#nasty people can keep going as long as they want

[from-the-owls-nest]

mhm. what if you're too broken, in too tiny pieces, even the base too shattered to rebuild from. what if there's too little good left.

*swallow* that... that probably wasn't the most helpful answer. but I know what you mean. and I don't really have a fix or anything.

*drily, like, ironically* should probably clarify that the you in that first sentence meant me and just me. so. before you get any more ideas. because of course for Me that's Different! At least for my chaos brain tangles.

[ooc: Philosophy Below. idk brain ran away with thoughts call me if u find it /silly]

*silence, thinking over the words again* I don't know. All I can hope is that - that sentence from the movie Aria likes. When we can see no future, all we can do is the next right thing. the next little ray of sunlight. the next little moment of peace.

And if none of that is possible... Wait, and hold on, and look for them, and hope they come back soon. This is just my thoughts - my little agreement with myself. I gotta try the best I can, even if the best I can is a break from trying to recover. And then I'll know that Past Me did their best for me now and that I owe it to Future me to do my best for what they might become. Even if they weren't very successful. Like deciding that however I am right now is me too, and so I am all these things and parts, the good and the rough ones, and they all together make the full me. It's these nice little shortcut across the self blaming and infighting that take a long time to work out but help wherever they hold.

But like. I think I owe it my future self to hold on, and to get through the storms. Our past selves have come such a long way, and who knows where we'll go next, what our future selves and lives might be like. So like. I do think that new paths open up all the time, possibilities. Even if the ones now are all bad, who knows where we can still go. And the only way to find out is to try, and to do our best.

*they pull out their diary, and from the front a little calendar page* Look. I... It's one of these pages I'll keep forever and ever because I need the reminder, and give to others when they might need it. I don't know if it's right. I hope so. and I think the only way to find out is to try and hold on.

For me that's enough. That, little hopes, little good moments, even just the memory of warmth and hope and the knowledge that all that was once can come again - in different forms, maybe, but it can. *turning to lay it next to Will's sneaker*

*more silence* But. Well. That's really big thoughts, and hard to see when everything is so dark. Hm. okay just to throw some thoughts out. You don't have to tell me, you don't have to think about it, just... some ideas. Little windows into that maybe, whenever you're able to look.

what do the voices say? can they maybe be talked to, or be both a little right?

is there anything you wish wouldn't stop? or come back? any little thing. ignore realism and context all that. if you were playing make-believe, your own little world, what would it look like? if you want to we can take turns. I play that game regularly cause, well, bad memory, and i probably should start again.

and... does it have to be a *bad* hurt? like. yes. you're different. stuff happened, and it changed you, and that really really hurt. you might not be the same person as before. is that a bad thing? or, you said nasty. sure. right now it's raw and painful and doesnt fit yet. but... could all these little shards grow back together and become something scarred and mended, and different?

I hope they could. I'd really miss you - not you from before, you however you are right now and however you want to be. Idk doesn't make much sense but - people if they change are still that person, right? just... changed, by a situation or because they got to know themselves better or whatever. Like Butterflies. I'd like to see the next chapter, with you if you want or just knowing there was one for you.

Image Credit @thelatestkate and her website

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

[jjtheresidentbaby]

regressuary day 1: bathing/washing

» for @regressuary & link to bingo card here

» cg!vi & rg!caitlyn & cg!ekko | on my ao3 | wrd count: 2.1k+

» summary: vi finds cait beaten in an alleyway without an explanation as to why and has to care for her, thankfully ekko shows up to help

» tags: arcane agere, set sometime in season 1, hurt/comfort, injuries & blood, other enforcers hurting cait, mentioned undercity & piltover conflict, slight baby talk, nicknames

Vi scoops Caitlyn into her arms carefully, swallowing hard when she hears Cait whine in pain before clinging herself to Vi as tight as she can.

Vi isn’t sure what happened that left Caitlyn in the state she’s in: her enforcer uniform torn, scrapes at her knees, blood on her knuckles, a bruise blooming over her left eye and a split lip on her right. It’s obvious she’s been fighting, Vi just wish she knew who and why.

“Let’s get you home.” She starts the trek from the hidden alleyway towards the Kiramman property but is quickly stopped when Cait lifts her head with a shake.

“Can’t go home.” Caitlyn more mumbles than anything which worries Vi, did she hit her head? Should Vi be taking her to a doctor rather than home for some at-home-patchwork?

“Did you bump your head honey?” Truly Vi doesn’t know why she takes the soft and gentle tone with Cait when nine times out of ten they’re pretty brash with one another, but it seems to help Caitlyn relax a little.

“No jus’ my face got hurt.” Under the streetlights Vi is able to see how nasty the bruise she has really is. It’ll take weeks for that thing to fade and Vi thinks she’ll start to feel her own face ache if she keeps staring.

“Okay, I’ll talk you to my place.” Not that she really wants to take Cait in her enforcer uniform down to the Undercity but she doesn’t see any other option.

-

It’s rough to get to the lanes with Cait cradled in Vi’s arms but she manages somehow and only gets a couple winces from Cait. They haven’t been talking back and forth and that’s worrying Vi so she’s been trying to fill the silence on her own.

“One day I’ll talk you into eating the food down here, it’s better than it looks.” There’s so many people out tonight and every few steps Vi almost knocks into someone. It’s making her buzz with anxious energy.

“Oh and I’ll show you where me and Ekko used to train as kids, you’ll like it there. Would you wanna do that cupcake?” The nickname sounds far too dainty coming from Vi’s mouth right now, Cait nuzzles her face in further to Vi’s neck with a small nod, only making Vi more nervous. Caitlyn has never been this quiet around Vi, even when they were about to talk to the Councilors she was muttering about what to say and what not to.

“Vi?” The redhead stops in her tracks at the voice calling her name from in front of her- as if they just summoned him, it’s Ekko. At least it’s not someone looking to settle a decade old score.

“Hey Ekko.” Protectively Vi tugs Cait closer despite knowing fully well that Ekko is everything but a threat.

“I heard you were walking through the lanes carrying an enforcer around.” Ekko smirks a little as he crosses his arms and Vi falters to reply.

“Who told you that? I haven’t been down here that long.” Anyone could’ve told Ekko and the Undercity moves so quickly it’s really a useless line of questioning.

“When someone has a beaten enforcer held in their arms like a baby, it gets around pretty fast. So, you and Caitlyn get into a fight or something?” A scowl appears on Vi’s face, nearly disgusted by the thought of her doing this to Cait. Ekko just shakes his head at the expression.

“I found her like this, I don’t know what happened.” They start to walk again, Ekko leading Vi towards the path that will bring them to the firelights base, which she’s thankful for. It’ll be safer for Cait to be there than the rickety old apartment Vi’s been staying in.

“You just found her? How did you know she was hurt?”

“I didn’t. I… I was going to see if she’d let me crash for the night but she wasn’t home when I snuck in so I thought she was on patrol for the night and that’s when I found her. Nobody else was around and she hasn’t said anything about what happened.” Part of Vi thinks the other enforcers did this, Cait said she was having problems with a couple of them the last time Vi stayed over. If it’s true, she doubts Cait will want to give them up. That job means so much to her.

“You guys can stay with us tonight. I have a place you can clean her up and patch those wounds.” There’s definitely more Ekko wants to say but he’s holding back, probably because they’re still in public, Vi can’t blame him. She feels unnerved walking around like this even if nobody’s said anything to them or done more than shoot Vi a strange look.

“Thanks Ekko.”

-

The firelights base is just as lively and inviting as the first time Vi came in here: people buzzing around with smiles on their faces, fresh air wafting into Vi’s senses in a much nicer way than the lingering smog in the lanes, and most of all, this bass feels safe. Vi doesn’t see a single weapon around or even an angry face seeing Caitlyn’s enforcer uniform when they pass groups of people.

“I’ll go grab some water, you can untangle her from you.” There’s half a chuckle that Vi rolls her eyes at. Cait still hasn’t moved so much as an inch away from Vi, maybe Ekko’s right about untangling her being its own task.

“Hey cupcake we’re safe in here, you can take a bath and I’ll patch you up.” Gently Vi wraps a hand around the back of Cait’s head, still using the other to hold Cait up.

“Mhm.” Is the muffled reply she gets and Caitlyn’s hands gripping Vi’s jacket harder.

“Is that so? Well Ekko is being very nice by letting us use his bath, don’t you think we should oh I don’t know… actually use it?” Her voice falls to the one she’d pull out when Powder was being fussy about something when they were younger: all soft and playful teasing, nothing harsh that could make the kid feel worse. Which is funny to think about, considering Cait is not a kid and is far from it but- Vi thinks she needs to be babied a little right now.

“Hur’s.” It’s slurred and young sounding, Vi sucks in a breath. She hates seeing Cait like this when she’s usually so strong and put together.

“Oh honey. The bath will help it not hurt, okay? I’ll clean you up nice and good.” It’s not necessarily a lie but Vi isn’t sure if patching Cait’s wounds will cause less pain than what she’s already in. It has to be done though.

“That’s it little one.” Slowly, almost like she’s afraid Vi is going to disappear into thin air if she’s too far away, Caitlyn lets go of her and Vi’s able to sit her up on a chair next to the unfilled bath.

Cait looks even smaller than before. Her arms are tucked into her chest instantly, big doe eyes staring up at Vi in waiting with a wet blink, shoulders hunched together, and Vi swears there’s even a pout in her bottom lip. It makes Vi want to pull her right back up to her chest and apologize for ever putting her down until she’s blue in the face.

“Hey you got her down.” Thankfully Ekko comes back into the room with buckets of water before Vi can act on gut instinct alone and have to start the process of getting Cait to let go of her all over again.

“That should warm up quickly.” Ekko kneels on the floor for a minute, flipping a switch so some type of heating system beneath the tub starts up. Vi makes a mental note to ask how he came up with that later on.

“Stay.” Before Ekko can walk past the girls and leave them alone, Cait reaches a hand out to stop his wrist.

The room pauses for a beat until Caitlyn’s face falls and she instantly reels her hand back as if it’s been burned. Her cheeks flush in embarrassment but Ekko only smiles softly, kneeling beside the chair and taking Cait’s trembling hand into his own.

“That’s alright princess, I can stay.” He assures and gives a kiss to the top of Cait’s hand. Vi feels something like happiness swell in her chest seeing the only family she’s really got interacting in good faith. With how Cait and Powder interacted before… she’s more than grateful Ekko is being kind to Caitlyn even under the circumstances.

