his back, thighs squeezing around his hips.. And she heard it..

A low groan muffled through his motorcycle helmet…

“Y/N, wait till we get back to your apartment Baby.”

Okay, so maybe she was the distraction.

[maxiemumdamage]

If it wasn’t clear I finally read Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes.

And I’m…mystified? By the criticisms of it which I had already seen plenty of before reading the actual book. Most complaints were about 1. pacing, 2. the POV character being a whiny brat/already evil, and 3. the overdramatic nature of everything. I’m not even gonna touch on that last thing, because people have always said it about the Hunger Games and it’s never been as true as they want it to be (the “Baby Bomb” in Catching Fire and Reaper’s moment with the flag come to mind, but there’s plenty of examples).

But like…I saw complaints that it took too long for the plot to pick up, but I was enthralled from the beginning. The ending was very harried and kinda rushed, sure, but that was also sort of the point — Coriolanus has a breakdown in the woods and in doing so goes past the point of no return with Lucy, so he returns to the Capitol and becomes the dictator we all know. It might've felt more jarring if I hadn't known that was how it would end, but...we all knew going in there was no way Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray Baird would run away and live in the woods together. Because before we ever knew Coryo, we knew President Snow. We knew where he'd end up.

I feel most of those complaints were rooted in the fact people always expect the Hunger Games books to be about...the Hunger Games. They view it like they're in the Capitol, like the Games themselves are the entertainment and focus and point of the story. They’re not, even when we’re reading about the creation of the Games as they became what they were in canon. The Games were never the point — it was about the people and world that created them. I went in expecting a post-war climate, and the saga of how a clever, manipulative young man worked his way into power, and as such I was immensely satisfied. This is about Snow becoming the cruel person we know, with some of his worst qualities being there from minute one and others taking time to be built or reinforced.

My biggest gripe is the romance. Yep, SnowBaird, the huge draw for every TikTok Songbirds and Snakes movie fan, just felt so out of place to me when it happened in the book. Lucy just got out of a romantic relationship that bit her in a truly spectacular fashion. But ok, sure. She's desperate, pretty much completely alone, and Coriolanus is very kind and supportive in his actions and she can't hear his self-serving and obnoxious internal monologue.

Coriolanus, though...I never understood why he seemed to be in love with her. He has a grudging almost-respect for Lucy Gray that he doesn't give anyone else, but I figured that was more because she demonstrated her cunning and talents where he could dismiss most others. She’s a performer, she’s got talent and poise, she’s forced to win people over (like him! (it’s not. his life never depended on it in the violent and final way hers did)).

And maybe it was necessary, that Snow thinks he’s in love. Because it’s at the core of the possessiveness, the jealousy, that colors so many of his interactions with Lucy. He has to be in love, so we can assign meaning or justifications to his actions. And then he tidily betrays everyone he supposedly loved, and it becomes clearer he’s only ever cared about himself.

And in general, I rarely understand romantic plots. And especially here, the point isn’t romance. It’s trust. Trust Coriolanus fails to extend to practically everyone, and it’s ultimately why he can’t make a better choice than to run back to the Capitol and Gaul.

[tmntxthings]

一∑ Ping! You’re Dead。・゜・

author’s note: this is @marwhoa ‘s fault for sending me a tiktok

warnings: major character death, description of wounds, blood, angst, grief, bad future, short oneshot, unedited

song inspired: “ Not Allowed by Kapa Boy ”

—————————————————————————

Leonardo had no thoughts as he ran. He had no thoughts as he fought his way towards Casey Jr. His body moved without it needing any prompting. There was no time to waste on something like thinking.

A battlefield with the Kraang was never pretty. The ground was littered with bodies. Leo didn’t think about the allies he had to jump over. Something a turtle just gets used to. Losing people. Losing hands. Losing brothers. Losing battles. Losing the war.

Leonardo bit down, clenching his teeth together as he sidestepped a deformed kraang. It had too many bodies, all writhing and conforming into one monstrosity. Leo didn’t have time to deal with it. He had to get to Casey.

“Donnie take care of big ugly behind me and then meet at Casey’s ping pronto.” Leo spoke, voice hard. He didn’t have to pretend around Donnie. Leo was worried and sugarcoating his tone didn’t mean anything anymore. There was only so much you could hide behind a flashy smile. People knew they were losing the war. Donnie knew. So Leo didn’t bother with the niceties.

“Roger roger.” Was called out from his purple brother. The wrist tech brightening the signature color as the words came through before going back to the tracker that Leo had been following. Casey had sent out a distress signal.

Leo never liked letting Casey go off on the battlefield alone. But it was hard to juggle a multitude of other responsibilities, keep himself from being killed, and watching out for his little human. Especially when that little human made it harder by going off on his own and always guaranteeing that he could handle it.

Teenagers!

They think they can do anything! They think they’re invincible! Leo’s left shoulder ached as a reminder that was far from the truth. No one was safe. Maybe once upon a time, twenty-so years ago. But not anymore.

Leo pushed himself harder, breaking through a thick cloud of dust and finding himself further away from the battle. Why was Casey’s ping so far out? What was he doing over here?

Leo took one more glance at the screen before looking back up. Casey should be right over—

It was then that Leo clocked in on the crumpled form on the ground.

No.

No. Nononono.

A mad dash brought Leo closer and down he went, onto his knees. Dropping his weapon and pulling Casey’s body in close. Cradling him.

“Casey?! No no. C’mon Case, say something!”

“S-sensei!”

Leo hugged him tighter. He smelled blood. Pulling back only enough to really assess the injuries, Leo saw the incomprehensible. Long gashes down Casey’s middle. His little human was gasping, groaning, making noises of pain and suffering that antagonized Leo further. It put him in a useless position.

“That’s it buddy, keep talking. Tell me where it hurts.”

But Casey’s eyes only got bigger as he struggled to breathe. Leo frantically started holding down the wounds. But he was missing something. The way Casey could hardly breathe had Leo finally tearing away the black fabric that covered Casey’s neck. A staple in his little human’s get-up.

It had been covering Leo’s worst fears. A fatal wound to the neck. Blood gushing. Red stained Leo’s hand as he tried to stop the inevitable.

“You’re gonna be fine Casey. You hear me? Just fine! Donnie will be here any minute!”

Leo was babbling. Tears welling in his eyes and running down his face as Casey started convulsing completely. Then going still. Limp.

“No! Nononono!”

He heard Donnie land behind him. Coming out of the air with his battleshell. Leo turned to his brother, pleadingly.

“Donnie help me!!” He cried. Frustrated, screaming painfully, as he shuffled forward on his knees still holding Casey close.

“Leo…” Donnie had a look of disbelief on his face before a complete shutdown.

No.

There had to be something.

This wasn’t right.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Casey was supposed to survive. They were piecing together a plan for Casey to survive, to live, to have a world he deserved.

He couldn’t. He wasn’t. No!

“Casey?”

Leo whimpered, his head going down to scrub his snout on his little human’s cheek. One robotic arm carrying his body weight, while the other hand still held onto the neck wound. The one that had stopped gushing. The hand that no longer felt a pulse.

Casey was gone. There would never be a reply. Donnie couldn’t help. And Leo continued to lose. Losing people. Losing hands. Losing brothers. Losing battles. Losing the war.

Losing Casey.

It was too much to handle.

—————————————————————————