-

“Do you think you can talk blue?” Ekko is busy distracting Cait where she sits in the tub while Vi tends to the wound on the back of her shoulders. Vi can’t tell what the slice is from or how Caitlyn hasn’t been crying in pain from it. It’s long and thick, maybe a sword? But it’s not deep enough to hit anything major but still has crimson blood dribbling down it slowly.

“I can talk, m’big.” A short laugh comes from Ekko and he reaches to brush some hair off Cait’s face. Him and Vi had a quick conversation as Cait undressed about Caitlyn possibly being in a younger headspace than normal, Vi is only starting to believe Ekko’s theory more and more.

“That’s good. Do you know who did this to you?” A small whimper comes from Cait’s chest, Vi isn’t sure if it’s because she’s pressing antiseptic to her wound or because of Ekko’s question.

“It’s alright sweetheart, I’m almost done.” She murmurs just incase it is the pain causing Cait to shrink in on herself.

“And we won’t tell anyone you don’t want us to if you tell us who hurt you.” Ekko glances behind Cait’s shoulder to share a stern look with Vi- no they won’t tell anyone about who hurt Caitlyn, they won’t need to, they’ll be able to handle whoever it is on their own.

“Was the other enforcers.” ‘Enforcers’ comes out in a mumbled lisp with a sniffle that only makes the rage that quickly starts to simmer in Vi burn hotter.

“They don’t like me ‘cause I’m not like them.” From the angle Vi is leaning over the tub at, she can see how Ekko rubs his thumb at Cait’s cheek while simultaneously clenching his jaw so hard Vi can almost hear them grinding together.

“What do you mean you’re not like them?” Cait shrugs and looks away from Ekko, hands moving the water around her anxiously. She hesitates for a moment before going to speak again.

“I like you guys. I care bout you.” They don’t like her because she’s friends with people from the Undercity, because she actually gives a damn about what happens down here.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, and you don’t deserve to get hurt for it. I’m sorry that they did that.” Vi leans herself to press her cheek to the top of Caitlyn’s shoulder where the cut doesn’t reach, Cait easily drops her head atop Vi’s, getting Vi’s hair and face wet in the process but it doesn’t matter.

“Do you know their names?” The gears turning in Ekko’s head are practically as audible as his teeth grinding, Vi can’t wait to hear what he’s planning to do to those bastards.

“Mhm. Uh Johnny, Charlotte and um.. Triv? I don’t know them very well. I fought back but..” She trails off and lifts her hands out of the water, her busted knuckles still red with the dried blood that hasn’t fully washed away.

“You did amazing baby, you did everything you could outnumbered like that.” Vi shifts to press a quick kiss to Cait’s damp skin. She really is proud of Cait for fighting back against the other enforcers, she knows it couldn’t have been easy.

“I stay the night?” One of Caitlyn’s hands reaches to rub clumsily at her eyes before she yawns all small and childish.

“Of course you can. I’ll go get some clothes for you and Vi can dry you off.” Ekko stands and grabs a towel to hand Vi before disappearing out of the room.

Vi almost expects Ekko to go off right then and there and track those enforcers down to get them back for hurting Cait but he comes back quickly with some clothes and blankets. It’s not til Cait is asleep and Professor Heimerdinger is sat by her bed that Ekko and Vi go up to Piltover to defend Caitlyn. They return out of breath and a little bruised up but before Cait wakes up. The three of them spend the rest of the night snuggled up together and safe.

[myteavsricochet]

how his voice shakes as he talks about the people/fans he has met and their experiences. this means so much to him I'm gonna cry.

x

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 16: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should offer to help the travelers with their broken wagon.....

~

After much internal deliberation (and some zoning out staring at butterflies), The Adventurer decides it would be best to offer his assistance. Technically, he IS still following his goal of not getting distracted, because theoretically it would make his journey much faster if he were able to catch a ride on a carriage. So really, this is all an ultimate big brain genius strategy for maximizing efficient travel.. Or, at least that sounds like a good enough justification to him.

Gathering up all of his social courage, he approaches one of the travelers fiddling with a broken wheel near the far end of the carriage and meekly asks if there's anything he could do to help.

The man was so focused on his task, he seems initially startled to look up and find someone near him. "OH..! Oh, uhh.. help? With the wagon?", he smiles pleasantly, gesturing towards a few wooden boards that are just out of his reach, "Sure, kid. If you could just hand me th-"

"Apologies, but we actually won't be needing your assistance, stranger." A taller man, surprisingly almost matching the stature of the Adventurer, suddenly slinks out from somewhere behind the carriage, sternly placing himself like a barrier in front of the man working on the wheel. Wheel Guy nervously averts his eyes, making himself smaller, silently resuming his work.

The Adventurer tries his best to maintain composure against the weight of the tall man's bitter gaze, but can't seem to muster much of a response "Aeughh,,, uh… b-but, h- Bu--HHHh,,?.."

"Look, disregard whatever my father told you, he's old, never has any clue what he's talking about. It'd be best for you to simply move along." ('Father'? They don't look alike at all, and seem to be nearly the same age..)

"W-well.. he.. he didn't really tell me anything, I me-hhH,,.. I mean, I literally just got here, s-so...."

"Good. Even more reason to be on your way."

Placing a gloved hand firmly on his shoulder, the tall man begins to motion the Adventurer away from the wagon, but a strange noise interrupts, echoing from inside. Perhaps some sort of animal sound? Or a person faintly yelling about something? Or… both?

"WH-wHggg… whAT was t-that???!!" The Adventurer immediately stops in place, pausing to listen as the tall man keeps trying to push him ahead.

"I didn't hear anything, stranger."

"No, t-there.. was dEFinitely, UHH, a-"

"Likely something in the forest."

"Wh--aah... d.. do you think it was an animal?"

The tall man continues a dramatic struggle to 'subtly' drag him further down the road, whilst the Adventurer mindlessly digs in his heels, too distracted to even notice he's being so strongly prompted to leave.

"Many animals do, indeed, exist within forests. This should not be suprising."

"...It's just.. ..eughh… s… so weird…"

"I assure you, it is not."

"I-it really sounded like.. like it came f-from insid-"

"Yes, from inside the forest. Now, please, if you would.."

The noise interrupts again. It's definitely someone, or something, in some sort of distress.. And definitely from inside of the cart.

"wHoAAGH, aa!!! T-tHat's NOT from the f-forest, that-"

The tall man fully just shoves him now, sending the Adventurer toppling across the dirt, clumsily rolling and landing just past the other side of the carriage. A mother and young child who seem to be part of the traveling group simply stare down at him with empty blank gazes, wholly unconcerned about helping him up.

As the Adventurer fumbles back to his feet (still confused as to why he was even pushed in the first place), the tall man looms by the carriage, diligently watching to ensure that he leaves.

"Travel safe, stranger."

Despite his initial obliviousness, the Adventurer begins to piece the situation together as he stares back at the man, now fully convinced something suspicious might be going on...

…What should he do next??

~

~

~

Additional Information

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[uselessgay10101]

Ohhhhh so THATS what they changedddd- (ugh it's bad but good...)

Yeah totally agree with you on the "THERE'S A FUCKING APOCALYPSE BRO I DON'T THINK ME KISSING A GIRL WILL MAKE THINGS WORSE-!"

But I understand how Alek probably wants to write Anna off as (Definitely needs more bc it's shit-)

The idea that "it's wrong" isn't really a religious thing as much as you would expect. I say this as someone who didn't really do the "go to church every sunday" or "pray every night" type of thing but I DID have the typical religious household in a Mexican family. I didn't get told "you'll go yo hell" or "God doesn't love you bc your a child of satan-"

No thankfully none of that. But did get indirect signals.

An eyeroll, a groan, a simple comment, or a disgusted expression is ENOUGH for not only internalized homophobia to be developed but fear of acceptance

Which is what I think Anna is going through. It is the stage of acceptance. In which one not only accepts one's self but the fact that there will be people against you for the sole fact of BEING gay. And that THAT won't stop you from being your gay self (is it badly written and makes me want to cry with how bad it is sometimes? Yes but that's another thing-)

Anna isn't in a religious household or constantly being told "being gay is a bad so....no [smack]"

...But she kinda is. Bc that's probably what's going through her head at the slightest interaction with Lane. I can FEEL her internal anxiety and rage at not only Lane but in herself because "friends don't....FEEL things for friends"

"Your mind is not only your permanent home but also your most present one." - Uselessgay 2025 :))

Also we all know Anna treasures Dimitri above almost everything right? She wants his approval and praise and it stems from her want and need for approval from her own FATHER

And from what I've read it's not likely Dimitri is too fond of the idea that his sister is 💅💅💅

From a nasty disgusted look to acting cold and uncaring to her when she need reassurance

That to someone who constantly seeks the approval from those she loves is soul crushing. it's not a simple pain in your chest but something that sticks to you like unactivated slime! It's something you keeps it's claws in a death grip when hugging you and that u remember unconsciously

Now pair that with one's unintentional internalized homophobia and it's enough to not only be cruel to yourself but to whoever one likes in a gay way

The kiss scene in my mind was perfect. (As perfect as bad writing can get but...it's not BAAAD! (She could use a little more experience in writing such scenes))

The kiss and the scene leading up to it wasn't soft nor loving. It's was angry and desperate.

You're allowed to disagree bc I know what I'm saying is infuriating to ppl who just want Anna to stop being so...[wild gestures]

But it's real. It's fucking infuriating that only wlw have to deal with this shit when the straights are off smooching and having sex in the first 💎 diamond 💎 scene

But It's really is only something that straight people could never understand. I know it's hard to live in a time where wlw players are more accepted than ever but still [gestures wildly again]

Anna's route.....isn't BAD nor is it GOOD but it is real in the sense that it give the real experience OF being gay in an otherwise unaccepting environment

Again it's stupid and heartbreaking that's its ONLY wlw but wlw is not straight and it never will be (please don't take that as an insult! I mean that in a "agree to disagree" way and a "appreciate being you" type-pa way)

--- And omg this is so long- sorry I just want everyone to know I'm not COMPLETELY crazy in justifying the route.. I see the good in the bad and willing to ask questions...I'm not being mean I swear- :')

I haven’t caught up to Anna’s route yet on my slot but lowkey what was that…

Apparently there’s variations depending on VoG or WoD/ compassion/no compassion etc and I’ve seen ss for one path only so far.

I just don’t get why Anna, who has so far been presented as being averse to looking at women romantically say something like this ? It feels ooc almost idk. You could argue that she’s opening up slowly, and is still in denial over her feelings and/or sexuality and this was a way to open that avenue but it doesn’t feel right to me idk why.

using the word ‘recoiled’ and then saying she wanted to ‘wash herself’ is genuinely crazy bye. look, I would also recoil if someone kissed me outta nowhere (doubly so if I was struggling with my sexuality) but ‘wash herself off’ IS SO INSANE???? as if it’s a dirty act. and before anyone says anything, I know there are people have repressed desires; they can’t come to terms with themselves being attracted to the same gender and they could potentially feel that way. but oh my god, there has been no nuance in the way this has been handled. no deep religious trauma that could’ve molded her this way, nothing that could even potentially explain why Anna would see same sex relationships and attraction the way she does. (someone correct me if I’m wrong pls it’s been ages since I played my Anna route)

Lada and Tata’s budding relationship has been handled so much better. There’s questions from both and you can see they’re both new to this; Lada even questions herself if ‘it’s okay’ to feel that way but it makes her feel happy so she does what her heart tells her to. What kinda reasoning is it that an apocalypse can happen but heaven forbid u wanna kiss a girl

There were so many ways to write a kiss scene between them. Idk if I’m overthinking or if anyone else felt the same way

ITS SO WEIRD. this woman hates lesbians and bisexual players bruh i cannot.

(also hearing that fucking Boris appears today in a vision made me crash the fuck out)

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.

[imagineastrology]

moon sign observations

Aries Moon: 

Argumentative 

Becomes recalcitrant under stress (beware)

Has no problem asserting themselves

Resourceful af and knows how to use adverse situations to their advantage

Supportive and hearty 

Taurus Moon:

Becomes hedonistic under stress (no rules)

Desires and hopes to embody loyalty

Seems cool, but keeps grudges

Unyielding and independent 

Cautious of new situations/experiences

Gemini Moon:

Struggles to stay in a ‘deep’ state of mind for too long (needs change, don’t worry they’ll get back to it later)

Approaches everything with intellectualism 

Feelings are confusing if they can’t be rationally understood

Grows when in a learning environment

Reacts to most things in a jokey way to cope and can be forgetful 

Cancer Moon: 

Can turn cold when you don’t react the way they want 

Enterprising 

Will humiliate you if upset or angry

Insightful and internally aware

When put to productive use, has an intense inner focus 

Leo Moon: 

Actually suffers from many episodes of burn out

Guarded and self-protective

One of the most sensitive moon signs imo

They let nothing (I mean NOTHING) stop them from shining their light

Bossy and feels like they need to be in control all the time

Virgo Moon: 

CEO of worriers inc.

Rumination leads them to depression and anxiety

Helpful and enjoys communicating their worries (moreso in a notepad than speaking)

Conscientious and wants to do meaningful things with their life

Never takes things at face value; will 100% analyse everything said and shown to them

Libra Moon: 

Manifests love because it’s a major topic in their lives that they focus on

They are your go-to when it comes to aesthetics 

Approaches most things with grace and fairness

Intelligent, can handle debates and many sides to a conversation

Heavily influenced and motivated by femininity and women

Scorpio Moon: 

Major psychologist/counsellor vibes from this placement, can handle any topic thrown at them

Can guess how you’re feeling without you having to say anything

More sensitive than they let on

Very caring and affectionate 

Seeks out truth and intimacy in their relationships

Sagittarius Moon: 

Can be oblivious to people’s emotions

Restless emotionally, runner up to gemini moon (not quite 1st place)

Adventurous 

Can easily manifest in the physical due to Jupiter’s influence

Actually very intuitive 

Capricorn Moon: 

Either in control of their emotions or let their emotions run wild 

Artistic 

Seems to be a sadness to them 

Responsible

Uses humour as a defense mechanism

Aquarius Moon: 

Will rationalize their emotions to the point of no return

Friendly!!

Sharp and intelligent 

Loners at heart

They learn and grow a lot from their friends

Pisces Moon:

Can actually be cold and turn nasty if they feel like it

Lets their emotions rule their behaviour 

Sensitive 

Boundaries are blurred when they need something

Philosophical

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, nsfw, morally grey reader

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about your loser colleague… He’s the nerdiest guy, and he’s got the biggest, fattest crush on you—and it makes him utterly blind to all your tricks and how you manipulate him to do your work around the office like your own personal errand boy.

You’re not mean. You swear it! You’re not mean—you know it’s wrong of you to enjoy and abuse his attention like this without any intention of ever reciprocating it! Of course, you know it’s awful of you to string him along, never telling him you’re not into him like that, that he’s wasting his time on you, that he should move on. You’re a nice girl! You promise! Of course, if he were to actually confess, you’d tell him the truth at once! You’d let him down easy. But as it stands right now, he hasn’t asked—and so it’s innocent—both his unworded crush and your unspoken flattery. Sure, it might be a little narcissistic, but it’s not a crime for a girl to bask in attention!

Do you lead him on? Mh… well… not exactly. You’re being nice, is all. Sure, some might call what you do flirting back, but you act that way with plenty of people, not just him. If he reads into it, that’s on him. Right?

Okay, fine, so you’re a little mean. So what? Is it really so wrong of you to play with him just a little bit? No. Or… at least not entirely. Think about it—in a way, you’re making his day with your little tricks. How you return his long longing stares with your own lingering looks and coy smiles—taking him outside with you to smoke during your break, talking to him in giggles over small inside jokes you’ve developed between just the two of you, applying your lipgloss all exaggeratingly as they do in the movies, borrowing his jacket when it gets too cold for you in your inappropriate tops, squeezing your arms tightly over your chest, making your tits squish up to meet him and his shameful leer.

Truly, adults shouldn't act this way—but you just can’t help yourself!

And it’s not as if he isn’t equally guilty! Looking at you like that! It’s not as if you don’t know exactly what perverted little thoughts go tumbling through his head—picturing you naked in compromising positions, probably playing with your image like a toy doll, dressing you up in kinky clothes to fit all his dirty fantasies, making you say all sorts of vile things for him.

You’re both awful! So it’s fine. A quid pro quo, as they call it. A tit for tat if you’re nasty.

And honestly, a nerdy guy like him should know better. A pretty girl like you—popular and a sweetheart, to top it all off—he can’t seriously believe he has an actual chance, can he? Of course not—that would make him delusional. You’re not torturing him. In any case, he’s torturing himself!

And you seriously think he might just keep it up forever.

But you might be going too far this time—laying it on too thick—stretching him too thin—asking him to drive you home after an office party, giggling and all but moaning all your words in the passenger seat next to him, wearing nothing but a short little black slip, no bra, no nothing except for a pair of strappy little heals. 

“Oh! What a night—these shoes are killing me!” you sigh while taking them both off as he drives. Even in your drunk state, you can see the way his hands tighten around the wheel and how he shifts all uncomfortably in his seat, breathing thickly—it makes you smile.

You throw your head back in relief once they’re both off—chest jutting forth as you rub your thighs together. And he swallows thickly—jaw clenched so tight, he couldn’t say anything even if he had anything to say. But you know he doesn’t—you, with your milky skin on display, have rendered him speechless. 

Your smile curls at the corners, and you know it’s cruel, but you have absolutely no idea how to reel it in anymore. He makes you feel like an untouchable goddess being worshipped—makes you want to laugh as he bows his head in the dirt and prays to you with all he has.

Oh, the poor boy, you’ve got him wound so tightly around your little finger—you don’t even know how to release him anymore. You’re both in way too deep, it’s getting hard for either of you to think clearly anymore.

“I’ll follow you in—just to make sure you get to bed safely,” he offers once stopping outside your place. And lost to the wine in your bloodstream, you haven’t the slightest little hang-up over how he knows your address without having asked.

Completely oblivious, you keep floating on cloud nine, smiling while murmuring, “What a nice guy~ How ‘bout you carry me up the steps as well—” 

You’d meant it as a tease, but he takes it in all manners of seriousness, rounding the car, opening your door, and then scooping you up before your bare feet even have the chance of meeting the pavement below—but you don’t complain.

Only cheering, “Oh~” 

It’s surprising, maybe even a little bit impressive. He’s tall, but he looks more lean than anything—like an overgrown boy—a far cry from a rugged man of strength, but here he is, acting just so, carrying you like a princess—with ease, you might add. But you suppose it’s been hard for you to tell his true build from beneath those big, cozy sweaters he always wears. Resting on it now, you can tell his chest is actually quite firm.

“I didn’t know you were so strong~" You keep flirting, paying no mind to how his hands grope into your exposed skin—you can allow him that much. Otherwise, feeling too swept up in your own feminine guiles—aroused by your sheer seductiveness—hot and bothered and thinking you’re going to touch yourself to yourself tonight and laugh about how you have the poor office loser waiting on you, hands and knees.

You find your keys in your clutch and unlock the door from the cradle of his arms—before you’re carried inside like a queen, all the way to your bedroom, where he lays you down gently on your bed. 

You sigh happily at the soft, nice embrace—feeling successful while melting into the cakey mattress—all but ready to find your vibe and ride the high.  That is, until feeling a certain pair of hands start undressing you.

“Hey—what’re you doing?” you jolt, gripping your dress in a panic—looking shock-eyed into his round ones.

“Just making you comfortable,” he says softly, looking a little bit like a kicked pup—making your nerves return calm. 

Oh, of course, he is—you can’t blame a guy for trying. However, there are limits to what’s allowed in this little game of yours. And you think that’s crossing one.

“Thanks, but…” You chuckle—faking being shy while batting your lashes. “That wouldn’t be appropriate. You see—” Voice sultry as you admit, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

How you have the gall to keep teasing him is beyond you, and so you keep blaming it all on liquid courage—otherwise, certain the devil is making you do it.

“Thanks for taking me home, though.”

You smile before turning to rest on your side, facing away from where he stands by your bedside with hope in his poor eyes—oh, you almost feel bad—if only your well-fed ego weren’t already making you feel on top of the world. 

“You can leave the key beneath the welcome matt. Drive safely. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Eyes closed in bliss while grinning from ear to ear, you’ve come to terms with your terrible nature and have found the perfect way of sleeping at night despite it. Your poor colleague, so hopelessly infatuated with you and such a sucker for it—making you relive your mean girl queen bee school days all over again.

It’s the drink! You swear! It makes you feel all types of demonic—wanting to play with your favorite toy—see just how far you can take it before making him break. But, as always, one should be careful what one wishes for.

“You know…” A dark voice occupies your bedroom. From behind you. You’d thought he’d left already—gone out to his car to beat his blue-balled cock to his fantasy of you, but no. 

“Playing hard to get is one thing…” he continues. “Being a stuck-up bitch is another.”

You try to whip around, but it’s too late by then.

“You’ve had your fun with me. It’s time I have my fun with you.”

Nothing could have prepared you for his sudden change—the moment when all your teasing and tricks finally made him snap! 

He’s on top of your back. Straddling you—a heavy hand in your hair, pushing your face back down into the soft mattress below, while the other hand picks your dress up, pulling over your butt and leaving it exposed.

“Hey! What are you—” You try to make him calm down—to stop—but it’s as though nothing you say has any impact—or, no—instead, it has the complete opposite effect of what you want.

A sharp feeling blossoms across your ass cheek. It takes a moment before you realize he’d hit you—spanked you.

His grip on your hair tightens, pulls your face up to meet him where he leans down to your ear—voice venom-laced and shy of unhinged, “You’ve enjoyed yourself tonight, haven’t you? Teasing and toying with me—thinking I’ll just sit back and take it.”

His hand digs between your thighs—slipping through despite how you mend them shut—now dragging his fingers through your puffy slit, forcing two inside your tightly needy hole, uncaring to the cry it reaps from you.

“I’m the one who made your pussy wet like this, so it’s only right I have my way with it.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Nanami, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kageyama ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[alisonsfics]

risk it all for you

pairing: tyler owens x reader

summary: you and tyler have liked each other since high school. but you both may have waited too long to tell each other, which leads to a pretty nasty fight between the two of you. that’s when a storm comes.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: ended up being so much longer than i thought it would, but had a blast writing for everyone’s favorite tornado cowboy

The comforting scent of burning wood filled your lungs as you sat by the campfire. You didn’t even notice the smile that was glued to your face as you looked around.

The recent storms had brought in all kinds of visitors, hoping to witness a tornado up close and personal. It was the end of a busy day, and all the chasers were camping out in the parking lot of the motel they were staying at.

Tyler, your best friend since high school, had invited you to the bonfire. Tyler had always been the adrenaline junkie, not you. Chasing tornadoes was his thing, and you were glad to let him have it all to himself.

You were currently sitting in the back of Tyler’s truck waiting for him to bring you back a beer.

“So, you’re telling me you and Tyler have never gone for a ride?” One of Tyler’s friends continued to pester you. You quickly shook your head. You couldn’t bear the thought of risking your life like that. “Never, you all can keep your tornadoes. I am happy staying at home and hearing the stories.” You replied.

“Nobody said I was talking about tornadoes.” He retorted. The whole group erupted into laughter. Your cheeks heated up at the implication. It wasn’t like you’d never thought about it. You definitely had.

You heard a few rogue whistles. “Alright, that’s enough.” You heard a low voice say beside you. You turned to look over your shoulder and saw Tyler with two beers in hand.

“Here you go, sweetheart. Don’t let ‘em bother you too much.” He said, handing the bottle over to you. He jumped up to sit next to you on the tailgate. Even after being friends for years, you still sometimes got butterflies when you hung out with him.

“I mean, you can’t blame them. It’s a complete mystery how we’ve managed to stay just friends. I mean, you are just so hot and irresistible. I don’t know how any girl could stay friends with the infamous Tyler Owens.” You sarcastically teased him.

He nearly spit out his beer as he laughed at your joke. Whenever Tyler laughed at your jokes, it was like a little ego boost.

Many people had prodded over the years and asked you and Tyler why you never dated. Every time you gave a sarcastic response to the questions, Tyler fell a little harder for you.

Tyler leaned against you, clinking his bottle against yours. His arm pressed up against yours. Heat radiated off his skin. You hadn’t realized how cold you were. Tyler noticed too.

“Oh hang on, here take this,” he said, grabbing a blanket from behind him. He carefully wrapped it around your shoulders, so it would keep you warm.

You could smell his cologne on the blanket. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend you were wrapped up in his arms.

“So, Tyler, if you two aren’t together, are you seeing anybody else?” One of the girls sat around the fire asked Tyler. You instantly felt your stomach drop. You’d watched girls flirt with Tyler for years, but it never got easier. You faked a smile, but inside, you had a pit in your stomach.

“Why you wanna know? You want me all to yourself?” Tyler jokingly flirted back.

It was no secret that Tyler was a flirt. It never meant anything more to him. It was always just a flirty comment. But you still got jealous. You knew you and Tyler couldn’t have any kind of flirtatious relationship.

The girl pretended to fan herself and blew a kiss towards Tyler. Everyone was laughing at the silly exchange. You just couldn’t do it.

You set down the blanket and hopped down off the tailgate. “I gotta get something out of my car.” You lied, since everyone’s eyes were glued on you. Jealousy was written all over your face. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

They all went back to their conversations as you walked away. You wiped away the tear that was rolling down your cheek.

You heard a heavy pair of footsteps behind you. “Wait up. Where ya goin’?” He asked. You both knew you weren’t just “getting something out of your car.”

“Anywhere but here, Tyler,” you said. You continued walking and refused to look back at Tyler. You knew if you looked at him, you’d melt and lose the courage to leave. Tyler could convince you to do anything, and all it took was the twinkle in his eye.

You reached out to open your car door. Tyler smacked his hand against the door, pushing it closed. The loud slam caused you both to jump. It hadn’t been so aggressive in his head.

He mumbled a quick “sorry” and then squeezed himself between you and the car, his back pressed up against the car door.

You focused your eyes on the ground. You refused to look him in the eye.

“What’s goin’ on? Are you mad at me?” He asked you. You rolled your eyes and huffed. He waited for you to answer as you stubbornly crossed your arms. “I’m not mad at you, Ty. I just want to leave.” You said, with your eyes still glued to the ground.

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. You bit your tongue, trying to remain assured. Tyler had to resist the urge to laugh at how much effort it was taking you to keep a serious face.

“Really? Cause it looks like you’re mad at me. In fact, it looks like you’re a little jealous.” He said, smirking down at you. He moved his hand from your chin to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.

You pushed him off of you and took a step back. “Oh, really? Is it that obvious?” You said, hitting his arm. He cocked his head to the side. He was expecting you to deny it, and he was a little shocked when you didn’t.

“So, you are feelin’ a little jealous? Why didn’t you just tell me?” He said, taking a small step towards you. He was wearing the same cocky smile that he always had plastered on his face.

“Do you know how hard it is to see you flirt with every girl you meet?” You asked. He furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out why you were so frustrated. To him, it seemed like there was a very simple solution.

He let his hand rest on your waist, softly toying with the fabric of your shirt. “Well, sweetheart, if you wanted me, you could have just told me. I’m right here for you to take.” He told you, genuinely. Hearing those words come out of his mouth made your stomach do flips.

“It’s different with me and you. We can’t flirt the way you do with those girls.” You told him. You could feel yourself starting to give into his touch, as you leaned in closer to him. “I see no reason why we can’t, sweetheart.” He said, looping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

You could feel your heart pounding. You had to remind yourself to breathe. His cologne was enveloping all your senses. Your eyes were stuck on his.

“Cause with them, it’s casual. But we’ve been friends for years, so it could never be casual. It would have to be all or nothing. It would have to be this serious thing, or we’d risk our entire friendship.” You told him, your voice coming out as a whisper. He ran his fingers through your hair. He couldn’t help but admire you under the moonlight.

“I never claimed to want something casual with you, sweetheart.” He told you. You could feel goosebumps spread down your arms as he looked at you like you were his everything.

You had to pull yourself out of it. You were getting dragged in. “We can’t be together, Tyler.” You said, pulling yourself out of his grasp. You noticed his slight frown as you slipped out of his arms.

“Why not? I think we both know we’d be great together.” He tried to convince you. He didn’t know why you seemed so hesitant when you both knew the feelings were mutual.

He could see the sadness on your face. You wanted to be with Tyler, but you knew it wouldn’t work. “I would always end up as your second priority. It would ruin us, and we’d never be able to be friends again.” You told him. Your emotion was clear in your voice.

He cocked his head to the side in confusion. That was the last thing he expected you to say. He never thought he struggled at showing you how important you were to him.

“What do you mean? Nobody comes before you. Nobody ever has. I’ve always put you first.” He told you. He was practically begging you for answers. He wanted to know how to assure you.

“Owens, I’m not talking about a person. I’m talking about all of this.” You said, looking around you both. There were storm chasers camping out for as far as you both could see. “What are you saying? That we can’t be together because I chase tornadoes?” He asked, starting to raise his voice.

You both were very stubborn people, so it was gradually turning into more of an argument.

“I’m saying you’d always have one foot out the door. And at the drop of a hat, you’d be racing out to risk your life. I can’t be wondering if you’re gonna come home. But, I know how much you love what you do.” You told him. Your voice cracked, and Tyler stepped forward to try to comfort you.

You put your hands up to stop him. He swore under his breath. He was seeing how determined you really were. He was becoming less confident that you could convince you otherwise.

“Well maybe I love you more.” He said.

The thought of losing you was enough to finally push him to confess how he really felt about you. He saw your eyes soften. Those were the words you’d always dreamed of hearing Tyler say.

You felt your heart break when you realized they didn’t change anything. “Oh, come on, Tyler. It’s not fair to throw out words that you can’t back up with any commitments.” You said.

Tyler was becoming more frustrated as he felt you drifting further and further away. “Don’t push me away. You’ve known me for years. You know me better than anyone. You know I’m not reckless. A risk taker? Yes, but I’m careful enough to stay safe. Because I’ve got someone to come home to.” He told you.

You tried to take a deep breath, but all you could focus on was the broken expression on Tyler’s face. “Tyler, I’ve seen you chase tornadoes for years. I’ve seen how much you light up when you talk about it. I know how much you love it. It’s inspiring, it really is, but it’s also the reason you can’t make a long-term commitment to anything or anyone else.” You told him, honestly.

Tyler shook his head, looking down at the ground. You were technically right. He had trouble making commitments. But it wasn’t because of how much he loved storm chasing.

It was because of how much he loved you.

“What about us, huh? We’ve been friends for years. I’ve never missed a birthday or a phone call or a breakup. So, don’t tell me I can’t make a commitment. I have never failed to be there for you. Why would I stop if we started dating?” He snapped at you.

You flinched at how loudly he was talking. He’d never yelled at you before. He noticed how your expression changed. You stepped backwards, putting some physical and emotional space between the two of you.

You pushed past him to open your car door. “Wait, c’mon, don’t leave,” he begged you. He knew he’d crossed a line, and he was trying to remedy it.

“I’m not gonna stay here when you’re yelling at me like that.” You told him. He grabbed your hand and spun you around to face him. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. I was trying to tell you that I’d always put you first.” He apologized, squeezing your hand. You wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms. But you couldn’t.

“I can’t do this right now, Tyler.” You said, pulling your hand back and getting in your car. Tyler felt a pit in his stomach as you drove off. He couldn’t help but worry that he’d lost you for good.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he wondered what to do. His eyes landed on the bar across the street from the motel. He started walking in that direction. He felt stupid for being optimistic that you’d reciprocate his feelings.

His friends all called after him, having seen the whole fight go down. They all asked him where he was going, but he ignored them all. He wasn’t quite ready to talk about you and have his friends tell him he’d screwed up. Because he knew that already.

So, while you drove home and started crying on your couch, Tyler went to the bar. He wasn’t even really drinking that much. It was mostly just sulking.

He’d drowned out everyone else at the bar who was partying. He was sitting at the end of the bar staring into his glass. All he could think about was how hurt you looked when he yelled at you.

He wanted to pull you into his arms and apologize over and over until you forgave him.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a news alert playing on the television above the bar. His eyes darted up to the screen and saw “Multiple Tornado Spottings”. He realized your house was right in the middle of the storms.

He swore under his breath and raced towards his truck. Fueled by adrenaline, he sped towards your house. He had the pedal pushed down as far as it would go.

Nothing motivated Tyler more than the thought of you being in harm’s way. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and clicked on your contact.

He anxiously tapped on the steering wheel as his phone rang. It only rang once before he got sent to voicemail. He tried to call you again, and you declined the call again.

You were oblivious to the incoming storm, and you were in no mood to talk to Tyler.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Turn on the news, please.” He muttered to himself, praying that he could will it into existence.

Once he got to your house, he barely turned his truck off before jumping out and sprinting towards the front door.

He banged on the door with his fist. The winds were picking up around him. His adrenaline was still running high.

“Go away, Tyler.” He heard you yell from inside. He pounded on the door again. “There’s a storm, sweetheart. We gotta get to the cellar. It’s not safe.” He yelled through the door. He could barely hear himself over the howling wind. He quickly tapped his fingers on his leg, fidgeting as he waited for you to appear.

The door swung open. Your fear was written all over your face. Tyler grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a tornado forming in the distance.

The wind was blowing you both around as you raced towards the cellar. Tyler kept a tight grip on your hand. He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.

“Lookout,” Tyler yelled, shielding your body with his as a dumpster went flying by you both. After it missed you both, he tugged you towards the cellar.

The cellar doors had already flung open from the wind. He grabbed your waist, pushing you inside before him. You quickly ran down to the bottom of the stairs.

“Sweetheart, get me a stick or something down there or these doors won’t stay closed.” Tyler told you. He was wincing as he struggled to hold the doors closed.

You grabbed an old broomstick and handed it to him quickly. He shoved it through the handles and prayed it would hold.

“Alright, c’mon, we gotta get to the back.” He said, nudging you.

“Over here,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the closet in the back of the cellar.

Tyler closed the closet door behind you both. It was a small closet. You were facing the back wall. He was covering your whole body with his. He had his hand protectively cupping the back of your head.

“Keep your eyes closed and hold on to those pipes, sweetheart.” He instructed you. You quickly nodded your head and did what he told you to do. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head, to try to comfort you.

You both had always had a nonverbal way of communicating. He obviously knew you were scared because who wouldn’t be? But he also knew that one of your biggest fears was something happening to him while chasing a storm. And now you were wrapped up in that.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He assured you, holding onto you tightly.

A high pitched whistle filled the room as the wind started to pick up. You could feel the pressure envelop your whole body. Everything around you was rattling.

Up above you, you could hear thuds as the tornado flung around cars and anything else in its path. It wasn’t long until you both heard the cellar doors rip open.

The howling wind got louder. It made your ears ring. Tyler tightened his grip on you as the closet doors started to shake. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped onto the pipes.

“You promise me you won’t play hero.” Tyler yelled at you. He didn’t want you to get hurt trying to save him. You furiously shook your head. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.” You yelled back.

The closet doors started shaking even more. The hinges were loudly squeaking. You just knew that the tornado was right above you.

A piece of the door ripped off and flew through the air. The air swirled around the tiny closet, making it harder to hold on.

Pieces of the door kept splintering off. One of them sliced against Tyler’s bicep, causing him to wince and bite down on his lip.

The closet doors finally swung open. With the large cut on Tyler’s arm, his grip accidentally loosened. He started getting pulled backwards. He only had one hand on the pipes. He was gripping it with all the strength he had.

You wrapped one of your arms around the pipes and the other around his waist, pulling him back into you. You buried your face into his chest.

Then, the wind almost instantly disappeared.

You both continued to hold onto each other as your adrenaline still ran high. Tyler kissed the top of your head. “It’s over, sweetheart. We’re safe.” He whispered, still trying to catch his breath.

You both slowly pulled away from each other and leaned against opposite walls. Neither of you said a word as you tried to process what had just happened.

“You saved my life, sweetheart.” He said, looking at you with love in his eyes. You could feel the tears start to bubble up. You were finally letting yourself acknowledge how scared you’d been, now that you weren’t in danger anymore.

“I was so scared to lose you.” You whispered, your voice cracking. He pulled you into his arms, nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He softly rubbed your back. “You did everything right, sweetheart.” He assured you.

He continued to hug you until you stopped crying. When you both pulled apart, you could see the guilt in his eyes.

“This was all my fault.” He mumbled under his breath. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him. You stubbornly shook your head. “None of this was your fault. It was a tornado. You might be the tornado wrangler, but you can’t control them.” You said, trying to cheer him up and lighten the mood.

He grabbed your hands, interlacing his fingers with yours. Neither of you wanted to keep your hands off each other. You both were still worried if you took your eyes off the other that they’d disappear.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you back there. If I hadn’t, we’d both still be at the motel. You wouldn’t have been in harm’s way if it wasn’t for me.” He told you, apologetically. He was realizing that his actions had put you in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I’m sorry that I yelled at all. I wasn’t mad at you. I really wasn’t. I was mad at myself. You should have no reason to doubt how important you are to me. If you do, I need to fix that.” He said, squeezing both your hands. You noticed a smile start to grow on his face when you didn’t pull away.

“You never gave me a reason to doubt you. I was just scared. We’re not all as brave as the tornado wrangler.” You teased him. He let out a soft chuckle.

It was nice to have a peaceful moment, laughing together like you always did, after a life or death scenario.

“Does that mean?” Tyler started to ask you, a smirk beginning to grow. You just giggled and nodded your head. “Yes, it means you can kiss me, cowboy.” You said, cheesily smiling at him.

He didn’t waste any time grabbing your belt loops and pulling you closer to him. You cupped his face and leaned in to kiss you. You let yourself melt into the kiss. His soft lips fit perfectly against yours. Just like you’d always dreamed.

You could feel him smiling against your lips. You both pulled out of the kiss. Tyler looked at you with a look of awe. “I’ve spent years wishing I could do that.” He said, smiling down at you.

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[remi-harbinger]

When SJ first joined the sect he was been petty in ways that made complete sense to him and not to anyone else at all. He whispered answers to the people that get called on because he thought that it was the height of embarrassment to accept help from others. He'd be internally giggling at the thought of the turmoil going on in The Damned's minds and they'd just flash him a relieved grin and repeat the answer word for word. He's so confused he tries it out every single class. He gets a reputation for being There For You, and now people start coming to him with their problems.

He's hit with an epiphany. Yes. He's managed to manipulate them into trusting him. He doesn't know how but he's not going to doubt it. With this, half the sect become his personal bodyguard/shadows. When he started sneaking to Warm Red Pavilion a shijie saw him and instead of spreading nasty rumours etc etc she sat down with him and coaxed him into telling on why he wanted to go (he said its bc they need medicines and he technically isnt lying!)

So now he has yet another layer to his reputation. He's the xianxia version of Florence Nightingale, bringing love light and happiness to the unfortunate. (SJ doesn't even care at this point as long as no one stops him he can bear with the people coming up to him and going on and on about how he's righteous)

When he was reading and a bird landed on his hand (he wove the type of seeds that birds like into his little bracelet because he thought they were pretty), instead of people saying he cultivates the demonic path, disciples started whispering about how Head Disciple Shen is so beautiful that birds and butterflies follow in his footsteps. Okay, so maybe one time the shijie's wove him a flower crown and he put it on and the butterflies got attracted to the flowers. He was in a FLOWER GARDEN. There were SO MANY available flowers why?? just why??

Everyone (Liu Qingge) is convinced that SJ is some secret flower nymph that's sent to... steal sect secrets or something... Anyways the conclusion is that he absolutely!!! must !!! hang around SJ to ensure that he doesn't do anything wrong!!! And to keep suspicion away he has to bring increasingly elaborate and beautiful gifts of course!!! Yue Qingyuan why are you coming closer yue qingyuan stay awa-

[miaoua3]

Scoups spicy headcanons

Pairing: scoups x f!reader

Warnings: sex, mentions of oral, just nasty piece of work tbh lmao, MINORS DNI

Kind of a continuation of my tiktok post

Note:…i need to get dicked down, its been too long…anyway enjoy this

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

•his kisses are always soo deep, its just that pace that changes- when he’s desperate, his kisses become fast and filled with urge and need, when he wants to savour both you and the moment, he takes his time

•the type to spread his arms on the back rest of the couch while you sit on his lap and make out with him, will not touch you until you start whining and pleading of him to touch you

•loooves leaving hickeys. not only on your neck, but on your chest, your hips, your thighs and sometimes even your ass cheeks (in a shape of a little heart❤️)

•also likes it when you leave hickeys on him too, it shows to others that you both belong to somebody, except he doesn’t like to hide his while you literally spend tons of time and makeup trying to cover his piece of work

•two words: size kink. nothing gets him going quite like watching and comparing how much bigger he is compared to you, how his big hands can easily wrap themselves around your neck, your hands, your hips, anywhere really

•likes to just let his hand rest on your neck while kissing. not outright choking, but just…lets you feel the heavy weight of it on your thin neck

•a service dom, idk how people came to think that coups is this mean dom who just enjoys inflicting pain on you, like nuh-uh, this man literally lives to serve you, will listen to everything you got to say, if you say ‘a little more of this, a little bit less of that’ consider it already done. your pleasure is his first priority

•which brings me to- he won’t fuck you until you have cumed on his fingers (and/or face) at least two times.

•the mirror that’s facing your bed🤝him, loves nothing more than to fuck you from behind in front of the said mirror, loves just looking at your dazed look, how hard you try to keep your balance, how his hand looks around your neck

•very talkative in bed, from asking if you’re still okay to asking you things like “look at you, so pretty. who’s my pretty girl? hm? is this all for me baby? so wet, just for me? can you give me another one? cmon, my pretty girl, just one more, cum on my dick one more time, i know you can do it” NCHSIDBSIADBAI

•praise kink>>>>>>, idk who convinced yall that he would like degrading you, bro literally LOVES you, he has no reason to talk to you like that, he’s always just like “you’re doing so good, baby, taking this dick. fuck, so good, you’re taking me so well, can you take on more? of course you can, my girl can always take on more, cmon, that’s it” (currently manifesting this man in my life🙏)

•loooves it when you scratch his back unconsciously, just likes to look at it the next morning, wears it like a gold medal

•oh i just know he has a big dick, don’t even try to convince me otherwise, its both long and girthy, it’s always so overwhelming having him inside your pussy

•i always say- having a small dick is no excuse for being a bad partner, the universe gave you 10 fingers, a mouth and a lot of imagination. if you still can’t figure out how to please your partner, then it’s a you problem….lets just say cheol has no problems-with his size, his fingers skills, his tongue nor his imagination, he’s such a good lover, he will literally make you see stars

•speaking of-he asks you to sit on his face and literally to almost suffocate him at least two times a week. he just loves feeling your weight on his face, your smell surrounding him, you looking down on him while he’s living every man’s dream

•loves holding hands while in a missionary, it just makes the atmosphere that much more intimate and romantic, always intertwines your fingers and he finds that so…comforting

•now, he doesn’t enjoy inflicting pain on you (he enjoys leaving a good spank and a little bit of choking), that much is clear, but he still likes seeing you with tears down your cheeks from the immense pleasure he’s bringing you

•is the king of body worshipping. on the nights where he’s feeling extremely loving, first, he takes off your clothes slowly, then he kisses you for a few moments, and then he starts leaving kisses everywhere-from your lips, across your jaw, on your neck, going down to your chest, a few ticklish kisses on your stomach, leaving a few teasing kisses on your clit, looking up while kissing your thighs, on the scars on your knee, all the way down to your ankle. and then the same route upwards, all while whispering soft words of praise to you

•if you ever thought that this man is anything other than an ass man, you are delusional. from spanking you, fucking you from behind, to literally kissing your cheeks better after a few particularly hard spanks and leaving hickeys on it, rubbing it gently in comforting way with a comforting hand, there isn’t a way this man hasn’t interacted with your behind lol

•loves to pull on your hair lightly during the slow make out sessions, but also enjoys it when you pull on his hair while he’s laying between your legs, eating you out as if you were his last meal

•loves how he can just pick you up and fuck you against any surface available, it gets him so turned on knowing that he can carry you so easily and manhandle you into any position he wants you in

•low-key has a breeding kink, he loves watching his cum leak out of you, and stuffing it back in, knowing that he could impregnate you any time he comes inside, it’s always so thrilling to him (plus he really want to start a family with you)

•he’s the aftercare KING, sometimes he spends more time talking you down from the height, cuddling you, cleaning you, kissing you and letting you know how much he loves you than he spend on the sex itself, he’s a natural caretaker so he enjoys taking care of your body and your mind after your sexy escapades

in conclusion: SCOUPS PLEASE I CAN TREAT YOU SO WELL JUST GIVE ME A CHANCE PLS BABY

[lady-lauren]

❥ SATORU GOJO X FEM! READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.1k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: incest (big brother/little sister), hatefucking, degradation, Satoru's hand smothering your mouth, some dub-con tones but really you both want this fucked up situation, semi-public sex (the door isn't closed and it really should be), creampie

Dead Dove Do Not Eat. Read those warnings again.

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

You’ve always eclipsed his light. A stain on his legacy, a re-shifting of the scales when you were born.

Always on his heels, nipping at his skin. 

Satoru wonders how many times the two of you have tangled like this—fury and jealousy, adults carrying the bitterness of spoiled children.

“Are you even trying?” 

You’re pinned beneath him, both of you wild and uncoordinated, driven more by emotion than immeasurable skills. 

“Fighting dirty isn’t fair, ‘Toru,” your tits are heaving as you try to catch your breath, hips squirming and bucking to keep mean fingers from playing with the one toy he was never allowed to have.

“Excuses, excuses,” he tuts, bicep flexing as he catches your wrist in an attempt to scratch his cheek, “you like when I play dirty, little whore.”

One step away from a tense family dinner had him cornering you in some tucked away office with your dress bunched around your hips on the floor.

Satoru thought fucking you would depredate you, make you take on the burden of his sins. Instead it’s only wrecked him further. Now he tastes you in the back of his cheeks whenever he looks in the mirror.

God he hates you. Because you make him sick, make him do sick, nasty things and you barely try to fight back. 

“It’s like you want to get fucked by your brother, hm?” he thinks aloud before pressing his mouth against yours. He cups your neck, pulls you closer, pays attention to how you grunt and tug at his shirt. Your nails catch buttons, scratch into skin. 

He shouldn’t kiss you here, where any roaming maid or distant cousin could catch a glimpse of what the Gojos do when no one is looking. 

But he’s at a point where he wants people to look, wants people to see just how fucked up you both are.

“Toru,” you hiss, “stop, get off—”

“Oh shut the fuck up. We don’t have time for the but ~Satoru~ we shouldn’t song and dance. You always let me have you, so be quiet and take it.” 

Still, you fight, like you always do. Your toned muscles push and shove, one leg nearly smashing air from his lungs. He catches your calf in time, insatiably mean fingers digging into your soft flesh and forcing your thighs apart. He can tell you bite back a whine of pain, too prideful to let him know when he hurts you.

“You cannot do this here in the fucking floor of—” 

“Really? Would you rather me take you to your old bedroom so you can cuddle your stuffies while big brother fucks you stupid? Hm? Is that what you want?” 

“What I want,” you try to pull his hair like a child, “is for you to find someone else to be obsessed with. What about Sugu? Oh, that’s right you—”

Just the sound of that name makes him want to rip you apart, smash you to such small pieces that he’ll never have to think of you again. Satoru clamps his hand over your babbling mouth, squeezing until his knuckles turn white and you actually whimper.

He’s going to fuck you into the floor, into oblivion, until all you can think about is him. It’s only fair. 

Satoru keeps the pressure on your mouth, forcing his free hand between your spread thighs so he can shove two long fingers into your cunt. Your panties are soaked around the edges of his knuckles, pussy drooling and squishy as he thrusts and scissors in the way he knows will make your eyes roll. 

“You sure are wet for someone who doesn’t want this.” 

He knows you do. You don’t have to tell him—you probably never will say the exact words aloud. He won’t either. 

You roll your hips back as he fingers you, the dress around your hips falling open like wilting petals against your skin. 

The palm of his hand eats your moans, still small and breathy, desperate to feel more than just the squelching spread of his fingers. 

He wants to punish you, wants to bruise your pussy with his knuckles and make you scream. But he doesn’t have that kind of patience. His cock is smothered in his pants, straining and thumping against the floor. Pre is already leaking into threads; he feels another drop bead against his cockhead as your cunt squeezes when he curls his fingers into a spongy spot that makes you buck.

It’s so wrong and fucked up that he knows that soft spot within you, knows that if he rubs it a few more times it might actually make you cum in his hand.

“God, is your slutty cunt this messy for other guys? Such a fucking pain in the ass—you’re gonna stain the rug.”

Only he loves how easy access your slick makes you. Just a few movements—glossy hand down his pants, shoving the waistband down over his ass, plugging his tip into your hole—and he can thrust his cock all the way to the back of your pussy. 

You manage to bite into the side of his palm, canines pressing into sinew as you weep for him.

Fuck you feel so good, too good, tight and full with the most familiar, decadent squeeze around his thick shaft.

“Pull your tits out,” white lashes flutter as he pushes in, out, “lemme see ‘em.” 

Like always, your fight is gone the moment he’s buried in your cunt. Your hands scramble to obey him, nearly ripping the delicate straps of your dress so you can pull it down, breasts falling on display. Satoru keeps his eyes on the bouncing fat, biting his tongue when your nipples harden into the most delicious looking buds.

You muffle a cry at a particular cruel thrust, legs starting to burn and shake from the weight of his hips between them. Your lips are swelling behind his hand, sloppy with drool. 

Satoru shifts back, getting on his knees so he can curl your leg against your bare chest and worm his way to the very depths of your pussy. The sound is lewd, all wet and gushing, each push of skin on skin making him prickle.

His keen senses perk—footsteps in the hallway, voices through the wall. Dinner guests shuffling about in the absence of the prodigal siblings. 

Your eyes flash toward the cracked door, yet the little ah, ah, ah~ behind his palm won’t quit.

“Yeah? You want someone to find us? Want them to see how your big brother pounds into your guts because he can? Because you’re a little fucking slut who lets me?”

The annoyance that flares to life as your gaze returns to him has his balls tightening. You hate that he gets the best of you. This is the one way he can, by making you weak and wet and willing for his cock.

Satoru presses his hand to your belly, presses in deep and hard until the heel of his hand meets the outline of his dick. 

“Feel that? Feel how fucking full you are with my cock?” 

He uses strength he couldn’t on anyone else, barreling his hips until you’re moving back on the floor, rug scrunching beneath your bodies as he pounds into you so recklessly. 

You whine, actively try to bite his hand, to suck his skin, to hurt him. 

“Oh please, you can take it. You’re a Gojo.”

That reminder makes you both groan, your cunt sucking as his cock swells. 

He wonders for a split moment what really draws you together. Lust? Failed parenting? Some mutual sense of rebellion? All of it, probably, and some other sick, twisted shit laced in between. 

Your little fingers start prying at his over your mouth, clawing and plucking his knuckles. 

He shows a little mercy and releases his hold on you, only to clamp both hands down on your hips so he can fix your pace and build a faster rhythm. 

You suck in a deep breath, “Kiss me.” 

A pale brow quirks at your request, smirk tugging at his cheek. 

“Really? And why should I? Thought you didn’t like me.” 

“Oh my, ah, god, Toru, I ask for one nice thing. Just,” you reach for him, gripping onto his flexing biceps and pulling him down, “just do it, for me.”

He was always going to oblige you. He hates admitting it, but he’d kiss you all the time, if you’d let him. 

Satoru’s lips meet yours with a bruising fervor. 

Your hand tugs in his snowy hair, drags him closer. Your mouth moves against his, eyes closed, suddenly greedy and hungry; for what, neither of you really know. All he does know is that you still taste the same, like home, and he wants your breath in his lungs.

He is a snake, wrapping around you, suffocating, crushing until you can’t breathe anything but the poison he spits.

Your mouth slants for him, a hum resounding from both your throats as your stomach starts to get tight, tell-tell pulls and sucks like you’re begging him to keep stroking the flames.

“You’re so spoiled, aren’t you,” he groans into your mouth, lips messy with spit, “you gonna cum just from my cock? Do I fuck you that good?”

“God, sh-shove that fat cock deep and cum inside me—”

Your demand makes his blood run hot. 

Satoru throws his head back and laughs, maniacal and oh so satisfied. “You’re spoiled fucking rotten. That’s what mommy and daddy did to you, spoiled you so fucking much you think you deserve everything. Even me.”

Because you started this, didn’t you? When you got old enough to be so fucking tempting in your twenties, started flirting with his friends and batting your pretty eyes at all the higher-ups. When you got strong enough to match him, to take up space in his light.

“Fuck you,” you purr like you’re trying to mean it, like you’re trying to deny him. “Hate you so fucking, ah, god–shit—” he’s got your clit pinched between his fingers now, pressing until he knows it hurts, “make me cum and let me go.”

White hair spreads into the sweat of your skin as he buries his face in your neck. He’s so close to losing it, to being done with this.

“I’ll do one of those things. Let you figure out which one.”

Satoru grinds his cock into your gummy walls, cock strangled in your suction. His pelvis is rolling against your clit, coarse curls making your legs twitch. 

The moment he gets his thumb over your clit, it’s like dropping a match into gasoline. You both burn so hot, melting into one another as he explodes and you convulse. No matter how many times he feels you cum, hears you whisper his name and choke on the three little words you never say, he will never get used to it. 

So familiar and foreign and fucked up, the kind of drug that scratches at his brain and begs from more. 

He empties his balls into you, creaming into a cunt he should never touch let alone fill to the brim. 

You’ve never told him he can’t, that he shouldn’t. You both know it’s abhorrent, disgusting, but maybe that’s why you keep letting him do it. 

He’ll still watch you take your morning pill, though, just to make sure.

Your bodies lie panting in a forgotten corner of the home you both hate, the scent of sex rolling in the air like smoke.

“Get off me and go.” 

Shame is wavering in your voice, it always does. He can understand why you feel it—he does too, he just morphs it into some kind of wicked hatred so he can still sleep at night. 

“One last ~kiss~?” He mocks your voice and revels in how you claw your way out from under him, trying to pull yourself back together and catch the cum dribbling down your thigh. 

“Fuck you. Fuck this. It won’t happen again.” 

And it shouldn’t. But it does. It always happens again. 

Because he wants to hurt you, shame you, make you feel weak in his arms when you shatter and cum. Because he hates how much he loves you. So he wants to crush you, wrap around you like a viper and pop you out of existence. 

His life would be so much easier if he didn’t have a spoiled brat of a sister. 

You make him want to eat his fist when you swipe his cum from between your legs and put your fingers in your mouth, smiling because you know he’ll return to dinner with a tent in his pants. 

You live to torture him, he’s sure of it. 

[sleepy-steve]

steve "dies but doesn't stay dead" harrington and eddie "ferryman of the river styx" munson // 1.5k // inspired by this post ♡

—

november 1983

It wasn’t a bad gig, as far as eternal work in the Underworld went. Eddie didn’t even have to row the boat. He was more of a figurehead. Someone for the souls to follow. Someone to guide them. Seemed like an odd thing to entrust to a dead eighteen year old from the middle of bum-fuck-nowhere USA, but Eddie wasn’t going to argue. Didn’t even know if he could. It had all gone very smoothly. All the souls doing exactly what they were supposed to be doing. Until Steve appears.

Eddie spots him sitting on the riverbank, knees pulled up. Looking a little too casual, in Eddie’s opinion, but he didn’t know the guy’s life. Some souls were more prepared than others.

“Hey, man, time to uh, get moving,” Eddie says, and cringes at himself. He’d already been spoken to about his boat-side manner. But how were you supposed to talk to people that had just died? Eddie still hadn’t quite worked it out. Was supposed to find his own words, instead of working off a script.

“Hm?” The soul looks up in mild surprise. He looks to be about Eddie’s age, and has a black eye, a split lip, and a nasty cut across his nose. Jesus, wonder what happened to him. It wasn’t polite to ask, Eddie’d been taught.

Eddie gestures vaguely at the boat. “C’mon. I’m taking you to the next part.”

“What happened to the last guy?” The guy tilts his head to the side, hair flopping with the movement.

“What?”

“The last guy who was on the boat?” The soul asks, waving a hand in the general direction of the boat. Even from where he stands, Eddie can see the bruises on the guy’s knuckles. “It used to be an older guy, tallish, beard…?”

“I… I don’t know, man.” Eddie flounders. He’d had some chatty souls before, but none that asked questions he wasn’t trained to answer.

“Hm…” The guy hums thoughtfully, nodding to himself. Shifting slightly, he settles into a more comfortable position.

“So…” Eddie stares at him with wide eyes, brows raised expectantly. “You gonna get on the boat or…?”

“Nah.”

“…What do you mean, nah?” Eddie asks incredulously. Was that even allowed? What would happen if a soul didn’t get on the boat? Would Eddie get in trouble for not collecting him?

“Not getting on the boat.” The guy smiles at him, a little crooked from the scar across his lip. “I won’t be here long, don’t worry.”

“What…?” Eddie trails off, before recognition drops into his mind. It was that smile, it reminded him of… “Steve? Steve Harrington?”

“Yeah?” Steve confirms, brows pulled together in confusion. “Wait… holy shit… Eddie, right?”

“Yeah!” Eddie leans over the edge of the boat, bringing him as close as he dares. Close enough to see the blues fade into purples in the bruises on his face. The trail of dry blood still under his nose.

“You died, like, not that long ago, right?” Steve asks, not making any moves to get closer.

“Yeah, yeah, house fire.” Eddie waves him off, not wanting to dwell on the memories of his shitty father and those last moments where Eddie tried to save the few good things he had left. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry you’re here though.” Professionalism is out the window in favour of familiarity.

“Ah, it’s okay,” Steve waves him off back. “Like I said, won’t be here long.”

Eddie knows what this is. Denial. He’d seen it many times since starting this job. “Steve…” He keeps his tone soft, just like he was taught. “I know it can be hard to accept, but you’re dead. That’s why you’re here. You have to get on the boat in order to move on.” Steve is giving him a bemused smile, and Eddie feels a twinge of irritation. He’s doing his best. “I’ll be with you the entire time, I promise.”

“That’s… nice, man,” Steve says, slight grin still on his lips. “But I’m not getting on the boat.”

“Steve. You have to get on the boat.” Eddie throws his hands down to gesture at said boat, exasperated.

“No, I don’t.” Steve gives a little shake of his head.

“Get…” Eddie loses steam for a second before gearing up again. “Get on the boat, man.”

Steve just blinks at him. “I don’t need to.”

“Get on the fucking boat, Steve!” Exasperation is in each word now, Eddie losing his patience. If it wasn’t completely against the rules, Eddie would have jumped off the boat and dragged him on by the collar of his stupid sweater. The souls had to choose to move on.

With a glint in his eye and a half smile, like they’re in on some joke together, Steve still doesn’t move. “No.”

“You’re dead, man,” Eddie snaps. Fuck, he’s losing his cool and is gonna get told off for it. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”

“Woah, woah, Eddie.” Steve holds his hands up. Placating. Another ripple of annoyance runs through Eddie. “Okay, just—I know I’m dead. But I don’t stay dead. This isn’t the first time this has happened.”

Oh, okay. So Harrington is delusional. Eddie briefly wonders just how hard he’d been hit, looking over Steve’s bruises. Was this what killed him? Eddie holds back a grimace. “Just… get on the fucking boat, man. I know it’s hard, but you have to move on. Also, I might get my ass handed to me if you don’t, so like, maybe do it for me?”

Steve laughs good-naturedly. Hopeful that he’s finally gotten through to him, Eddie can’t help but crack a smile at the sound. “So, s’that a yes?” he asks, keeping his tone light.

“Sorry, man,” Steve laughs. “Still a no.” Eddie slumps over the side of the boat dramatically, hair almost dipping into the black water. “But don’t worry. Last guy never got in trouble for not collecting me, so you should be fine.”

Pulling himself back up with an exaggerated sigh, Eddie settles with his forearms on the edge of the boat. “Okay, Harrington. I’m choosing to trust you,” he says, giving Steve a pointed look. “Can I ask…” Steve raises a brow. “What, uh… what happened? To you?” Eddie gestures vaguely at Steve’s overall appearance. The black eye, the cut across his nose, the split lip.

“Oh, this?” Steve points to the bruise. “This isn’t what killed me. Got into it with Byers. Not important, really, anymore…” He trails off before shaking himself. “This, though…” Lowering his knees, dropping his denim-clad legs to the grass, Steve reveals several deep wounds to his chest and stomach.

Eddie lets out a low whistle at them. “Christ, Harrington. You get attacked by a bear or something? We even have bears in Hawkins?”

Steve snorts. “Nah, I don’t know what this thing was. Some kind of alien-monster-creature. Face opened up all…” Steve holds his hands around his face, wiggling his fingers in a fan. “…creepy.”

Looking at him with furrowed brows, Eddie isn’t sure if Steve is messing with him, or genuinely believes that a monster killed him and that he’s not going to stay dead. Eddie stays silent, assessing him.

“Anyway,” Steve clears his throat, awkward under Eddie’s stare. “Nancy and Jonathan are probably freaking out right now, I’ll have to explain when I wake up.” He’s rambling, Eddie notices with slight amusement. “Which should be soon, though this might be the longest I’ve spent down here. Last time was quicker for sure.”

“Last time?” Eddie asks, unable to stop his curiosity.

“Yeah, the, uh, car accident,” Steve says. “Got t-boned at an intersection, died on the spot. Woke up with a broken arm, three broken ribs, and this crazy head wound.” He waves a hand around the side of his head. “Got lucky, all things considered.”

“Right…” Eddie vaguely recalls hearing about Harrington’s car wreck from last year. But surely he hadn’t died. It wasn’t impossible, but highly unlikely.

“You don’t believe me.” Steve grins at him, and Eddie feels his cheeks warm at it.

“Can you blame me?”

Steve considers him for a moment. “No, I guess not.” His head turns sharply, as though he hears something that Eddie doesn’t. “Time’s up.” Steve stands, brushing blades of dry grass off his jeans. He gives Eddie a two-finger wave. “Until next time, Munson.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie leans over the side of the boat again as Steve turns to walk away. “Where are you going?”

Throwing a thumb over his shoulder, Steve huffs a laugh. “Back.”

“Steve!” Leaning dangerously far over the edge of the boat, Eddie calls after his retreating form. He watches with wide eyes as Steve quite literally fades from view, figure growing more translucent until finally disappearing completely. Unable to pull his gaze away from the empty grass field where Steve stood just a moment ago, Eddie only has one thought in his mind:

What the fuck?

[essayofthoughts]

I think another hair-splitting thing that is nonetheless VERY important is that

Vax did not want to die

Vax DID want to keep his promise.

Which utility mentions, but doesn't like. Go into the underlying detail which is... Sometimes you do things you don't want to do because it's nonetheless the right thing to do. Because you promised. Because you owe a debt. Because you have to. It doesn't mean it necessarily makes you happy.

As utility says, staying with Vex and Keyleth would make him happy if that was something he could do without breaking his promise - but breaking his promise would be at odds with who he is as a person and who is as a person is someone who is willing to make hard choices. He sold a stranger into slavery to save his sister. He fights with Percy on moral issues. He throws himself into harm's way to help his friends. These aren't things he wants to do, necessarily, but they are things he is willing to do. Things he does because if he didn't he wouldn't be himself. Because he always wants to protect Vex, because he has his moral beliefs, because he loves his friends and wants them safe. And if that costs him a night of sleep, or easy friendship, or an ounce of flesh and blood - then so be it. That is the price of being the person he wants to be and doing the things that keep with his identity and the person he wants to be.

And so: he struck a deal with the Matron. Yes, out of-game, Matt would likely have allowed Liam to make a new character of an on-par level with Vax to ensure the party wasn't hobbled in the last fight. But in universe Vax didn't know that! In-universe Vax knew that his friends and dearest loved ones were about to do something incredibly dangerous and that he was being given a chance to help and I don't think he could have lived with himself if he didn't help.

And the cost of being able to give that help was to return to the Matron and work with her thereafter. Not something he wanted to do - or perhaps, not something he wanted to do yet, something he would have happily done after a long and happy life - but something he was willing to do. An acceptable price for the thing he did want to do.

He got to see his loved ones. He got to save his loved ones. He got to tell his loved ones goodbye.

Vax knows, from his mother, just how unlikely that is to have. Of course he paid the price for it. He knew what he got for that was worth it to him.

finally watched cooldown and two thoughts:

Smart of Matt to be like "no, we will have a satisfying denouement for other major figures involved" after the collective C2 ending freakouts; like, it feels like we are pretty obviously deep in the endgame but yeah I expect there will be check-ins after the last battle with Vox Machina, the Mighty Nein, and the Crown Keepers, plus probably the Calloways; obviously Liliana will be present. Might need two post BBEG combat episodes instead of the traditional one!

Other people have noted this but yeah it's actually...fucking weird how Liam is the only person who seems to in real life accept that Vax is permanently gone and you can't like, cheat this. And it's frustrating because he is no less dead than Zuala or Will or Molly or FCG. Like, sending the ravens and popping back in does mean it's harder for Keyleth to get over it, but like. idk maybe stop trying to go on random dates and just spend time with people who aren't technically under your (benevolent) rule or also people who never really accepted Vax's death (ie, the rest of Vox Machina). I mean I enjoyed the scene with Verin, and I think there's an intriguing case to be made there anyway (high expectations in childhood, leadership at a very young age, grew up without one of their parents) but just generally...she will never forget Vax, it will always be a scar, but she can move forward if she accepts his choice even if she disagrees with it. At this point...if she can't move on, that is because she won't. And a little bit because seven years later the cast won't.

[kirbmey]

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣⠀⠀ possessive!caleb headcanons ⠀⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: where caleb is obsessed with you and wants to keep you for himself (๑>ᴗ<๑)

tw: manipulation, dark romance, time skips, not fully canon, stepcest, use of “gege” and “big brother”, dumbification if u squint, they’re both around 18-20 here, etc.

possessive!caleb who you’ve known since you two were little kids and happens to be older thank you.

possessive!caleb who doesn’t really like seeing you with other kids and spreads nasty rumors about you so he’s the only one by your side.

possessive!caleb who, when you two grow older, gets more obsessive about your companies, telling you who you can and can’t meet.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“who’s that?” he asks when picking you up from class, hugging you tightly while keeping his gaze on your classmate.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“just a friend from class, why?” you turn around, viewing how your friend walks away in a hurry. “you know him?”

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“oh, pipsqueak, you don’t know who that is?” he blurs out in a condescending tone, making you feel stupid because of your dedknowledge, pouting at him while he hovers the small of your back with his big palm, walking you to his car while sighing. “he has such a bad reputation, your shouldn’t go around with people like that”

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“is that so? didn’t know that…” you almost whisper to yourself, sad on disappointing your big brother. “I’m sorry, i should’ve known”

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“don’t worry, princess, just stay away from him and it’ll be fine” he brushes off, kissing the top of your head.

possessive!caleb who’s been shapeshifting your brain since childhood to make you trust him blindly, not questioning anything he says and following every command.

possessive!caleb who checks you’re phone every so often, making sure your chats with your fewer female and harmless friends are banal, blocking them if they dare talk about your strange relationship or even question it.

possessive!caleb who can’t go a night without enveloping you in his arms; you can’t either.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“gege? you up?” you ask while taking small steps inside his bedroom, completely dark besides de moonlight peeking through the curtains.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“hmm, what’s up, doll?, c’me here” he whispers, lifting the covers so you can sneak beneath them next to him warm and naked chest, hugging the plushie he gave you many years ago against yourself while sniffing slightly, looking up at him.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“can’t sleep, had a nightmare” a nightmare in which he left you, and you just can’t live without your big brother; you don’t tell him that.

⠀⠀　　⠀⠀“oh, princess” he hugs your significantly smaller body against his own, caressing the ends of your hair ever so gently, peppering kisses along your forehead. “i’m here, your gege is here”

you frantically nod, feeling his hand coming up to your cheeks you clean up the long gone tears, cupping your chin next to caress your bottom lip with his thumb, locking your eyes with his purple ones. he closes the distance between you two, kissing your soft lips momentarily; the moon the only witness of the forbidden things you do in the privacy of his room.

a/n: this is my first time ever writing anything, so bare with me ૮(˶ㅠ︿ㅠ)ა

— masterlist.

[quarterlifekitty]

heyyy

can I ask for a part 2 on fuckboy soap?

i want to know more about what happens with reader and simon

in my head, Simon HATES seeing Johnny treat the reader that way. i can envision Simon taking her out, treating her right and all but stealing away Johnny's toy.

So, I posted a part 2, but I have these asks about it and I’d hate for them to go to waste— so I thought I’ll do a little bit of expansion on the relationship. Some shite exposition.

Uhhhh I’m back from writing this now and I didn’t mean to do this but I kind of made this like a prequel or like a part 1.5 I didn’t mean to make it so long oops

Promethean: how to starve a beast

Simon does not involve himself, in any way, in the nasty hookup miasma that Soap is a part of. That most of the frat is a part of, honestly. Motherfucker doesn’t party. This man is on financial aid and has a part time job. He is studying because he’s the one paying for his schooling and for his living expenses.

He doesn’t care that Johnny fucks people under less than savory pretenses. People get played by him? Better they learn their lesson with some harmless douche with a mohawk than with someone who will actually do some damage. Ultimately, not his business. He’s seen plenty of people come and go across the hall, and he’s not fussed.

He doesn’t respond to the conquest stories from the other guys when they’re sharing takeout, or the occasional ‘family’ dinner. Really, the only reaction he gives, even internally, is when one of them comments on something some girl did that was gross, or something about them that wasn’t hot.

A complaint that her period started when she stayed the night. I’d like to fuck a girl while she’s on the rag. Bet it’s fucking warm and slick.

A complaint that she had cellulite. Way to out yourself as being a porn addict, mate.

A complaint that her nails dug too hard into his skin. I’d love for a girl to make me bleed when I fuck her.

He didn’t feel any sympathy. Just accumulated little, harmless fantasies.

Until Johnny started talking about you.

Simon didn’t know you. Had never met you. Seen you once or twice, maybe. Hadn’t learned to even recognize your face.

“Kept leanin’, think she wanted me t’kiss her.”

“So fockin’ bad at giving head. S’a bit cute, tae be honest.”

“Tried tae make a grab for my hand the other night. Can ye believe it? Tryin’ tae hold my hand while ah’m givin’ it tae her. Daft thing still doesnae get it.”

Then he starts to notice you when you leave Soap’s room. The way you very gently close his door as if you’re worried about bothering him. The way you pause, like there’s something you want to say, before you move on. The deep breath. The odd sniffle.

And then, when you show up. Yanked inside without so much as a kind word.

Simon has to strain and get close to the door if he wants to hear you. Soap’s loud as all fuck, but from what one can hear from the hall, he may as well be in there alone.

It’s like there’s an electric coil in his belly. Every time there’s something to do with you, the dial ticks over a notch. The current heats the metal. Every time Soap brags about what he’s done to you. Every time he sees you shake when you walk down the hall and out of the house. Every time Soap brags about what you, the stupid little thing he keeps for a fuckpet, really wants—

The coil is red hot. Even if he could figure out how to turn off the burner, the heat would stay. The metal would be hot to the touch. The heat radiates the very air in front of him, like a mirage. He thinks of you when you’re not even in the house. When no one’s talking about you. You’re a parasite that’s squirmed deep into his gut and you can’t be removed without pulling his organs out with you.

He feels like he’s gone mad. How can no one else see it the way he does? How can Johnny not see how privileged he is to have you even look at him? How can he not want the perfect devotion you’re so keen to give him? How can you not know that any man would thank god for your returned affection, if you’d only set your sights on one that wasn’t a complete and total fuckhead? How has no jealous classmate or longtime friend come by and set Johnny’s nose bloody and crooked for how he’s treated you, sensitive and dangerously endearing as you are?

Every time Johnny talked about you, he had no idea that it was another rusted staple under his best mate’s skin. Building your mythology. Making you a prize. No, that wasn’t right.

Making you seem utterly wasted. Shackled yourself to a mutt with no sense for what he had writhing and submissive beneath him.

Soap has the perfect thing, the finest yield of flesh, right between his teeth and he won’t bite down.

Content for you to rot in his maw.

Well, Simon isn’t.